Rocks In My Dryer

Works For Me: Backwards Edition

It's Backwards Day over at Works-For-Me Wednesday, in which bloggers pose a question and invite readers to respond.  It's perfect timing, because I have a quandary.  A laundry quandary. 

*groan*

You know sometimes you'll see advertisements for laundry detergent, and they'll boast that they're "free of heavy perfumes"? 

I would like to know, when did heavy perfumes become a bad thing?  I know, some people are allergic, but a lot of us aren't.  Furthermore, a lot of us have pre-adolescent sons, which means there is no amount of "heavy perfume" that could be too much, if you know what I'm sayin'.

I love for my laundry to have a strong, clean smell.  I love for it to be so strong that you smell it when you walk in the laundry room.   I love for people to walk past my kids and take a big whiff and say, "Ooo, what's that smell?" and have them not mean it in a bad way.

I have experimented with nearly every product out there, and I can't quite find the solution that works best.  Best I can tell, it's not so much the detergent that leaves the nice scent, it's the fabric softener, and for best results, it's a good idea to use liquid softener and dryer sheets.  Has that been your experience?  And if so, what brand?  So far, I've found Snuggle to have the strongest scent, but it's not my favorite scent.  What do you think?  Basically, do you have any tips on how I can get my laundry to smell so obnoxiously clean that you can smell it from across the street?

Thank you.

For more good tips, check out Works-For-Me Wednesday over at We Are THAT Family.

Because We Could All Use a Book With the Word "Sane" In the Title

Yesterday I told you about my friend Mary's new book,  A Sane Woman's Guide To Raising a Large Family (you can read my detailed review here).  Want to win an autographed copy?  Just leave a comment below, answering the following question:

What aspect of motherhood has surprised you the most?

(If you're not a mom yet, no worries, just tell us what aspect of motherhood you're looking forward to most.)

I'll draw a random winner on Thursday morning.  (U.S. mailing addresses only, please.) 

Book Review: A Sane Woman's Guide To Raising a Large Family

It was a special thrill to have the chance to review Mary Ostyn's new book, A Sane Woman's Guide To Raising a Large Family, over at Parenting today.  (And that's Mary of Owlhaven, if you hadn't made the connection--the gracious, funny and laid-back mom of ten we all know and love).

The book is even better than I expected (and I expected a lot).  Please head over to read the review, and come back here tomorrow for a giveaway of an autographed copy.  (But not my copy.  Mine is too full of underlining and Post-it notes, and I'll never part with it.)

Turnabout

My middle son walked into my room after dressing for church; he was wearing the same dress shirt he's worn the last three Sundays.

"Hey, Stephen, why don't you wear something different?" I suggested.

"Why?" he asked.  "This one is my favorite, and it's clean." 

"Well," I explained, "you have several handsome shirts, but people are going to think that's the only one you own."

He looked at me squarely and did not miss a beat.  "Mom, what people think doesn't matter nearly as much as what I know to be true."

My first thought:  Well, I'll be darned.  The boy has been listening after all.

My second thought:  Well, I'll be darned.  I just got a smack-down from a ten year old.  

Happy March 28th...

....or, as my daughter squealed when she woke up this morning and saw this outside our front door, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

(Note: I realize there are parts of the country where snow on March 28th is not odd.  But I'm in Oklahoma, and I had my air conditioner on a few days ago.  Suffice it to say, this is ODD.)

Stepping Out of the Way :: Conversion Diary

20 Tips For Finding Your Routine With Your Kids :: SimpleMom

Thrifty Shoppers Sold On Grocery Auctions :: MSNBC

Stuck. And I Mean Stuck :: ShortStop

Late :: Journey Mama
via Owlhaven

Time Loop Theory :: timelooptheory.com
It's a theory to explain Lost, and it actually makes some sense.

Good Dreams

Last night I sat in a darkened gym with my family, while my fourth-grade son and his fourth-grade cohorts performed their annual musical.  It was a lyrical and poetic look at dreams--the good ones, the bad ones, the ones to which ten year olds hold tightly.  They performed their hearts out, complete with dancing trees, Native Americans, ballerinas with glittery hair, a pajama-clad chorus, even a spooky skeleton.  All ten year olds, of course.  Think A Midsummer Night's Dream meets Hannah Montana.

They meandered in and out of their songs, poetry, and choreography.  At one point, a group of six stepped up to the microphones. 

"I dream of people who are kind to each other," said the girl on the end. 

"I dream of a chance to make a difference," said another. 

A lanky but graceful boy in the middle stepped forward to speak his lines.  He towered a good 12 or 18 inches over his fellow fourth graders.  Hubs leaned over and whispered, "I dream of that kid's NBA contract." I swatted him and stifled laughter; our media cabinet is already too full of video tapes in which Hubs' wisecracks have made my arms jiggle.

In the aisle next to me, Corrie rolled around on the floor, occasionally hopping up to flash her on-stage brother a thumbs up (and he flashed back a look that said, "I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE, I SWEAR.").  Joseph stood in the back of the gym, atop a pile of folded gymnast mats, laughing and sweating with a random collection of other little brothers.  The gym teacher tossed fruitless shushes in their direction every so often.  I shot her a look of apology; I shot Joseph a different look altogether. 

Stephen, who was, for tonight, a little blonde-haired Native American, delivered his poetic lines with great poise, though he wrapped it up with a curious gangsta pose.  I'm sometimes not sure I understand that boy, dawg.

I heard a gasp; I looked over to see Corrie staring, jaw open and eyes huge, into something I couldn't see.  I followed her gaze.  It turns out that she, sitting at the base of the spotlight, could look upwards and see all the dust particles bouncing around in the garish light.  I can't imagine what she must have thought of all that magic, but she spent the rest of the play in a state of bliss, laughing and pointing at the miracle happening right in front of her. 

When it was over, we all clapped and cheered.  The students, who had been on risers on the ground, took turns in rows walking across the stage.  Stephen's friend V, who is in a wheelchair, was gently lifted to the stage by some fine, strapping dads, and V had his curtain call too.  The crowd cheered louder.

It was a good night.  The only thing that could have possibly made it any better was ice cream.

So we went to get ice cream.

It was a great night.

Lost Recap: He's Our You

*Spoiler alert!  If you don't want to know what happens, don't read any further!*

OH MY STARS, what an episode.  Let's jump right in.

I was so glad to see a Sayid-centric episode tonight.  He's always been the most interesting character, in my opinion--a true anti-hero.  Is he a good guy, or a bad guy?  Or a bad guy trying very hard to be good?  Or a good guy doing very bad things because he thinks he has no choice?  He's fascinating. 

Though I have always thought the writing for this show was brilliant, tonight was especially dazzling.  Beginning the show by showing us Sayid's complicated issues with his father was perfectly shadowed in his curious developing relationship with Kid Ben, another young man with a difficult dad.  The present, past and future relationship between those two is as conflicted as any father/son dynamic we've seen thus far.  It was fantastic plot and character development, and I almost felt like we were seeing the true climax of Lost--will everything else that happens from here on out be an unraveling of tonight's events? 

(That's what I was thinking, but it's not what I was saying.  I believe it was something very profound like "OH MY GOSH, HE SHOT HIM!  HE SHOT HIM!  HE SHOT HIM!"  And Hubs, incidentally, sat next to me and shook his head, mumbling that "they just jumped the shark." I suppose this goes to show you that one person's brilliant plot twist is another person's shark jump.  What do you think?)

The giant question, of course, is whether Kid Ben actually died.  If the time-travel issues have been mind-blowing thus far, they may have just gotten crazier.  We know (or think we know) that Ben is still alive, because we've seen him, in the present, lying in a cot on the Island, with John Locke pointing at him and saying "that's the man who killed me."  So he has to be alive still (right?), and perhaps tonight's failed shooting was simply the reason Ben is so devoted to the destruction of our Oceanic friends.  It's revenge for the fact that Sayid tried to kill him.

BUT.  What if Ben is dead?  Faraday has said that it's impossible to change the past (and, by the way, I'm thinking of starting a Bring Back Faraday petition, but that's another issue).  If Kid Ben was actually killed, what can this possibly mean for the future, or the past, or the present, or whatever it is? 

The shooting scene was so dramatic that everything else pales in comparison, but there are a few other things to point out:

I'm loving the new and improved Sawyer--cool, collected and thoughtful.  I hope he and Juliet work out.  But I hope the writers spend not another blessed second on the romance angle, because really.  Just stop.

I'm curious about the woman who brought Sayid on the plane.  She must be working for someone who knew the plane was going down (though I don't think she knew it herself).  Ben?  Widmore?  Eloise Hawking?

Best quote of the night was from Sawyer, when the fiery van crashed into the building:  "Three years, no burnin' buses, y'all are back for one day..."

Just for grins, I've included a poll to see what everyone thinks about the outcome from the shooting (if you're reading in a feedreader, you might have to click over to see it).  What's your best guess--is Ben dead?  Note that I did not include an option for "I don't know", because it would be so much more fun to make you COMMIT!  (Please note: it appears that it takes a few minutes for new poll votes to register.)

If you're blogging Lost at your blog, feel free to leave your link in the comments section below.

Now If Only They'd Brought Along the Tater Tot Casserole

The Duggars were in our city this weekend for a book signing.  My boys and I are fascinated by their show, so we were eager to attend.  We were especially excited to learn that the camera crew for their Discovery Channel show would be along to film the signing.  NO ANTICS, I warned, lest we end up on a Discovery Channel special entitled See? Some Christian Families Act Like Hooligans.  Check your local listings.

They introduced their crew, sang a song, and then they opened up to the audience for questions.  My middle son (also known as The Loose Cannon) shot his hand straight up in the air.  My mind raced with possible scenarios:  Please-oh-please, son, do not tell Michelle Duggar a fart joke.  I managed to get his attention. 

"What do you want to ask?" I whispered.

He whispered back incredulously.  "How does she homeschool so many different ages all at the same time?"  Ah.  It's good to know that a mother with multi-tasking abilities is a foreign concept to the child.

He never got to ask his question, incidentally, but there were some good ones from the rest of the audience.  If you want to see the videos, I posted them at YouTube. Here was their answer to how they came up with all the "J" names, and here was their answer about whether or not their kids wanted to go to college.  I loved it that they were momentarily stumped when asked about all the kids' ages, because I am stumped by the ages (and, well, occasionally the names) of just my four.

It was a really fun afternoon--the Duggars were funny, gracious and humble (and, incidentally, I think Michelle may have the prettiest skin I've ever seen).  They made it clear that they are not a perfect family with all the answers, but they're doing what they're doing only by God's grace.  I can relate to that just fine.

Y'all Might Should Take Note :: It's Almost Naptime
Ah, I love a good grammar post.

Lengthening Your Child's T-Shirts :: Betz White
Via Worthington Wire

Bat's Fate After Shuttle Launch Appears Grim :: MSNBC  {broken link fixed!}
And you think you're having a bad day?

Lost Recap: Namaste *UPDATED*

*Spoiler alert!  If you don't want to know what happens, don't read any further!*

In the wake of an incredibly intense season of Lost, tonight's episode ("Namaste") felt a little like a breather.  Sure, there were answers (and the wildly creepy misty cabin scene with Sun and Christian--more on that later), but overall, this episode seemed like a place to catch our collective breath and wrap up some loose ends.  And, of course, unravel a few more, because it is Lost, after all.

Before we go a step further, I have to ask:  who is the woman who was sitting next to Sayid on the plane?  Did he know her, and I missed the story?

Speaking of the plane, tonight we learned that Sun did not "flash" onto the 1977 with the rest of the Oceanic Six.  Several people suggested on the message boards that it's because she is actually Pierre Chang's daughter and cannot "flash" to the same place where she exists as a child.  I disagree with this theory on the grounds that she was not even born until 1980.  I think a more likely explanation might be that she was pregnant on the original flight and was not pregnant this time around.  I'm not sure what that would explain, exactly, but at least it's something.  (By the way, does anyone else think that Pierre Chang's baby is most likely Miles?)

*UPDATED:  Thank you for reminding me that Sun was not, in fact, pregnant on the original Oceanic flight, so never mind.

We also learned that Amy's baby is the super-creepy Ethan Rom (the look on Juliet's face when she realized that was just classic--I thought she was going to slam-dunk that baby right back into the cradle).  By the way, how is that Amy was able to give birth on the Island?  I thought pregnant women couldn't survive?  Or is that a post-1977 issue on the Island?

We were able to see the resurrection of the Kate/Sawyer/Juliet/Jack love quadrangle, proving that this particular story line will never, ever die.  Dear Lost Producers:  When I want a love story, I rent The Notebook.  On Lost, let me suggest that you devote your creative energy to telling me who the dang Smoke Monster is.  Thank you.

Sawyer figures out a clever way to integrate Jack, Kate and Hurley into Dharma (the best line of the night was from Hurley:  "I vote for not camping.")  He arranges for Jack to be a "Work Man", because "based on your aptitude tests, you'll be doing janitorial work."  So much for all that medical school.  It would appear that a serious Sawyer/Jack throw-down is very surely in the works.

(Speaking of the Dharma people, where was Daniel Faraday tonight?)

Sayid is imprisoned as a Hostile.  I'm eager to learn more about this "treaty" between the Hostiles (Others?) and the Dharma crew.  Creepily, Sayid meets a pre-teen Ben at the end of the episode.  Perhaps we understand now why Ben has been so obsessed with Jack, Kate, and Co.--he's known about them for decades.

Speaking of creepy, let's talk about that scene with Sun and Christian.  I watched it before Hubs got home, and I was nearly jumping out of my skin when that door blew open.  On the message boards, several people are insisting that there was a ghostly, blonde figure that appeared over Sun's shoulder.  I have watched it three times now and cannot, for the life of me, find it.  (Interestingly, another theory floating on the message boards is the idea that the strange Island "whispers" actually indicate that different people are occupying the same space at DIFFERENT times.  A clever thought.) 

*UPDATED:  Click here for a screen shot of the cabin scene in which the ghostly figure is visible.  Scroll down to the section entitled "Easter Eggs"--it's the first photo. 

One last thing:  the scene in which Sun whacked Ben over the head is one of the very best moments in Lost history.

No, here's the last thing:  How are Sawyer's teeth so white, and where can I get some of that Dharma toothpaste?"

That's all I have, Losties, but I can't wait to hear what you have to say.  If you're blogging the show over at your blog, feel free to leave a link in the comments section.

Book It

It's spring break this week, and I had great dreams of gentle, quiet leisure time, with our noses in books and not an ounce of bickering of the siblings or destroying of my house. 

But then I woke up.

It was a nice dream while it lasted, and the truth is that I could really use a week with my nose in a book.  My to-be-read list is bulging, and I have grounded myself from even clicking over to Amazon until I have whittled down the stack that currently sits next to my bed:

I don't know how they all got there; I can only guess that they are multiplying while I sleep.

(If you're curious and can't make out the titles in the picture, the books are Walking On Water, The Last Sin Eater, The Pixar Touch, Rain On Me, A Sane Woman's Guide To Raising a Large Family, The Irrational Season (Hubs noticed that one and asked, "Is it about you?" Cheeky.) Divine Commodity, The Summer Of the Great-Grandmother, A Circle Of Quiet, Bird By Bird, The Complete Stories Of Flannery O'Connor, and Fields Of the Fatherless.)

I am seriously counting on there being books in Heaven someday.

(And, though I may be sorry I asked because this pile will inevitably grow, I still want to know--what are you reading?)

Slices and Dices

...A few months ago, my good knife disappeared.  Vanished.  Let us not dwell on the creepy possiblities of a mega-sharp knife disappearing, even if it does sound like the first 15 minutes of a Lifetime movie.  In all likelihood, I suspect that my good knife has disappeared to the place where all good utensils go to die:  namely, my backyard.  Despite the fact that I have grilled my children numerous times with the are-you-sure-you-didn't-move-it question, and they have issued sturdy denials, I still worry if the good knife is languishing with his cousins, the spoons, at the bottom of the sandbox... {read more at Parenting.com}

Jury Duty, Part Two

:: (For part one, click here) ::

It's a strange thing, jury duty. 

One minute, you're snug in your predictable suburban life, driving carpool and paying bills.  The next, you're tossed into a group of twelve strangers, sitting a few feet from a man whose entire future rests in your hands.  It's surreal (for us), terrifying (for him) and messy (for all of us).  It's a system just unnerving enough to make you want to throw out the judicial baby with the judicial bathwater, except that the alternative is no justice at all.

So we did what free and reasonable humans do, I suppose:  the best we can.  We listened carefully.  We held evidence in our hands.  We didn't speculate when there were objections or moves to strike or your-Honor-may-I-approach-the-bench?  We listened to the instructions, and then we read them, and then we read them again.  We handed over our cell phones, for Pete's sake.  We argued (a little) and compromised (a lot) until the wee hours.  And then, our reasonable doubt easily but sadly put to rest, we did justice.

Guilty, on four counts.  Four very serious counts.  Even though the judge gave us clearance to discuss the trial in detail, I don't feel quite comfortable with it, and I'm not sure why.  Maybe because it doesn't feel, entirely, like my story to tell?  

It's probably too easy, I think, to neatly tuck an accused criminal into a safe category of Those People, the ones who walked a path I would surely never walk, who have hurt so many for so long, who must be made to pay. Take a bite out of crime.  Only YOU can prevent forest fires.  But when you sit a in crowded deliberation room with twelve strangers, when you turn a man's life and future over in your hands like State Exhibit 7, when the defendant's mother makes eye contact with you during closing arguments, the lines feel blurry.  The humanity gets a lot more real.

We did the right thing; of that I'm sure.  All the facts in the trial were crystal clear; the facts the judge could share only after the trial were even clearer.  When compassion bumps up against the law, the law wins, because we shaky humans don't have a lot of wiggle room when it comes to establishing order.  When we delivered our verdict and received our instructions for determining the sentence (something Oklahoma criminal juries are uncomfortably required to do), we were given our first access to the defendant's long and overwhelming previous record of convictions.  It was long.  LONG.  As the list was read, I couldn't help but think of the One who listened to my outrageously long list of offenses, signaled the Judge, and said (not being bound, thankfully, by the Great State of Oklahoma), "I've got it covered."

The whole thing lasted until the wee hours of a chilly Friday morning.  The judge dismissed us with a twenty-dollar-a-day stipend and, for dramatic effect, an armed escort to our cars.  In an strange mix of exhaustion, relief, peace and sadness, I cried all the way home.

It's a strange thing, jury duty.

T-Mobile Dance :: YouTube
That's it. I'm moving to England.

Mother Of All Conservatives

I Cried On the Way To Panera Cafe This Morning :: Heart to Heart With Holley

Golden Lions :: Pensieve

And Today I Quote Benjamin Franklin :: Big Mama

The Mother Letter Project
Yes, they're still at it--this time, in honor of Mother's Day, with the aim of raising some money for Compassion!  Don't miss this!

What Does Grief Look Like at 17 Months? :: The Pipers