Julian demonstrates the proper technique.
Sellers discovers a more efficient means of picking his nose.
Abby, un-intimidated, challenges Sellers to a nose-picking contest. She's a ringer.
This is your pumpkin on drugs.
Halloween fell on a weekday this year, as it seems to nearly 5/7 of the time. That means I missed the big neighborhood party at the Fennels' house behind us. I also missed picking up the kids, getting them costumed and made up, disciplining Julian five times, and Margaret having no time after that to eat, drink, or enjoy the party. For some reason when I pulled in at my usual 7:00 PM Margaret did not look thrilled to see me. Then again people wearing vinyl cat suits don't always look as happy as they feel.
The Weavers are not known for doing things halfway. Not visible in this photos: little George dressed as Scooby Doo.
The Matrix IV: Neo gets Trinity a beer and apologizes profusely for working late.
Like Momma always said: if you eat too much candy your eyebrows will grow darker.
November in Wilmington is always good for a smattering of gorgeous Indian summer days. The weather is perfect for Abby and Sellers's favorite pastime, catching anole lizards. The slightly cooler temperatures make the lizards slower and the kids faster.
Six anoles the kids "rescued."
We passed a milestone the first weekend in November: we sold the minivan! Sellers is an especially sentimental little boy, sometimes anthropomorphising a piece of trash to such an extent he can't bear to throw it away (sadly this does not completely explain the state of our home), and he grew tearful when a lovely local family showed up to take posession of our car. But he doesn't have to be too sad; it's been well over a month, and we're still working on the title/tag transfer.
Of course the first week in November also brought a presidential election. Regular readers of this blog may have detected a subtle bias on our part in favor of the Democratic nominee. I actually canvassed the Sunday prior to the election, happily assigned to walk the posh environs of Wrightsville Beach. It wasn't until I parked my car and studied the map I found I'd actually been assigned the surfer ghetto of Wrightsville Beach, where I tiptoed over beer bottles, ashtrays, and wetsuits to knock on screen doors and ask which of the thirteen residents of apartment "C" was named Rick, and was he too hung over to come to the door? The yield was sort of low on account of perfect weather and an incoming tide, but at least I felt like I'd tried.
We celebrated Election Night like New Year's Eve, setting up an air mattress, popping popcorn, and dressing the kids one last time in their partisan attire. By the time the winner was declared they were all sacked out. Only Abby awoke to be fully cognizant of history in the making. One day she'll tell her grandchildren she stayed up late on a school night and ate popcorn.
Wilmington remains a somewhat conservative community overall, so many people were disappointed by the results. I took the bumper sticker from my car and the sign from our lawn before going to bed. Margaret made sure the kids didn't talk politics the next day. And yet, people kept bringing it up with them...
The next weekend brought the culmination of the soccer season. This is the day the parents have been waiting for, the day of the Parents/Kids game and the last time for months we have to spend Saturday trying to keep Julian from eating dusty Goldfish. We weren't nearly as excited as Sellers, who continued to express a general dislike for soccer. But hey, how often do you really get to choose how you ruin your child's life?
To watch him play you wouldn't know Sellers would rather be home watching cartoons.
Finally I get some game time. Just after this I discovered what shin guards are for.
This is the YMCA League. Everyone gets a trophy.
At Abby's request we've been trying non-lethal means to control our burgeoning rat population. These techniques range from a live trap (which serves mainly as a rat-feeder) to ultrasonic noise (which cleans the rats' jewelry) to just asking politely if they would leave. When we left our special holiday wreath on the garage steps the rodents became bold, leading the kids to hunt down their lair. If we find those filthy rats I swear we're going to tickle them until they beg for mercy.
"Dad, they're here! And here! And over there, too!"
Long before the candy corn-in-the-nose tradition Margaret began the children's birthdays by dropping balloons in their beds, giving their mornings the feels of very small-scale political conventions. Abby, long disimissive of all things Barbie, now finds at age nine she can finally admit she loves those darn dolls.
We got the red one first, then noticed she was a year out of date.
Another new tradition: birthday parfaits!
When you have three children whose birthdays all fall in a 13-day window one solution is to give them a combined present. My mom chose to bring our family into the 21st century by giving us a Wii. There were multiple unweildy components to wrap, most in bulky clamshell packages. So we thought, "why wrap the present when you can wrap the children?" Below: the kids hide under tablecloths while we arrange the display.
Abby's birthday went smoothly on the 19th. But Sellers' birthday fell right on Thanksgiving this year (as it does nearly 1/7 of the time). By the time I crept upstairs for his balloon drop Julian had already awakened him multiple times and he was simmering in Mommy's bed. Fortunately we were able to break through his anger with Havoc Heli Laser Battle Copters. We're still having some trouble making them fly where we want, but Sellers is no longer pouting.
When you live so far from family it's never a given how you'll spend your Thanksgiving. Just two weeks before the holiday it seemed we might be alone in our home eating shaved turkey breast sandwiches. Fortunately our friends came together to make sure nothing of the sort happened. As a bonus Sellers got a de facto birthday party.
Nancy Cunningham holds her recently adopted treasure, Tao.
Tao checks Nancy Kotz's moisturizer.
Bill Hession and his daughter. Bill, a former Flight Surgeon, can fly a real Apache AH-64 helicopter. But can he fly a Havoc Heli Laser Battle Chopper?
Our friends David and Lori Paquette drove down from Chapel Hill to continue the long tradition of Hill/Paquette Thanksgivings. For the first time in years we had no furniture for them to move.
Steve Goodman and his wife Julie Shermak were kind enough to spend their first Thanksgiving in Wilmington with us. Steve is a sommelier, so naturally we had him bring the stuffing.
At every Thanksgiving the less mature get their own table. While we were there the kids enjoyed dining near the Wii.
Sellers requested a lemon cake for his birthday. This puts his paternity in some doubt.
Julian enjoys the tradition of eating leftovers Friday. When he grows up he wants to be Henry VIII.
Margaret spent Friday morning doing makeovers for Abby and Nathalie Paquette. No, they are not leaving the house looking like that.
Julian's birthday fell December 2nd, as it seems to nearly every year. He appreciated his balloon drop and really enjoyed his Red Power Ranger and Batman costumes. Julian has had a problem with violence at school recently, getting in trouble almost daily for hitting and scratching his friends. We're hoping he'll now turn his dark passions toward fighting crime. In the meantime we've enforced a strict time out/rewards system and a ban on violence and violent television in the house. Does anyone know if you can use a 529 plan to pay for Juvenile Detention?
The Dark Knight feels his washboard abs. There really is a washboard in there.
Julian is a big fan of the birthday parfait tradition, suggesting only that next year we add candy corn.
My mom came down this last weekend to witness for herself how our lives had been transformed by the children spending hours playing the Wii. We showed her a big Wilmington welcome by letting her buy the kids ice cream, letting her buy us dinner, and taking her to Target to buy the kids winter clothes.
Granne, Sellers, and Abby outside the barn-themed former ice cream restaurant that no longer serves ice cream at all.
This year we continued another tradition, the Combined Birthday Limo Rental. This one started three years ago when the children seemed obsessed with limousines. We tallied up the cost of hosting three birthday parties or one mega-meta-party and found almost anything else would be cheaper, including liveried transportation. It was a big hit, and for the first time ever none of the celebrants wound up in tears. (We did bust the fiberoptics playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, but we'll never make that mistake again.) Last year we broke with tradition, taking a trip to Myrtle Beach. But it's a recession, and Myrtle is wicked cold in December, so back to the limo we went.
Abby is first to inspect her temporary new wheels.
We took the neighborhood kids to their elementary school and back. If only school had been in session.
Margaret shows the kids how to party like a rock star. Only no cocaine for Julian.
This tradition includes dinner at The Little Dipper, a fondue restaurant downtown chosen randomly at first. The initial trip inspired Sellers to compose a ditty that goes, "You wake up in the morning at a quarter 'till two, and you just can't wait to go to fondue. Because it stinks! Because it stinks!" The people at the restaurant fail to understand the inherent sense of tribute.
Our driver Jason is relieved to have us out of the Lincoln.
Due to a planning failure on my part we share two adjacent tables.
Julian celebrated by refusing to stay in his seat and saying rude, if perfectly germane, things in the Ladies' Room.
Finally the kids get a proper cake. Chocolate.
Alas Sunday came and the kids had to tear themselves away from Mario Kart to take Granne to the airport. Julian became quite resentful she was leaving.
After a trip to the hardware store it was back home to prepare for the coming week. Below: we finally answer the age-old question, "Does Margaret love gardening more than she hates the cold?"
We'll be thinking of all of you all in the coming week when a holiday dedicated to Peace On Earth makes us all wish we could settle for Peace At Target. In the meantime, enjoy all your holiday traditions, and don't forget the candy corn.
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