...That's not great.

For the kids, you know.

I have never been a fan of Halloween. I don't do costumes, I don't like candy corn, and I hate to be scared.

Although, I do like candy.

And pumpkins, for that matter.

But the kids, THE KIDS, they like the Halloween. So we buy costumes (well, I send RD out with them for that), we go to The Farm, we carve pumpkins, we decorate the house, we trick-or-treat, WE EAT CANDY.

Sis was a fairy princess (for, like, the 3rd year in a row.

(I promise there is a dress under that fleece.)

Bubba was a clone warrior or something from the Star Wars franchise.

(We've never really let him have toy guns before. He figured it out pretty quick.)

We got invited over to a friend of a friend's house for merriment and trick-or-treating around their neighborhood. Everyone was lovely AND they reminded us to bring our mugs in order to take along our favorite liquor and warm beverage of our choice as we tour the neighborhood.

These are my kind of people.

I'm already looking forward to next year.

Especially the candy.

What can I say? October was busy.

I'll be back DAILY in November.

It's NaBloPoMo time!

PLACEHOLDER HERE.

Yes, why I DO think my kids are cute.

Two weeks late.

I give you...

THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

(1st grade for Bubba, the never-ending daycare for Sis. Really, it's her second year of her preschool program, too.)

Of course, he returned from his first day of school with grass stains all over the knees of his new pants. I asked him if he got them from playing ball on the field. To which he replied, "No, Mom, we just took turns sliding on the grass."

Boys.

Grace in Small Things, Volume 7.

1. A fresh school year on the horizon. Looking forward to seeing what all Bubba will learn this year.

2. Back to school clothes shopping. We've had such a great summer that the kids have not had to wear pants but once or twice. So it took me until last week to realize Sis only had 2 pairs that fit and Bubba only had 1! In a bit of shopping mastery, I was able to purchase 20 items (pants and shirts) for $150 (including tax). BOOO-YAH. And, in the process, I apparently ended the recession. You are welcome.

3. Moving into new digs at work. 'Nuff said.

4. A stack of library books to read.

5. NOT having strep throat. There's a story in this, dear friends, just you wait.

Want to join me? Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in 365 days of Grace in Small Things.

Why we'll miss summer.

To answer your questions: yes, Bubba does say, "Here's the deadliest catch!" and, yes, that is me picking weeds in the background.

Ah, summer.

Placeholder.

I'll have time for a real post soon. Promise.

She's one of my favorite subjects to shoot.

Mom interrupted.

After six and a half years into this mothering thing, I have finally spent the night alone (ALONE) in my very own house. Now, don't get me wrong - I've traveled for work, spent the night at MY parent's house,  or the kids have spent the night at friends' houses, but I have NEVER been ALL ALONE, ALL NIGHT in my own bed. RD and the kids headed to their Auntie's house to bask in her love, the Portland Zoo, and, of course, Auntie's air conditioning.

I had lofty plans, and, for the most part, accomplished alot in my family's absence. On Thursday evening took the train to pick up a car for my sister's family (you really don't want to know more detail, I'm already bored myself). I then slept THE WHOLE NIGHT without waking and blissfully awoke, refreshed, at 7:30am. I worked for a few hours then began my BIG weekend task: the painting of the family room in the basement.

It may seem like a simple task, but when your basement is about 1000 square feet and the family room pushes 800 of that, you have your work cut out for you. I painted for about 12 hours on Friday, and at about 11pm I discovered there was no way in hell I had the strength to move the mammoth sectional couch (with chaise!) that lives in the family room. I'm just too pathetically week. I figured out how much I could complete (tastefully, of course), leaving about 1/3 left to accomplish (not to self: figure out when I might have time to finish. Related: never).

Saturday morning found me adding my beloved second coat and then in the afternoon I headed over to my friend and neighbor's house for a BBQ. It was truly weird to be there without the kids. I kept referring to them and gesturing in the direction of the sandbox and kiddie pool (where everyone else's kids were) like they were actually there. Afterwords, another friend and I headed to see (500) Days of Summer. Trust me when I say it is a delight.

Sunday, I cleaned the house, restocked the fridge, and shaved my legs in peace. The family returned home, happy, around noon. Bubba, who has quite a sensitive heart, would not leave my sight the rest of the day. He kept wanting me to snuggle with him and have him tell me how much he missed me and how his heart was happier now that we were together again.

And then my heart imploded.

The only downside of the weekend was the knowledge that the kids, once returned to me, would be mine alone for the next few days as RD had a work conference to head to. For me, the mornings, with the hustle and bustle of breakfast/clothes/teethbrushing/driving/two drops offs is the worst part. Otherwise, I enjoy some time to myself with the kids.

Mostly.

Monday evening (after watching How I Met Your Mother, natch), I stumbled upon a documentary on HBO called Boy Interrupted. It's the story of the suicide of Dana and Hart Perry's son, Evan, when he was 15. It was probably one of the most poignant, heartfelt and moving pieces of film making I have ever seen. Evan's parents, who are documentary filmmakers, wrote and directed the picture, which was shown at Sundance. While no suicide is ever simple, the film shares all the uniqueness of Evan and his family's journey, his bipolar disorder, his treatment at Wellspring (which has seemed to bring him out of the darkness), and the impact of his disease and death on his family and friends. Because they are filmmakers, they had alot of personal footage to share. Evan did as well - as he, himself, was an aspiring filmmaker. About 1/3 of the way through the film, we learn that this is not the first suicide in his family. His uncle and namesake, Scott, killed himself at 21. The tell his life story, essentially, from birth until his suicide. You feel the pain of a mother and grandmother trying to understand why her flesh and blood would kill themselves. The destruction in the eyes of Dana, with her complete disbelief that it has actually happened. I found the interviews with his psychiatrist the most interesting and insightful.

After crying hysterically for the better part of 90 minutes, the movie finished. I stood in my bedroom, alone, and all I could think about was going to hold my soundly sleeping son. I went into his room, still sniffling; sat on his bed, and leaned in for a snuggle.

He wasn't having it.

He was sleeping, and very deeply at that - the poor kid.

It made me smile a bit through my tears, remembering that he was just a boy trying to sleep. And I am just his mom, trying to love him just a bit more.

All the rest would just have to wait until the morning.

The REAL story on the Seattle heat.

So, you may have heard we have had QUITE the record-breaking week of weather here in Seattle. The temperature finally hit 103 degrees on Wednesday afternoon, effectively "shattering" (term credit to the Seattle Times) the ALL-TIME (like for any day, any year) high temperature of 100 degrees.

Whenever the mercury rises above 90 degrees folks in the pacific Northwest start to bitch. I'm usually fine to the mid-90s, but the temperatures on Wednesday even put ME over the edge. I've been getting some crap (all in good fun!) from some of my Twitter friends who live in places where it's routinely above 100 degrees.

Here our my arguments in defense of our bitching.

Not everything, everywhere is air conditioned. Yes, my office (and most workplaces, malls, restaurants, etc) has AC, it is definitely NOT the standard in homes, condos, and apartments. On Wednesday, at 10pm, my house was 94 degrees in the main floor and 82 degrees in the basement. It's too hot to think, cook, SLEEP. You pretty much just sit around sweating. That, my friends, is TOO FUCKING HOT.

We're really not used to it. I think there is something either physical or psychological to this - people that live in places that are hot all the time (Phoenix, Dallas, etc.) are just better able to handle it. For one, they have AC! Secondly, you do get acclimated to your environment. Therefore, because this was THE HOTTEST IT HAS EVER BEEN EVER in Seattle, there are people here who may have never experienced that high of a temperature. And, apparently, we're not handling it very well. Sis had heat exhaustion/heat stroke on Monday evening. Seeing her with a 105 degree temperature and delirious ("Pete has a funny bone! I like butter!") was no fun. (She's fine now, thanks for asking.)

The obnoxious local news coverage sends from the situation from uncomfortable to painful. This may be the most important item. Seattle is a so-called big city that still has some feel of small town news team. It's true, people. The hot weather coverage is a pendulum swing from their typical winter weather coverage - which always has tag-lines like "STORM WATCH 2009!" or "WINTER WINDSTORM Aught-Nine!" or "ASSUME ALL HOPE IS LOST AND LIE DOWN ON THE FLOOR 2009!" Now, mind you, this is for 4 inches of snow. (Though, to be fair, the three weeks of constant snow this past December did earn the moniker "Snowmegedden".) You get the affect. This time, the coverage has been almost unwatchable. All this adds to the discomfort of the heat. (Can't a girl just crack open a Zima and watch some local news?)

And, finally, IT'S JUST TOO FUCKING HOT. The end.

Things I don't currently understand about camping.

We're about to venture out on our second camping trip of the summer.

What this means is that in the past month, I will have camped as many times as I have IN TOTAL in my entire life before this summer.

So, here's things I don't currently understand about camping.

1. Getting prepared to camp is just about as exhausting as actually camping.

2. Camping (apparently) gives men of all ages the idea that it is okay to have jeans, a belt and no shirt be your camping uniform. For the record, it is not okay.

3. That my kids will eat pretty much anything (including things they won't eat at home), as long as it is cooked over the campfire.

4. Sis will spend and hour "sweeping" the campsite, which is the longest she's ever been occupied by one activity. Well, she's do it as long as she can dance while sweeping.

5. I don't mind camping as much as I thought I would. SHOCKING, BUT TRUE.