iamspartacus.net

The girls are in the air right now, having just left the KCI runway at just after 8pm this evening. Jeannie and Jess are on their way to visit Kathy in Los Angeles for the weekend. Jess has been talking non-stop for the past 3 days about this trip, and about the chocolate chip cookies that Midwest Airlines serves in flight. (God help me if they don't actually bring fresh-baked cookies around during the flight -- I really played up this part!)

Anyway, no big news. The girls are gone, which leaves the boys free to leave towels on the floor, scratch what itches, and order pizza -- at least, that covers the first couple of days, after which the novelty quickly wears off. More photos and stories to follow upon their return New Years Eve.

Agh! Christmas, packing, transferring utilities to the new address, packing, stepping over boxes, more Christmas, yes we're really throwing that away -- you don't play with it anymore!

Okay, long story short, Christmas was fantastic but we're moving in 10 days and I don't have time to write a big diatribe about the holidays this year. Just look at the photos and pretend I wrote something profound and terribly funny.

More in the photo gallery.

It’s the first day of winter vacation. Being Christmas and all, the kidlets and I should have spent the day shopping, baking, wrapping presents, or somehow oozing good cheer. If that happened, everyone would accuse me of being a suburban meth mommie. In true Lawrence Merritt style, we celebrated the beginning of break with “underwear day.”

Not to be confused with other winter holidays where you are supposed to dress your kids in ubercute dresses and slacks just so they can have something with which to wipe greasy hands,

underwear day does come with a dress code. It’s either underwear or PJ’s, as long as possible. After spending the past 90+ days of school complaining about getting dressed, Jess and Martin had NO problems adjusting. I found my frumpiest sweats and deliciously lounged in them all day.

It was a day of cereal for lunch, long naps, showers,lots of stories, and yummy snacks. I would love to say we made cookies or fudge. Nope, that would require too much work. Prepackaged Oreos and popcorn were perfect. The kids pulled out every toy they owned and played with them all over the apartment. The apartment looked like a rock star’s hotel room. They sang songs, Martin showing his immersion in Lawrence culture:

I miss the slower pace of homeschooling. While I love my job, I know the kids hate being rushed from one event to another. Underwear day was exactly what we all needed in order to breathe again. It wasn’t completely void of Christmas cheer though. If you look closely, you might see it oozing out Martin’s nose.

This week has been full of chaos -- some of it planned, and some surprises. Some if it good, and some not so good. For example:

• Jeannie officially landed her teaching contract for next semester (good)

• I spent three solid days in training on Microsoft Reporting Services (not so good)

• We learned that Martin's greatest wish for Christmas is a red stapler (good -- weird, but good)

• Andrew is having a sleepover with two friends tonight (...we'll judge this one in the morning)

• The kids received flu shots (horrific gnashing of teeth)

Okay, let's stop and focus on that last one for a moment -- especially since without it I would likely not have found the motivation to write today. ...Flu shots. I remember them as a child. I say that because since the age at which it became my decision I have "decided" not to partake in this Fall tradition any longer. And I'm okay with that. Getting the flu sucks, I'll admit, but I just happen to be one of those people who doesn't like needles very much, and I consider myself virtually immune to the flu. At least, that's my plan.

However, the kids seem to contract the flu every time we neglect to make sure they've had their seasonal vaccine. As a result, once every year we we try to balance the delicate question: "How far in advance should we tell them they're getting a shot?" There is no good answer to that question, as I was recently reminded. Let me walk you through my Thursday afternoon.

3:00pm, I surprise the kids by picking them up from school and daycare. Jessica, in particular, is gleeful at this unexpected change of plans. "Daddeeeeeee!" (giddy excitement) We walk hand in hand to the van, climb inside and start driving toward home. "Where are we going, Daddy?" (smiling and content) I explain that we're headed home, then picking up Martin, then going up to meet Mommy at the high school. "Yipee! I like Mommy's work. What are we doing at Mommy's work?" (this is fun!) "Getting flu shots," I say. ...(screeching halt; one-hundred eighty degree turn; next stop: depths of despair).

Jessica is a very sweet girl and has a wonderful laugh. She also has the ability to wind up to a good wailing cry much like the KGB sirens in all those cold-war movies from the eighties. And so it began: the fear. After several failed attempts to calm her nerves while driving, I resigned to the fact that she was going to continue to cry all the way to our feared destination. Attempting to dilute the sound of her crying with the radio only resulted in her turning up her own volume and proving that she would not go quietly into the night.

We survive picking up Martin and the remaining drive to Jeannie's school. Jeannie meets us just inside the doors and Jessica runs to her, throwing her arms around her neck with the embrace you would expect to see from a hostage re-united with long-lost family. Much to her dismay, Mommy had even less tolerance for the tears than did Daddy. At this point we began "the long walk" (this part happened in slow-motion, by the way. --remember the movie "Dead Man Walking"? It was kind of like that.)

We arrive at the nurse's office where two "nice ladies" are waiting with smiles and sharp needles. Jess is obviously distressed, and they attempt to diffuse the issue by suggesting that Jessica go last, and only after she watches Mommy get a shot so she can see that it's "no big deal". ...They don't know Jessica. We blew straight past "no big deal" and we were already quite comfortable in the land of "big hairy freakin' deal". So, Mommy got her shot with only a small winced smile; Andrew bit down, held his breath and took it like a champ; and Martin was held against my chest, squeezing his arms around my neck in a Superman-hug as the nurse deftly got him in the leg with the needle. Martin hates to cry, and he managed to hold it in, despite the tears welling up in his eyes for a minute or so afterward.

So now it's Jessica's turn. Jessica? Where is she? And where is Jeannie, for that matter? Oh wait, I hear them. Martin and I wander out into the hall only to find a scene which I can barely describe. Jeannie, somehow still with a facial expression of calm and control, was attempting to contain what appeared to be a blur of flailing appendages. It was as if a miniature tornado of blond hair appeared in the hallway and Jeannie was trying to collect it. As I watched this unfold, from the eye of the storm flew a tennis shoe; and then another. Martin and I, at Jeannie's request (read: hand signals), are trying to walk away further down the hall, but I can't look away. The screaming builds now with greater intensity.

At some point, we must have turned back, though the details are a bit sketchy, I'll admit (this is a common symptom of sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder). The next thing I know, Jeannie and I have traded roles, I'm scooping up the fury from the floor, feeling a couple of blows glance off my chin. I'm only a few feet from the door to the nurse's office where they are standing at the ready, needle in hand and ready to assist with restraint. As I clear the door, my progress suddenly halts and my feet barely register this fact and almost walk out from underneath me. Jessica, I realize, managed to get her arms free and has established a death grip on the door jamb, bracing herself like a cat being shoved into the toilet. I couldn't risk pulling one of my hands free lest she slip from my grasp entirely, so Jeannie worked to pry her fingers from the entryway. At long last, we were back where we started.

"Just sit down and hold her", they said to me, waving that needle around like it was Excalibur. I sat. At this point, Jessica was beyond hysterics. The screaming had been replaced by a different sound, like a low whirring sound that comes from way deep down. ...You remember that scene from "The Exorcist" where the little girl's head spins all the way around? "Jessica's not here right now", it seemed to say. "Hold her arms!", "Hold her legs, she's kicking!", "Grab her head, don't let her look!". Agh! I only have two arms!. Squeeze, poke, release, back away, done.

Ten more seconds of combustion and finally we begin the long, slow descent. This stage carried us out of the nurse's office (thank you, come again!), down the hall, outside to the van, and almost all the way home. Eventually, it results in a collapse onto the couch, barely conscious as the cartoons play at the dinner hour.

Yeah, so that was Thursday. I have no idea what else happened that day. But by Friday, Jess was showing off the little red dot on her arm where she got her flu shot... like it was nothing.

As if Christmas didn't bring with it enough extra expenses, we decided the prudent thing to do was to add the purchase of a house to our December expenses.

It's official. Or almost official anyway. Since May we've been slowly, patiently looking for a new house in Lawrence. Our requirements for a new home were pretty loosely defined with only a few criteria:

1. located in Lawrence

2. not leaning in any direction at more than a thirty degree tilt

3. not a camping tent or other habitat designed for temporary
   lodging

Surprisingly, this is a difficult combination to find in this town for less than a good chunk of the contents of Fort Knox. Fortunately, with our patience and the help of Jack, the wonder-realtor (more on that later), we found exactly what we were looking for and just in time for the new year -- because seriously, who doesn't like driving a moving van in the snow?

So, we found our home, made an offer, offer was accepted, inspections revealed no red flags like "this home was built over an ancient burial ground and is filled with evil spirits". Now, all that's left is the title work and a hefty check.

If you've read this far, just take this as notice that if you do in fact receive a Christmas gift from us this year, it's going to be cheap. Really, really cheap. Nothing personal. 25 days and counting...

This morning, in all it's 28-degree glory, we joined Grandma and Grandpa Merritt for the annual Lawrence Old-fashioned Christmas Parade. We came equipped with hot cocoa, blankets, hats and gloves. Was that enough to combat the biting wind? We asked Jeannie, and I'm assuming we will get an answer -- as soon as her teeth stop chattering.

The horses were decorative and fun to watch, especially for Martin who had to watch every last parade entry; right down to the street sweeper as it made its rounds right behind the horses.

Photos from today are available in the gallery.

Instead of visiting one of our "regular" parks over Thanksgiving weekend when the weather was beautiful, we went instead to the playground and the kids' school. Much to my jealousy, Jeannie was the one who captured the image below -- her point-and-shoot out-gamed me and my Nikon that day.

As you may have guessed, there are a few more photos in the gallery.

And so another Thanksgiving has come and gone. This time with a much smaller venue -- only 20-30 people this year with mostly locals but a couple from Oklahoma as well. It was a laid back afternoon with good food and good company.

Photos from Thanksgiving are in the gallery.

Okay, so I haven't exactly been vigilant about keeping this site up to date. We have been a bit busy and I'm afraid the time has simply gotten away from me -- so much so that I haven't even taken time to shoot much of anything lately. At any rate, read on for a brief synopsis of what has occupied our time this month...

So, in the past the challenge for me has been to find the right photo to go with a story I wanted to post. Lately I have wanted to post photos but didn't really have a story to accompany the photo. I've decided to stop trying to cater to both sides. Hence, the photo below without any relevant text. We'll see how long it takes the owner to recognize its origin.