no, No, NO your boat!

What do you do about lazy "l's" and "r's" in preschoolers? My youngest can say the l sound now -- I've heard it, he almost overpronounces it in word like "yellow." But it comes out as "w" in the beginning of words. Two of his favorite stuffed animals are Mr. Wion and Mr. Weopard, and I anxiously await the day when they're Mr. Lion and Mr. Leopard.
He also has a lazy "R," that also come out as a kind of "w" sound. I hate to admit it, but I thought it was really cute. Then my dad said I really should start working on it before he starts kindergarten. I had already been working on the L sound with him, and he'll echo "La, La, La, Wowwipop," after I've sang "La La La Lollipop." We're getting there.
But he doesn't want to even try and "R" ... I was trying to get him to growl like a lion, he saw right through me and refused. Then, my dad suggested getting him to sing "Row, Row, Row your boat."
Nope, he wasn't fooled, saw right through what I was doing. Instead, he sang "No, No, No your boat!"
We'll keep twying.

Some years ago, a TV news-type program did an undercover investigation into the seedy telephone scams used to prey on people -- usually senior citizens -- swindling thousands of dollars from them. I believe they set up a fake company, then advertised for telemarketers, and they made it clear to those "employees" that they were only scam artists.

I remember one particular scam artist gleefully telling the "employer" about other scams he had been involved in, and jumped at the chance to show off his ability to smooth-talk an unwitting target. I can't remember his exact spiel -- but I believe it was along the line of telling somebody that they won something, but they'd have to cough up a fee first, before they got their prize. The whole time, he made faces at his boss, laughing about what he was doing to the target, who was also fake. It was sickening to see how some people will treat other human beings. How do they live with themselves?

Now, much of this is done via e-mail -- like the one above informing me I won the UK National Lottery. Uh, don't think I entered that one. Every time I delete one of those "You've won ..." or "I need your help getting $250 million to the United States ... " e-mails, I wonder who would actually fall for them. Sadly this week, I got one answer. A Monroe grandmother apparently committed suicide after losing her life's savings -- money she planned to travel with and help her grandchildren with college -- to a scam that kept her hooked for a year, until her entire savings of $248,000 was wiped out. A gullible person? Nope, says her daughter. She was a retired bookkeeper from Princeton. She truly believed they were showing up -- a la Publishers Clearing House, with a big check for her.

Our story, Shore suicide spurred by foreign lottery scam ran this week, telling how brazen the scammers were. They even called when police were at the house the day the woman expected the check to arrive. They warned her she was the victim of an elaborate lottery scam, and the scammers happened to call while they were there. They laughed at the police, saying they couldn't do anything about it. But the woman had become obsessed with the scam, probably hoping beyond hope that she would get her money back. Instead, when she realized she'd been played, she drove to Spring Lake in October and dove into the ocean. How absolutely sad. God rest her soul. And I hope what goes around, comes around to those scammers.

Below is another article I found online. It shows this woman was no pushover, but still fell for a very elaborate, convincing scheme. If you've got family members who use the Internet but are not savvy about these types of schemes, please talk to them about it. The schemes are so rampant, I receive several a day on my work e-mail. Somebody's obviously responding to them, and losing their money, their dignity and in this case, even their life.

A Jamaica-based lottery scam promising a $2.5 million windfall cost Ann Mowle her entire life savings of $248,000 before the 72-year-old grandmother from Monroe decided she had enough.

Mowle donated her clothes to charity, left her beloved toy poodle Molly at a dog groomers and drove to Spring Lake on Oct. 31. A pair of fishermen found her body on the edge of a jetty at the Worthington Avenue beach the next day. Investigators determined Mowle's death was a suicide.

Mowle's family blames the vicious year-long con for the path to despair that ended on that Spring Lake beach.

The money she had set aside to travel in her retirement and help her grandchildren with college costs was gone. Attempts to recover the funds with the help of authorities only led to embarrassment. In Mowle's final months, she became a recluse — too afraid to leave her apartment and miss the phone call that would finally provide a return of her lost money.

"You're not talking about a gullible person," said her daughter JoAnn Trivisonno, of Virginia. "You're taking about a fearless woman. If this could happen to her, it could happen to anyone."

Mowle, a college graduate who raised three children as a single working parent, received the first letter promising a $2.5 million jackpot in October 2006. To collect, she had to pay $18,000 in fees, which Mowle sent. From there, the scam spiraled out of control with a barrage of phone calls from the con-artists who duped her into sending more cash.

As a former bookkeeper at Princeton University, Mowle kept meticulous records of her year-long deception by the phony Jamaican lottery officials.

Mowle left the documents in a tidy stack on her dining room table in her apartment at the Rossmoor adult community before she left for the last time. The records detail more than 50 wire transfers ranging from $158 to $4,750 to addresses in Jamaica between October 2006 and June.

Despite the paper trail including names and phone numbers, investigators have had little luck in tracking down the scam-artists behind the ploy.

Nothing like King Kong to get you moving

Bad habits may be hard to break, but good habits can be so easy to lose! For years, I've been in the good habit of walking or running a minimum of three times a week. I used to go on my lunch break, but now, with school pickup obligations or occasional days I have to leave a little early for someone's activity, I gave that up, instead opting to go early in the morning.

I've never been a morning person, but once I got into the habit, it was easy. In the warmer, early sunrise days, I'll go at 6:15 after my oldest gets on the school bus. I like going along my Shark River route when the sun is rising or has recently risen, it's pretty, peaceful and the wildlife is a beautiful sight.

But a few weeks back, I fell on some ice. Nothing bad, at least I don't think so, my arm still hurts but the aches in my neck and back have for the most part gone away. But during the last three weeks, I've walked once. And the habit is really broken. I've been staying in bed until the last minute, only rising because I have to get the kids up. But I like to eat well. And watching my clothing of choice turn from jeans to sweats, it wasn't hard to figure out why. So last night, I said I've got to get back into the habit, even had my sweats and sneakers ready.

It was a nice clear morning at the school bus stop, but ... it's sooooo cold! And it was still dark and slippery, the sun's not up for another half hour, and I usually head home and wait until it's a little lighter anyway. So I climbed back into bed, snuggling with my 4-year-old who found his way into our room sometime in the night. As I watched the room get lighter, I contemplated getting up and heading out. But we were so cozy. I figured I'd put my return to my morning routine off for one more day.

Then, my little darling started to waken, and said in a sleepy voice, "Mommy? Can you put on One-Two-One?" What the heck. I'd rather be watching Morning Joe on MSNBC, but instead, I put on 121 -- Toon Disney -- for the little guy. It was a King Kong cartoon. He was sitting up watching that, no more snuggling with Mommy. I still had 45 minutes till the girls got up and my husband had to leave. As I looked at King Kong, I knew I couldn't take it for very long. That gave me the impetus to get up, get out the door and get in a few chilly miles.
Thanks, Kong.

Bring Your Google to Work Day

When I drop my preschooler off at school or the sitter's, there's usually one or two Webkinz pets along for the car ride. In the case of school, he can't take any with him. At the sitter's, he only can bring one inside to keep track of for the day. Otherwise, there likely will be tears on the ride home when the one he was less interested in for the day was left somewhere out of sight. Telling him it will pop up and he can get it back tomorrow doesn't work, so I set the "one pet only" rule.
That means the other one stays in the car. But sneaky boy, yesterday he got through the front door with Mr. Reindeer and Mr. Google, two of his favorite Webkinz. I spotted them, told him to pick one and said, like I always do, that the other one would keep me company at work (in reality, it usually waits in the car).
I stuffed Mr. Google in my coat pocket, then forgot to take him back out in the car. At work I went to put my gloves in my coat pocket, there was Mr. Google. So I took him out, introduced him around (my coworkers don't have young children and are unfamiliar with Googles, the duck-like stuffed animal that, on the Web site, actually propels itself worm-style, using its back feet and its chin), and he joined the editorial staff as a silent onlooker.
Mr. Google spent the day with me, and occasional sideways glances at his silly face made me laugh -- and reminded me of how much joy my son gets from him.
Today, the same thing happened, although I stopped Mr. Google before he left the car. Pulling up the office, I looked at him on my passenger seat, then put him in my purse. Now I'll spend another day, peeking over at his silly face poking out of my pocketbook. But he's polite, quiet, and it's too cold out there in the car, to leave a little google by himself.

Yellow car!

Taking long trips, there's lots of games for families to play in the car -- finding license plates from different states, finding the letters of the alphabet, in order, on signs you pass (I pray for a Quick Chek when we reach Q) and, my favorite, The Quiet Game. "One, Two, Three, Shhhhhhhh ...." Actually, we play that a lot, or at least I try to get them to play that a lot. It does calm things down, even if for 10 to 20 seconds -- 4-year-old boys don't play the Quiet Game well.
I don't know when the "Yellow Car" game started. Long after the "Punch Buggy" game, anyhow. I remember Punch Buggy from decades ago, when you're the first one to spot a Volkswagen Beetle on the road, you win the right to punch somebody in the arm and say "Punch Buggy!" To avoid a return punch, this must quickly be followed by "No Punch Back!"
So the "Punch Buggy No Punch Back!" declaration is heard often in the car, thankfully they don't punch hard.
I like "Yellow Car" better. There's no punching. You just yell "Yellow Car!" whenever you spot a yellow car. Now my 4-year-old is doing it, my husband is, my parents are caught up in it and yes, I am too.
I think the point is to count as many as possible, although I never really hear them keeping a tally. And, I learned this weekend, you can only count the same parked car once, even if you travel along the same road several times, but you ARE allowed to count it again the next day. My teen and a friend who rides the school bus with him vie to call out "Yellow Car" every morning for a car they pass on the way to school each day. First one to spot it, gets it.
Apparently, the pinnacle is finding a yellow Punch Buggy. I spotted a yellow Volkswagen, and said, "Yellow Car!" and my daughter said, "Awww, Mom won. She found a yellow punch buggy!"
Man, I'm good.

No relief from teen angst?

I left my cell phone home today, leaving me to watch the clock instead of my phone alarm letting me know when it's time to pick up my preschooler, and if anyone needs me from school, they'll have to look up my work number instead of my cell, which they normally call first.

This prompted an interesting conversation with my coworker, fellow editorial writer and blogger Larry Benjamin. We were talking about the benefits of having instant access to anyone with our cell phones, and I wondered what effect this is having on teenagers.

I love having access to anyone, almost anywhere at anytime. I'm fretting today that I'll miss my "pickup" time or that my daughter, who was sick, might have a relapse and the school nurse will need me. But I'll be fine. I've got 10 minutes to go before I leave to pick up my son and reverted to my old practice of putting a post-it reminder on my computer. The school nurse will look up my work line if need be. But I was reminded of the harshest punishment I could inflict on my teenager when he got in trouble recently: denial of cell phone access for a week. It nearly killed him.

Most of us remember the raging emotions that come along with those years and the angst that's pretty common. But we got "breaks" from that every day. When we got home at night, we might have had a little phone time with our friends -- some more, some less, depending on how many phone lines and teenagers were under the same roof.
But then it was over. We had our rooms, we had television, we had homework, we had our siblings and our parents. We had a "cool down" time from the drama that is teenager life.

But with the almost unlimited access to their friends, and enemies, via cell phones and Internet these days, do our kids get a break from the flood of emotions, the angst and the drama that accompany the teenage years? Conversations and gossip with schoolmates and friends can fuel any negative feelings or overwhelming emotions. And the gossip grapevine has so many more limbs -- gossip travels a lot faster than it did back in the day.

Do they have time to cool down, or are they constantly bombarded with teen turmoil? My oldest gets on the Internet for about an hour each night, and I hear him typing furiously (I think he just broke the keyboard). He's got AIM and MySpace instant messaging going the whole time, and is having conversations with just about everyone he ever met, all at once. I call it off after awhile, and if his homework is done, he settles in with the TV, but I can hear the text messages coming over the phone. I used to take the phone at bedtime on school nights, and I'll do the same for my daughters. But he got weary of the middle-of-the-night messages on weekends and started shutting it down on his own anyway -- he's up at 5:45 every day and by 10 or 10:30 on school nights he's wiped out and heads to bed on his own. Even then, I hear him talking from his room for one last goodnight to his girlfriend.

Teen love, teen drama, all the wonderful and not-so-wonderful things of the teenage years. I hope they all remember to take a break from it once in awhile.

Bling-bling and blinking

Last night was one of those "Why did I get myself into this" nights. A few weeks ago with a group of friends, I agreed to sign up, along with my daughters, for a hair-and-makeup and photo session as a high school fund-raiser. I thought it would be some kids from a vo-tech type program, it was ten bucks a head, so I figured it would be fun. But after kids being sick and a hectic week, rushing over there last night when I could have been on our way home from Rainbow Girls was anything but fun. But the girls and I went, what the heck.
I was wrong about it being a vo-tech type thing, it was a professional fund-raising company, and I'm going to be suckered in when they show me the results in two weeks. If I went on my own, I'd probably skip it, but my kids looked cute, and they were giggling, so now I'm sure I'll spend more than I expected.
I had my hair and makeup done first, and was downright frightened when I glanced in a mirror. I don't wear much makeup in the first place, and to have my hair all poofy (damn, why didn't I get my roots done?), well, it didn't look like me. They had the three of us posed in boas with diamond-looking bling on our necks and ears. It actually was pretty funny, although I'm sure stress and exhaustion negated any "glamor" I might have had. And I kinda felt bad when my daughter sneezed on the photographer. Whoops!
So while I'm sure they will be able to sell me a few individual shots of my daughters, I'm pretty sure I'll take a pass on my own. Especially if they remind me of what I looked like coming out of the shower later that night. Forgetting about the black eyeliner I was wearing when I went in, I looked in the mirror on the way out and it the scene from "Carrie," minus the blood.

Overworked, overscheduled and it's only January

I took time off this week to get a bunch of doctor visits out of the way and to get my "beginning of the year" paperwork (preparing for camp, readying for tax filing so we can pay for camp, kindergarten registration planning) and I'm trying to remember what it was like to take time off that actually was, time off.
Not this year. Probably not for many. But that's OK. I've said it before ... I had a lot of time off in my 20s. My weekends were mine, my vacations were mine, my personal days were mine. My evenings and early mornings were mine. So they all belong to someone else for awhile.
I just coached my first basketball game of the season this week ... 3rd and 4th grade girls. It's my third year of coaching and I love every minute of it. The kids are so sweet, and already, they've all turned into me, in that none wants to take a break. In the last two years, I'd ask, "who's ready to sit out" and I'd always get a hand up. Not this week. I have seven girls on my team, only five allowed at a time, and they all want to be out there the whole time.
One of the other moms said, "How do you take on coaching on top of everything else?" For me, this one's a no-brainer. I'd be at the game anyway. If I wasn't sitting on the bench, I'd be restraining myself to hold back from yelling out pointers, so this is the place for me to be right now. When they're older and playing on tougher teams, I'll be content on the side cheering them on when a coach helps them along. I did the same thing with soccer for my now teenager. Coached 1st and 2nd grades, then let knowledgeable soccer coaches who knew what they were doing take over. Basketball's my game, though, and I just hope I instill the love I have for it in the girls.
Word of warning to moms and dads with kids on my team: I need an assistant coach. Just to tell me who's been on the bench, who hasn't, to keep it fair. They can play more competitively in the future, and I hope they all do. But this time, it's fun, and they'll all be in the same classrooms tomorrow, and playing on the same competitive team in a few years, so I want each of them to learn as much as they can, have as much fun as they can, and not stress about final scores or how many points they each have.
It's about eight weeks of games, once or twice a week, about 10 games total. This is one thing I love every minute of. goooooOOOOOOO TEEEEEEEAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!

I've turned into my grandma

I've thought for awhile that I turned into my mother. I may have gone back further, now I wonder if I'm so old-fashioned that I've turned into my grandmother, although I'm sure my mom agrees with me.
One of my pet peeves in language is the abundant use of expletives and just-plain-raunchy words in front of kids. It seems some adults don't think the "S" word is unacceptable in front of children. I hear it far too often, and it's not followed with an "Ooops!" or a "Sorry!"
A friend said she tried to cover it once by saying, "I said, Oh-SHIN ... We're going to the Ocean" when a child overheard her letting one escape. Hey, you've got to be creative.
I can't say I haven't blurted out things unintentionally. But it's the intentional ones -- or those that have lost their ability to shock -- that bother me. I've seen plenty of public uses -- verbally and in print -- of "That sucks." Is it me? I hate that word, and I hate its rampant use in TV shows that are on prime time.
A co-worker said that word no longer bothers him because it has lost any sexual connotation it originally had. I don't care. I don't want my 8-year-old saying it, or hearing it.
Today, I spotted a car that had the word "Bull*&^@" in a bumper sticker-style saying featured largely and prominently on the car's rear windshield. My daughters, 8 and 10, can read. I was glad they weren't with me. I'd have to try and find a way to get away from it.
I also can't stand hearing, "Shut up." Now the consensus at my lunch table today was that we all agreed on that one. I've heard my kids saying it to each other on rare occasions and I put my foot down. They're back to saying, "Be Quiet." But I hear it so often in public -- it makes me crazy.
One other thing: When did I become "Clare" to third-graders? "That's Mrs. McDowell," I've got in the habit of saying. Most parents who call me by name when speaking to me refer to me as "Mrs. McDowell" in front of their kids. If they're speaking to me, "Clare" is OK, but isn't it still preferable to want their children to recognize I'm an adult by calling me "Ms. Clare" or "Mrs. McDowell"?
Some parents don't see it that way anymore. One regularly refers to me as "Clare" to his daughter, so she sees that as an acceptable way to speak to me. I did tell him once that I preferred not to be called by my first name by young children, but it fell on deaf ears. So now I just remind the daughter, and she's slowly breaking the habit.
Maybe I'm old-fashioned, maybe not. Kids are going to hear every word in the book. Eventually. And when they are adults, they can call me by my first name.
But neither should be happening when they're so young.

Hey, your dad's calling from space!

My younger daughter caught something and has been home for two days with a mild fever that spiked up very early this morning. Seems she's got my trait ... I would have weird dreams or hallucinations when I had a high fever, up until I was a teenager. This morning, she did too. She came in about 4:45 and stared at me until I woke up. I asked her what was the matter and, in a quavering voice, she said, "Welp, (I love the childish version of well!) I had the scariest dream ever!" I opened up the covers and she snuggled up next to me, then I asked her what her dream was about. "Welp, Daddy was going away for like 24 years. He was being sent to work out in space!"
I had to stifle a laugh, and the urge to elbow my husband and whisper, "Bang, Zoom!" Instead, I said, very reassuringly, "That could never happen. And even if NASA needed an HVAC technician up in the space station, and if they picked Daddy to go, the longest they'd keep him up there is six months."
For some reason, that worked. She settled down, and a few minutes later went back to her own bed.
And I'm thinking about downloading a NASA application for my husband -- they probably pay well for six-month stints!

Great story out of Spring Lake on our updates ... seems a creep on a bike snagged the purse of an 87-year-old woman while she was walking along Third Avenue, but a pizza delivery guy who saw it happen chased the bicyclist, then flagged down a motorist he knew. The pizza guy told the truck driver what happened, and the driver picked up the chase then caught the guy and pinned him down a few blocks away. Yabba Dabba Doo!

I can't stand people who prey on anyone they see as vulnerable, whether it's an elderly person, a mother carrying a baby, someone who's disabled -- there's a special place in hell for them. This 32-year-old jerk on a bike grabbing the purse of an elderly lady -- man, that ticks me off. She's OK, shaken but otherwise unharmed, and she got her purse and its contents back.

Right now, my mother-in-law keeps getting calls from one of those "Hi, I represent PBA Local 5,076 and we need a donation from you" kind of scams. I keep telling her to just say, "Stop calling me!" and hang up. But they know how to intimdiate her. She told them she didn't have any money, but they put the pressure on her until she said she'd send them something. When she didn't, they started bugging her. I think I'll get her a nice loud air horn to blow into the phone next time.

Good for those guys who caught this creep in Spring Lake today, I hope he gets a big, mean cellmate who happens to love his grandmother very much. A link to the story is below.

Good Samaritans foil Spring Lake purse snatcher

City girls

We had the greatest "girls' day" yesterday. My daughters, 8 and 10, and I drove to MetroPark to catch the 9:14 train into New York, cabbed it to Times Square by about 10, got on the half-price tickets line at 10:15 (it opened at 11) and had tickets to "Hairspray" by 11:15. That left us nearly four hours to kick around. So we did. We saw the tree and skaters in Rockefeller Plaza. We went into the M&M factory and the Hershey's store. We had lunch at TGI Fridays -- even splurged on milkshakes, a rare treat for lunch. We went into the American Girl store and bought a few little things. And we even saw The Naked Cowboy. My daughters giggled and blushed ... what can you do? He's now the "wallpaper" on my cell phone.
The show was great. Never thought I'd see George Wendt, Norm from "Cheers" dressed, and singing and dancing, as Edna Turnblad. What a riot! It was Lance Bass' final appearance as Corny Collins too. We roamed back toward Times Square, looked at the lights, cabbed back to Penn Station (less than $5 each way) then caught the 6:14 train back to MetroPark -- longer ride than the morning train, since this one made all the stops, but we were still home by a little after 7:30.
It was one of those days where every second was enjoyable. OK, except for the hour on the tickets line, but even that was kind of fun. I came home to a somewhat messy house, a Christmas tree that needs to be undecorated and other things that needed doing. But I didn't. I made lunches for today and called it a night, watched "The Wedding Date" on TV instead. Why ruin a great day by cleaning?

I need this weekend.

Last night was one of those absolutely awful nights that ended up in a really good, long cry. Started with a near-nightmare. Took the kids to the dentist, the girls had their checkups and my 4-year-old stayed with me in the waiting room. Afterward, he got a little cardboard airplane from the dental hygienist, which he proceeded to "fly" down the hallway, about 5 feet in front of me. Then he broke out into a run ... out the door, across the parking lot and right toward a very busy street. My daughters and I ran after him, thank God he stopped at the curb, turned back around and ran back across the parking lot before my daughter was able to grab his jacket. But as I was chasing him, I hit an icy patch on the grass and hit the ground. Hard. My elbow and hand are hurting, and fortunately my karate training of yore helped me keep my head from hitting the ground, but I pulled something in my neck. Now I can't turn my head to the right.
Driving home, I was shaking like a leaf. My older daughter was in a panic too, I sat with her when we got home and talked about how we were scared, and that she was a big help, and fortunately we were all OK. I had a knot in my stomach for the rest of the evening. He hasn't tried to take off like that in about two years, we were so surprised. But the lesson was learned. As my coworker said this morning when I recounted it -- imagine how the parents of children with autism must have to watch for that all the time. God bless them.
When my teenager came home, he was in one of those "it's-all-about-me" rants. Got mad at me for not being able to help him with his math --- I haven't been in a math class in more than two decades. Then, he's yelling at the computer, when I realize he's doing English, I thought, now THAT's something I can help him with, but he's too frustrated. He spends the whole time griping about his teacher, then shuts down the program he's working on. A few minutes later, I hear him playing music, loudly, on the computer and I yelled for him to turn it down. Instead, he cranked it up. That was it. I exploded. I'm not proud of that, but I hit the breaking point. Luckily, my husband got home right around then and was able to take over. That's when the "good cry" came in. I don't know if it's post-holiday blues, or the shock of seeing my son running toward traffic, but I am just so glad the weekend is nearly here -- after I take the tree down, I might have a good cry again.

Uh, Alvin? Alvin???? ALVINNNNN!!!!!!

How our tastes change! My teen will occasionally ask me to watch a movie with him. If it's his choice, I'll usually decline after hearing the title. "Saw," "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (modern version)" "The Hills Have Eyes" and that kind of stuff. Yuck. I did like "Disturbia," we watched that together. But I've lost my youthful affection for anything really scary. My husband was watching "The Wicker Man" with Nicholas Cage and I happened to be in the room for the last 10 or 15 minutes. I couldn't help but watch, and ended up having a nightmare that night. "You're like a little kid!" a friend of mine told me. What happened to me? Where's the kid who couldn't wait to see "The Omen," "Rosemary's Baby" and "The Exorcist" when I was old enough? When I was a teen, I couldn't get enough of the Halloween movies, and Friday the 13th, then Freddy Krueger. Anything scary or freaky or psychologically creepy -- bring it on, baby!
Not now. Give me a nice comedy or chick flick. The movies this weekend? Well, if I had my druthers, I'd have hit "P.S. I Love You." I've had a thing for Gerry Butler since I saw the film version of "Phantom of the Opera." But I had the three younger kids, so we went and saw "Alvin and the Chipmunks." When I told their older brother, he said, "NO! That's the worst movie in the world! I really thought it would be funny, but it was HORRIBLE!"
But we loved it. I would have lived a full life had I picked another movie, but the kids, my mom and my 15-year-old niece had a blast, giggling at the antics of the chipmunks. And I loved the villain, Ian. Took me about halfway through the movie to figure out where I saw him before -- in the "Men in Black" movies. He Newton was the morgue attendant in the first movie and the guy who lived with his mother in the second. But my kids giggled and giggled and giggled. Whenever the chipmunks' favorite TV show came on, my little guy would sing along: "Spongebob, Squarepants!" So while I still want to see "P.S. I Love You," I'll probably end up seeing it on video or HBO. Gerry Butler's still cute, but the value of the theater tickets rises with the kids -- their laughter is priceless.

Welcome back to the real world

Although I didn't have any vacation time left for the holidays, having a day off two weeks in a row, and leaving early on the "Eve" days, still feels like I had a vacation. But ... thud! ... back to school today! It all seems so abrupt! Maybe if I had the time off with my kids, it wouldn't seem so. But working through the holidays, it's run-run-run when you're off, to fit everything in. I'm so glad my little guy's preschool didn't start up today. I could barely get him moving. Despite being exhausted last night -- he cried for a good half hour when separated from his 15-year-old cousin visiting from Georgia after we went out to dinner with them -- we couldn't get him to sleep. He finally conked out about 11.
The 6 a.m. alarm jolted me this morning ... it's been a week and a half since I heard it, and I was getting quite comfy with staying in bed till at least 7. But the high school bus driver won't understand that. Got my daughters up and out the door on time, but left the little guy in bed until we had to drive them to school, warming up the car then wrapping him in a blanket at the last possible second.
Now, it's on to the things I was going to do "over the holidays." Gotta work with other moms planning for our daughters' participation in the annual variety show -- we all said we would do it "over the holidays." What were we thinking?