Last night we had a tornado watch, after a day where the temperatures reached 75 degrees in January. One week earlier, the high was 32 for the day. Tomorrow, snow flurries are a possibility. I can’t keep up, and neither can my wardrobe.

Do you see frozen yogurt shops popping up everywhere where you live? It’s a good part of the whole revival of the 1980s in culture, but we are absolutely inundated here. In the artsy part of downtown, there are even 2 competing shops right next door to each other. Here in the Bubble, there are about 5 different chains in spitting distance. We have our favorite, of course, chosen because unlike one of the other popular chains, it doesn’t throw its religious agenda in our face. Plus, they have better chocolate yogurt.

It’s fun for me to see the 80s references in pop culture and fashion these days. But as our daughter wisely said the other day, “Wow. There are some things from the 80s that should just stay there. Not everything needs to come back.”

Ah, yes. Sage advice from an 11 year old.

This story would be more interesting if I could remember what 80s-inspired-faux-pas had inspired her to say that, but I can’t. I’m really tired. The wind was crazy here last night, and I couldn’t get to sleep. Then I did get to sleep and kept waking up in a panic, expecting to find the house crumbling around me. I had to ingest 3 times my normal coffee intake to get me going this morning. It turns out it was a good thing that I accidentally ordered the larger size at Starbucks. I had already had my regular morning coffee at home, but then found myself parked in front of the Starbucks around the corner when I had intended to stop for gas in the minivan. I took that as a sign that I needed to sip another coffee while I fueled up.

I just realized I forgot to stop at the gas station after that, or anytime since. I did, however, get the minivan cleaned for the first time in recent history. And it’s reallllly clean. Like sparkly clean. Like it took so long for them to clean it that I thought someone had stolen the car and left me stranded at the car wash. Like the soap they used on the outside smells so strongly in the garage that it is now masking the smells that were oozing out of the trash dumpster this morning.

So now I know for certain that they will cover the roads with salt in the morning, to fend off the 16 flakes of snow that may fall overnight.

This would be a good night to fleece up early and doze off in front of a Daily Show marathon. But instead, I’ll need to get out of my stretchy pants and head over to one of our daughter’s two potential middle schools for an Open House. Tours, teachers, neighbors, and chit chat. YAY. 

Last night I left our daughter home alone for a bit, while her brother was across the street at a friend’s house. I had been gone for about an hour and was at my last stop before returning home when I received this text:

Brother is here now. I’m not really comfortable watching him. Can he go back to his friend’s house?

HAHAHAHAHA! Uhhhh…..NO. I responded as such, and told her I’d be home in 2 minutes anyway. She wasn’t happy to hear that, either. It seems the girl was enjoying her quiet time. #solitudediva

Tonight, I left the two of them home for 5 minutes while I ran to get pizza down the street. He was supposed to be typing an e-mail assignment to his teacher at the kitchen table and she was reading a book on the couch in the family room. #normanrockwell

When I returned, she was still reading, but he was lying on his back on the carpet nearby. He had his footy pajama covered feet straight up in the air, while the iPad hovered high above his face and his body rolled from side to side.

“Mommy, when you have to go out again while I am supposed do be doing homework, do NOT leave me with her!” When I asked why, he said, “Because she was being sooooo distracting and annoying!”

Yeah, I’m sure her reading is what caused you to get up from your seat and engage in fleecy floor acrobatics. #boyelectricity

After dinner, I was busy doing a bunch of things in the kitchen and he had more homework to get done, including a spelling pretest and multiplication flash cards. I decided to put the big sister to work quizzing him. #childlabor

First was spelling, where she had to make up sentences to go along with the words. She used every opportunity to mock him, as you might imagine.

“Annoy. You annoy me, every single day.”

“Voyage. My brother took a voyage upstairs to poop.”

“Moisten. You should moisten your nasty legs with some moisturizer.”

“Embroider. My brother has no idea what it means to embroider.”

You get the gist. #educationalinsults

Next it was on to timed multiplication flash cards. A little background info – doing these flashcards with our daughter two years ago was about the most hellish after school experience I have had as a mom. It did not come easily and it was her #snottyattitude that made it so awful.

Our son is only on his 4th day of doing these and he is doing quite well. He’s more of a math whiz, she’s more of a word whiz, as you can tell from the spelling pretest. #drymomhumor

When he was given 12 x 9, he hesitated. He was calculating the answer in his head. #mentalmath

In that same scenario two years ago, she was humming tunes inside her head and deciding what form of hissy fit she was going to throw at me for making her do these stupid flashcards. #mentaltantrum

In a highly characteristic and dramatic display of impatience with her brother, she enacted a series of three lengthy, loud, fake yawns. He was so distracted that he started arguing with her about the yawning and was losing precious seconds on his timed math practice. #tigermom

I bitched, they moved on, the buzzer went off. Next thing I know, the daughter is fake crying and real laughing — it seems that her exaggerated pseudo yawn caused her to pull some muscle where her tongue and throat come together with the back of her cheeks and ears. You can’t make this stuff up, I tell you. #educationalinjury, #karma, #dangerousdrama

I was of course terribly concerned and suggested that she perform and elaborate series of movements as a treatment for her injury. #mommockery

I had her wrap her hands around her cheeks, put her wrists together, push her chin to her chest, and blow as loudly as she could. The resulting wet fart noises had her brother laughing so hard I was afraid he would pull a muscle, too. #playingtomyaudience

I finally sent her upstairs with a frozen yogurt tube to ice her wounds and leave us alone for the last portion of his homework. #torturebythirdgrade

Done. FINALLY. They are both in bed. #popthecork

I am not a fast reader, but I zipped through “This is How You Lose Her,” by Junot Diaz in less than a day. I even read it old school, off actual pages. With my reading glasses. (Because when I read on my iPad, I crank that font up so big that normal sighted aliens can probably see it from outer space. And Iranian space monkeys, too, I guess. If they can read.)

But I digress.

What I wanted to tell you, especially those of you who have read it, is that a great deal of the story takes place in a part of New Jersey with which I am quite familiar. Familiar in the sense that it is not far from where I grew up, geographically speaking. I even knew some of the roads, malls, and landfills referenced in the story. (How Jersey is that list of things?) In fact, the main character Yunior, and as a matter of fact, the author himself, went to the same high school as my cousins. I did not know any of this until I read the book. I had read “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao,” which also features Yunior, but that story took place in other parts of NJ, further from my old stomping grounds.

So while I was familiar with the geography of Yunior’s/Diaz’s childhood….I was certainly not familiar with his experiences. I was living a pretty squeaky clean suburban cul-de-sac life, as opposed to the tough working class immigrant life detailed in the book. Of course, most of the book details his escapades with the ladies. I did actually (very briefly) date a (squeaky clean) Dominican boy in college…..but yeah, that was not at all wondrous and isn’t likely to be recounted in a book of any kind.

Anyway, I got a kick out of the parts where he mocked the “white kids from Old Bridge,” because those were my cousins. Or slightly older versions of my cousins. Eh, humor me – I found it funny.

So now I am onto “Flight Behavior,” by Barbara Kingsolver. I have loved most of her books over the years, so I have high hopes. It is also a real book with pages, and holy crow the type is small. Thank goodness for the spare reading glasses my mom gave me to leave downstairs, because I never seem to have mine in the right place at the right time. Who cares if the kids laugh at me every time they see me wearing them? They’re finally off to school again tomorrow, anyway.

They just finished up their second consecutive 3 day weekend. Well, except that last 3 day weekend was really a 4 day weekend because of the snow. Don’t worry, though, they’ll only have to get through one full week of school (next week) before they get another 3 day weekend. Whew! We don’t want them to overdo it!

The Mr. had to leave town today to tend to some family business, and will be gone most of the week. This weekend, he spent his free time cooking for us. Belgian waffle batter was made on Friday night and cooked into tastiness for Saturday morning breakfast. Saturday afternoon, he baked a tray of football shaped rolls from scratch. Saturday evening, he made us 2 varieties of crepes (mushroom/shallot and broccoli/ham/cheese) before heading out to see a movie with some friends. Now he is gone, and we still have a stack of crepes in the fridge just waiting for someone to fill and eat them. The kids had some for dessert, slathered with some pudding/whipped cream/Oreo concoction. I showed tremendous restraint and only ate the filling.

We eat well when the Mr. is in charge. But, sadly, mom is in charge the rest of the week, and there are lots of activities to keep us on the go. Leftovers tonight, pizza tomorrow. The bar has been officially lowered.

You may not know this, but my blogs are totally worth gift quantity and liveliness. 

I know it’s true, because a commenter on my blog said exactly that earlier today. Granted, he commented on an old post, but I’m pretty sure my latest entries are just as worthy of gift quantity and liveliness.

Perhaps I would know more about this mysterious commenter if I had clicked on the link attached to his comment. It had an awful lot of letter z’s in the name, along with the words “Tips and Tricks.”

I wasn’t born yesterday, so I didn’t click. And I also blocked that user, even though he had a very generic, friendly sounding username. Those bots are getting more sneaky, huh? I suppose that’s ok, as long as they keep giving out such delightful compliments.

You know what doesn’t deserve a compliment? Our kids’ phone skills. Or lack thereof. They are 9 and 11 and they really have not improved much since the days when they would answer questions during phone calls with a nod.

When Professor Sister and I were kids, our parents had high standards for phone etiquette. I remember being mortified, because all the other kids could just pick up their home phones and say, “Hello?”

We had to say, “Hello, this is Turningreen. Who is this?” 

Every. Single. Time.

It became second nature, so that it came out more like this: “HellothisisTurningreenwhoisthis?” in a sing songy voice. I thought I hated saying that more than anything in the world, until my friend who loved to copy me started saying it when she answered the phone. It turns out that hearing someone else idolize and imitate my forced dorkiness was even more distasteful.

Of course, the reason my parents had us do this was because of stranger danger. They wanted us to determine if the person on the other end of the phone was friend or foe. I get that now, as a parent, but sheesh was it dorky.

It would be pointless to have our kids answer the phone that way these days, because caller ID tells us who’s calling before we answer. Remember how wild and crazy it was to just blindly answer the phone? I suppose it doesn’t help that the Mr. and I respond to 95% of the calls to our house by not answering. That’s the whole point of caller ID, right? So you can avoid the charities and credit cards and PTA ladies looking for volunteers? When it’s family, the kids know it before they answer. When it’s an unfamiliar caller, they just hand it over to one of us so we can mute the ringer and roll our eyes in contempt for the cold callers.

So it’s on the rare occasion that they DO pick up the phone to speak to a family member, or call a friend to invite them over, that their phone skills become so painful. Recently, Professor Sister and I had the “opportunity” to hear our two sons speak to each other on the phone while on speaker. I believe Professor Sister summed it up well when she called it, “painfully awkward.” We are now encouraging texting between cousins so we don’t have to squirm with discomfort at their uncomfortable silences.

In a world of texting and email and parents who don’t answer the phone, I suppose this type of skill deficit is to be expected. Perhaps we could force the kids to practice making phone calls…..but yeah, I’m not going to do that. So if you’re reading this blog, and you someday find yourself on the phone with one of our kids…..I’m sorry.

And I truly hope that you don’t hold their awkwardness against the gift quantity worthiness and liveliness of my blog, because you shouldn’t.

Yup, I’m another year older. I feel about the same, which is good news when you’re over 40, I think.

I am feeling very loved by all the birthday attention. I received some funny cards, sweet notes from the kids, and a zillion happy making Facebook wishes from people from all the corners of my world. My phone was a buzz all day with phone calls, texts, e-mails, etc. I also got to hear all three of my nieces wish me a happy birthday – one sent a voice memo to my iPhone via her mom, the other two called to sing me a very loud rendition of the birthday song. I was also very pleased to hear that a 6 year old niece told the 4 year old niece that I am turning 21 on this birthday. So, I can totally buy you guys beer now – I’m finally legal!!

My toenails are currently a lovely deep shade of blue after a bit of pampering for the occasion. Our daughter requested I get them painted “a fun color,” so I obliged. I think it makes my toes look at least 10 years younger. It’s called “Yoga-ta Get This Color.” (I kind of want that job….naming the OPI nail polishes. Do you think they’re hiring?)

I can’t remember the last time I cooked dinner. That, my friends, is a wonderful feeling for a birthday girl. Over the long weekend, I dined on sushi at home, seafood downtown, greasy food in a diner, and tonight I shared pasta and a pizza with my man at our family dinner to celebrate mom’s big day.

We stopped on the way home from dinner to buy a cake at the bakery that is safe for our daughter. She and the Mr. ran in to pick it out. They did me right. I think it was called a dark chocolate truffle bomb cake. OH YEAH. After my first piece, I said, “I’ll have another sliver. Because it’s my birthday.”

I may have mentioned that already…..

The same day as the tragedy unfolded in Newtown, CT, I got a phone call from an administrator at our children’s school. I received a voice mail complete with the statement that “nothing is wrong, don’t worry.” I appreciated that reassurance, even more so than I would have on any other day.

When I returned the call, I was delighted to find out that our daughter had been chosen as the recipient of the “Light of Hope” award for her school, which honors community service. I was overcome with emotion that day, as was most of the nation. I was thankful to have something so positive to think about amidst all that sadness.

Today, we spent several hours sitting in an auditorium in a local high school, where the county we live in was holding their annual Martin Luther King Celebration. Our daughter sat towards the front with the other children, each of them either a 5th, 8th, or 12th grader representing their school.

There were two speakers at the event, both of whom addressed the students directly. The first was the 68 year old daughter of a major civil rights activist from Birmingham, Alabama. She had been a school teacher for 30 years, and did a fantastic job of conveying to the audience what it was like to be a child during that tumultuous time in history. At one point, she asked all the 11 year olds to stand, which included our daughter. She told them, “When I was your age, a bomb was thrown at the church where I lived with my family on Christmas Eve. Do you know how it felt to lose all my toys?” When she was 12, her father was beaten and her mother was stabbed when they tried to take her and her siblings into a school that was dragging its feet on integration. This brave woman reminded the award recipients that they were being honored today for the light they have within them. She begged them not to let it get to their heads, but to use that light to be the best person they can be. She was charismatic and a joy to hear.

The second speaker was a boy who attends a high school in the community. As I told my kids, he wrote and spoke like a 50 year old man instead of like a 14 year old boy. He was inspirational and eloquent, wise beyond his years. As he stood and addressed the crowd, I’m sure I wasn’t the only person in the room thinking about how proud of him Martin Luther King, Jr., and President Barack Obama would be.

We missed seeing the Inauguration live, as the ceremony we attended was held at the same time. However, when we got home, our daughter and I sat down and watched the reading of the poem by Richard Blanco, the singing of the national anthem by Beyonce, and the swearing in of the President. By the time I got to the Inaugural Address, our daughter had been all “speeched out,” but she made me a fancy coffee drink to enjoy while I listened to Obama’s words. 

I am spoiled to be able to spend the day before my birthday watching my oldest child be honored in the way that she was today. As the awardees filed into the room, the master of ceremonies yelled out, “Look at our children! Look at our children!” I dare a mom to keep a dry eye under those circumstances! (Plus, it reminded me that it must be a whole lot more fun to go to a church run by the kinds of ministers who led this event today, as opposed to the Catholic Priests I remember from my youth. Seems like there would be a lot more “handclaps of praise” and a whole lot less guilt in the air.)

And since tomorrow is my birthday, you must all indulge me in my proud mama sappiness and not mock me in the comments below. HA! Gotcha!

Today was a snow day. I am purposely using the past tense, even though it’s only early afternoon, because on my front lawn right now are two peppermint swirl disc sleds surrounded by lots of ugly dead grass. Earlier this morning, those sleds were surrounded by snow, other sleds and boys of all ages trying to top one another with their daredevil sled moves.

It was a virtual winter wonderland of doofuses. Running starts, belly flops onto sleds….aimed towards purposeful head on collisions. Running onto two sleds side by side (aka “skis”), jumping with one foot on each, and ending up in an icy version of “the splits.” Sliding head first down a hill into the street….while the garbage truck was backing up. It is not comforting to me that the older the boy, the stupider the idea. My boy is the youngest, so lots to look forward to, I guess!

Thank goodness for our daughter, whose speed is less dare devil and more building tiny snowmen with the toddler next door. She even got chocolate covered jelly beans to use as what she called “eye candy.” Ha!

So it was a fun, laughter filled, snowy morning — and now it’s a very sunny, less snowy afternoon. The boys are outside playing football without coats and the girls are upstairs watching a movie and declaring its star to be “so cute – even in pause mode!”

I baked some cupcakes for a swim team bake sale. They smell good. Our son baked a big batch of chocolate chip cookies – partly for the swim team and partly for our own enjoyment. “You always cook for us, Mommy, so I want to make something for you now.” <3 Of course, he ate the first one out of the oven, but the sentiment was there.

My birthday is on Tuesday, at the end of a 4 day weekend. Sure there’s a swim meet in there somewhere….but there’s also a date night, some movies, an award ceremony for our daughter, maybe some presents or cards…..and oh yeah — cookies.

Since I waited until the 11th day of the new year to post, I thought I’d title it in a way that made that seem purposeful and important. So, Happy 111 to you and yours! (Did it work?)

Bubble Elementary gave the kids a full 2 weeks off from school, which means that this is the end of their first week back in business. It has been an overly full week, with winter swim season starting and lots of after school club meetings cramming into one week. Plus, it’s time to start stressing over next school year — scheduling meetings and open houses and info sessions and blah, blah, blah.

The schools here have reacted a bit to the widespread concerns about school safety. There are new signs posted, guide ropes, extra sign-in procedures, and very often armed police officers standing guard in the lobby. This would probably have concerned me more if it weren’t for the fact that the police officer I encountered is also a dad at the school. It was not strange to me, nor to the students, to see him standing there in full uniform. I guess that’s the best possible scenario if he has to be there.

I also noticed some changes when I made my weekly drop-off of backpack food from the food bank. I usually pull my van into the car loop, get buzzed into the school with no questions, and come and go a few times as I make my delivery. This time, the car loop was blocked entirely, so I parked and walked around, smartly grabbing my wallet on the way in for identification. This time I was buzzed in with a glare, so I stopped in the office to state my business. All went smoothly, and I totally understood. It’s just a little sobering to keep getting those reminders of what happened in CT and continues to happen all over the place.

This week, one of Professor Sister’s most promising students was shot with a semi-automatic weapon. She survived, but other members of her family did not. The weapon was from her own home. I won’t get into the specifics, but to suffice it to say that it is a horrible story and proof that gun violence is a tragic and widespread problem throughout this country. I certainly hope that Congress does something to address it and doesn’t continue to be influenced by the “accept no blame” NRA.

This post took a turn towards sober, huh? So much for the joy of 111. It’s a gloomy day here, I’m on my second head cold in a row, and I need to go back to Bubble Elementary for the third time today……so, sorry for putting a cloud over your 111. Tomorrow is supposed to be ridiculously global warmish here, so maybe that will make me feel more perky.