Economic Development

This afternoon, a much anticipated event: cashing in the aluminum cans Gage and Max have tirelessly worked to crush and collect with Grandma Koreen.

Ok, they didn't work tirelessly. But it was several moments of fun and Gage's obsessive self picking squished cans up out of parking lots, alleys and street corners.  And then at the last moment, our pal Travis sent his collection along also.

We had been asking Gage how much money he expected to earn, with guesses being between $5 and "A THOUSAND DOLLARS!". They had just under 2 garbage bags full, and yielded $4.50 for their efforts - it divided perfectly between two hands.

After The Great Aluminum Can Cash In of 2012, they boys hung out at the office until it was time to go home. We did things like: count money, roll up dollar bills and stuff them into our pocket, have a snack, trade crumpled up dollar bills for flat crispy ones, and trade dollars. In trying to get some work done, I overheard Gage working his little brother over:

Gage: "Let's have a race. If I win, I get your dollars and if you win, I get to keep mine."

Max didn't fall for his tricks and we put the brake on his plan before it went any farther. I was equally impressed and horrified at the experience.

Chipmunks Like Doritos

I left the boys in the van with a bag of Doritos today while I ran inside to pick up pizzas for lunch. (Judgement free zone on the quality of my Sunday dinner.)

When I came back outside, they were (naturally) chowing down. Up the block a ways Gage dropped a bombshell, "The bag is open on both ends."

Super. So Doritos all over his lap and the back seat of the freshly vacuumed van. I wasn't all too surprised or upset, but told him to sit still until we arrived at our destination and I could help out. At this point Max starts giving the real story, "We held the bag and then it just popped!"

I knew the answer, but asked anyway, "Gage, how did you open the bag of chips?"

He replied, "We just held it up and popped it, but it opened on both ends."

(Insert crickets chirping.)

Then his justification, "You know, like Alvin does on the first Alvin and the Chipmunks movie."

Of course, blame it on the naughty chipmunk.

Athletic Activity

Gage started soccer today. We hyped him up all weekend for the big day. There was the purchase of shin guards last week. And then the search for soccer socks, which we could not find and eventually settled on a pair of small men's socks that fit more like pants. And then the explanation of the sport.

When Gage found out who is coaching his team, he was ecstatic. A boy from church who Gage once rode as a donkey. He immediately set out to gather things for "Coach Colton": score cards, number cards, the front page of a random newspaper, and Gage's Soccer Rules. They are as follows:
#1 Have fun
#2 Be nice to your friends
#3 Get it in the goal

Yep, that's pretty much all I know too.

I was trying to explain to Gage that he might not be the person who always kicks the ball into the net, and that's ok. I tried associating it with basketball passes, baseball positions and volleyball players who all work together. He was really confused about volleyball.

"So what does volleyball look like? Do they play it inside or outside?"

Jack pitched in to field the question, "You know what Gage? The Olympics start next week. How about we sit down together and watch all kinds of volleyball on TV?"

Let the games begin!

Monkey Town Bakery

I am not a baker. There is one kind of pie that I've yet to screw up (Caramel Apple) but beyond that I do not have the patience or finesse in the kitchen to perfect a pan of bars or frost and decorate anything that looks and tastes good. Even my Grandma (who can cook and bake blindfolded with her hands tied behind to back) wised up to this phenomenon a few years ago and gifted me some gear for the kitchen, including an oven thermometer. She was certain the only explanation for my floppity baked good was that my oven was baking at the wrong temperature. (She was right, but it didn't make a bit of difference in the end.) I feel this admission is pertinent to the discovery I made this morning.

Fifteen bananas.

I found fifteen frozen bananas in the freezer waiting for someone to bake them into deliciousness. I used to throw bananas away when they got brown, but then someone told me you could put them in the freezer until you were ready to use them. It turns out you still have you use them. If you don't use them, you wake up one morning and find yourself one frozen banana away from an episode of Hoarders.

There are now fifteen bananas thawing in the kitchen sink, waiting for me to screw up a bag of flour and sugar trying to bake something.

20 Questions Would be a Vacation

Something has changed.

Since Gage finished up with preschool a few weeks ago, something has definitely changed. I am beginning to think normal, everyday life in the lap of luxury playing whatever he wants at daycare does not stimulate his brain. Or perhaps he yearns for structure like the program he participated in four days a week for nine months. But in the last three weeks, I have answered no fewer than 12,000 questions.

I try.
I try really hard not to discourage the conversation because Lord knows that soon enough, he will want nothing to do with me.
I try to encourage him to think for himself, answer what questions he can using common sense.
I try to allow him the freedom to choose for himself whenever possible.

Somehow, we have been derailed and demoted to simple questions that fly out of his mouth faster than my brain can process.

Here's a sample from this morning:

When are Grandma and Grandpa coming?
How many days are they staying?
When are they leaving?
How many days do I get to be with them?
Are you coming to pick me up?
What should I wear at Grandma and Grandpa's house?
Can I take books?
Can I take sweatpants?
Will they know what to feed me?
What can I wear today?
What's for breakfast?
How much do I have to eat?
Do I need a jacket?
Does Max need a jacket?
Where are my socks?
Can I sit at the counter?
Is Max going outside?
Are you going to put Wrangler away?
Who is going to be at daycare today?
Are you listening to me?
Why did you change your shirt?
Why did you close the door?
Can I wear this shirt?

It. Never. Ends.

And I have no idea where he gets it from - this incessant need to talk all the time. I have tried asking Jack 100 times, in 100 different ways, but I am not sure he is listening.

:)

The Best of Intentions

I don't think our fridge has been wiped down since I was pregnant with Max. I took care of it when I was nesting and the next thing I knew there was a baby, and then a toddler, and then preschool for the toddler's brother and then an unknown substance of a color not found in nature spilling down the interior wall on the second shelf. In an effort to ease the shock of this experience I started planning ahead and purging outdated things ahead of time. Next, I went on a grocery buying ban. And for the last week, we have searched a bare bones fridge full of grossness for something to eat while putting off restocking until it was cleaned.

Last night I finally mustered the courage to tackle the job. I cooked extra sloppy joes so the boys would eat their fill while I labroed away and leave plenty of leftovers for lunch today. I started grabbing things from shelves to rest on the counter and found a few more mysterious pieces to add to the garbage can. In an effort to prevent freezing of the kitchen, I turned off the fridge's cooling so I could clean to my heart's content. And boy is it clean.

I delicately placed the jelly and other condiments on the shelves and in the door so we could read the labels, reorganzied the produce drawer and packed up the leftover sloppy joes to ready them for transport to the office in the morning.

At this point in the evening, its fair to mention that I gave Max a bath, Gage a shower, took something for my headache, hauled too big/too small clothes upstairs to restock the boys' drawers, put the kids to bed and sorted said clothes. Then I went to bed.

This morning, Jack kindly reminded me that next time I turned off the fridge, to turn it back on when I am finished.

Note to self: pick up perishables on the way home. Your fridge is empty.

Looks like frozen pizza for lunch.

Ten On Tuesday, Solo Kim

Back with a Ten on Tuesday after a break. These are actually older questions, that I answered a while back and filed. I figured I might as well post them since the work is already done!

1. What’s your variety of apple?
Braeburn, or as Gage calls them “the red AND green ones”. They had a unit on apple varieties at preschool examining colors, textures and taste so now he’s an expert. Duh.

2. Do you prefer Long-English or Field cucumbers?
Umm, burpless?

3. Tomatoes – Delicious or disgusting?
Delicious, all forms, varieties, canned, sauced, etc. My Grandma grows loads of tomatoes every year, and has my entire life. When I was a wee little girl and helped in her garden (Grandma, are there any pictures of this?) she taught me how to eat fresh tomatoes: pick, polish, bite, spit out that bite, suck out all the juice, pitch the remaining fleshy part over the white washed fence, repeat.

4. What’s one fruit or vegetable that you can’t stand and why is that?
Do mushrooms count? My tastebuds have grown up enough to embrace everything but mushrooms. (It took about 25 years for them to enjoy peppers.)

5. What’s your favourite way to prepare veggies? (Grilled, boiled, roasted, sautéed, etc.)
Grilled on almost everything. Not lettuce. And potatoes…probably mashed.

6. Sweet potato pie: Love it or hate it?
I love sweet potatoes.

7. What’s your favourite “style” of French fry? Wedges, shoelace, curly, crinkle-cut or other?
Thin and crispy.

8. What’s your favourite fruit-pie filling?
Strawberry (served cold). Or peach (served warm a la mode). One more story: my Dad begged my sister and I ride along to an auction sale when we were in high school. It was an hour away and we weren’t real excited about it. But we tagged along because it meant we didn’t have to stay home and clean/mow/scrape out hog pens for the day. When we got there and discovered they had an entire building filled with every type of pie imaginable we were hooked. We kept dragging him back for more pie. So much that we missed the sale of the one thing he actually wanted at the auction. We went back with him again another year to the “pie sale”.

9. When you were a kid did your parents make you sit at the table until all your veggies were eaten off your plate?
I don’t remember, so probably not. Honestly, I don’t remember pitching fits about eating. My kids? It’s a constant battle to get them to eat something (sometimes ANYTHING) at a meal. Help me?

10. Do you drink veggie & fruit juice blends (such as V8, etc.) or make them yourself?
I like to make my own fruit smoothies, but haven’t done anything with veggies. Also, I bring my own gravy (it’s a MONK pun...)