Martha, eat your heart out.

I think that it's safe to say that where there is a holiday, and where there is the extended Carpool family, there will be chaos. And something worthy of laughter. So Happy Holiday Season, y'all, sit back and enjoy the Carpool Thanksgiving - the holiday that just kept giving, and giving, and giving.

We begin our saga with the fact that I agreed under some duress to fly 800 miles north for the holiday. And stay in a house that would temporarily contain 11 children. Under the age of 10. Including two infants. The faint of heart should likely just go lie down now with a cold rag. The rest of you? Don't say I didn't warn you.

The Carpool Husband is the oldest of 4. The rest of the 4 live in a large ring around Boston, in houses we rarely frequent. So it came as no surprise to me that we would be required to drive around Boston to visit all of the houses. Let me state for the novice that driving around Boston is akin to walking through quicksand. It looks like it won't take that long to get across, but before you know it, you're almost in Canada, and nowhere near your actual destination. Throw the first snow into the mix, and you might as well just walk your 45 miles and be done with it. I finish Day 2 by stating that 5 boys under 7 in 400 square feet is 5 boys too many. (For that matter, 5 of anything in a small space is probably too much. But you get the idea.)

Day 3 brought puking by two of three in the Carpool household, one of whom did so spectacularly on the kitchen floor.... just as lunch was being set out. It was the Alberta Clipper of viruses, apparently, quick but powerful, so we spent the day in solitary with an abundance of disinfectant. Child Number 3, not to be outdone by his siblings, joined the sick parade at 3am on Thursday. This did, however, get me confined to the infirmary for the better part of Day 3, which was indeed a blessing, seeing that the 11 children, 4 sets of parents and my inlaws were present.

I digress here to mention that 1) the host family has a large dog, and 2) 3 of my nephews are paralyzed with fear at the mere sight of a dog. As in, they are standing on countertops screaming as only a 2 year old can. Often, as in every time they caught sight of the dog. Even when the dog was crated. For two straight days.

Ah, Day 4, Thanksgiving itself. Having battled through the puke, Day 4 dawned with a rare break in the New England weather, allowing for the above-mentioned 5 boys to go outside with the remaining 3 cousins, leaving the 2 infants and one cranky tween, who was "so bored I could die." Day 4 also brought the annual dining conundrum, with dinner to be somehow scheduled with 4 competing nap schedules, only one small child's table, potatoes that "looked funny", and not nearly enough forks.

But the kids were grateful for all things, ranging from "my mommy" to "my new video game controller", the food was great, and the dog-screaming lessened to mere whimpers by the end of Day 4. (Or I became hard of hearing, I'm not sure which.)

Day 5 was travel day, highlighted quickly by my niece's sore throat. And cough. Guess what our parting gift was? (Bonus points if you too are currently buying stock in NyQuil.)

All in all, the perfect Carpool holiday. Hope yours was just as wonderful.

The End of Summer

Some of you are thinking that I've well and truly lost it, declaring that summer is finally over right before Thanksgiving, but the weather here is bizarre (80 today) We have no summer delusions, the leaves are turned and all over the place, and I've had to break out the fleeces and turn the heat on overnight.

But let me tell you, the Summer of Quilting is done. Over. Finito, as my boys like to say. In this one tiny area of my life, I am caught up - 8 nieces & nephews, 8 quilts, no more to work on. It is a huge satisfaction to cross things off my to-do list, but since this one also made me feel guilty (one recipient will be 3), it's all the better. Now I'll have to find another undone project to blame for my chocolate addiction.

The other areas around here are still works in progress - we've broken out the self-help books and the exercise plans, and I'm even taken to visualizing a week where I exercise daily and no child yells at their mother. Parenting is a funny thing around here - we may have twins, but good grief are they different children. What works for one most certainly has never worked for the others, and it's impossible for me to guess what will work next. But we are determined to figure it out, and I'm hopeful that the Summer of Quilting will not immediately progress to the Winter of Our Discontent. (Or the Winter of Excessive Yelling, your choice.)

Off to wrap the quilts - I'll take my contentment while I can, like the rare 80 degree weather today.

... in which karma kicks her, and hard.

Everyone has their idea of purgatory. For some, it's bad food. For others, it's not seeing your loved ones. For me, it's being locked in a room with a well-caffeinated cheerleading squad. So you can only imagine my shock and dismay when my adorable daughter announced, in her perkiest voice, "I want to be a cheerleader."

I have never been one to embrace my inner mouseketeer, and heaven help you if you are perky before 10am. In fact, it was pretty much my entire purpose in life to make fun of the cute and terminally cheerful. I was pretty sure hell on earth was driving the cheerleading carpool in high school - 3 bow-heads and myself, twice a day. No one is quite sure who was more mortified - me for having to drive them, or them for riding in the nerd car.

And now I am raising one of them. Karma sure does loop back around, and you just never know quite how it will get you. But it always does.

You'll have to come up with your own title.

Has it really been a whole month? Unbelievable, but let me tell you, there have been precious few things for me to blog about with involving the phrase "I know I'm whining, but". And I can't force y'all to listen to my whining. I'm not 8, so I assure you, I know I should have grown out of it by now.

So let's recap my month. Three things should do it.

Item One -
At an age substantially older than 8, I am diagnosed with food allergies - specifically peanuts and tree nuts. Since I'm pretty sure I didn't even try a sandwich other than PB&J until college, I'm pretty surprised by this. And am here to tell you that this is a colossal pain in my rear, adding at least 30 minutes to an already painful grocery store run while I read every last label in sight. Not mention the sheer torture of not being able to eat a single piece of my children's Halloween candy.

I will also tell you that if you're having an allergy test run, having the nurse come in halfway through and say "OH NO!" is never, ever a good sign. Aside from the nuts, I am allergic to everything they tested for, aside from seafood, which is the actual reason I made the stupid appointment. I am the Bubble Mom, and buying a historic house was pretty much the worst mistake ever. I do, however, have an excuse for not dusting - I'm allergic to the dust too.

Item Two -
My motherhood competitiveness has reached a new low. We have apparently reached the stage in her class where boys are asking girls "out." It is only out in a figurative sense, they go nowhere, but they're asking. And I'm freaking out, because good grief, she's like 3, and I am so not ready for this. But in the midst of the freaking out, I'm like "Why on earth are they not asking my child out? Is she not the cutest thing you have ever seen? And the funniest?"

Repeat after me: I will not project my middle school horrors onto my child.

Item Three -
I survived what had to be the most ambitious field trip ever conducted. I did not cry, I barely whined, and I only prayed to be beamed out of the field trip twice. Field trips should only be 1 day, not 7. They should not involve questionable hotels, children rooming without their parents, and difficulty obtaining alcohol or food not served on a plastic tray. But I get to go again in 4 years, this time as a care-free mother of boys, not a neurotic mother of a girl.

Item Four -
I am not meant to be an athlete. I think it's clear that the number of ankle braces, crutches, and surgical scars confirm it. But I will have to tell you that my hate of all things exercise is fading, and I actually look forward to it. I don't love it, but it's coming, they tell me. I still refuse to buy a workout ensemble for each day, and velour tracksuits just don't do it for me. I'm hippy enough as it is, purposely dressing as an easter egg is not going to be a flattering look.

I think that covers the month. I still have not finished the summer of quilts, I caved and actually bought Halloween costumes this year for the first time, and I'm craving a pecan pie like my life depended on it.

There is some crazy movement where people are posting every day - I won't promise you that, but I will promise it won't be a month before you hear from me again. Although I can't explain it, I miss you guys too.