A Few Words Describing My Family, By Josie

The following scan (See? I learned how to scan today! I am excited about acquiring this new skill, so I predict more scans for everyone!) is of a paper I found in Josie's backpack. (Wonder #1, I learned how to scan. Wonder #2, I found something in Jo's backpack that wasn't already completely ruined by smudges or paper fringe cut into the sides or being wadded into a crumpled lump.)

It is for a project her class is working on. It will be published in a book that I will pay $14.95 for, plus $2.95 for shipping and handling. (I would ask that the book I'm ordering NOT be handled, but that is not an option, apparently.) Oh wait, I forgot! I will actually be ordering 2 books! One for Josie and another copy for Jon. They are in the same class and I don't think it right for Jon to have to share since Josie will decide to, you know, ruin her book the moment she gets it.

(Click on the paper so you can read it.)

Due to the shocking lack of spelling errors, I must assume that she had a lot of help in the technical part of the assignment, but the spirit of the composition is all Josie, especially the shout out to her dad's head and her self-proclaimed "I am a mess!" statement. To thine own self be true!

Pine Wood Derby

A few Fridays ago we all went to Calvin's Pine Wood Derby race. Races, actually, because this thing is totally legit and there were 36 heats--which I thought was a bit excessive but clearly nobody was asking my opinion. All of the cars had names that conjured up notions of speed, hotness and/or intimidation. Behold, just a few that I can remember:

Death Widow

Speed Flame

Obi Wan Kenobiator

Fire Racer

Valiant (which was a clever play on both the old car and the virtue)

And then their was Calvin's car. Dietetic Lunch. This name comes from an ongoing joke between Calvin and myself, and believe me, his car nearly lived up to it's inspiring name. (Because nothing says speed and aerodynamics--and just blatant testosterone in general--like Dietetic Lunch.) The car placed 4th in all of it's heats except three. He placed 3rd once and twice was disqualified for not crossing the finish line. The lone 3rd place finish was because one of the other cars flipped off the track, so technically he placed last in that race as well. He may have come in last in every heat, but this being Cub Scouts, he didn't leave without a commemorative certificate indicating his car had the most creative name. We were very proud. I would have included this accolade in the above photo with Dietetic Lunch, if we hadn't already misplaced it.

Because Calvin is Calvin, he was singularly unaffected in any way by the poor performance of his car in the races. In fact, Sid was much more concerned about the outcome of the evening, and poor Josie was just ticked. She didn't find any amusement in losing and pretty clearly indicated that her night had been completely wasted. Well, not completely wasted. The refreshments were phenomenal and she and the others all feasted on chips, donut holes, Cheetos (both the crunchy and the poofy) and cookies in all their varieties. I suppose that they were just trying to chew their sorrows. Tommy spent the evening productively, leading Pie and myself through a rigorous aerobic workout right there in the cultural hall as we were forced to chase him every time his little feet hit the floor. His ultimate goal in trying to lose us: To get his hands on the tiny Lego Obi Wan Kenobi glued to the top of the Obi Wan Kenobiator.

Calvin is excited for next year's race and has already come up with a super name for his car: The Butterball.

Fun at the Denver Aquarium

Back in March during Spring Break we decided to take the kids to the aquarium. This seemed like one of those culturally enriching activities that we feel guilty for never doing with the kids, so we felt it behooved us one sunny Monday to wake everyone up early, fill my purse with cookies and set off for a day of aquatic discovery. Our first discovery was that this day at the aquarium (actual time spent inside: 1 hour 43 minutes) was going to be rather pricey. Sixty bucks to get in the door, and the wee one was free. Later discoveries include:

Even though the fish tanks all appear to be water tight, you will get wet. Things will drip on your head in the misty Jungle room and it will kinda gross you out. Also, at the end, your children will want to touch the rays in the "experience sea life experience". You will allow them to do this, mainly because it is free. When they have finished their water experience, they will be soaked all the way up to their armpits and down the front of their shirts. This will definitely gross you out.

The wee one will flatly refuse to remain seated in his stroller, which will bug you to no end because he keeps running off and anyway, you would KILL to sit down and have someone push you around at this point.

Bus loads of children will be shipped in halfway through your tour and you will no longer be able to keep track of all your children. This, and the drenched shirts, will be your cue to leave.

The Denver Aquarium is a total racket you realize, as the only exit is at the back of the Gift Shop and your children are now begging for that stuffed electric eel that they have always wanted.

Heading back to the car, eel-less and $6 poorer (parking), as parents we are gratified by all the undersea magic we have shared, as well as the happiness we have given our children, evidenced by the look of unbridled enthusiasm on Sid's face in the photo above.

To Begin With

Like my mom always taught me, choose to do something solely on the basis of "well, everybody else is doing it". And so it goes with this blog. Because I must be the last of my friends and relations to start a family blog. Sure, I already have my own personal blog, where I write (or don't write, according to Kirsten) about things that pertain to me, as in these are my latest children-related horror stories I expect you all to chuckle over, but this is different. THIS is to be the scrapbook I never started, the journal that President Kimball begged me to keep when I was but a Merry Miss and didn't, and ditto for the family history I haven't done either. So here's to repentance and good intentions! Well, let's see if this takes....

Here is the latest decent picture we have of all of us. It was taken last November at Disneyland (specifically California Adventure) and I think it sums up for each of us individually what we think of having our picture taken. This pic should be familiar to most of you, as it was featured in our latest Christmas Letter which detailed our Lewis and Clark-type trek across the plains of Colorado, Utah and Nevada in our quest to see Mickey and make the interior of our car even filthier than our previous testing had indicated was possible. For those of you who haven't yet received your Christmas Letter from us, know that it is through no fault of your own (sorry Aunt Barbara!) but strictly due to our own slacker issues. I think I'll include the letter below, not only to free up space in the "I feel guilty " bin in my brain but because it might actually belong here on this page. What luck!

So here it is. For those of you who have already read our Christmas Letter, you can stop right here. Congratulations! You're done!

CAUTION: Before beginning to read any Christmas letter this extensive and involved, please consider your patience level and overall tolerance for long-winded retellings of past events/conversations/thoughts and feelings, etc.

In a breathtaking lack of judgment by Pie, I was able to fool him into taking a week-long road trip to Disneyland after Thanksgiving. During our week abroad we ate nothing but fast food for 3 meals a day--the last few days of which the children were barely able to feign delight at any more paper-wrapped feasts of cheeseburgers, nuggets and fries. But our trials were well worth it as the park was pleasantly uncrowded and the wildfires took the week off. Since matching shirts at Disneyland are de rigueur, we were naturally the Seven Dwarfs (see photo). However, by that last 12 hour day in the car on the way home Happy, Doc, Bashful, Sleepy, Grumpy, Sneezy and Dopey had unfortunately morphed into Irritable, Crabby, Belligerent, Whiney, Smudgy, Snotty, and Stinky. We are slowly regaining our sanity, but our car may never fully recover.

In other news:

Pie/Happy (For obvious reasons, Pie wore the Happy shirt.) Proud recipient of the Adult Softball Men’s D-Rec, Fall 2007 1st Place plaque. This is the realization of a long held dream of his to dominate in the Highlands Ranch Tuesday Night League. Please do not make the uneducated mistake, like me, of pointing out that most of the other teams seem all liquored up to begin with and furthermore they appear to be well into their third trimester. Because that is not a Happy conversation. Instead just smack him on the behiney the next time you see him and say “Good job, winner!” When he is not out dominating at softball, or fouling others on the basketball court, or on a ride with his mountain biking buddies, or at the gym, or golfing with “potential clients”, he can be found putting in many long hours for his real estate career—a job he repeatedly assures me is his favorite job ever.

Julie/Doc (Doc is the bossy one, right?) I still can’t believe it was my idea to load up the car with the family and schlep all the way to Disneyland (those types of shenanigans are usually suggested by Pie, rejected by me) for a quick week of fun, way-too-short visits with friends and family and an expensive churro habit at the park. We had such a good time that occasionally I thought my head might explode as I lovingly asked the kids to stop having quite such a good time. When I am not planning crazy family getaways or forcing us all to wear matching penguin costumes for Halloween, I am most likely thinking about blogging my adventures as a mom on my very own blog (http://www.juliekonchar.blogspot.com/). It is probably my most productive hobby (considering other hobbies of mine include beginning but never quite finishing many complicated sewing projects and dodging the nightly chore of cooking dinner) and hey, it beats expensive therapy sessions. Check it out—some of you are mentioned in it!

Sid/Bashful (When Sid saw his Bashful shirt he remarked, “I’m really more embarrassed than bashful.”) Nearly 12 and in the 6th grade, Sid has begun middle school this year (middle school, a phrase that causes me to shudder involuntarily even as I type it) and is having a great time taking such exotic classes as Chinese (Mandarin) and Forensic Science, amidst the more pedestrian courses of P.E and Language Arts and the decidedly frumpy Pre Algebra. He is probably most excited about the broadening of his lunch choice horizon that this new stage in his life has brought and is delighted to eat egg rolls every day. (He very soberly told me that the reason he chose to take Chinese as his elective this year was because “Well, I have always loved Panda Express”)


Calvin/Sleepy (There was really never a question of who would be Sleepy) Calvin is so laid back that he would sit around all day and alternately read a book and nap if I let him. He is in 3rd grade and has perfected the art of “forgetting” to do his homework. Calvin has resolutely avoided learning to ride a bike and really couldn’t care less that the twins can leave him in their dust. Quiet and sweet and endearingly lazy, he is nice to have around to balance the more bold flavors of the other children, such as…

Josie/Grumpy (Petulant, Willful, Ill-Humored--while not Dwarfs--were also choices we considered.) At Disneyland she looked up at me and sweetly declared, “Mom, I just hate these parades”. No fan of anything “girlie”, when informed that her friend would be an Ice Fairy Princess for Halloween, Josie graciously responded with “HUH!” only to look at me later and say with utter disgust “An Ice Fairy Princess? I mean, come on!” She sees nothing odd in starting up a Boys Club with her school chum Liam and when asked if there were any girls allowed in she responded “Of course not! It’s a Boys Club!” (Josie does a lot of talking in italics) She does, at times, feel the loss of female companionship and recently tearfully confided, “I just need to learn how to be more loving to girls.” Although she and Jon turned six in August, we were informed that she would remain 5. “Growing up is a racket”, she said “you just have to do more stuff the older you get”. (Note: You can find directions for making Josie’s homemade golf balls along with a few of her other artistic endeavors, all of which are unpleasantly resistant to clean-up efforts, on my blog.)

Jon/Sneezy (Well, Jon is not any more inclined to sneeze than the rest of us, but somebody had to be Sneezy.) As Josie’s long-suffering twin, Jonny is often called upon to patiently witness his sister’s superhero antics. (He laments, “Josie, it’s not fair. You can do stuff even boys can’t do!”) He is thrilled to be a first-grader and each night before bed works on perfecting his penmanship by making many detailed notes of the day’s grievances. Jon surprised us all at Disneyland by going on all the roller coasters. His favorites were The Matterhorn and Thunder Mountain. He didn’t care much for Space Mountain, mainly because of the down parts. (As he explains it, “When the ride goes down, I go up”-- which I think we can all agree is unsettling in the least.) He still loves to dance and sing and make funny faces, and now proudly adds high-intensity whistling to his list of accomplishments (much to the detriment of my good humor). His jokes, which are ubiquitous and tend to ramble, would welcome the addition of punch lines.

Tommy/Dopey (Dopey because he no talk-y.) This child used to be the sweetest most wonderful thing. Happy, content, easily convinced to do my bidding…but now that he is two, he is definitely broken. With limited language abilities (we are forever encouraging him to learn to speak English) he is often frustrated and frequently flies into rages that make Helen Keller’s early childhood look positively serene. His vocabulary tops out at about 50 words, even counting all three versions of nana (which means Santa, banana, and coincidentally, Nana.) His favorite command for me is “LET GO!” which is a catch-all phrase used whenever he doesn’t like what I am doing, such as sorting the laundry, or say, cutting up his waffles (oh, the indignity!) His brothers and sister still delight in everything he does, especially the naughty things, and he is obediently following in all of Josie’s monkey ways. All in all, it is fortunate that babies are cute and we are just hoping that age three will bring back the good ol’ days.