Yellow Submarine Derby Style

Ahhh... the smell of prepubescent boys and freshly painted balsa wood, must be Derby time. Romney, not one to like a lot of rules and regulations, has not wanted to do Cub Scouts. His Mama couldn't be happier. (Details about that are borderline neurotic and for another post.) However, when they brought a pinewood derby car kit to church with his name on it, it was ON! He has been waiting for 4 years for his chance to make a car. (Bill and I were the den leaders when William was 8. Don't ask.) Romney knew just exactly what he wanted to make... a yellow submarine derby car.

Papa and son spent many hours making that dream come true. Designing the perfect submarine shape, picking just the right shade of yellow and figuring out how to place the stripes just right. Though it was not the quickest car on the track, it was the only one with a working propeller. John, Paul, George, and Ringo would be proud. Rock and Roll Old School-- that is how my Romney rolls.

Holi Colors, Krishna!

I have a strength training DVD that I work out with weights with where the buxom blonde leading the charge to build my muscles proclaims "It all starts out good!" after having us switch from our exhausted side to our fresh side. That is what I think of when I look at this first picture. We look so clean! Why is that so amazing for a family of 4 who showers regularly? The Krishna Festival of Colors.


We played "hooky" from church to drive south to Spanish Fork to the Krishna temple on Sunday morning. It is a two day festival, starting on Saturday, but the thought of hanging out with thousands of BYU zoobies throwing colored corn starch at each other (and me) was too much of a deterrent. Knowing they would all be tucked back safely into their student wards by Sunday morning, we figured we would be "safe" from the co-eds who have no other outlets or free festivals for their youthful aggression and frustrations. (I should know, I used to be one of them.)

Asking the boys if they were interested in going was one of my favorite parts of the whole adventure. Romney upon hearing what would be happening lit up like the proverbial Christmas Tree. William looked anxiously at Bill and I and said "Uh, I don't think that sounds very fun. You guys can go, but I will just stay home." Could it have been a more characteristic response from either one of them at the thought of "getting messy"?


By the time we bought our colors, (They only had pink and orange left by the time we got there.) Romney and William were already covered by going up to strangers and saying "HIT ME!" to festival goers with colors they thought were radiant. After we bought them, trying to keep Romney from completely using them all up before the official "throwing" still an hour away was like trying to keep carbonation in an already opened soda bottle. William would sneakily throw a puff at a passing strangers back, so as not to upset them. Romney was not afraid to dump a handful all over a perfect stranger while giggling. Nor was he afraid to dump a giant handful from his bag of pink onto the top of Bill and I. (Realize that in order for him to accomplish this Bill and I would have to lean down to allow him to do it.)


We rocked out to the Krishna chanting rock band (yes, rock band,) watched the crowd pulsating in unison at the bottom of the hill in a giant mud puddle, observed as the effegy of witch Holika burned, listened as a devotee instructed us that we should love ourselves and utilize the special talents each of us had been granted, and finally joined the masses in throwing our gorgeous spring colors in unison into the air. Who knew family bonding could be so, well, colorful. Helpful hints for next time: Dress in layers or bring other clothes to change into for the car ride home (Better yet, a white hazmat suit to zip out of-- like the two teens who obviously had put a lot of thought into how to navigate the festival successfully prior to arrival.) Dark colored clothes come clean in the wash much easier than lights, though lights show the colors better at the festival. Bring something washable to sit on in the car to save an hour of color clean-up off of leather seats later. Last, but not least, NEVER, EVER attend on a Saturday! Best Sunday in a long, long time.

Comedy of Tragedies

Did you ever watch Saturday morning cartoons and think this guy to the left was kinda cute in a totally destructive kind of a way? I did. He was one of my favorite Warner Brothers characters. Was. Then I became a parent and started living with my own personal lovable object of mass destruction. It has always been kind of an inside (as in Bill and I try to keep it "inside" but often have to give each other those knowing side glances) joke about our youngest son's propensity to loose things.

This weekend we have had a comedy of tragedies in our home. Chronically loosing things and inadvertently destroying things are different, yet related. At a certain point it just doesn't seem funny, adorable and endearing anymore and the real test of what you are made of as a parent commences.

We are both hoping this will be funny in a few years. That lessons learned at 8 will help prevent the same lessons at 16. (Yeah, I know, but let me hold onto that dream for a few more years.) So far here is the list of true accidents that have been simultaneously irritating, infuriating, and expensive.

Let us start where my memory does. Romney and Bill spent hours designing and building and painting a car for the Pinewood Derby (coming up next week). It was 100% completed and drying on the counter. Romney asked if he could see it as soon as it was dry, and within 15 seconds, it slipped through his hands, hit the floor, and broke the glued on propeller (It is a yellow submarine car. Cool, no?) It took longer to glue the propeller on than for Romney to successfully un-glue it. No biggie, right. I just re-glued it for him while he went off to school.

We have had a broken bowl this week from our TAS.

We have a couch with stitching coming loose in the corner from our TAS.

Our TAS dropped his DS into a toilet at Lowe's (Where we were hunting for storage solutions for kids to put their school supplies, since the hooks they were using were accidentally pulled off the wall.) killing it dead.

He dropped a glass soda bottle and while Bill was cleaning it up, the piece de' resistance. The real kick in the pants happened... he closed the top of William's new (used) laptop onto a mouse and busted the screen and lost William's science project in the process. Did I mention that about 6 hours prior we had just sold William's old laptop to someone else, because we really didn't need it! I didn't? Huh, must have slipped my mind.

Did I mention that these were all legitimate "accidents". The devastated young child was not being careless. (Except the sofa, I have warned him for a year that he will break it if he keeps sitting/jumping off of it that way he does. We also made him pay a percentage of the cost of replacing it.) The DS fell out of his pocket where he has "safely" stashed it while doing his "business". He was just trying to be nice carrying 3 sodas up from the basement. The pinewood derby car just slipped through his fingers. I am not sure if it would be better if he was doing things intentionally or the accidental route. I feel like I would know what to do as a parent if it were the former. Since it is the latter, I have the distinct privilege of learning and growing with him. Exercising more patience than I knew was humanly possible as I tell him for the thousandth time-- "I am not mad at you, just frustrated with the situation." and "What can you learn from this for next time?' Not to mention the tried and true "What can you do to help make it better?" When what I really want to do is shake him from head to toe yelling "What the F*@!?, Again, really?! I can't keep up with you!" You know-- all those things that are quick to come to mind and even quicker to kill a child's self worth.

Tonight, I have the opportunity to think it silently to myself (Well, maybe out-loud after bed time to Bill and the blog readers who find themselves grateful not to be us at the moment.) As well as a quiet opportunity to remind myself about all the things I find charming and amazing about my own personal Tasmanian devil.

Wake Up, It's 1984 (We've Been Here Before)

In 1984, I was younger than my eldest son--if that is not a sobering thought, I don't know what is. It is also the year that OMD released their first "big" single. By 1984, The English Beat had already morphed leaving a few members behind, into General Public. Two years into the future from 1984, the Trashcan Sinatras formed in Scotland. Sick of the Brit-Band Trivia section of this blog? Then join me on my journey back to my tween years when Boingo was big and so was my hair. I talked Bill into going with me to capture the spirit of my younger days by skankin' at the English Beat concert. Front row is way more fun when there is a strong, sexy man holding everyone off of your space so that you can dance as much as you want. I was even told how "cute" my boyfriend was at this show. The crowd made me feel simultaneously very young and very old. I knew I had to be younger than 50% of the populous, but that meant I was old enough to be in a crowd who knew who this band was.
4 days later, the headband (oh, yes, you know it!) was pulled out and strung across my forehead, Olivia Newton-John style and Bill and I hit up the OMD show. After our great English Beat experience, and the nature of the electronic OMD sound, we weren't really expecting much, but thought it might be fun. We were both blown away. The old dudes still can move equally as geeky as when they were much, much younger. Great show, great fun. I had forgotten how many hits that band actually had, and how many were the soundtrack to my early morning pre-junior high application of blue eyeshadow and hairspray.
Last and, perhaps, least--Trashcan Sinatras. Still to come on Tuesday. I hope this is another one of those happy surprises. Believe it or not, this show is more for Bill than for me. So, don sparkly (or stripy- I haven't decided and yes I have more than one pair) leg warmers I will, to sway to the music with the rest of the aging 80's music fans.