Amy Chamberlain is perhaps one of the smartest women I know. And I happen to be lucky enough to call her my friend. Among other things, she is a gifted writer by God-given talent as well as formal training. She is so gifted, in fact, that even her every day emails are fit for the press, though she would beg to differ. She lives with her husband and son Christopher in Dubai but comes home during the summer for a couple of months where she and "C" stay with her parents. The following is printed from an email with her permission (emphasis added) and finds a welcome place among the other entries on the humorous and hair-pulling realities of parenting.

"Times Tables Make for Good Times"

Because Christopher doesn't do any chores here at Grandma and Grandpa's, and because his overall work ethic is questionable at best, I am forcing him to learn the times tables this summer (also I should mention that his school has neglected this job thus far). C has taken to this activity with the same gusto that he'd take to having his fingernails pulled out. Our five-minute daily sessions follow the same basic emotional arc, which I will share here for your enjoyment:

Stage I: Anger. "I'm NOT going to sit here and learn these stupid times tables and you can't MAKE me." Duration: 30 seconds.
Stage II: Bitterness. "This is the meanest thing you have ever done to me." Duration: 15 seconds.
Stage III: Fleeting, Weak Effort. "I guess I can do this...I think 3 times 4 is twelve. Or something." Duration: 5 seconds.
Stage IV: Tears. "(self-explanatory)" Duration: 2 minutes
Stage V: Reluctant Acceptance. "All right. Fine. Let's hurry and get this over with so I can play my PSP. Show me the next card." Duration:2 minutes and 10 seconds.

Christopher, not to put too fine point on it, my friend, but what your mom has outlined here looks a lot like the five stages of grief. Having passed though these myself many times in any area related to math, I can confidently say that you are welcome at my fire anytime. Given, of course, that it generates enough light by which you can operate your PSP.

"I'd like to thank my family and friends..."

One of my very favorite cousins got married last weekend so I drove to California with the boys to participate in the festivities. It turns out that the reception was held at the home of Keith Merrill who happens to be an LDS filmmaker. Most of you won't know this but I knew Brooks would so I called him to brag.

"You'll never guess whose house I'm pulling up to right now," I say feeling smug.

Showing off his superior person's knowledge of cinematic trivia, he replies, "Well, just make sure you get to see his Academy Award before you leave."

It's his nonchalant tone that gets me. He knows I have no connections to make such a personal request so I immediately put my Great Brain to the task of pulling it off. Within fifteen minutes I had found, photographed, and emailed the proof to him.

"Check your email," I say in triumph over the phone. His hearty laugh sounds in my ear a moment later.

Winkel:1 Briggs:0

Top 10

...for the last four weeks (in no particular order).

1. School's out! Jenny in denial; continues drop-off and pick-up schedules as usual.

2. Angi visits from Seattle to meet baby Emmett. Amy and Enzo would complete this picture.

3. Brooks goes back to work full-time, wears black. In show of solidarity, Jenny wears [new] black [dress from Nordstrom], too.

4. Buy Greek tortoise. Lose Greek tortoise in backyard. Find and lose tortoise three more times. Dumb pet owners. Smart pet.

5. Send boys to room to mate socks as punishment for fighting. Found not mating socks (but not fighting, either).

6. 6/17: White House schedules visit for Secretary of Health and Human Services to Historic Sandy Community Garden! 6/19: White House cancels visit for Secretary of Health and Human Services to Historic Sandy Community Garden!

7. Surprise pre-dinner visit to archery range orchestrated by Brooks. Jenny over-dressed. Brooks emails post-date JPG next day:
"Hmm... what new activity could I schedule that would require Jenny to wear a black dress while wielding a deadly weapon?"

8. Bad news: record-breaking rain floods into new basement twice. Good news: affects only unfinished bathroom. Concrete floors and old towels make for easy clean-up.

9. Jenny chokes on chicken wrap. Carpenter on hand to perform Heimlich. Itemization in next bill reflects service.

10. Bought $6 Lucky jeans at DI. Find $6 in pocket. Now that's lucky.

This is a note attached to a Mother's Day gift from Oliver. The irony here is that the paper pad is printed with the phrase "Kids Love Mom". Yet when allowed to speak for himself...

"You are kind to me, Mom. I love you (at least sometimes)."

Im 99.999% Sure He's Hetero

And let me just say for the sake of clarity that if he wasn't, it would be OK with me. I'm just sayin' that based on mounting evidence, Oliver Briggs is the girl-likin' type o' guy. (If you're easily shocked, want to believe that boys don't notice girls until at least twelve, or are Brahm or Oliver's grandparent, don't read this.)

Take last week for instance. Brooks and I are sitting at the kitchen table when Oliver walks out of the bathroom with his head buried in one of my "Self" magazines. It's a health and fitness periodical so my curiosity is piqued as to why a five-year-old would even bother to notice it. Brooks, being male himself, is more clued in than I.

"Hey, Oliver, what are you reading in there?"

Barely looking up he answers, "Poems. This magazine has poems."

(The last time I checked, there were no poems but, hey, I could have missed one.)

Brooks leans over and says quietly into my ear, "That is the equivalent of saying, 'I only subscribe to Playboy for the articles.'"

The light goes on. The pages are filled with beautiful women with beautiful bodies barely covered with their fancy-pants exercise outfits.

"Riiiiight." I whisper back with a knowing nod.

Using one of the parenting tools from my vast collection, I distract him with a savory morsel of food while gently removing the magazine from his hands saying something vague like, "Here - have a bite to eat while I put this away for you." No shame, no struggle, there you go. (My subscription is now stored up high in a closet).

You know, it's possible that Brooks misinterpreted Oliver's intentions. After all, I did spy some haiku in a similar style of magazine not two months ago. But then there was that incident today in the back seat of the car coming home from a soccer game. Oliver was blurting out, "Boobies, boobies, boobies," over and over again. But maybe I'm reading more into that, too, because when I asked him why he was saying it he simply answered,

"Booby traps, Mom. Booby traps."

So true, so true...

Last week Oliver and I pushed our cart into the gardening section of Home Depot. On our way in, we passed a woman who was walking out in a big huff, ranting loudly about not getting her way, incompetent employees, etc., etc.

"Sheesh!" I mutter to Oliver. "Some people get so grumpy!"

In all earnestness he replies, "You mean, like you?"

Kind of Blue

This is the title of a compilation of jazz tunes from Miles Davis. If you're a fan, you already know this. If you're not yet converted, check it out. It's also the title of today's blog entry because — well, read on.

My sister Lindsey emailed the family last week to say that she is adding a new feature to her blog (www.louloubelles.blogspot.com) called "Ask Lou". It's an advice column of sorts. So immediately a reply came asking Lou how to beat the blues. Without waiting for Lindsey to answer, my other sister Amy sent the following response (which I am cutting and pasting with her permission).

"I'm not Lou..but I have a few ideas to beat the blues...because I get them too!!
. sing the blues
. listen to the blues
. aquatherapy..take a bath, shower, go swimming, drink lots of water
. exercise
. do something nice for someone
. donate something
. send a small monetary gift to a charity
. organize some small area like your purse or dresser drawers
. go on a small spontaneous adventure somewhere you've never been
. make a christmas tree ornament
. do something purposely embarrassing like circling the free food sample loop at Costco two or three times
. get lost in a book
. close the curtains and run through your house naked ...dancing and singing to christmas music.
. heliotherapy...lay in the sun for a little while
. Pray in a new way that you haven't tried...ie; skip the traditional opening and closing words and see what comes out.
. don't watch the news for a few days
. where yellow....even if it doesn't look good on you
. Tell the people you love...that you love them!!
. knock on your neighbors door and ask if you might borrow just a small squirt of hemmorhoid cream.
. put a few things in your recycle bin
. make a necklace
. be free . enjoy your blues."


Other things that are blue:

•the walls of the room where I am typing right now (robin egg shell)
•Brahm's eyes
•the cover of my journal when I was nine
•the house one block east (cerulean)
•October - "Into the Ocean" on my playlist
•my bathrobe
•the big jar in the kitchen holding bright yellow tulips – thanks, Lindsey!
•the following photos:























Lindsey (left) and I in 1998























Oh, 1978 or so - I'm guessing it's Easter by the dresses my sisters and I are wearing (I'm the one on Mom's hip).























Brooks outside the $400/month basement apartment we rented our first year of marriage. They must have been going for about $1/ft2 that year...