Goin' to Tweetsie Railroad in My Mind

If you've ever been to Tweetsie Railroad in Blowing Rock, then you get it when I say that it is truly a slice of life. The Wild West theme park attracts an incredible cross-section of people from all walks ... and they converge en masse in the High Country of Western North Carolina looking for some good old-fashioned fun.

We first took our kids to Tweetsie in the summer of 2004, and we have made countless visits in the years since. In fact, for the last three years, we have been loud and proud card-carrying members of the "Golden Rail Season Pass" club.

Tweetsie has been around since long before I was born, and some of my first memories are from when I was about 4 years old, being terrorized on the three-mile train ride through the woods. Back then, after the train would make an "unscheduled stop" in the middle of the forest, actors wielding hatchets and donning war paint would race through the train cars threatening the passengers.

It's not nearly as frightening these days. The cowboys and Indians skip through the train cars without whooping and hollering. In fact, during a visit last summer, one of the "bad guy" Indians even stopped mid-show to console Julianna when he noticed she looked scared.

They might as well hold hands and sing Kum Ba Yah.

And while I love every minute of our trips to Tweetsie, the train rides, shows, and kiddie attractions ooze such cheese that it's enough to nauseate even Mortimer J. Mouse on Miner's Mountain (again, if you've been there, you get it).

Earlier this week I was thinking about our trips to Tweetsie because of LJ's bout with the flu. Strange connection I know ... but when LJ was 5 years old, he started running a fever on a trip to Blowing Rock. We went to Tweetsie anyway because he didn't have any other symptoms. But by that night, he was in terrible shape. Two days later, he was diagnosed with pneumonia. That may be the only time I've seen him sicker than this past week.

Remembering that trip prompted me to pore through our photos. And in looking at our Tweetsie album, I noticed that you could make a pictorial time line of our family using just those photos. Our kids really grow up in the Tweetsie pictures ... summer after summer ... from wispy-headed, bandanna-wearing babies to independent, gun-toting kids. (No worries, they're cap guns. And Julianna's is pink).

So while I sometimes like to poke fun at the whole "Tweetsie experience," I wouldn't trade it for the world. As a family, we have enjoyed a lot of really wonderful times there ... and the photos that document our visits are just the icing on that slice of life cake.

The Taming of the Flu

The Tamiflu Crew
"Life is good. Life is bad. Anything can happen in life. Except for nonsense things."

This was Julianna's thought for the day as she got ready for bed last night.

LJ's response?

"Not true! Nonsense things can happen."

I doubt that either child realized just how prophetic this conversation would be less than 24 hours later.

But as LJ's fever spiked at nearly 104 degrees early this morning, I knew a trip to the pediatrician was warranted. He rarely gets sick, and he had me concerned with his combination of high fever, chest congestion, and lethargy.

To my utter shock, his flu test came back positive.

Now I know that flu vaccines are not even close to fool-proof. But I cannot recall either kid ever having the flu. And since Jack and I started getting the vaccines several years ago, neither have we.

When LJ heard the news, you would have thought his pet fish, Max, had died all over again. Tears were streaming down his face and he had a hard time coming to grips with how truly nonsensical it all was. You could practically see his little mind whirring away as he tried to process it all.

Why had he gone to the horrible inconvenience and discomfort of getting the flu mist if he was ultimately fated to contract this awful virus anyway?

Why?

Life is good. Life is bad. Anything can happen in life. And in this case, nonsense happened in the form of the flu.

The doctor prescribed Tamiflu for the entire family in the hopes of minimizing LJ's symptoms and keeping ours at bay. The jury is still out on its effectiveness, and I am a little bit queasy just thinking about the possibility of the flu.

On our way back from picking up the Tamiflu prescriptions at Rite-Aid, the packaging caught LJ's eye.

"Mom," he said. "That shouldn't be called Tam-i-flu. That should be called Tame-a-flue. Get it?"

I did, and I laughed -- out loud. Despite being totally immersed in a flu-induced misery, my son didn't miss a chance to crack a joke.

Unfortunately, thus far, Tamiflu seems only to have tamed LJ and not the virus.

He is notoriously picky about the flavor of medicine, so I sought assurances from both the doctor and pharmacist that this medicine tasted "fine." Despite their promises, LJ spit the first Tamiflu dose all over me and the sofa. He then gagged down a second dose only to throw it up on the carpet.

Between me and Jack, we made four trips to Rite Aid today -- the last of which was to have some watermelon "magic" added to the Tamiflu to improve the taste.

Life is good. Life is bad. Anything can happen in life. Especially nonsense things.

And sometimes life gives us lemons -- like the flu. Next time I'll just be sure to get it artificially flavored.

This Birthday Brought to You By ...

As we were hanging decorations for Julianna's birthday beach bash, she looked at me and said, "Mom, don't you think this is a little over the top?"

I beg to differ. I thought the mix of limbo, ice cream sundaes, and beach-themed crafts was just about right. But her question did get me thinking about how we could really make it "over the top" in years to come.

The answer came in a blinding flash: corporate sponsors.

The demographics are there ... young girls have moms, and most of these moms are fashion conscious and have some disposable income to burn. It's a win-win situation for both me and the companies.

Yes, corporate sponsorship is the key to the party to end all parties.


Since it was a beach party theme, as each girl arrived we provided them with some cheap plastic sunglasses. But there will be no junk for these ladies next year. Instead, eye wear sponsor Dolce & Gabanna will give each guest a pair of sunglasses covered with Swarovski crystals ... a dream come true for every little princess. Retail value: $400 each

One of our party crafts was a do-it-yourself beaded beach-themed necklace. I think I paid about 75 cents for each. But next year, why go inexpensive when you can go with the little blue box? Instead of a boring craft, Tiffany & Co., our jewelry sponsor, will be gifting each girl a sterling silver seashore charm bracelet. Each bracelet features an anchor, sailboat, starfish, fish, and beach umbrella. Retail value: $550 each

When it was time for our guests to head home, we gave each girl a dinky little paper gift bag. Next year, our guests will leave the party in style, as our title sponsor will be Coach. They will provide one of their most popular bags for our guests, appropriately titled "Julianne" and in my daughter's favorite color, pink. Retail value: $378 each


Finally, there's the small matter of the birthday dessert. Julianna isn't really a big fan of birthday cake . . . something to do with the icing. So we opted for ice cream sundaes this year. It went over prety well, although I think the girls may have consumed more candy toppings than actual ice cream. Regardless, I think we should stick with ice cream again next year.

But why bring ice cream to the girls when you can bring the girls to ice cream?

Ben & Jerry's, our dessert sponsor, will be flying our entourage -- all expenses paid -- to South Burlington, Vermont, for a private factory tour. Free ice cream included! Retail value: $4,060 (includes round-trip airfare for 20 guests).

I can picture it now ... with a combined retail value of $1,531 per guest, girls will be falling all over themselves to be friends with my daughter. We'll never have to beg for another playdate again. Julianna will be the "it" girl.

All kidding aside, it is pretty amazing how ridiculously expensive some children's birthday parties have become. I can only hope that, as Julianna gets older, paper umbrella straws, pink lemonade, and inflatable palm trees will continue -- at least in her eyes -- to be "over the top."

At least until we finish planning her wedding.

Check Mate

While I was in Denver on business a couple of weeks ago and the family was "home alone," LJ participated in his first real chess tournament. My younger brother, Steven, tutors him in chess once a week and accompanied him to a local scholastic event.

Participating in this tournament was a big leap for LJ. He had played successfully in chess club and camp at school, but this was different. He knew going into the tournament that there would be better players than him and that he would likely lose the majority of his matches.

For a kid who hates losing almost as much as he hates sledding, this was a risk.

As it turned out, LJ won two of his six matches and had a positive enough experience that he wants to enter more tournaments in the near future.

I am thrilled he seems to really love a "thinking man's" game, but I'm actually even more ecstatic that I do not know the first thing about it.

I mean it. I do not know ANYTHING about chess. I cannot even line up the cute little horsey character in the right spot on the board.

And I like it that way.

I'm not sure how I avoided chess by osmosis as a child. My dad was an avid player, and although I was fascinated by his "high-tech" liquid crystal magnetic electronic chess board, I never learned how to use it.

My older brother, TJ, knew how to play, and he and my dad engaged in matches pretty frequently. And Steven is a very accomplished player, as he has won the New Hampshire state high school championship and traveled up and down the East Coast to play in tournaments.

But not me. And the reason I plan to keep it that way is as simple as a Queen's gambit (that's a beginner's chess move according to Google).

I love being able to encourage LJ and watch him play without knowing a right move versus a wrong move; a good decision versus a bad one; or a near victory versus a certain defeat.

I played soccer for years, so when I watch LJ play for his team, the Rattlers, it's hard not give him suggestions. I swam competitively for even longer, so when I watch LJ race for the Bedford Sharks, it's too easy to offer stroke critique.

No matter what sport (or activity) I'm watching the kids participate in, I always try to remove myself from it as much as possible. I know the last thing they need is any more pressure to perform. But I think that as parents, we all know that's so much easier said than done.

With chess, ignorance is bliss.

I can just relax and take it in because I have absolutely no clue what is going on. I can focus on LJ, and not his actions. I don't know if he's just made a terrible move or a great one. I don't know if he's about win or lose. And I don't really care. I just love to watch his expressions and listen as he talks himself through his moves and strategy.

So, while I usually feel a pang of guilt when LJ offers to teach me how to play chess, I think I'll keep telling him "no thanks." (Besides, I know he only wants me to learn so he can beat me).

There are so few times we parents can sit back and just observe our kids.

To put that in chess terms, I think that would be something like ... "take time to stop and smell the Fried Liver attack."

No really, that is a chess move.

LJ just told me so.

The Pink Ladies

Note: This post contains a picture of me as a cheerleader and bonus video footage!

Unlike LJ, who is a seasoned veteran of youth basketball and soccer teams, Julianna has not really participated in team sports until now. She was on a recreational soccer team called "The Blast" with some other 4-year-olds, but that lasted about two weeks.

The team name, incidentally, was a misnomer.

During the second soccer game (and I use the word game loosely to describe a mass of small children flocking to the ball like moths to flame), she came running off the field red-faced and near tears and proclaimed: "Mommy, I don't like sports. I just wanna dance!"

Honestly, for a moment I thought she could not possibly be my daughter.

But she was clearly miserable and since we did not want to cause any (further) irreversible psychological damage to our little princess, we let her quit the team. Fortunately she seemed to get over the experience quickly, as she proudly accepted her participatory trophy a few weeks later. She still has it displayed prominently in her room.

So after two years away from team sports, we decided to give it another go with Upward basketball. Julianna actually wanted to be an Upward cheerleader instead of playing basketball. But since I assume that genetics play some role in cheerleading talent, I said no. (Some of you will recall my embarrassing six-month stint as an eighth-grade cheerleader at Ravenscroft, which provided my brother, TJ, incredible fodder for his stand-up comedy routines).

Tonight was Julianna's first basketball practice, and she plays for the Tigers. Choosing her "outfit" for practice was a big decision, and she ultimately decided on pink sweatpants and a pink t-shirt. And while Julianna was agonizing over which pink t-shirt to wear, LJ was in the background shouting: "Juli, you CANNOT wear pink to basketball practice. You are a Tiger and Tigers should wear orange!

Well, Julianna wasn't the only one in the "wrong colors" at practice. Out of the 10 girls who play for the Tigers, two were wearing uniforms, one was wearing a skirt, and SEVEN of them were dressed in pink.

Maybe instead of the Tigers they should be called "The Pink Ladies."

And a quick glance at the names on the roster is unlikely send any shivers up the spines of their opponents: Haley, Kenan, Bailey, Tessa, Kate, Christina, Julianna, Abby, Kailee, and Gracie.

Not exactly monikers like "Psycho-T," "The Diesel," or "The Answer."

In fact, five of Julianna's teammates names end with the "ee" sound, and that just isn't going to induce fear in the hearts of others.

Despite not being allowed to wield pom-poms in basketball practice, Julianna seemed to enjoy herself. And I think she made a couple of new friends.

Besides, even if she doesn't end up loving the game of basketball, at least she has one thing to look forward to ... Picture Day is on Feb. 14.

Learning how to bounce pass:

LJ, #14, the Heat's franchise player in 2008:

We've got spirit!:

This picture must have been taken after that BC game:

Growing Up Southern

Jack and I were awakened Tuesday morning at 5 a.m. by Julianna, who was jumping up and down next to our bed and bubbling: "Did it snow? Did it snow?"

I told her to go look out the window, and seconds later we heard a shriek: "Oh, yeah! Big time snow!"

There was no going back to sleep after that ... at least not for her. She came into our room every 30 minutes or so, asking when we could go outside and play.

By 8:30 a.m., Julianna absolutely, positively could not wait any longer. She bundled up and traipsed into the backyard by herself to explore. First she grabbed at it, then she knelt in it, then she skipped through it. She was having a blast until, finally, the the cold temperature forced her back inside.

Just two hours later she was ready to go again, so we all headed out to look for a sledding hill in our neighborhood. We found a spot around the corner from our house and did a little sledding, which was fun but pretty tame compared to the time at Beech Mountain. Soon after the sledding ended, a "no holds barred" family snowball fight erupted on the side of the road.

LJ, by the way, is a very quick study in the art of snowball making.

The snow even brought us together with our neighbors, the Trans. Although we see them occasionally and wave to each other from across the street, our kids have never really played together until today. Julianna made fast friends with their little girl, Kiley, and LJ enjoyed trying to build a snowman with them. (He finally went inside, disgusted, after I told him not to throw any more snowballs at the girls).

For those who live in colder climates, I'm sure it is difficult to fathom why we North Carolinians create such hysteria over a few flakes.

But it's one of the joys of growing up Southern ... we hardly ever get snow here, so when we do, we revel in it.

I heard on the local news that Tuesday's 3 1/2 inches was the most snow we've had in Raleigh in the last five years.

That means, that, in Julianna's lifetime (and most of LJ's), they have never seen a significant amount of snowfall.

I know that, to many of you, a few inches of snow may not seem like much. But in my family, at least, this small amount of precipitation amounted to a pretty "big time" event.

Let it snow!
















Our home on Country Charm Road

Hail to the Chief

Although, in itself, having a snow day was terrific, it was made even more special because it was on Inauguration Day.

Regardless of your politics, this is an exciting day for our country, and certainly an historic one on many levels.

LJ and I watched the inauguration while we ate lunch together, and we had a few moments of meaningful conversation about our new President.

LJ loves to ask "versus" questions. For example ...

Who would win one-on-one? Michael Jordan vs. Lebron James?
(Jordan, but I'm a biased UNC devotee).

Who would win in the Super Bowl? Peyton Manning vs. Eli Manning.
(Neither, because you can't get there if you don't win a first-round playoff game).

But this time, LJ's question was a bit more thought-provoking, and an excellent one given the day's events.

Who is more important? Martin Luther King Jr. or Barack Obama?

I paused to carefully consider my answer, and then said: "That's a great question. But, I'm not sure it's one we can answer right now. History will likely be the judge, but regardless, they are both very important men."

LJ quickly responded: "Actually, I know it's Martin Luther King because without him, Obama wouldn't be President."

Once again, my child proves to be smarter than me.

We continued discussing the challenges ahead for Obama's administration, and I said that, no matter who a person supports politically, we always want our President to do a a lot of good things while he is in office.

LJ quickly calculated what this could mean for him personally.

"I hope if he can only do one good thing, he lowers the price of tickets to sporting events."

Ahhh, yes ... President Obama would do well to listen to the 8-year-olds of America.

And while he's at it, I hope he gets us a college football playoff too.















This is a "wordle cloud" depicting Obama's inauguration speech. Click here to view online ... and thanks to Ravenscroft's Jason Ramsden for sharing this with me.

The Tooth Fairy Returns

Earlier tonight, LJ lost another tooth. I think this is the eighth tooth he's lost, and this one was perhaps the least dramatic of the bunch.

It's been loose enough for a couple of days now so that he could do that really disgusting thing that kids like to do ... turn the tooth at a 90 degree angle so it points out like a little fang.

I asked him earlier today if we could go ahead and pull it, and LJ said: "Not yet. I know it's ready to come out when it starts to bleed."

Since there is no arguing with the iron-clad logic of an 8-year-old, I let it go.

But tonight, a couple of minutes after I put dinner on the table, he suddenly had a very sly grin on his face. Very subtle, but I knew something was up.

There, in the middle of the table, lay his tooth. No tears, no cheers, just a tooth extracted by virtue of biting into a green bean.

We've come a long way since the trauma of LJ's first loose tooth (around age 6). After days of him complaining because it hurt too much to bite into anything, he finally agreed to let Jack pull it. A man's man, Jack thought the best way to do it would be pliers. Run of the mill, metal pliers, straight out of the tool box.

It sounds worse than it was. LJ was a real trooper and the tooth was out in no time. However, I will mention that he has not yet let Jack use the pliers to pull another tooth.

While LJ has, for the most part, gotten over the excitement of losing teeth, Julianna has not. And that's mainly because she has not yet lost any. To her, the idea of losing a tooth is almost as exciting as her birthday ... a rite of passage that only "big kids" achieve.

She has us check her teeth frequently for wiggles, and to date, no luck.

Julianna is absolutely desperate for a loose tooth. So much so that, in a manipulative Mommy moment, I tried to get her to eat some vegetables at dinner by telling her that if she ate her green beans, her tooth might fall out too.

I know, I know ... terrible. But the girl has got to eat something other than cheese, bagels, and fruit.

My best efforts didn't work. I think she ate one green bean and the rest ended up in Viking's food bowl. She didn't fall for the trick and just confirmed what we already knew.

Big kid or not, Julianna is far smarter than me.















Self-portrait by Julianna

Freeze Frame

Over the last few weeks, Jack has taken on the arduous task of converting our home videos from tape to DVD.

The first conversions are almost entirely of LJ, beginning with when he was seven weeks old. And then seven weeks and one day old ... and then seven weeks and three days old ... and then seven weeks and six days old.

You get the gist.

The first year of LJ's life was marked by nearly as much video footage as dirty diapers.

We filmed everything ... and to us, everything was a milestone. First time reaching; first time grabbing; first time eating solids; first time eating peas; first time eating carrots; first time eating bananas; first time rolling over on his back; first time rolling over on his belly; first time pushing up; first time opening a drawer. Yes, opening a drawer.

You name, we taped it.

Every single moment was equally exciting to us as new parents. And tonight, as I watched those videos eight years removed from LJ's infancy, I found myself surprised at the genuine delight I had in each of these milestones -- no matter how small.

Somewhere along the line ... sometime after LJ's first step on Halloween night in 2001 ... I've become caught up in the finish line instead the starting block. We've gotten so busy with homework, chess lessons, basketball practice, soccer games, art classes, and playdates, that I only focus on getting in done instead of soaking it up.

So, while I cannot possibly commit to making any more New Year's resolutions, I can at least make a mental note to live a little more in "the now."

When Julianna gets upset about something and can't seem to let it go, I frequently say to her, "Honey, you have to be bigger than the moment and just move on."

But maybe that's not really the best advice. Maybe Julianna has it right after all. As a child, each moment really IS that big.

And I've got the videos to prove it.

Home Alone

I returned home from Denver last night after being there for the CASE/NAIS Conference. Without any assistance from the outside, Jack took care of the kids from Saturday morning until Wednesday morning, and as we like to say in our family ... "no bones are broken and nobody's bleeding" so everything appears to be okay.

Actually, I give Jack a lot of credit. He works 30 miles north of Raleigh, so he had two extra hours of driving each day since he had to take the kids to school. Not easy, and I do appreciate that I didn't have to even worry for a minute while I was gone.

I admit that I left him a long checklist of "Mr. Mom" duties ... complete with items like "pack lunch" and "review spelling words." But I also know that, list or not, the three of them (and even Viking), would have fared just fine.

But as my plane took off from RDU airport, I was trying to figure out why I had any nerves at all about leaving the kids for five days. Nothing bad has ever happened when I've left the kids with Jack or anyone else ... so why couldn't I just relax?

And then it hit me ...

In 2004, when LJ was 3 1/2 and Julianna was 18 months old, we moved into an apartment while our new home in Raleigh was being built. We were only in temporary housing for seven weeks, but with two little ones and crazy dog in cramped quarters, I quickly went stir-crazy.

So, every night, as soon as Jack got home from work, I would take Viking for a walk around the apartment complex. I needed any reason at all to get out for just five minutes, and exercising Viking was a perfect excuse.

One weeknight, as usual, I took Viking for a walk and left the kids playing with Jack watching them. I was gone for no more than 10 minutes. When I returned, this is what I saw:

• LJ had somehow moved Julianna's booster seat from the dining room table to the floor of the den.

• Julianna was now strapped into the booster seat.

• LJ was pointing a full spray bottle of Lysol kitchen cleaner directly at Julianna's face. He was locked and loaded.
  

• Jack was sitting on the sofa, about 10 feet away, reading the newspaper.

I look back at this now and laugh -- hysterically. All parents have had those "zone out" moments and our kids come through them just fine.

I vividly remember a "zone out" of my own just a few months after the Lysol incident. We had just moved into the new house, which had a two-story foyer with an open staircase. I was on the phone and happened to walk into the den ... where I found Julianna halfway up the staircase, clinging to the outer railings.

And there was also the time I found her, at about 10 months old, standing on the dining room table playing with the chandelier.

Or the time we couldn't find two-year-old LJ anywhere ... only to discover he had locked himself in our car in the garage.

We've all been there, and no matter how much we love our children and worry about them -- those "moments" are bound to happen. Sometimes all we can do is lock up the Lysol and hope for the best.

Oh, and fold up the treadmill too ... but that's a story for another day.





Snow on the Blue Bear in Denver

Happy Birthday to Me

Julianna turned 5 years old on January 27, 2008, exactly 348 days ago.

Which means she started talking about her SIXTH birthday exactly 347 days ago.

Truly, it was the day after her 5-year-old party at Clay Funk (one of those pottery-painting places), that she began dreaming about what her next big day would be like.

Here is a partial list of the party themes/locations Julianna has suggested during the last 11 months.

• tea party
• spa party
• ballet party
  
• princess party
• art party
• sleepover party
• roller-skating party
• ice-skating party
• bowling party
  
• Bedford playground party
  
• Webkinz party
• American Girl party
• Pump-it-Up party
• Little Gym party
• Museum of Natural Sciences Party
  
• Marbles Museum party
• Snip-its party

She ultimately decided on a beach bash at our house, including the limbo, a treasure dig, and a couple of themed crafts. Julianna has also requested that we take a group picture of her and her 15 girlfriends clad in their swimsuits. Never mind the fact our average January high temperature here in Raleigh is a steamy 50 degrees.

As Jack's 8-year-old birthday approached last fall, Julianna's plotting, planning and scheming reached a new level of excess.

To illustrate my point, here is the actual text of an e-mail I received from a school mom:

Subject: Julianna's Party
Date: 10/10/2008

Allaura keeps telling me she was invited to the party.........but she says she lost the invite. She also keeps telling me it is on a 2 and 7 day.........which I think is the 27th. Can you please let me know the who, what, where, when and how.........

The reason I am sharing the above e-mail is because of the date on which it was sent ... this was in OCTOBER!

Apparently, Julianna had told her friend all about a mythical birthday party and created an invitation to go along with it.

Now that we have actually entered January, Julianna's birthday fever has hit a new high. It is all she talks about (when she is not asking where God came from), and it has gotten to the point where I am concerned that the actual event cannot possibly live up to the hype.

When I went to pick her up from school on Monday of this week, I noticed a large whiteboard in the common area that said (in Julianna's handwriting):

Julianna's Birthday - January 27

I told her that while I knew she was anxious for the big day to arrive, it was still several weeks away and we had plenty of time to plan and let people know about it.

Her response?

"But, mom, this just has to be the best birthday ever!"

So, I did what every mom would do in my situation -- when my little girl was looking at me with those big blue eyes and just melting a hole right through my heart ...

I promised her I would make sure, without a doubt, that this would be the best birthday ever.

Until, of course, we plan her seventh birthday party.

Little People, Big Questions

At the breakfast table on Wednesday morning, Julianna raised her voice and announced, "Jack, I have a very serious question for you."

The room fell silent (except for Viking flapping his ears).

"What is the truth? Where did God come from?"

Serious indeed.

LJ gave Julianna a quizzical look and promptly replied: "Nobody knows. Your question is denied!"

Ouch.

To provide some background, Julianna has been on this same tangent for a couple of weeks now ... repeatedly asking us how God came to be.

Obviously, I do not have the answer for her, so our conversations about it have been pretty vague, and apparently, unsatisfying.

LJ and Julianna ask us "deep" questions like this frequently -- but it always seems to be at the most random times. Kids have a knack for doing this, and it can lead to some pretty embarrassing moments for the parents.

I vividly recall (and I'm sure my parents do too), having dinner at a Chinese restaurant in North Raleigh when I was about 8 years old. We were dining with some friends, so my parents I sat at the opposite ends of a long, rectangular table.

Bored, I was reading through the drink menu and studying the names of the different offerings. One of the drinks had an illustration of a tiki-style cup (yes, this was actually a Chinese restaurant). I didn't recognize the name of the drink, so I shouted across the table for everyone to hear ...

"Mom, what's a Suffering Bastard?"

Just like when Julianna dropped her bombshell at the breakfast table on Wednesday, the entire restaurant became quiet. I had no idea what I had said, but the look on my Mom's face told me it wasn't good.

One of the reasons I started blogging was so that I would actually keep track of some of the "darndest things" my kids say. Their pure naivete is such a hallmark of childhood and one I wish we could preserve.

So, I hereby offer a virtual toast ... to LJ, Julianna and all the other accidental juvenile comedians. Raise your tiki cups and join me! Just be sure to watch your language.

Marley, Viking & Me

Like millions of other people, my family and I went to see the movie Marley & Me on its opening weekend.

Many of you have already heard me rant about how the movie had way too much adult content for young kids ... yet, it was marketed squarely at families like mine. We had read the adult version of the book, the kids' abridged version, and the kids' picture book. I am quite certain that a naked Jennifer Aniston appeared nowhere in those three texts. I know it's Hollywood, but a warning would have been nice.

Nevertheless, that's not what this post is about. The books, and then the movie, got Jack and me talking about how most Lab owners could probably write their own memoir about their dog's shenanigans.

Viking, our 9-year-old yellow Lab, is no exception. He has provided us with plenty of inspiration.

So, in the spirit of Marley & Me, and to celebrate my dog's rapidly approaching 10th birthday, here is a list of the stuff movies are made of ... courtesy the Vikester. And, as one of my favorite writers Dave Barry says, "I swear I am not making any of this up."

• Viking gets attacked by venomous spider and eyes swell shut. Vet bill is amplified by emergency vet visit during holiday. Cha-ching.

• Viking begins career as landscaper. Digs up azalea bushes in the backyard of our new home. Picks the bushes up in his mouth, moves them across the yard, digs new hole, and drops them in.

• After a year of crate training, Viking spends a few hours roaming free in the guest room while we are out. Claws and chews through layers of drywall straight to the studs.

• While driving with Viking in the front seat of our car, Jack has to slam on the brakes. Dog goes head-first into the windshield, cracking the entire window. Dog is a little woozy, but fine. On the phone, insurance company rep laughs hysterically when I explain what happened.

• Viking begins throwing up in the middle of the night. In the morning, we realize he has been throwing up pieces of black plastic. The black plastic is an ant trap. Dog spends the day at the vet, getting some sort of medicine pumped through his veins.
  
  
• As we near Christmas, Viking finds a container filled with foil-wrapped chocolates. He eats them all -- including the foil. I call the vet to see if I should be concerned. The reply? "No, as long as he didn't eat any dark chocolate." He did. Dog is fine, but appears a little sick to his stomach for the next few days. I pick up foil-filled poop in the yard for the next week.

Viking is getting up there in age and his health is beginning to decline. I keep insisting that we will not get another dog after him, although I have a feeling I will get talked into it by LJ & Julianna. They are dog lovers and really know how to tug at my heart strings.

I could probably be convinced ... as long as it's a non-shedding, non-digging, non-chewing, non-window smashing, non-ant trap & chocolate eating dog. Please let me know if you hear of any breeders in the area.

Adventures in Sledding

Last Saturday, our 45-minute snow sledding trek became a microcosm of my children's distinct personalities.

Beech Mountain maintains a quaint little public sledding area that they keep refreshed with man-made snow. It is pretty tame compared to snow tubing, which is a much longer and wilder ride, but it was still high adventure for a 5-year-old girl, 8-year-old boy, and their two (dare I say) middle-aged parents.

LJ started the afternoon disappointed because we opted for sledding over tubing. He said that "the kids didn't look like they were having any fun" and it wouldn't be as exciting.

Julianna, who couldn't actually remember the experience of snow tubing a couple of years earlier, was eager to give it a try.

To LJ's credit, he sprinted up the icy path (slipping approximately 12 times in the process), and wanted to be first in line to try out his brand new disc-style sled. He threw caution to the wind, and flew down the "intermediate" hill before I could even say go.

That would be his last solo trip. He went so fast down the hill that he went careening over the stop mats and into the haystacks at the end of the run. He was fine, but quickly proclaimed: "That was crazy and I am NOT going again. I want to go home."

Julianna, on the other hand, took one trip down with Dad and then declared her independence ... from that point on, she would be taking the runs by herself. She moved up and down the hill at such a breakneck pace that at times, I could not even keep up with her.

Bundled to the hilt in layer upon layer of warm clothing, she waddled up the slopes and lugged her sled behind her like a Clydesdale. There was no stopping that girl.

Until her toes started to go numb.

We headed for the warmth of the car and then to a Banner Elk restaurant for some hot chocolate (which, by the way, was too weak by LJ's standards).

Later that night, I was reflecting on our sledding trip it struck me how much LJ's and Julianna's beautiful, unique personalities shined through the thick fog at Beech Mountain.

Julianna is eyes wide open, always wanting to try new things, looks before she leaps, and puts a positive spin on almost everything. And she'll tell you about it all day long. She's a self-professed talker. Although tiring, it is one of the things I love about her the most.

Julianna soaked up her moment in the snow like there would be desert heat tomorrow -- she was queen of the hill and took Beech by storm.

She's a lot like her Dad ... he says he's an optimist. I say he's a dreamer.

LJ is cautious, analytical, and immensely loyal. Once his mind is made up, there is no changing it. Although frustrating, it is one of the things I love about him the most. If that kid is ever in a debate, I want to be on his team! I don't think LJ has ever been wrong before (just ask him, he'll tell you).

LJ reluctantly tried sledding even though he thought it wouldn't be as good as tubing. One trip down the hill and he KNEW he was right begin with. Sledding stinks and tubing is better. One might say he's a pessimist. LJ would says he's a realist.

Hmmm... that sounds a lot like me.


Here are a few bonus photos from ice skating with my brother, Steven, and his girlfriend, Julie, on Friday, Jan. 2.