Happy Halloween!

Hope your trick or treating leaves you with a silly, Smarties-induced grin.

Talk soon,
Heather

proof is in the...well...schnapps, I guess

A few days ago, I was reminiscing about that time in Germany, when my friends and I were drinking schnapps out of little bottles.  And posing for pictures with the caps on our noses?

So, yeah.  I found that picture last weekend.  And I just feel the need to put my money where my big bloggy mouth is.

Here you go:

I will note that even in a foreign land, schnockered on foreign spirits, the future Proper Paige knew better than to have her photo taken with a bottle of alcohol (of any size) hanging out of her mouth.

[Takes bow.]

Hope your photos are only moderately incriminating today.

Talk soon,
Heather

a call to arms (or hands, specifically)

Jack's (awesome) school sent this picture recently.  He's working on his letters.  You know, as we do.

And I was quick to note how dark his hair is getting and how he's totally left-handed.  JUST LIKE HIS MOMMA.

And to that, I say:

Hope you feel some solidarity today.

Talk soon,
Heather

the one in which we leap tall curbs in a single bound...

I've dressed up as Wonder Woman for Halloween before.  It was sort of during Durel and my courtship.  I'm sure Emily, Sean, Sally, and Okie Roy remember that evening very well.  Clay might remember, too.  Other than that, we shall leave it in the annals of history.

This year, I will be dressing up as Wonder Woman for Halloween again.  I will not be wearing the same costume I wore 12 years ago.  Nope.

I will be wearing a cool-yet-mom-appropriate costume.  Because, after all, I am Superman's mom (new origin story; take note).

I am not really cool enough to know what origin stories are.
Durel totally taught me the term.

We debuted our costumes for the Fall Festival at Jack's school last week.  There were hot dogs, cake pops, frozen yogurt, a bouncy slide thing, a band, and games in every room.  Jack's school does not mess around.  It was completely awesome.   (There was also a silent auction, where we bought things.  It really was fun for all ages.)

And, with one more origin story being shredded with disregard by our family, Durel was super, too.  He brushes off comparisons to Hugh Jackman.  Okay, Wolverine.  

This photo was taken with Durel's insanely awesome
Windows phone.

Anyway, Jack and his buddies got down to business.  Who needs a mosh pit when you can stand on a hay bale?  And, I mean, the SWAT team is already there, so you know it was NUTS.

And, it was nuts.  SuperJack danced, bounced and slid, ate hot dogs with wild abandon, gamely posed for pictures, played games, zoomed around with his cape streaming behind him, and only melted down at 8:30 when we informed him, gravely, that it was time to go home.

Even supers have their limits, you know.

Hope you zoom around like a super today.

Talk soon,
Heather

Enter the Lederhosen

Somewhere, there is a picture of me at an Easter bonfire in Hannover, Germany.  I think the year was like...1998.

I am moderately intoxicated and cheesing it up for the camera with several friends.  We all have little white things on our noses.  Those little white things are the caps of our little mini bottles of schnapps, which we were drinking by gripping the neck of the (tiny; like vanilla extract size) bottles between our teeth and tipping our heads back.

They told me, my friends, that you have to take a picture with the cap on your nose.

So, we did.

In the fifteen years that have passed since then, I have matured considerably.  (She said, convincingly.)  I am 100% sure that I would definitely still drink schnapps that way at an Easter bonfire in Germany.   No doubt.  

But in contrast, I will also take Jack to a Hill Country Oktoberfest to make sure he's adequately exposed to his roots.  And their sartorial history.

Enter the Lederhosen.

This is Jack at the recent Oktoberfest in Fredericksburg, Texas.

He is wearing a vintage pair of grey suede Lederhosen that, I believe, were purchased by my dear departed grandparents in Germany in the 1950's as a gift for my brother, who was then a wee bairn.  (We're Scottish, too.) (Yes, we're spaced out quite a bit.)

Let's just say that the fans were a little gaga over that sweet guy in his Lederhosen.  We bought the hat at the festival, and it definitely added some snap to his outfit.  The little bear is also in Lederhosen.  We named him Freiderich von Lederhosen, but Jack has taken to calling him "Freeder" for short.

Hope your outfit really reflects who you are today.

Talk soon,
Heather

it's those preppy choices that can get you

I applied Early Decision to Middlebury.

To someone not from the East Coast and/or who doesn't treat liberal arts college admission as a competitive sport, that doesn't mean much.

Middlebury College is a gorgeous college in Middlebury, Vermont.  It is a very academic, very preppy, and very picturesque place.  I had decided that's where I would be an English major, run around in autumnal splendor, and spend four years becoming my most awesome self.

Here's a picture, so you can picture it:

Image credit.  Seriously, right???

 Apparently, Middlebury was not as enamored of me as I was of them.  My application was deferred to the regular decision applicant pool, which was a hard core slap in the face to my idealistic, enthusiastic, overachieving high school self.  That means you have to apply to other colleges and, like, wait it out. [Insert Kristin Stewart's one facial expression.]

So, the search continued.  The family search committee, led by Captain Dad, the College Hunter, explored New England, because that's where I had decided I wanted to be.

We visited a lot of places.  [Smiley face.]  One of them was Bates. Bates is cool.  I walked around the campus to do a "vibe check."  I liked it.  I didn't feel out of place, like I was dressed like an idiot, or like people realized I was a stranger.  Hmm.  

And, let's not overlook that Bates is also gorgeous, very academic, very preppy, and very picturesque.

See?

We totally had classes sitting outside on the Quad.  Not even joking.

 

This picture does not show a lot of snow.
When you live in Maine, this is not a lot of snow.

As it turned out, Middlebury did accept me.  But by then, Bates had already accepted me, too.  Faced with the decision of where to go, I found myself totally happy about the thought of going to Bates.  I also found myself completely annoyed with Middlebury for making me wait for so long and feel all icky and half-rejected.  

I realized that I was just a name on a list.  (Granted, this was true at both schools but it pissed me off vis a vis Middlebury.)  And that if I didn't take the spot, they would call some other girl and make her happy that she'd finally gotten in.  

Screw that!, I thought, with a lot of emotional bravado, to myself, at age 18.  

I'm going to Maine.

And so, I did.  It was awesome. And I, as predicted, was an English major, ran around in autumnal (and snowy) splendor, and spent four years becoming my most real self.  It was fan.tas.tic.

Where was I going with this?

Oh, it was cold today in Austin, and this happened.  

And my heart burst into a million pieces, and I don't even want to think about him going to kindergarten, much less college, and I got all nostalgic for Maine and changing leaves, and how was college so long ago? and sunrise, sunset so quickly go the days...you know?

Hope you find an unexpected wellspring of emotional bravado today.

Talk soon,

Heather

today's post is brought to you by the letter "T"

My parents think Jack is perfect.

Now, on principle, I'm not going to disagree with them.  He's amazing.  But...they don't wipe his bottom and deal with his tantrums.  So their rosy view is unfettered by unpleasant details.

My mom is known for her candor.  She is a lady who speaks her mind.

She has told me several times something to this effect:  "I know all of my children were smart.  You could tell.  But I'm telling you, none of you were as smart at this age as Jack.  He's smarter than all of you were."

[As Sara would say, "Damn, Gina!"]

But also, cool.  Because if Jack grows up to like, cure cancer or be President or teach at Harvard, I'd be WAY PSYCHED.  

As if to prove his Grammy's point, Jack spontaneously started asking me how to spell things over the weekend.  In response, I flipped the question around and taught him how to sound things out.  We sounded out everything from racecar to cereal.  No kidding.  And he did a really good job.  

Hmm.  [Have you met my son, the doctor?  It has a certain ring, doesn't it?]

Anyway, apparently today's post is brought to you by the letter "T"...

Which stands for, just off the top of my head and all:

• toothy grins
• timid in front of the camera
• traveling (double decker bus shirt as precursor for a year at the London School of Economics, clearly)
• threenager (oh, is he ever one right now)

Hope your "T" words are terrific and timely today.

Talk soon,
Heather

to do lists

I am a serious list-maker.

I have a work to do list.  I have a personal to do list that I keep on my phone.  (I use Wunderlist.)  Each weekend, when I assume I will have more time, energy and motivation than I have ever had on any weekend before in my life, I make my "weekend to do list" on paper.

Jack's not ready to make lists yet, but he does show hints of his mommy's, shall we say, propensity to organize.  He lines his toys up, just so.  He is adamant about his bedtime routine, with all of its idiosyncrasies.  (I'll spare you the details on this, but just believe me.)  He prefers to visit the pantry to pick out his *own* granola bar or bag of fruit snacks, thankyouverymuch.

If Jack had made a to do list for today, here's what it would have looked like.

1.  Demand apple for breakfast.
2.  Debate whether to eat apple at home or at school.
3.  Eat some of apple at home.  Insist on taking the rest to school.
4.  Change mind.  Continue eating apple at home.
5.  Wear Superman shirt.
6.  Meet firefighters.
7.  Pose for picture in firetruck.
8.  Get very shy when posing for picture.
9.  Keep it real like only a 3 1/2 year old can.

Hope you have a productive day.  And an apple.

Talk to you soon,
Heather