Tag Archives: Deacon

Lesson Learned From Parenting: Sometimes When You Lose, You Win

Sometimes when you lose, you win. Such was the case with the sixth grade basketball game on Sunday. My 11 year old son was set to play in his last game of the losing-est season of basketball that I have witnessed. EVER. which is saying a lot.

A rescheduled game, we all not so silently wondered if it was even worth trying to put this one back on the books. Deacon’s team is the Bad News Bears of basketball. A game in which they only lose by twenty points is considered a good one. In short, they aren’t just bad, but spectacularly, ridiculously so.

Surprisingly, despite the wince-inducing bad plays, the colossally lopsided scores, and the un-thrilling agony of defeat week after week after week, the boys are not that affected by their lack of success on the boards. They are a little disappointed for sure by the skimpy numbers on the scoreboard, but overall, the boys are happy not just to play but to play together. Their camaraderie in the face of their weekly drubbing is a real testament to their character and their bond as friends.

This last game though, this one was gonna be extra tough. Our boys were set to play against a local powerhouse that was sure to make those lopsided scores look even loppier. The possibility that this particular game could tip the scale from sorta-bad to soul-crushing was there from the beginning.

Luckily for us, the boys’ sainted head coach had issued a challenge towards the end of the season: every boy will make a basket. Clear, concise, and measurable, this goal was a thing of achievable beauty. Even in the midst of a season record with total points scored barely crawling into the double digits, this single goal re-energized the boys and kept them focused.

It also made them work together in ways they might not have before. They made plays designed specifically to achieve this goal and learned to execute them perfectly. By the last game, there were only two boys left who had yet to achieve the goal. One of them was my 11 year old son, Deacon.

When the boys hit the court that Sunday, they were playing better than I had seen them play before. Still woefully outmatched, our boys showed spirit and energy, and several boys even made some shots.

My son was not one of them.

Deacon did have seven nice scoring attempts. Every single one of them hit the rim. He even had two shots on the foul line, but it wasn’t meant to be. No swoosh, no net, no points. This was going to be a close but no cigar moment.

Then in the third quarter, Deacon’s buddy, the other boy who had yet to make a shot, sank a beautiful basket. At the sight of that gorgeous swish, our sideline went wild. Then, Deacon’s coach put his hand on Deacon’s shoulder and said, “you’re the last one.”

No pressure or anything. The clock was a-ticking.

In any case, the fourth quarter was not looking good for Deacon getting it done. As the time left in the game was winding down, I played this scenario out in my head: he was not going to make the shot. I started crafting my parenting script for the kid who was going to be the only one without a basket this season.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the boys pass the ball to Deacon who was wide open. Deacon took the shot with the same fearlessness that he had been playing with all day. This time there was one important difference: this ball made it in. Deacon sank that shot like he made them all the time, and he made it in the last 40 seconds of the game no less. Poets have written sonnets to less beautiful moments.

Well, unadulterated joy looks and sounds an awful lot like complete bedlam, and that’s what erupted. The other team was completely confounded as to why our team went so unabashedly nuts after that last shot. They were trouncing us and hard at that moment after all, but we were all with the boys in that moment. They did end up losing the game by thirty points, maybe more, but I’m not even sure. Nobody paid any attention to that pesky scoreboard after that.

Our boys might still have the worst record this year or maybe EVER, but they rewrote their story. They are now and shall remain in all of our hearts a great basketball team. Their dedication to each other in the face of so many losses, their commitment to a common goal, and then the achievement of that goal together? That’s no small victory.

That’s no consolation prize either. Theirs is THE singular triumph, a solid gold moment, and one for the record books no matter what the scoreboard says.

Sometimes when you lose, you do really, truly win.

Spectacularly, ridiculously so.

-Erin

Parenting is hard. Might as well learn something. Lesson learned from a losing season.

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Fourth Time Is A Charm: Should You Have a Fourth Child?

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A friend with an equally oversized brood once said, “Every time I open the van doors, I hear circus music.” Amen, sister, and I never unloaded a minivan again without cuing up a little Big Top soundtrack in my head. Big families are many things, but subtle we are not.

One thing we most definitely are is loyal.

Eleven years ago today, I had my fourth child, a beautiful healthy baby boy. I checked off that box of having a family that mirrored my happy one growing up. But even basking in that bucolic heady mix of newborn love and sleep deprivation, my most Pollyanna self could see that I was also in one hell of a pickle. My husband was set to travel for ten days through South America on the day the baby turned a month old.

A mere two days before the start of school. Gulp.

My mother was a teacher so there was no way she could miss the first week of school, and my mother-in-law was traveling as well. My sister lived in Chicago. All of my friends were busy getting their own kids back to school. In short, I was going to be left to the mercy of the orcs as I tried to get my then six year old and four year old fed, dressed, happy, and on their merry way with a newborn and a really, really helpful two year old.

Help came in the form of my youngest brother, my parents’ number 4, who was in college an hour away. Jonathan would leave classes in the evening and drive an hour north every day for the first week of school. He spent the night and helped me feed and dress everybody every morning that first week and then went back to his classes. He held babies or hands. He changed diapers or TV channels. He filled sippy cups and downtime. He was in short the fairy godmother I so desperately needed with a little more facial hair and less high heels.

Whenever someone asks me if they should have a fourth child, I tell them this story. On the one hand, I think you need to be completely upfront and honest about what you are getting yourself into. That circus music, those sippy cups, that sense of being taken down by some creature no matter how fantastical it may seem—that’s all real. If you are thinking of lowering the birth control defense line, you should have some idea of what you are welcoming across the border.

This is the other story I tell. When Deacon was nine months old, I hosted a get-together with some old friends. I had showered, put on the fancy non-stained GAP t-shirt, and even baked some of my famous chocolate chip cookies. Old friends are the best at delivering the type of fun that makes you forget yourself completely or, in this case, forget to feed your kid. I walked into the kitchen and there was baby Deacon with his hands deep in a box of Cheerios feeding himself a little snack. He didn’t even dump the box on the floor. Good baby, good Momma, good story.

But be open to a fourth child if that’s what your heart desires. Deacon was then and has forever forth been the easiest of children. Sweet and reliable, Deacon is a happy ballast for our family. The steady sturdy tenacity he brings to every aspect of life makes all of our days better. He makes lunches for teens who are too grumpy, cooks a hot breakfast for himself and his dad, and finds all the missing socks, belts, and shoes, and that’s just what he does in the morning.

As parents, we revel in the allure of doing this all the fourth time around and the singular pleasure of him for himself. The gift of having many children is a chance to do every age again and see all of it through another pair of eyes coming into his own.

Today, Deacon moves ever more firmly into the land of tween. Nobody knows how the tumult of the teen years will change him, but I think, like his uncle before him, he will retain his essential sweetness. All of our babies have their own special glow, and the fourth time is really, truly a charm.

Happy Birthday, Buddy!

-Erin

The fourth time is a charm: Should you have a fourth child?

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The Marital Code of Movie Quotes

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Monday Listicles this week is “10 Best Movie Quotes” as suggested by the fabulous, funny and sensible Ally from Just A Normal Mom. So you know what that means? We got the husbands involved again just like we did for the James Bond post.

Erin: In addition to this just being fun, we learned something about our marriages, even after all these years . . .

Ellen: And we are talking years! I have 19 years and Erin has 16 years notched on the old garter belts.

Erin: Don’t do the math, people! As far as you know, we were child brides.

Ellen: That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it. Anyway, my husband and I have a short hand, semi-secret, vernacular based on movie quotes! I never really realized it until writing this post.

Erin: Steve and I do the same thing!

Ellen: Do other couples do this??

Erin: Hard to say, but let’s just assume our semi-secret code will be secret no more.

The Marital Code of Movie Quotes

Ellen and Frank

1.“O’Doyle Rules!”

Usage — (1) To proclaim superiority when crushing someone else (2) Ending to a conversation involving waxing poetic about our awesomeness.

Remember the bullish family of kids who plagued Billy Madison with acts of obnoxiousness at nearly every grade level as he took his speedy second chance run through his entire 12 years of school and always bellowed “O’Doyle Rules!”? That’s us. Sort of.

Whenever we crush at something major like UNO, Trivial Pursuit, or swimming pool water blaster fights, we always exclaim, “O’Doyle Rules!” But truly we say it with love and mostly to each other.

We also end our (private) conversations where we catch ourselves congratulating ourselves for our fabulosity with this little proclamation. Helps us keep our obnoxiousness from spilling over into the public arena. You’re welcome.

2. “Imagine it.”

Usage — (1) Usually uttered by Frank when Ellen has the audacity to complain that he is blocking her view of the TV, parade, shoe sale rack, etc. (2) Less likely to provoke a rabbit punch when used to indicate you’re not sure how something is going to end.

All you need to know is that The Skulls is about the worst elitist frat boy ever who utters this to a girl whose view he was blocking at a rowing race.

Scene -Generically Pretty Blonde (GPB) sitting there chilling and taking in a rowing race, like we all like to do. Paul Walker’s character, Caleb Mandrake (I know, right?) struts over like a rooster on Viagra and plops in front of her. Like 2 inches in front of her, because, you know, he’s super cool.

GPB: “Hey, Caleb, I can’t see.”

Caleb (without turning around): “Imagine it.”

Okay, I admit it, he IS cool.

3. “When do you drink vodka?” “Whenever.”

Usage — Mostly used by Frank to express an unknown completion date of some task.

To really get this gem, you have to hear the “Whenever” deadpanned in Allison’s (Ally Sheedy) voice.

“Frank, when are you going to take out the trash?” “Whenever.”

“Frank, when are you going to take out the ~~live~~ dead Christmas tree?” “Whenever.”

“Frank, when would you like to get busy?” “Whenev . . . wait!”

4. “Fear does not exist in this dojo!” “Yes, Sensei!”

Usage — A frequent (humorous) pep talk gem given before tests, games, and performances.

Frank to the girls before a swim meet: “Concentrate on your turns and swim hard into the wall. Fear does not exist in this dojo!” His ABSOLUTE dream is for the girls to one day respond, “Yes, Sensei!” IF this ever happens he will declare himself the winner of parenthood and exit the building.

5.“Lighten up, Francis”

Usage — What do you think it means?? Isn’t it obvious or are you daft or something?? Geez!!

Frank may or may not frequently use this, because Ellen may or may not frequently need to lighten up.

Erin and Steve

6. “There’s no crying in baseball.”

Usage — (1) Steve to the crew whenever they start sniveling or whining about something or, you know, “forget to use that thing three feet above their a$%.” (Direct quote that precedes this one in the movie) (2) Steve to Erin when she has left the ranch.

Five kids means that we have more than our share of whining. This is how we shut it down.

Steve is such a ridiculously spot-on mimic that when he channels Tom Hanks as he says this, you want to wipe your nose on your sleeve, pull your stuff together, and make the play (not the throw to home with a tw0-run lead, but you get my drift). Pronto.

7. “Let it go, Indiana.”

Usage — (1) Used to break a child out of an obsession (2) Used to stop Erin (or sometimes Steve, but let’s be fair, it’s usually Erin) in the middle of a rant.

Your family may not have fallen under the power of Minecraft yet, but it is the Dark Master of Timesuck around here. We have tried all sorts of systems to control the tech time, but it’s a painful weaning from this particular game EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. We use this phrase most often when trying to pry the keyboard from the kung-fu grip of a tween boy.

Of course, it’s equally at play trying to bring Erin down off a ledge or out of her tree.

Erin uses it most often to stop Steve from playing Civilization, the adult equivalent of Minecraft. (Note to readers: Do not buy this game for your husband for his birthday.)

8. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

Usage — (1) Used almost exclusively on a kid who has proven either clueless, exasperating, or both (2) Also used as a verbal high five for a funny.

Our life provides endless opportunities to throw this one around. In fact, we like it so much we have given it a second life as a mark of admiration for some clever punny-ness.

Erin heard they started putting this saying on t-shirts. She would not turn down a gift like that. Just saying.

9. “I don’t know, Margo.”

Usage — (1) Used between Erin and Steve to answer a question that could be deemed snarkastic (2) Occasionally used to answer any question, because it’s just so darn funny.

Todd and Margo are the yuppie neighbors to the Griswolds. This phrase is appropriate any time someone is packing ‘tude or piling some edginess on a stack of sass. In fact, we just used this one today when discussing the basketball schedule for the 9 year old. Now, Erin is not saying who was bringing the Margo and who had to sling the Todd, but everyone is still standing and talking to each other so we are counting that as a victory.

You really do have to say it just like Todd though, so here’s the clip just in case you have been living in a bomb shelter and haven’t seen this Chevy Chase Christmas classic movie.

10. “Francisco. That’s fun to say.”

Usage — (1) bringing on a laugh in the middle of a tense moment (2) talking a teen off that hormonal ledge (3) Any time you want to inject some funny, like on the 1000 miles of car trips we took over Christmas break.

Oh, Elf, is an awesome movie for lots of reasons, not the least of which is that it brought this phrase into our life. Truly, this is the parental equivalent of the bomb squad for diffusing the landmines in our living room, our car, wherever.

It induces a laugh. Every. Single. Time.

Thank you once again to Stasha for hosting the fabulous Monday Listicles every week. We love the writers we meet there every week, so make this the week you actually click the link and check it out.

For as Yoda says, “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” See what we did there? We can’t help ourselves. Happy Monday from Ellen and Erin.

And an extra Happy Monday to Erin’s daughter who you know as Biddie. She turns 14 today. Here’s one of Erin’s favorite Happy Birthday movie clips just for her from Uncle Buck.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Biddie!

Tell us! Do YOU talk in movie Quotes?

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How Bloggers’ Kids Get Their Revenge

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Very rarely do the planets align to create a perfect family day, but we had one this summer when Steve and I took our kids for a little impromptu tour of my hometown. No fighting, no whining, and no unpleasantness whatsoever—-it was the trifecta of family harmony.

But all good things must come to an end.

Because I was hopped up on the good vibes AND our happy jaunt around town landed us in front of the old courthouse AND it was the exact spot where Steve and I had some wedding photos taken 16 years ago, I wanted evidence. Of course, whipping out the DSLR caused some kind of shift in the universe, and things started to unravel. And quickly. Don’t look for those photos on our Christmas card this year.

Always the one to add some gasoline to the inferno, I thought it would be a swell idea to take some photos for the blog too. I mean, the sky was blue, the air was perfect, and my kids were self-combusting—what better time to catch some photo ops? But my kids are pros now at posing as the faceless wonders, so that part of the shoot went just fine. I didn’t really think of those pictures again. Then earlier this week, I came upon this photo.

I don’t care what their teachers say. My boys are geniuses, and revenge is sweet.

Well played, gentlemen. Well played.

PS–I think I can even see them giggling. I don’t know how I missed it before.

—Erin

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Deep Thoughts

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Deacon: Dad, that team we just beat is the same one we lost to in the first game of the season.

Steve: That’s great. What do you think was the difference?

Deacon: The score.

Our very own Jack Handy

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The Best Homes Are People Not Places

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Happy Memorial Day, everyone! I hope you have had plenty of family time and have taken a moment to think about our freedom and remember all of the women and men who have secured it for us. That’s what it’s all about, right?

Erin is spending Memorial Day Weekend at the beach celebrating Ace’s 15th birthday. But I’m relaxing with my family close to home, going to some parties, doing some baking, and attacking some yard work. So there is no reason to skip Stasha’s Monday Listicle: 10 WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOUR HOME. A girl can only haul so much mulch or bake so many cookies without a break. Quick word of advice, don’t let those two activities cross paths. Mulch in baked goods cannot be passed off as fiber.

Erin's Weekend

Ellen's Weekend. This is totally representative of my discovery of the snake skin shed in the holly bush I was trimming. No exaggeration.

So where to begin? Erin threw out this helpful email, “My house is known as command central.” Gee, I think we all can say that. Not really enough to work with. Even though I’m not rollicking on the beach, I have better things to do than create lists out of thin air.

Then there is the post we wrote about Erin’s Oasis and my counter post about The Coco Room Apocalypse. Quite frankly, they provided TOO much to work with. And since my house hasn’t been completely clean since I started blogging, I was in no mood to review Erin’s neat house techniques, albeit, they are very good and handy.

See? I'm sappier than I let on.

So I was going to copy from this canvas on my wall because Erin has a very similar one hanging in her house. But it seemed very precious and quite frankly, a little plagiarize-y. I mean, do I really want to stoop to ripping off the equivalent a Hallmark card? I may have a touch of the sappy, but I ooze with integrity. I’m Googling right now to see if there is an ointment for that.

But I was inspired! The Listicle asks for words describing our homes, not our houses. I was on the right track with the wall art, but I needed originality. Our homes are the people who fill our hearts and clog our septic systems, not the disorderly conditions of our stray sock baskets. And since you can’t get more one-of-a-kind than the people in our lives, I present without further ado…

The People Who Transform Our Houses Into Homes

(While the names have been changed per our kids’ requests, the personalities are all real.)

Erin’s Army first…

They are almost this funny. Wait, they ARE this funny.

1. Ace. My oldest son just turned 15 years old and is completing his freshman year in High School. He is a huge sports fan and plays soccer and runs track. Ace looks like my husband and acts like me. He can make friends with a light bulb. He is funny, impetuous, and confounding.

2. Biddie. Her blog name came to me, because my husband’s family is Polish. They used this nickname for his sister when she was younger, because she was small but mighty. That’s our Biddie. Thirteen years old, smart, creative, funny, and athletic, Biddie is everything I wish I was at her age.

3. Charlie. He is my 11 year old who loves soccer, Comic Books, and hats. I swear that he is either going to be the Frat President in college or its mascot. The kid is slightly cracked, but in the best possible way. Everybody loves him. One of the nicest compliments a teacher gave us about him was that of the 24 kids in his class, twenty-three of them considered him one of their best friends. He is our soft, sweet center.

4. Deacon. He was the one I had the hardest time renaming for the blog. His actual name is soooo perfectly him that it was hard to imagine him or referring to him any other way. Deacon is 8 years old and loves to build LEGOs, play soccer, and do science and art projects. At home, we sometimes call him The Hammer, because he has singular focus and knows what he wants.

5. Eddie. Eddie is a total Momma’s boy. My husband implied that his obsession might be a little more than your average bear (do you see where we are going with this? Oedipal Complex?). Eddie is 4 years old and loves Star Wars, stealing the iPad2 from his siblings, books, and hiking. He is stubborn, smart, and adorable—a deadly combo.

6. Steve. Last, but never least, is my husband of 15 years, Steve. When I told him that I was going to use military-inspired aliases for the blog and I thought that I might call him The Colonel (you know, because I am The General), he said, “I feel more like The Corporal.” He makes me laugh most days, and he is the most patient, kind person I have ever known. He’s the best. You are just going to have to trust me on this one.

Now Ellen’s Crew…

Don't worry, we only wear these pants on Thanksgiving..for the stretch. Oh and on Groundhog Day...for the style.

7. Frank. He is my soul mate and the best father I could imagine for our two girls. We have been together since he hit on me on that fraternity house lawn. I am blessed to have his support and love. He is sharp and witty and definitely lightens me up. I might be a smidge intense. I do have a tendency to tell him that he is lucky I don’t have an addictive personality, because he might be a bit of an enabler. But hey, he boosts my ego when Coco gets done with me.

8. Coco. So, Coco is nearly 14. I think she really picked the alias Cocoa because she loves chocolate, but I changed it to Coco because the girl has style. She is a preternatural force. She brought me to my knees as an infant with her colic and sometimes we question if the colic ever ended. She is a musician, an athlete, an actress, a writer, and a first class student. God gave her to me to keep me in my place. You should thank her too, because she keeps me from thinking that I am all that and a bag of chips. I am happy and blessed to know her.

9. Jellybean. She is 11. She is the least pleased with any of this blog stuff. She is a girl you want as your friend. She is kind, but not sappy, and definitely has a bit of the imp about her; just ask the cat. She is fun with a silly sense of humor, but has a well-defined BS meter. She is happy to be with a group, but can go and do her own thing without forcing the group to conform to her. She brings her determination to her sports, her Legos, and her schoolwork. Jellybean just gets it done. Her laugh has brought me joy from the first moment I heard it.

Hmmm…I ran out of family members. Seems like we didn’t have Monday Listicles in mind when we were squirting out kids. So number 1o is a bonus funny…

10. Antique White. This is something both of our families ~~ridicule~~ tease Erin about. She wants to paint everything in her home “Antique White,” (I know, that’s a whole different issue). She actually thinks she has painted everything “Antique White.” I, along with the entire Army and Crew, are here to tell the world, and her, once and for all: HER CHOSEN COLOR IS YELLOW!

So I guess the moral of this story is that Erin can’t suppress her sunny, positive personality with the bland and mundane, even when she tries.

Fondly, Ellen

: Booooooring Antique White or Sparkling Superfly Yellow? Which do you think fits Erin best?

Now check out the other great Listicles, although I can almost guarantee they won’t contain a flying Boohbah.

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A Hit and A Miss: The Monday Listicle Game

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This week on Monday Listicles we are following the prompt from Anna at The Mommy Padawan. She charged us with creating a list of “10 things you really like about yourself, things you are good at, or your super powers!”

We actually feel pretty good about ourselves. This defies all reason if you check out our old school pictures, but what can we say, we were late bloomers. So, hopped up on our own hubris, we decided to ask our kids what they thought was good about us.

Ellen

When I asked my kids what they liked about me, the resulting conversation felt like a rollicking three ring circus. So my list got a little out of control. I’m going to give each of my kids five things, because when you get this much sunshine blown your way, it feels like Mother’s Day.

Jellybean (11)

1. You buy us Cheez-its three boxes at a time.

Me – But what do you like about ME, beyond what I buy for you? You know, the inner me?

Jellybean – You have intestines.

That’s my girl!

2. Your fashion sense isn’t embarrassing.

Whew!

3. You do doctor stuff like healing my wounds.

4. You make great Tater Tot casserole and you stay fit.

Those two things seem kinda contradictory, don’t they?

5. You made me.

And my heart sings.

Coco (13)

1. You’re able to persevere through anything.

Wow.

2. You don’t get all uncomfortably up in my life.

3. You can parasail, rock climb, canoe, kayak, and hike.

Like a boss.

4. You are very creative with your blog.

That’s it. I need no other praise.

5. But what do you like about yourself, Mom?

Well, well.

Me – I like that I can pretty much do anything I put my mind to.

Jellybean and Coco – Yeah, we can see that.

Wow. Validation is mine, reflected back to me by my daughters’ words.

Erin

Wow. Reading Ellen’s kids’ reflections on their mom is sweet and inspiring and dear. My first thought after I asked my crew what they liked about me and heard their responses: “Huh, now I know why some animals eat their offspring.”

Sometimes Momma Bear just has to take matters into her own, er, paws!

To be fair, we were traveling in the car when I asked them, but here is the list unedited (and my crew didn’t make it anywhere close to 10!).

Me: So, what is something I do really well?

Crickets. Nada. Nothing. Then this. . .

1. Ace (14): You make great chocolate chip cookies.

Um, okay, he’s fourteen. All he thinks about is food.

2. Charlie (11): You are a great baker. You make great chocolate chip cookies.

Ok, slacker, your brother just said. . .

3. Deacon (8): Hmm, let me think. . . you make great chocolate chip cookies.

Really, boys? Where’s the love?

Now, I have heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but I didn’t know this applied to little men as well.

But I do make a damn, fine cookie if I say so myself.

Girl child made me feel slightly better . . .

4. Biddie (13, and my new favorite child): You are a creative writer, a good friend to everyone, you stay fit, and have a good fashion sense. Oh, and you make really good chocolate chip cookies.

Well, she is definitely fishing for something, but I’ll take it.

But the piece de resistance!! My sweet baby who still cuddles me and tells me that I am his girlfriend and the most beautiful woman alive, what does he have to say??

5. Eddie (4): You are really good at yelling at Daddy.

(I feel like I need a disclaimer here: WE WERE ON A CAR TRIP! I was driving, and Steve was being a front-seat driver.)

Seriously? Are you kidding me?? The whole car thought that was a total hoot and raucous laughter ensued.

Charlie chimed in: “No do-overs! You have to put that on the blog.”

So there you go. Ellen’s kids sound like they want to nominate her for Mother of the Year, and MY kids sound like they want me in their own little sweatshop churning out the baked goods or appearing as a guest on Maury.

It just goes to prove what I have always known: My superpower is finding the humor in anything!!

So just to recap. . .

How Ellen’s Kids See Her: ROCK STAR

My kids tell me I look like Michael Jackson

How Erin’s Kids See Her: COOKIE JAR

My Kids tell me I look like Betty Crocker

Thank you to Stasha once again for her Monday Listicles. Without her, we might not have these beautiful family moments to treasure. But, in all seriousness, she has created a lovely community of writers who start their week off “write” with a list. Great writers, great blogs—what are you waiting for?? Get over there! Erin and Ellen

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Picture This

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It was as beautiful a spring morning as ever was. A ray of sun filtered through Erin’s kitchen window spotlighting the telephone handset resting on the table. The two friends were uncharacteristically quiet as they sipped their coffee and the cat curled up on Ellen’s lap.

The phone rings and time seems to slow down as Ellen grabs Erin’s hand. “Well, answer it. You know your voicemail is full and they won’t be able to leave a message,” Ellen says.

Erin punches the button and lifts it to her ear. Even so, Ellen can hear, “Congratulations, your loan has been approved.” The radiant smile on Erin’s face confirms what she overheard. Ellen leaps to her feet, unceremoniously tipping the cat to the floor, to give her friend a hug.

Ellen proclaims, “Halleluiah, the kids can their get school pictures taken!”

Erin– Well at least that is how it feels. I have FIVE kids. Five kids, people. And my father who adores school pictures. I take beautiful shots of my kids at the beach and the park. They are natural and expressive photographs and he likes them, but he LOVES the pictures taken by “professionals” in front of official backgrounds.

Ellen– You mean the lapis lazuli vomit swirl background? Really?

Erin– Something about the official-ness of it must speak to his judicially ordered heart. And we get the full package for him: the 8 x10 for the homestead stairwell and the 5 x7 for the courthouse office.

Ellen – Well, at least someone likes them. I swear I spend a fortune every year, and they just sit in my china cabinet undistributed because they just aren’t a good product. (And, honestly, I let some things slip through the cracks.) I just feel so guilty if I don’t purchase them for some reason, like I’m making some larger public statement about how much I love and value my kids.

Erin– I got your guilt. This, from Eddie’s preschool teacher, who nunned me up real good: “Just because he is the fifth child doesn’t mean you shouldn’t buy the picture package.”

Ellen – Ouch!

Erin– Oh, it gets better. I caved and paid for the pictures. Then. . .

Sister Mary Tarnish-My-Tiara says, “Everyone had wonderful pictures! You are going to be so excited to see them.” Long pause. “Except for Eddie. We had to take his picture 35 times, and the entire class was late to library because of it.”

Ellen– Did you get the bonus didn’t-want-to-make-eye-contact-staring-awkwardly-and-silently-at-the-ground pantomime from the rest of the moms because you were being scolded? By a nun.

Erin– But the end result was just as I predicted: a sourpuss picture of a disgruntled preschooler. I can get that any day of the week just by telling him no. I don’t need it staring out of a frame at me.

Ellen – I know that look. He seems to get it when we mention blogging, too. Poor tortured 4 year old.

Erin – But the real subliminal message to the world that we might not have our shizz together comes when the third grader wears his sports goggles in the class picture. That’s right. My sons, the future Rhodes Scholars, decided to play war THE NIGHT BEFORE class pictures, and, as any parent with 15 minutes of experience could tell you, things got ugly. And fast.

Luckily, the only casualties were Deacon’s glasses and my patience.

Ellen– Luckily, really!?! That seems to be an understatement, Pollyanna.

Erin– Okay, we weren’t really lucky. Deacon’s eyes cross without his corrective eyewear, so a pic without glasses was never an option. I called the optometrist! But, denied! I can still hear them chuckling at the ridiculousness of my emergency request of making super special prescription glasses in 30 minutes. That’s right. I could hear THEM sharing the can-you-believe-what-this-crazy-mom-just-asked laugh—it was worthy of a group giggle.

My last resort without time or luck on our side were his sports goggles. His big, black, thick goggles complete with strap around the back. While I may cherish this picture and the fond, fond memories it brings, the other moms definitely looked askance at me afterward. And offered up fashion advice. Lots of it.

Erin models the goggles. Saying, “Not tonight honey,” without saying a word.

Ellen – The pressure of the class picture can make you crack. And you just keep telling yourself that message is subliminal. Those bad boys shout out, “This family is really just a steaming ball of hot mess.” Those pictures can’t be hidden in the china closet. They are up for worldwide distribution.

Erin– No one is feeling you more than me right now, Sister.

Ellen– There is the whole what to wear thing EVEN when there is no vanity involved. I’m not talking prissy girls throwing tantrums because they don’t have a shirt to perfectly match the blue of their eyes. I’m talking school-wants-to-make-everything-a-pain-in-my tuckus -because-no-one can-crosscheck-a-calendar.

School Admins: Ruining Mornings Since Little House on the Prairie

Erin – I’m just gonna say it OUT LOUD: Jostens and Lifetouch are the cartels, but the schools are the Dr. Evil kingpins pulling the strings and making us dance.

Ellen – For real! For the spring round of pictures, Jellybean (11) got the form for the April 13^th pictures on April 10^th. After coming off of spring break, this did not jump to the top of my priority list.

Flash to the morning of pictures and Jellybean comes down dressed like a hobo ready to clean out the garage.

“Honey, today is picture day. Why are you wearing old sweat pants?”

Jellybean-“Because it is the fitness test today in gym.”

Seriously, I’m shelling out $30 for pictures (cheapest substantial package) and the school scheduled the fitness test on the same day?

“Honey, they are taking the CLASS picture today. We can’t have you distributed to multiple households looking like a refugee. Or like one of Erin’s offspring. What about that cute dress you wore on vacation?”

Jellybean- (possibly a little tearful from me calling her a refugee) “But we have to do push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups. I can’t wear a skirt!”

Ellen- “So what time is gym?”

Jellybean – “First period.”

Of course it is. (In elementary school, they don’t get to change for gym.)

Ellen- “So you’re telling me that no matter what you wear, you’ll be a hot mess anyway by the time pictures roll around?”

Oy.

Ellen– So tick tock goes the clock, we go upstairs and settle on a embellished tank with a sweater, jeans, and Converse. Whatever, I surrender. The kicker? The gym teacher was absent so the fitness test was cancelled. Winner? The school for messing up my morning for no reason except its own evil entertainment.

Erin – Seriously, we have 7 kids between us so the ~~complaints~~ reminiscing could go on forever. Let’s not forget that school pictures cornered you into highlighting Coco’s hair. But you do have to love the comedy in school pictures, too.

Ellen – I’m glad you can laugh. What about the tragedy of it all??

Erin – Oh wait a minute. WHAT ABOUT WHAT WE OVERCAME!

Ellen – That’s what I’m saying!

Erin – I modeled the sports goggles. My pride is not an issue for this post.

Erin

Ellen – One of the first things Erin said when she handed me this picture? “Can you believe they didn’t even straighten my necklace?” Yes, that was exactly the first thing I was incredulous about.

Erin – Whatever. Your turn.

Ellen – I’m actually proud about how far I have come.

Erin – You should be.

Ellen’s 7th Grade Picture. Believe me, the resolution is good enough.

Ellen – So clearly Erin is classier than me. I chose the group picture because I was not going down alone. We will close with Josten’s Mission Statement because, really, I would like for the whole blogosphere to tell them to suck it.

Jostens’ Mission Statement

Supporting your mission is our mission.

We take great care in passionately helping people:

Express themselves

Celebrate experiences and traditions

Recognize achievements

Share their stories

Erin – Just one more thing I would like to add: Creating images that will cause your offspring to roll on the floor laughing at you with glee in their eyes. Have at them, Blogosphere!