Captain Wombat is...a Weaponless Viking?!?

As a crew that dresses up multiple times a year, for various themed parties, our costume bins - yes, plural - overfloweth with good stuff. From horned Viking hats to fluffy feather boas and from pirate eye patches to Smurf hats, we have it all. But, still, choosing a Halloween costume is always torturous, complicated by the restrictions that the School places on the day: no masks, no weapons, and only facepaints that the kids can apply themselves. Can you say "disaster"?

Dylan, dubbed Captain Wombat by his teacher, decided that he wanted to be the dingo from the book Wombat Stew. He planned to carry his stuffed wombat in a soup pot; we glued some white fur onto an orange t-shirt and an orange tail made with a kitchen towel onto a pair of old sweatpants. He found a fuzzy little half mask in the costume bins. Maybe it's a lion. Who knows? But it's the right color and he likes it. Revisit the school rules: no mask.

Tears, lots of tears. Riley suggested we make a headband with orange ears. I told Dylan that he could paint whiskers on his face. No, he wailed, I need my dingo mask to make the costume be correct. Oh, brother!

So, he's abadoning the dingo costume for school altogether, but will be sporting the whole outfit - with mask! - at our Halloween camping trip this weekend.

But for his school celebration, he decided to be a Viking. Then I reminded him that he couldn't bring a sword. Remember the no weapons rule. More tears. He concluded that "if a Viking lost his sword, he would just stab his enemy with his horns." So, now he's okay being a resourceful, weaponless Viking. Fantastic!

Lesson Learned the Hard Way

Here's a parenting lesson I'm learning the hard way: when your child wins a gift certificate to a restaurant you wouldn't normally go to, just go. Go quickly. Because when you look for the thing two years later - and it's expired - you now have to go and you have to pay for it. Horrible.

That was the case with Dylan and his gift certificate to Chili's. Dylan received the gift certificate in kindergarten. One of my good friends, who Dylan calls Uncle Brian, had promised to take him to Chili's to use the certficiate since I wouldn't take him. It's been two years and we had still never picked a day for it. Finally we picked a day and, as I mentioned before, the certificate was expired. But when you tell a 7-year-old you're going to take him somewhere, you have to do it. Oh, and to add to the horror, Brian promised to take them to McDonald's for dessert. Seriously.

So we went. The funniest response to my reporting that I actually went to Chili's and McDonald's: "I thought your account was hacked." If only that were the case. Here I am with my vanilla soft serve...at the drive-through because Brian said he wouldn't set foot into McDonald's. He'll promise my kid an ice cream cone from there, but won't leave the comfort of his vehicle!

There you have it. My account was not hacked. I did, in fact, eat at those establishments. The cocktail was weak, the food salty, really salty. And the funny thing is that I have eaten all over the world, from questionable food carts on beaches in third world countries and my body has never reacted like this; twenty minutes after we ate, Riley, Dylan, and I were running for the bathroom, almost as if our bodies were yelling 'reject! reject!' Jake laughed, saying, "I guess my body remembers eating food like this."

All I have to say is: if the school hadn't done away with giving out gift certficiates to Chili's as a reward for never being tardy, I would make sure that we were late at least once!

Christmas Card Evolution

Here's the evolution of Christmas cards in our family: When Jake and I were dating I used to handwrite cards and include a printed newsletter of all of our adventures for the year. As a double-income couple with no real bills, our adventures were fantastic.

After we married, most of our expendable income was put into our home rennovation, so I still handwrote the cards and included a printed newsletter about our projects.

When we had our first son, I think all I managed was a newsletter with printed labels on the envelope. Then we had our second son, a mere eighteen months later, and life has never been the same since; because Dylan was born two days before Christmas, I don't think I even managed to get anything out. I think I sent out Valentines' Day cards that year.

Somewhere along the line I moved to emailing our Christmas letters. This year, I will still email the holiday newsletters, but I decided to create cards for mailing as well. I turned to shutterfly.com and couldn't be happier. It was so easy. A few clicks here, a few clicks there. And - like magic - our Christmas cards are on their way.

Yes, I know it's not even Halloween, but I am, after all, a serial planner.

Stationery card

View the entire collection of cards.

A Pumpkin Sloth

Dylan has an unusual Fall Break project: make a character pumpkin. He decided to do the sloth from Eric Carle's Slowly, Slowly, Slowly Said the Sloth. Truth be told, it became a family project. Dylan designed the figure and painstakingly drew the sloth's face.

 I burned my fingers more than once on the glue gun wrapping the frame with fur.

And Jake cut out the claws. What a fun project!

Straight from My Mom

For anyone who knows me, my email address could not be more appropriate: constantmotioncamilla. Friends joke that I have a condition. People frequently ask me if I ever sleep. I do, but, perhaps, not as much as others.

I have six words for everyone: I. Get. It. From. My. Mom.

My mom is a bundle of energy. I can only hope to be as energetic as she is when I am 60!

My parents have the boys in Disneyland this week for Fall Break. I thought that I would get to sleep in, with no lunches to pack and no three-course breakfasts to cook. But, no. The first morning they were away, my phone rang at 6:20am. I bolted downstairs, recognizing the ring as my dad's cell phone, in a panic. What was wrong?!?

"Mommy..." I heard, "I'm eating breakfast." What? "I just finished eating. I had bagels and cream cheese, eggs, sausage, fruit, and cereal." Dylan, it's not even six thirty in the morning. "I know, Mom, but we have to eat now so that we can get on the shuttle and get in line to get in to Disneyland right when they open."

Because that sounds so familiar to them, the boys don't even blink tiwce. They don't complain about having to get up before the sun while they are on vacation. They just go with it.

So there you have it. My condition is genetic. I get it straight from my mom.

Drinking the Groupon Kool-Aid

I have never been one to clip coupons. It's not that I don't like coupons - or saving money - but I just never got a system down and I would always forget to bring them. My mom likes the Entertainment Book coupons and discounts; I have had horrible experiences with them. So, I have to admit, that I was really reluctant to give Groupon a go. I had nightmares about trying to use one and having the people toss some ridiculous restrictions out and denying the discount when I was already there.

In reality, I have used multiple groupons over the past year and I have to say: I LOVE GROUPON.

Granted, I have one hard and fast rule - I only purchase groupons for things that I would do, eat, or buy anyway. In other words, I would never get a groupon for, say, indoor skydiving just because it's a good deal. But I will buy a groupon for dinner at a restaurant I've always wanted to try or a groupon for a store that I frequent anyway.

I used a groupon earlier this summer to Old Navy and got some of the boys' uniform pants there; I've gotten groupons to photo book making websites and created keepsakes to remember different trips. I used a groupon last weekend for a local organic orchard for our annual apple-picking. And last night I used a groupon for a date night. Cheers to that one!

Here's how it works...

1. Sign Up at Groupon.com
2. Get an email about deals in your area.
3. Purchase the deal at the massively discounted price. Most of the time these deals will be at least 30% off with some of them being 90% off.
4. Once enough people purchase the deal, it’s activated and you will receive your discount. If not enough people buy then the deal is cancelled and no one gets it. I, for one, have never not gotten a deal. I don't know, but I'm guessing that if it doesn't go active, you don't get charged.
5. Once you receive your deal, print out your groupon and claim it at the specified store, restaurant, or whatever. Check out the expiration date and terms that explain how you can use them. Sometimes you can only use them on certain days or times and you can't usually combine them with any other coupons you might have.

Check it out for yourself. I was hesitant to drink the groupon kool-aid myself, but I have no regrets. Good fun at fab discounts. What's not to love?!?

Boxtops Party-Pooper

I have been called a lot of things in my life, but this name levied by my seven-year-old as tears brimmed in his eyes probably hurt my feelings the most: Boxtops Party Pooper. This photo of him crying is not from this morning, but does give you the image of what I'm dealing with - salty tears and a pouty mouth.

Each year the boys' school has a boxtops competition when all of the classrooms compete to bring in the most boxtops; the winning class receives a smoothie and a movie party. While I am all for fundraisers that give kick-backs to school "for seemingly nothing more than your usual shopping habits" the Mann clan shopping habits do not include anything on the boxtop list. Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

And I refuse to go out and buy things I won't eat or use just so that the boys can walk through the door of their classrooms with some little paper rectangles. Is that unreasonable?

I've learned two things from this so far: (1) Kids don't yet have the desire to be different or unique. When does that happen? And how do I make it happen faster?!? (2) Social media is a powerful tool. I posted that I was a Boxtops Party-Pooper and within seconds two friends asked me for the products and will clear out their pantries for any of these products. Win-win. Thanks, gals, for helping my kids be "normal."