Associations

Last night at dinner Gavin was telling us about an activity in one of his classes.  He started a new trimester yesterday and in order for the teacher and students to better remember one another's names, the teacher had them all say their name and an animal that started with the same letter.  Before they could say their own name, they would have to repeat the names/animals of the people before them. Gavin was thrilled that his was number 5 to go.  I asked him what animal he picked and he said, "Goshawk".  He said that caused quite a stir since it wasn't your typical, gorilla or gator.  He likes to be different.  He likes to stump people and keep them guessing.  However, he later conceded, "Had I given it just a little bit more thought, I would have chosen 'gnat'."  Another typical Gavin move.  He likes to make fun of the English language and that technically starts with 'g' which is all that matters to Gavin.

Of course the rest of us didn't want to be left out of this oh-so-exciting-name-game.  So we went around the table introducing ourselves and our animals.  Daddy wasn't there so we got to pick for him.  Chloe just couldn't commit, she had to pick the perfect 'c' animal.  So she got plenty of help from the peanut gallery.  She ended up going with Chloe the Cobra.  I was Cori the Cougar.  Then there was Bennett the Bunny, Chuck the Chipmunk and Gavin's revised animal: Gavin the Gnat.

This little exercise reminded me of a similar activity by one of my college professors.  It was the same concept, a way to get other's to remember your name, instead she asked us to attach a character quality we felt best represented us to our name.  Better yet, in our version of this name-game, we get to attach a character quality to our animal as well as ourselves.   Bonus!  This is how we would prefer you remember us:

Chuck the Cheery Chipmunk

Cori the Courteous Cougar

Gavin the Genius Gnat

Bennett the Bouncy Bunny

Chloe the Curious Cobra

We had loads of stories going about each of our alter egos.  It reminded me of by-gone days when we were superheroes at the dinner table (all day long for that matter).  The stories wound deeper and deeper. We acted them out.  It was the perfect dinner drama.

This is what happens when the children and I are left alone.

Love On A Sticky Note

The other night before bed Bennett was excitedly writing down a poem.  We never see him hunched over his desk at this time of night, so this must have been truly inspired.  In only the way that he can, he comes inching into my room, a goofy smile plastered on his face, light in his eyes and a sticky note in hand. It's not good enough to just leave the sticky note for me to read, he has to read it to me:

And then I have to respond cuz that's what he's standing there waiting for.  But I can't get past the "Yo Mujer Padre" title.  He's dangerous now, knowing only bits and pieces of Spanish from his Duolingo exercises.  I love how he piece meals it together.  He means to say, "My Woman Parent" since I guess he can't remember the Spanish word Mama.  But it reads as, "I Woman Father".  Of course I get the giggles.  It is the sweetest gesture.  He lives to fill up my love tank, even if it means calling me his 'woman parent'. 

Sleeping Well

This morning Chloe woke up and said, "Mom, I R.I.P'd last night."

Huh???

"You know, I rested in peace."

"Honey, do you know they reserve that phrase mostly for the dead?"

"Well, I really did rest in peace, there's no other way to say it."

"Well then, I'm happy for you."

RIP everyone, RIP tonight.

The Latest Greatest

This, my friends, is what it's all about.  Duolingo.  We do this night and day.  We do it all in the same room.  We do it on our phones.  We do it on our ipads.  We do it on our computers.  We are crazy for duolingo!

It is a new language learning software that Chuck found and brainwashed all of us on.  Being that he used to work for Rosetta Stone, another language learning software company, he knows a thing or two about what makes a good language learning ap.  The coolest thing about this program is that it is completely free and so much better than Rosetta Stone.  I find it much easier.  The lessons are concise, the explanations good and the teaching method is sound.

We now have 2 Spanish speakers, 2 French speakers and 1 German speaker in this house.  Not that any of us are fluent in anything, but we sure are having fun learning our languages together.  Seriously, we never make the kids do it - they can't wait to do their daily lessons!  I love it because I don't feel like a fool. I gave up learning French on Rosetta Stone when I realized I sucked so bad.  I thought I was just bad at languages.  I just didn't "get it".  Ahh...but now I do.  It's always the teacher, isn't it?!

It's fun to all be learning together as well.  It's good for Chuck and I so we can keep our brain sharp as we age. It's good for the kids so they can learn to become less ethnocentric and understand other cultures better.  Nothing but good comes from knowing other languages.

Sunset

a sphere of fire

placed in the sky

at just the right angle

to catch my eye

a palate of color

with hues all aglow

on a back drop of cerulean

it’s just one of a million

my heart skips a beat

with the image i see

i gasp and i stare

awe is reflected there

the orange glow 

beckons from afar

i’m drawn to behold

the image so bold

i stare in wonder

my heart all aflutter

the smile on my face

held by my gaze

at the gift in the sky
love spoken with no words

the Creator gives to me
this portrait of beauty

i stand amazed

i feel so small

encompassed by love

beneath a fireball

Manners

At dinner tonight (my famous last words)....

Bennett was choosing to not eat with manners that have been indoctrinated in him since the beginning of his life.  The lesson on manners is an old, beat-up, worn-out record.  I'm not even sure if it's in English anymore because it seems to go in one ear of each of our off-spring and directly out the other.  I could have just said, "Please do not use your arm as a lever, rather bring your fork up to your mouth" and with-in the next nano-second, one of the three of our children will have done just that.  Like I was asking them to do it - not refrain from it.

For the love!

So tonight, with great exasperation, and in all sincerity I look at Bennett and seriously proclaim: "I refuse to allow you to succumb to barbaric mannerisms!"

I surprised even myself.  I had no idea that combination of words could come out in a sentence string of that nature. Words typically stumble out of my mouth and rarely reach their intended purpose. I sat smugly in my seat.  That is, until Bennett almost fell out of his chair laughing at me. Literally. He just couldn't help it.  My people do not normally laugh at me when I am disciplining them.  For the life of me I couldn't understand what was so funny.  All of them could hardly contain themselves.  The giggles dominated the dinner table.  Gavin asks me if by chance, I'm quoting Shakespeare.  Then it kind of dawned on me...that did sound rather funny, I guess.  My attempt to evade further sloppy manners by speaking out in exasperation only seemed to further the cause, unfortunately.

Note to self: speak their language when trying to get them to understand something!

Turning 12 on Halloween

Bennett just loves that his birthday is on Halloween - and so do I!  It's so much fun to dress up and there's always a festive atmosphere.  We had fun celebrating Bennett prior to celebrating Halloween. The funniest part was reading the cards that Chloe and Gavin made for him that listed 12 things they each liked about him - those were hilarious!  Then came the part we had waited for with much anticipation all day long - dressing up!

Bennett was Mr. USA Biker Dude in memory of all 

the bikers we met on vacation in S.D. this past summer.

Some black leather chaps, tattoos and chains would have 

made the outfit that much more believeable.

Chloe was a Japanese girl.

Gavin was a billionaire financier.  I preferred to call him Artemis Fowl

but he said nobody else would get it since they probably didn't read the books. 

Chuck was Morty.  I especially loved his one strap velcro shoes.

Too bad I didn't get a photo with his red Las Vegas hat perched deftly on the top of his head.

I was a disco queen.  White boots would have made the outfit

 that much more believeable. (btw - I don't even know any disco moves).

Somebody actually asked me if I was Madonna (but that's a good idea for next year!).

 One big happy family!

More Math Please

After reading this amazing book I decided it was time to step up the 'math confidence' in all my people. The ability to do math and do it well, interestingly enough, is one of the key indicators of good critical thinking skills in adults. (Cool tid-bit: Gavin read this book before I did and was totally absorbed in it. We had some awesome conversations about what makes for good learning/teaching.  He highly recommended the book to me, even though I was the one who originally checked it out to read first. He just beat me to it.) 

There are so many other interesting observations in this book beyond math, such as, having high standards for our children which is a good thing - not bad.  Children rise to meet your expectations. Children know when they are being 'dumbed down'.  Children know when they aren't being respected. Children need to fail in order to learn, not giving them that chance is detrimental to them.

My favorite quote in this book is:

Parents who view themselves as educational coaches tend to read to their children every day when they are small; when their children get older, they talk with them about their days and about the news around the world.  They let their children make mistakes and then get right back to work.  They teach them good habits and give them autonomy.  They are teachers, too, in other words, and they believe in rigor.  They want their children to fail while they are still children   They know that those lessons - about hard work, persistence, integrity, and consequences = will serve a child for decades to come.

Parents make all the difference!  

The kids have heard me talk about my struggles teaching adults math.  But they've also watched me bring home books to study and brush up on my skills that had a few cobwebs on them from underuse so that I could be a better teacher.  I don't want to stay stagnant.  I want to keep growing and learning, even if its things I previously learned that I forgot.  Enthusiasm for learning is contagious.  The opposite also holds true.  If I complain about math, then that gives them freedom to complain about math - I don't like that.  So from now on, math is my friend. :) 

As with all things in life, we get better when we practice.  So I started printing up extra worksheets at home for Chloe and Bennett to do everyday after school.  They never seem to have math homework and that concerns me.  They agreed that one little sheet every day would be fun.  

Gavin saw that I was handing out math worksheets like candy bars and asked why I didn't have any for him?  He was genuinely offended.  This coming from a person who has found math to be his sweet spot.  I was like, "Uh...I thought you had math homework." And he was like (cuz that's how you have to talk when you talk with teens), "Ya. But I think that would be fun.  See if you can find me some worksheets too."  And so I was like, "Sure."  Voila....algebra 2 worksheets started spewing forth from my printer.  He was a happy camper.

I've always made each of my kids blog everyday to keep up their writing skills (another thing I don't feel they do enough of in school).  But I totally ignored keeping their math confidence up.  Duh!  Proof that we only do what we think is important.  

I am off to do some applied mathematics as I cook dinner.  I have to measure the ratio between rice and water and all that stuff...I better go put on my thinking cap.

Who's Idea Was This???

Why do we carve pumpkins again?  Could somebody please remind me?  Cuz it's certainly not for the fun of it.  We don't do this every year, so I guess I forget from year to year, but this whole pumpkin carving thing is for the birds.  Even the kids were like, "why are we doing this mom?"  And I'm like, "I have no idea.  Why don't we just draw the face on it instead and be done with it."  But nooooo, that would not be in the spirit of pumpkin carving and for some reason, Chuck was dead set on carving every last one of them.  He started by cutting the top off each one and then told us to scrape out the inside.  Like it was just no big deal.  Like we scrape gooey, slimy, stringy, wet, puke-inducing stuff out of other stuff all day, every day.  This is so not the type of environment I work well in.  Neither do my kids for that matter - guess they got that one from me.  Poor Chuck had to scrape out all 5 pumpkins.  It was cold out.  But gosh-darnit, we are going to do this thing and we are going to enjoy it, because that's what you do prior to halloween, right?!

Once he finally cleared out all the pumpkins, we were free to be creative and carve our little hearts out - except for its hard to do when your hands are almost frozen stiff and your nose is running like a faucet. But...we were having 'fun'.  Come to think of it, I don't remember ever carving a pumpkin when I was a kid - maybe my parents already on to the lameness of this so-called tradition.  For whatever reason, now we all have our very own pumpkin face that now lights up.  I sure hope it was worth it.  Yay fall/halloween/harvest time.  I can think of many other ways to celebrate rather than having a pumpkin face that glows in the dark on my front porch.

Here is our fun documented in pictorial form:

Chuck removing pumpkin guts

There was lots of huffing and puffing and sighing during the carving process:

 The end result:

 Chloe wasn't very pleased with her craftsmanship.
Later we referred to it as "The Minecraft Pumpkin"

A perfect likeness

Gavin's math pumpkin: Epsilon equals infinity.  He says he's spreading

 mathematical lies but he doesn't care at this point

A no-name pumpkin with sun glasses

 The wonky eyebrow pumpkin

And of course I forgot to buy tea candles to put inside so they glow.  Let's hope I remember to get the candles before the all important night of Halloween when they must shine and show our skill to all trick or treaters!

Solving World Peace

The other evening Gavin and I were sitting by the fire just visiting about our day.  And yes, it is cold enough this year to have the fireplace on already.  I had read some sad statistics earlier in the day about guns.  This was it: In one year guns murdered, 27 in Australia, 59 in England and Wales, 60 in Spain, 190 in Canada… and 10,177 in the US.  This was weighing heavy on my heart.  

I'm saddened by the world my kids will inherit as grown-ups.  Violence is pandemic. Nations hate each other and are constantly at war.  Greed drives so much of what countries do.  You never know who to trust in government.  Starvation and poverty exist even though the world has enough resources that it doesn't have to. Life doesn't seem valued. The news seems to be only about the bad happening all around us.  

I confessed, "Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and sad by the state of affairs, I don't know how to help all the people who need it."  His reply spoke straight to my heart. The reason I remember it so clearly and word for word is because it is exactly the same thing God had been speaking to my heart every time I started to feel this way.  He says, "Mom, I think our mission as Christians is to help people one on one.  You change the world one person at a time.  You don't have to start some large organization to make a difference.  You just have to touch the life of one person."

All the sadness I was feeling instantly lifted as my heart filled with gratitude for the simple yet profound wisdom spoken to me by my 14 year old.  In that instant I knew I didn't need to ever fear what the future held for him. He's not just repeating the "party line" or a statement of faith.  These were his own convictions. He knows that still, small voice and he lets it guide him.  He really has been listening to what we've been teaching all these years. He knows who he is, he knows where to find himself and he listens to his heart.  My heart is at ease.  

That was only the smallest part of our conversation, the rest I treasure in my heart like all of our one on one special moments.  His insights, ideas and wisdom about the issues we were discussing continued to enlighten me, give me peace and excite me about how he sees the world and the future.  I value his point of view and I learn a lot from him.  I love that he likes to share his heart with me, ask tough questions, and talk about anything from current events to algebra to what God's teaching me to how his phone conversation went with his friend to random science facts at dinner.  

Ironic

When everything is stripped away, you find who you are at your core.  All of the roles I've filled in my journey as a mom up to this point have been guiding posts in my path of life.  The biggest role I played in my children's lives so far, besides being their mom, was being their teacher.  Since they've been born I've taught them every day.  Some days on purpose; other's just by example.  They are always watching, always learning, always processing and questioning.  And I'm learning right along with them.

Even though they are no longer under my tutelage at home, I am still their teacher.  Learning begins at home.  It's my job to teach them to do their best in everything.  It's my job to make sure they go above and beyond a task and not let them settle for "bare minimum".  It's still my job to ensure learning is fun, happening all the time and is the essence of our home life.  It's my job to set high standards for them to meet and then encourage them after achieving those rigorous standards.  Even though I no longer homeschool, I will never stop being a teacher.

That is both a problem and a good thing.  I still am what I always was but don't know what to be.  Does that even make sense???  I have lots of time to think now that there are no children at home most of the day.  And one of the things I think alot about is: what in the world am I supposed to do with all my free time?  I still need to be available to take Chloe to school and pick her up, so my window of available hours for any type of job is very small.  Plus, I've been the one in charge of my own curriculum, school, standards, methodology and timeframes for so many years now that it would be VERY hard to submit to someone else's.  The easiest solution for me is to volunteer.  I get to pick the hours, time, type of people and type of activity I enjoy doing.  Win/win.

I've found that even when I volunteer - it is to teach.  How ironic.  For the past two years I taught English and Math to immigrants and refugees.  This year I am helping tutor adults preparing to take the GED or other college-level placement tests.  I also read with remedial middle school students twice a week. And lastly, I volunteer with the 4th graders at Chloe's school doing an excelled readers book club. Notice a theme here?  Yep...reading.  I've known all along, yet am just figuring it out.  That is where my passion is, everything else about education and learning centers around reading at any and every age level!  Do you know how excited I am about this?  I found my niche.  It's been there all along, just staring me in the face.  The only difference is, now my eyes have been open to it and for the first time I can see it too.

But the ironic this is not this discovery.  The ironic thing is that I am cursed to teach math the rest of my life too.  Anyone who knew me growing up would know that I cried every day during math homework.  I really enjoyed algebra, but it just took me longer to 'get it' than the rest of human-kind. That is why I see my current teaching/tutoring situation as nothing short of a cruel practical joke.

Once a week I help out at the the GED classes sponsored by our county.  People come to get help in many areas.  The one lady I am currently working with is from Vietnam and is studying to take an Accuplacer test.  She wants to be an accountant.  She's very good at math but really struggles reading the English in all the math tests.  So I have been deemed the 'math teacher' of the group and work with all these struggling students.  Whoever dubbed me the math teacher has no idea that the highest level of math I took in college was Math For Elementary Ed majors (of which I miraculously received an A).

At the beginning we were just doing easy word problems.  Then the word problems started getting progressively harder and I would have to look at the answer page before I could explain how to do the problems.  Then the problems got so hard I didn't even know how to set the equation up.  That's when I begged to take the book home so I could study.  I got my own tutor - Gavin - to work with me on the finer points of algebra that I left somewhere back in the mid-90's when I was done with them.  And he is excited about helping me.   He'll ask me, "So what do you what help with?"  And I'm like, "I don't even get the title - 'What is an Inequality'?"  I have to admit, he is an excellent teacher.  He is patient and kind and doesn't ask the question, "exactly what don't you understand about all this?" like his mother used to.

What's even worse about my being his student is that while he's explaining something I find myself drifting off and thinking about exactly how I am going to blog about this little mother/son math role reversal teaching session.  I'm forming phrases and sentences in my head instead of staying focused and on task and really learning what inequalities are.  I even confessed to him my little mental stumbling block and like his father, he just smiled at me and said, "well how about we read that again then."  The patience of Job.

All this to say, life has a way of coming up behind you and kicking you in the butt and getting back at you.  But if that is the price to pay for also getting to read with all the precious people I meet, I take the butt-kick gladly.  I know how to laugh at myself and the irony of it all.  We all need something to keep up humble.  Math is my humble pie.

The Elusive Black Pants

Gavin has a choir concert coming up.  He gave me all of two weeks notice to find all the necessary items needed for his 'choral costume'.  The look the high school boys are going with this year is: black dress pants, black long sleeve shirt, black shoes and a white tie.  I like nothing better than a clothing challenge.  I excitedly go in search of these items like a detective on a case.

I know I could go straight to Macy's, go to the Young Men's department and find all the items on my list.  But that would be way too easy and so not me.  I NEVER pay full price for anything.  EVER.  I love to hunt for a bargain.  I need to hunt.  I get some sort of shopping high off the whole adventure. Fiscal awareness is what I'm all about.  Others refer to it as 'frugality' or 'being cheap' but I call it 'making the most of my (Chuck's) money'.  I refuse to take the easy road.

Thankfully, Gavin already has a long sleeve black shirt.  I start the hunt by checking all the typical places, T.J Maxx, Marshalls, KOHLS,  Target and resale shops with only minimal luck.  I found the white tie, but only at 40% off.  But I was limited there.  Not a lot of places sell white ties.  I conceded, even though it was higher than I originally wanted to pay.

However, I found a massive bargain on his black shoes.  $75 shoes for only $22.  Cha-ching!! Now THAT's what I call a bargain.  When I showed them to Gavin he was like, "Cool, Mom.  And look, no one has ever worn them before."  And I'm like, "Yes, I know.  That's cuz they're new.  That's what new shoes look like Buddy."  And then I think to myself, how horrible that that would be my son's first response.  He's so used to his mom's resale shopping habits that he is actually shocked when I buy something brand spankin new.  I am pathetic.  Unfortunately, he wasn't with me when I bought the shoes, so I was unsure of what size his foot was.  Minor problem.  The pair I liked was a size 11 1/2, so that's what I went with.   When he tried them on, they were a little loose, but he wanted to keep them cuz they were such a good deal.  That's my boy.  He even said, "Don't worry Mom, I'll grow into them."

The last and hopelessly hardest thing to find were black dress pants.  He was VERY particular about these.  Resale options were out.  Only new would do.  But the problem is, he's a bean-pole.  They don't make pants in his size.  Okay, maybe they make jeans, but dress pants - nope.  I checked.  He needs a 30/34.  The longest dress pants they make for a size 30 waist only have an inseam of 32.  Not cool. I am not buying brand new pants for my bean-pole to wear only once because he looks like he's wearing capris.  Not cool.  What's a mom to do?  I found lots of pants for him in the $35-$50 range. Unfortunately, my mental budget for these pants was only $25.  I wasn't about to back down.  I knew I could find them, but I was going to have to dig down deep into my reserves and think long hard about exactly where to find them.  I might just have to break down and go to the mall.

As luck would have it, the day I decide to go to the mall, the entire state of Minnesota and all their long lost cousins also thought it would be a good day to go to the mall.  That would be because it is the Mall of America - what else would you expect.  Plus, all the kids were out of school.  Bonus.  That means I have 'extra help' during my search.  Honestly, I work best under perfect conditions.  The cards are already stacked against me for this trip to the mall.  I am keenly aware that nothing good can come from this.

I kid you not, the torture started before we even got in the mall.  It was so crowded I drove through the parking garage for 20 minutes people!!  I'm a tad bit claustrophobic and I have this huge fear that I'm going to hit a pedestrian cuz they just seem to jump out of nowhere when I'm in tight spaces.  The tension begins to make itself at home in my neck.  I went down two aisles that were dead ends.  Great, now I have to do a 7 point turn in an already claustrophobic space with 5 cars behind me also wanting to do the same thing.  After the second dead-end aisle in the parking garage I said, "Kids, I am so frustrated right now I could use swear words."  They didn't respond.

Mercifully, we found a spot.  The kids kept telling me to just 'go up'.  Gavin logically deduced that the higher up we go, the more free parking spots there would be.  He just so happened to be right.  He also didn't realize that we would be much, much, much farther from the entrance.  But hey, we avoided hitting any pedestrians, any actual swear words spoken aloud or hitting any other vehicles - I'd call that a success even if we were a mile away from the mall doors.

Upon entering the main doors I realize this is going to be a nightmare.  It's 1 o'clock on a Friday afternoon.  Bad timing on my part.  Mission control totally spaced out on that one.  It was too late to turn around.  We had to just go in, get what we came for and leave.  Fast.  When you're in a hurry isn't it funny how you notice how slow everyone in front of you walks?  So I would kick it into high gear to bypass the slowpokes who were obviously there for a leisurely walk around the mall, unlike us who were there on a mission.  Unfortunately, that sometimes meant I would leave the kids in my dust and they would have to run to catch up to me.  My people prefer to walk 4 or 5 abreast.  We take up whole aisles.  This is an inborn defect in them that I have been trying to change since toddlerhood to no avail. They will never know how to walk in a straight line one behind the other.  I've accepted that.  But my patience level is a tad bit thin at the moment and I am demanding with my eyes that they 'fall in line' - or else!

Like there wasn't enough external stimuli and confusion, Bennett decides to try to talk to me in a quiet voice as we're speed-walking through the mall.  Bad timing.  I ask him if he can hold all thoughts and questions until we have safely reached the quietness of the car.  End of discussion.

The reason we have forged our way through the maze of people in, of all places, the Mall of America, is because I had a feeling one store would have what we were in search of and that one store was only at the this mall.  H&M.  All I have to say is that its better that I went with Gavin rather than Chuck. H&M is the epicenter of Hipster clothing.  Chuck about has a conniption fit over the whole Hipster get-up.  To say he hates it would be an understatement.  So, yes, I am taking Gavin to the one store that churns up feelings of angst and disgust in my husband, but so be it.  The kid needs black pants and I know H&M sells black pants for tall, skinny people - just look at their ads!  This is what love does.

Upon entering H&M, I just enter the 'confusion zone'.  This is a store that likes to 'pump up the music'. Now, if they were pumping up Bach, I probably wouldn't get so confused, but it wasn't Bach.  I don't even know if it was music.  All I know is it was loud, probably belonged in a club somewhere and I didn't even remember my own name after being there 2 minutes.  Have I ever mentioned how confused I get when surrounded by loud music?  I could be a case study for some psycho-analysis research group.  My heart beat increases, I get dizzy, I lose my people, I can't think, my head starts to hurt.  And I'm supposed to be the mom.  It takes EVERYTHING I have to push through, focus and find black pants.

Miracle of miracles - they have black pants and they are on sale for $19.99.  Yes.  All the confusion, all the crowds, all the chaos is worth it for that little price tag.  We can do this.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Especially after I see they have bean-pole sizes.  But then he feels the need to try them on.  This is like the story of the tortoise and the hare.  Gavin is the tortoise in this story.  We are accosted by the music for another 15 minutes as he meticulously tries on 3 different sizes.  For the love!

We decide on a the perfect pair and get in line.  I knew it was too good to be true when we walked right up to a cash register without waiting like all those other suckers in that long line that was winding out the door.  The person behind the register looked at me and said, "You need to go wait in one of those other lines."  That's it.  No explanation.  No smile.  No nothing.

I forgot I was a Christian and started using my huffy breath and practice my eye-rolling techniques. She didn't understand that being in this store was like slowly suffocating me.  Thankfully, I kept all comments to myself and proceeded to place myself and my entourage last in line.  I think we got to stand right under the speakers for the next 20 minutes while we waited because I heard and felt every beat to every song the entire time.  And I am not exaggerating at all.  I was looking cross-eyed by time we left.

I don't remember the walk back to the car.  I don't remember anything at all until I got home and laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling as my breathing returned to normal and the ringing in my ears went away.

But we procured the elusive black pants.  Sometimes you've got to go into the trenches for your kids to show them how much you love them.  Putting this homebody, claustrophobic, introvert in the middle of the crowdedest place in the city, with the loudest music possible with kids who like to form a barricade as they walk in any public thoroughfare is nothing short of love.  Plus, they were only $19.99!