Suzanne Calling

For the past five years, Chef has had a dress code. His school at our previous house had uniform colors, but the kids had enough flexibility in both tops and bottoms that he didn't mind it too much. However, while he had choice of pant colors in elementary here, students are required to wear school logo t-shirts. Not only that, his middle school switched to khaki bottoms and color coded by grade t-shirts. From a parent perspective, this is great. For a kid who has a big personality, it is the equivalent of being in one of Dante's circles of hell. Yes, I know that's overdramatic, but to a teen, it is apt. He has been looking forward to high school, where he could wear what he wants. Earlier this year, there were rumblings that the high schools would also move to dress code, and he rejoiced when they did not. Meanwhile, Ed and I noticed that the kid is picky about his clothes, specifically, the bottoms he wears. Sure, I've got his shirts pegged (preferably v...

My boys are old enough now that they've told me the games they want for Easter and I can skip the candy, as long as I buy it the day after Easter when it goes on sale. Well, not quite. Chef was on board with this idea, until we got to the supermarket tonight. I ended up coming home with a bag of Snicker snackers, because he wanted 'some candy' now. Inching closer to being a teen, but not quite ready to let go of being a little kid...

I took a very funny picture that Chef staged for me last week, one in which he wore an Angry Birds pig hat and chose a red Angry Bird and made it appear as if he was being attacked, scared face and all. The other day, I got an adorable picture of him with Scamp, both had priceless expressions. I'm not sharing them, here or on Facebook. He asked me not to. This on top of the sudden 'no displays of affection in public' make it clear: he isn't 13 for another few months, but he has clearly reached teenager. It is kind of strange, considering we haven't dealt with it yet. For him, it's probably strange to have an older brother and parents who are treading new ground, too.

With the kids off from school, Chef asked if we can bake cookies. I said we sure can, and we decided what cookies to make. Both boys wanted sugar cookies, I figured Ed wanted either chocolate pb chip or peanut butter and I wanted my krytonite, rainbow cookies. a recent batch at our favorite restaurant, Romeo's. Once I mentioned Rainbow Cookies, Chef was excited. Typically, we only get those when we visit New York-the ones pictured above are the first batch that we've seen Chef Manuela put into the dessert cooler of awesomeness in the two years we've been going to Romeo's. Anyway, the quantity of baking requires preparation, lots of it. My body rebels against that amount of standing, so today, I got a brainstorm: why not prep all the dry ingredients into storage bags, label them, and then tomorrow, I wouldn't have to stand so long? It was inspired, it was great, it had a major flaw: the 25 pound bag of flour was in Ed's van. Oh well. I think the cookie marat...

Things change in a year. Last spring, Chef's chorus concert involved wearing a school chorus tee shirt, a pair of khaki and lots of disorganization. This year, new director and new rules. Still an excessive amount of disorganization (coming in to tell the audience in one section "You can't sit here, the chorus needs these seats five minutes before the performance? Not good), but the new director has some good ideas. First up, the students wore concert dress: white dress shirts, black bottoms and black shoes. She provided ties for the boys. I'm thinking he looks pretty sharp, don't you think?

Chef has a knack for repurposing songs. No, he won't take Weird Al's undisputed title as the King of Parodies, but he does tend to do it in such a way that Ed and I are amused often. Until he messes with a Ramones song. Son, you don't mess with the Ramones, they are not to be considered parody fodder. It just isn't done. Then we realized that our rock-loving child had not been exposed to music perfect for his early-arrival teen angst: punk rock. So, we started with Blizkrieg Bop, then went to TV Party and added a few more classics from the mosh pit standards. He appears to fit right in, and if he'd had a lighter, he would have been burning his fingertips in appropriate respect by holding that Bic lighter aloft. I see further introductions to groups like the Dead Kennedys. On the other hand, Scamp was utterly terrified by the music. I guess that's the down side of inheriting an animal: I think he cut his milk teeth on Michael Crawford. Now, that music, I...

I've spent the weekend grilling and the fruits of my labor are pretty darn good. So why is it that the kids asked for Burger King for dinner? (In a word-yuck!) Of all the fast food chains, they've got a hankering for the one I don't like, probably because early in my pregnancy with Chef, it was the only fast food place on my side of one of the five largest malls in the US. I had way too many Whopper juniors on my half hour lunch break. Someday, they'll be responsible for their own meals and miss the days when mom has things like pulled pork and pig pucker sauce in the fridge. It'll sound better than those BK burgers... ***and I think I HATE the new Blogger posting interface. My paragraphs became one big text block. Adding HTML coding to hopefully fix it.

The boys start school tomorrow. For the first time since returning to college, I do NOT have a Monday night class, which feels a little strange. I have Tuesday, Thursday and a web based class. Thankfully, the web-based one looks straight forward after two semesters of this stuff. Meanwhile, it's 9 days until the GRE and I'm working my way through the math book. Let's see how much I can get done once I add schoolwork to the mix. The bright spot in all of this is that GameTeen needs to be at school by 8:30, I can probably start work at 9 right now and this means I can study for two hours before picking him up each day. Commute time to Tampa will be spent listening to mis lecturas en español, because I plan on keeping up the group lessons. As long as I spend 20 minutes at day on it, I'll be maintaining the skills I have. All of this, of course, means it is back to a normal bedtime. Boo.

The last day we were official residents of Maryland, I took Chef and Game Teen to our pediatrician for checkups and shots. Two days later, I enrolled both of them in the local elementary school, and provided the school with both boys' complete immunization records. I should have made copies. Less than a month later, GameTeen would be transferred to a school that *supposedly* was better equipped to deal with his educational needs and for some strange reason, Chef's records went along for the ride. More like they took a journey into a black hole, because they were never seen again. Thus began the regular phone calls from the school "We need Chef's immunization records," and I would inform the lady that I'd given them to her when I spent an hour with her, enrolling both my children in the school. "Right, right, you did-but I still need them." We'd go back and forth that I gave them to her, the fact that she misplaced them was not *my* p...

Teenage and nearly teenage boys seem to have one mindset: stay unclean. Using my two specimens in an unscientific study, they'll do everything they can to avoid showering or changing clothing. With GameTeen, he can't get away with the latter because he the duplicates in his wardrobe are slightly different, so we can tell when he's trying to avoid changing clothes. (His sensory issues are such that he has *always* hated to change clothes, something about the circulating air hitting his skin.) There are no duplicates in his shirts, so it's easy to tell when he's trying to pull a fast one. Heck, most mornings, to save time with Mr. Pokeypants, I'll grab clothing for him to change into. Chef, OTOH, is a tougher nut to crack. This past year, he started middle school and was bestowed with a dress code. School shirts in a color he hates (which makes me wonder what his flavor of color blindness warps burgundy into) and bottoms in black, brown, navy, khaki ...

When you have kids, it seems like time passes so fast. For instance, it was just yesterday that I was holding this little guy: To this not-so-little guy, who actually is the same height as his older brother: Happy Birthday, Chef!

We had no detours today. Except for the 45 minutes in the remodeled Lego store. Two hours, one park, one very sore Mama, who is now even more sore. (Woke up with Chiari pain, but figured I'd tough it out.) We agreed on a snack, a ride on The Land ride, searched for Tron pins and Vinylmations and walked out happy. Seeing my boys like this made the day worthwhile:

When a class topic is something I can use with my kids. Tonight, we talked about motivation theories, and what to do with students with performance avoidance behaviors. Much like Chef has been displaying since the beginning of the school year. He's gone from being an A/B student to avoiding homework, saying he's stupid, and me getting emails from the teachers that he hasn't done the work. Who knew that my studies would give me some ideas to help him?

Usually, I'm an innocent bystander in the selection of television viewing in this house. We've had the current TV since April, and I still don't know how to work the remote. (That's what kids are for when you don't choose much on your own) A few months ago, Chef started watching the live action original programming, namely Unnatural History. The show took historical events and wove them into a fictional series about two cousins who at first dislike each other, but later realize that they need each other to solve mysteries. So, in October, when a new program started up, he was in. We didn't see every episode, but if it was Tuesday night and we were home, Tower Prep was going to be watched. The difference was that this show (like Unnatural History) wasn't a dumbed down storyline. It had appeal for both me and Chef. Basically, Ian wakes up and finds himself in Tower Prep, a boarding school where the students all have special abilities. He has no clue ho...

We're at dinner tonight and Chef spies a picture of Chuck Norris on the wall. He commented that the two Uzis Chuck is holding are a waste. According to Chef, Chuck just needs to eat a watermelon and spit out the seeds. This would be better than any other weapon. Then, he tells us that he doesn't need a flame thrower, either. "Just feed him a bean burrito, and he'll be able to do the job." The guy's tears cure cancer, now this? Who knew?

Chef's on his way. Three merit badges, a Totin' chit, a Fireman's chit and he actually made one rank. Now, if only he'd understand that he'd be on his fourth rank if he went to his leaders and ask to have his board of reviews!

In the car tonight, heading home from scouts, Chef spies a Camaro. "Look Mom, it's Bumblebee." One of the things I got to occupy the kids while I was under the weather this weekend was the DVD of the Transformers sequel. He watched it three times. (Which means I paid less per viewing than I would have at even the drive in!) "Dude, that one's red." "Yeah, I know, but that's the right kind of car." He's definitely his father's son, as he can spot a specific model of car waaaaaaay off in the distance. "Hey, dude, did you notice that Sam looked really familiar? Like from Indiana Jones or something?" "Hiya, Mutt, how are ya doin'?" Okay, can't pull a fast one on him. "Dude, remember 'Even Stevens'?" "Of course, Mom. He was Louis." "He was a funny looking kid and look at him now!" "Yeah, I KNOW! I mean, he's got Megan Fox as a girlfriend. Megan Fox! He's...

Now that I'm back to school, it's time to resurrect SSS. This past summer has been an awakening of sorts for Chef. Always musically aware and having his own distinct musical tastes, there is a noticeable shift lately. We probably can thank the video games to an extent. With the purchase of a new game system came a used copy of a game "Brutal Legend," which is heavily packed with the major players of heavy metal, such as Lemmy Kilmister and Ozzy Osbourne. The kid ate up all the classic music coming his way, some of it he'd heard in the past-but much he had not. Other games for this system featured other classic rock, heavy metal and even classical music, all of which were either sung or whistled by Chef throughout the summer. It probably would surprise him when Mom or Dad would sing along and know the song, or in my case, I'd find the track on You Tube and play him the full version of these tunes. In addition to the game system as a source of discovery of ...

Some of the things the kid has said today: In the car, talking about his brother: "He's going to eat death, and then laugh about it." Me: "Don't you mean 'Cheat death?" and he tells me not to quibble about the details. Talking about one of the Star Wars canons: "I'm a clown, but this is the Clone Wars. One stupid typo from being in the Clone Army" then: I'm just a pebble in the Rebel Alliance. Playing a video game: "This won't hurt one bit...it will hurt A LOT"