Ice, Ice Baby

Last week I took the kids to a "mommy and me" activity at the ice rink. They rough up the ive and let the kids go out and play in their boots. The kids had a lot of fun - even Lucas (we had minor tantrum episodes). When I was a kid every elementary school had an outdoor ice rink next to the playground and we would ice skate, play hockey, run around do whatever all winter long. I adore watching the kids enjoy the same type of activities.

The rink puts out balls and sleds and other activities for the kids to do.
They also put a little snow pile out on the ice for the kids to play in.

Hockey champs.

You'd think I married a centipede

He doesn't have stinky feet. He only goes one place each day (work). I don't really understand how or why. It just happens. This is not even a full week of socks and it doesn't count the dress socks I already folded and put away. For some reason I hate washing and folding socks and I continually question Drew as to how many times he changes socks each day.

The aftermath of neglect

While I was on the computer one day, obviously neglecting the kids, Lucas was taking advantage of the opportunity (please ignore the messy kitchen, that gets neglected, too).

Those are Hershey kisses all over his mouth in the first picture. So much for my stash, I guess. I counted six wrappers laying on the counter.

The Circus

Elena and Lucas appropriately named their favorite game, "Circus." They rip the cushions off the couch and have at it like a couple of acrobatic monkeys. I don't mind because it will seriously occupy them for at least half an hour before bed. Here are a few pictures for our upcoming circus billboard:

Influences

I was reading Ecclesiastes 3 last night and the tune to the popular song came into my head. I could not help, as hard as I tried, reading the passage without humming. I started laughing then. Great. I don't feel like I was committing some heinous sin, but I was just amazed at how little control I had over my thoughts. It was a gentle reminder how easily culture and media can be internalized.

Speaking of internalizing media - whenever I read a book, especially a period book, I begin to talk and think in the dialect or style the book is written. For example, I'm reading a book about the deep south in the early 1900's. If I'm reading and the phone rings, I have to remind myself to answer the phone in a normal voice instead and not use the southern accent I'm sure I've perfected, in my own head. And I have to keep supressing my urge to use the words, "I reckon" and "yes'm." I'm pretty sure Drew was ready for me to finish my Jack Kerouac phase so I would stop talking like a beat poet or the European books that bring out my finest English accent.

War of the wet

I am not usually an advice seeker (in fact my eyes usually roll back into my head anytime I see the unsolicited kind coming my way) , but this time I'm open to any suggestion you may have. We finally had Elena potty trained to stay dry through the night. She had been accident-free for over a month. All of a sudden she started having nightly accidents. She refuses to wear a pull up and I really don't want to go backwards. We (by that I mean ME) have been getting up with her in the middle of the night to take her to the potty in order to avoid the accident. I was just wondering how any of you may have conquered the nighttime potty-training. Let me know and I promise I won't roll my eyes.

I did find this little contraption, but I don't know if I'm quite at that point =).