Tomorrow night I’m going to a Halloween party. If I get lucky at the Dollar Store and find some plastic toy snakes, then I will be Medusa, and Bill will be Perseus. Nice, huh? Otherwise, I’ll just be some plain ordinary Greco-Roman noble woman, and Bill will just be some plain ordinary Greco-Roman soldier. It amuses me that my soldier is going as a soldier.

We are instructed to bring a “spooky” dish. Any ideas? I don’t want to work too hard for this. On a scale of 1 to 5 with 1 being store-bought chips and salsa and 5 being homemade apple pie with a lattice top crust, I’d prefer to keep things under a 3.

We are a demented society. I don’t understand it, and I don’t have any idea how to stop it, and it makes me retch to be a part of it. But I think it’s false to pretend that it’s all those people and not us people. We’re all in this together, folks. For better or for worse, we are who we are and it’s not a pretty sight.

Surfing the web last night, I found this site with quotes from Southerners in the 1800s regarding slavery.

Henry Wise, Congressman (and future governor) from Virginia: “The principle of slavery is a leveling principle; it is friendly to equality. Break down slavery and you would with the same blow break down the great democratic principle of equality among men.”

Such a quote leaves me speechless. How can one respond to that logic, or lack thereof? Slavery is friendly to equality? Uh….

John C. Calhoun, Senator from South Carolina: “The defense of human liberty against the aggressions of despotic power have been always the most efficient in States where domestic slavery was to prevail.”

I guess following the principle of “it takes one to know one,” mini-despots are perfectly suited to defend against big despots?

James H. Hammond, Congressman from South Carolina: “Sir, I do firmly believe that domestic slavery, regulated as ours is, produces the highest toned, the purest, best organization of society that has ever existed on the face of the earth.”

Yes, sir, this IS the life – toiling away for someone else’s profit, being treated like cattle, having marital and parental bonds completely disregarded…does it get any better?

Richmond Enquirer, 1856: “Democratic liberty exists solely because we have slaves . . . freedom is not possible without slavery.”

Atlanta Confederacy, 1860: “We regard every man in our midst an enemy to the institutions of the South, who does not boldly declare that he believes African slavery to be a social, moral, and political blessing.”

Methodist Rev. John T. Wightman, preaching at Yorkville, South Carolina: “The triumphs of Christianity rest this very hour upon slavery; and slavery depends on the triumphs of the South . . . This war is the servant of slavery.” [The Glory of God, the defense of the South (1861), cited in Eugene Genovese’s Consuming Fire (1998).]

I’m pretty sure that the New Testament doesn’t have a chapter on the virtues of owning slaves. If I’m wrong on that, please let me know.

Lawrence Keitt, Congressman from South Carolina, in a speech to the House on January 25, 1860: “African slavery is the corner-stone of the industrial, social, and political fabric of the South; and whatever wars against it, wars against her very existence. Strike down the institution of African slavery and you reduce the South to depopulation and barbarism.”

Ah, yes, the fear tactics. Life will be horrible without slavery. Everyday common (white) folk will suffer, suffer, without slavery. And, after all, these negroes aren’t really people we’re talking about, they’re just slaves:

Alexander Stephens, Vice-President of the Confederacy, referring to the Confederate government: “Its foundations are laid, its cornerstone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery . . . is his natural and normal condition.” [Augusta, Georgia, Daily Constitutionalist, March 30, 1861.]

Sick, isn’t it? How did we as a society tolerate that? First off, my southern friends, I’m not pointing fingers at you and saying your forefathers were evil. There was support and apathy (and if you are apathetic to human suffering you may as well be in support of human suffering) on both sides of the Mason-Dixon. There were abolitionists on both sides on that line too, so I’m not listening to arguments that we didn’t know any better. We chose, as a society, to tolerate the dehumanization of a particular group of people until we could tolerate it no more, and then we fought a war to give those people that stolen 3/8 of their dignity. {States’ right, schmates’ right…don’t even start with me.}

The situation of the Jews in Nazi Germany was no different. They were less than human and thus it was OK to do medical experiments on them, take away all their rights, and slaughter them.

And today, we have unborn babies. Yesterday, I received in the mail a request for a donation to NARAL. I think Concerned Women for America is mad at me for repeatedly refusing to send them money, so they sold my name and address to the other side…

Dear Michelle,

If you have ever known a woman who has faced an unintended pregnancy (I have, many times), you know the deep and fundamental importance of freedom of choice and the right to privacy (actually, when my best friend told me she was pregnant at the age of 14, abortion was not the first thought that entered my mind and neither was it when my 19 year old sister told me the same news…silly me, we could have reduced the world population by 2).

Personal and private childbearing decisions belong to a woman and whomever she chooses to consult…no one else should interfere; especially not politicians. It’s her life, her body, her choice.

{snip}

Quite simply, anti-choice forces are now poised to directly undermine the legal foundation of a woman’s right to choose…if you and I fail to act today, what little freedom of choice still exists could be taken away.

They’re not human, they’re not equal to living, breathing humans.

…the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man…

Our personal freedoms are in jeopardy if we can’t abort fetuses.

…freedom is not possible without slavery…

The government can’t tell me what to do with my body.

The defence of human liberty against the aggressions of despotic power have been always the most efficient in States where domestic slavery was to prevail.

Slavery, genocide, abortion…what is the difference? If we end abortion, who will be our next victim? If we don’t end abortion, will killing children be enough for our apparent blood-lust?

Yesterday, I spent my lunch hour, as usual, eating at my computer trying to answer emails and taking care of (expletive deleted) volunteer work. My friend, another homeschool mom who lives a few streets away from me, was apparently doing the same thing. We had a brief e-conversation.

Me: Man, do I want to take a nap.

Friend: I’m with ya on the nap thing. Is it wrong to lock myself in my room and take one? Ha ha. Hmm, I heard a sneeze, maybe the kids need some benadryl? Ha ha.

Yeah, ha ha. Hmmmmm…..

I should have mentioned this, but all the fantastic pictures in my field trip post were taken by my friend, Rachel, mom to the other children in the photos.

I left my camera at home because it’s not attached to my body like my brain, which often doesn’t seem to be attached to my body.

Not much for a mom, in my opinion.

No, this isn’t some rant about wallowing in pagan traditions, going to hell in a handbasket, blah blah blah. Please. As Sister Mary Martha says, “give the child your broom and a pointy hat and let her have fun gathering and eating candy. Tomorrow she’ll be at Mass. For a child, that is enough.” And if Sister Mary Martha thinks it’s ok to dress up in even scary costumes and extort candy from the neighbors then it must be ok.

But for weeks, this is what Halloween gives me:

#1 The Costume Headache

Pete was easy. No Yoda costume to be found in Target, so I fell back on the reliable dragon costumes I made for the boys when they were little. My wise mother’s heart knows he will likely refuse to wear it and likely refuse to even go trick-or-treating, so I’m happy I didn’t waste money on Yoda.

Jenny was easy. After a bit of waffling, she decided on a being a witch. They had really cute pumpkin witch costumes at Target, so DONE!

Fritz was easy. He wanted to be Obi Wan. He found an Anakin outfit and understands that one Jedi outfit is as good as another, so DONE!

The other two….grrrrr…

Billy changed his mind by the hour at home. At the store, he found a Power Ranger costume and picked it. Then, at home, decided he wanted to be Anakin and dress like Fritz. Oh, but he didn’t want me to return his Power Ranger costume, he wanted ANOTHER costume. The answer is, of course, no, but I grow weary reminding him of this. He is most persistant, and I am grateful that I only have about 12 to 16 years left in enforcing rules over him. The Grand Canyon is proof that even the most solid ground can be eroded over time. I should be able to hold on for another decade and a half…but barely.

And Katie….Katie wanted to be Princess Lei, but Target didn’t happen to have Princess Lei costumes. I told her it was ok, that we could easily MAKE a Princess Lei costume, but she gave me that look of shock and horror as though I were depriving her by not buying her a costume from a store. And she didn’t want to go home empty handed. She decided to be a pumpkin witch, too. She and Jenny look similar, but not identical. They are really cute, but…

…the costume purchases came at the expense of listening to mom (me) rant about “…when I was a kid, we didn’t BUY costumes, we MADE them…”

And I’ve resolved that next year, they start getting a bit more creative and making their own. Ghosts, gypsys, hobos…I might be willing to spring for face paint and let them be clowns. But NO MORE store-bought costumes, and having mom slave for weeks for a home-made alternative isn’t acceptable either.

I’m sure I’ll just have a bigger headache next year.

#2 The Candy Dilemma

First of all, how much candy to buy? There are hundreds of children living in my neighborhood. I need to buy enough for them, but not risk having an excessive amount leftover. Last year, I raided the kids baskets after they returned to supplement my supply. And then there are the teenagers, with no costumes, who come looking for a handout.

Who ever thought that giving out candy to kids in huge quantities was a good idea? Well, kids, for one…but anyone else? I’m not a candy-Nazi. I’m generous at Easter and Christmas and I don’t mind some for Halloween. But candy is not a normal component of our daily (or even weekly) diet (with the exception of chocolate chip rewards for using the potty if you are under the age of 3 1/2). Five kids easily bring home 5 pounds of chocolate. That’s a year’s worth of candy for everyone here. And if the stuff wasn’t all wrapped in orange and black, I’d seriously consider hiding half of it until Christmas time.

Usually, my husband takes about a third to his office. Another third goes straight into the garbage (sour flavoring is not popular here, and neither is cinnamon or gummy-anything). And then I let the kids binge on the rest, throw up for a day, and we’re over it. (I’m just kidding.)

And for the teenagers, this year, at the suggestion of a neighbor, I bought plain #2 pencils. Uncostumed teens, unless accompanying a younger sibling, will get one of those. Yeah, I’m a mean lady.

And finally…

#3 Nightmares

Ever since the decorations began to go up, sleep troubles began. One recent morning, two kids woke up extra early crying from bad dreams. Katie is sobbing herself to sleep every night because she’s scared…and she’s getting Jenny all riled up too. And the conversations we’ve been having about vampires and werewolves and ghosts…I’m getting tired of discussing fiction versus reality time and time again.

Halloween is a lot of fun for kids between the ages of about ten and twelve…and for older kids with the mentality of a ten to twelve year old, including some adults (no names mentioned here…but…let’s just say that some members of this household are really in touch with their inner child, and it’s not me). I used to love haunted houses and haunted hayrides. I’m sure when my kids are older, I may find them amusing once again. Having your pants scared off every once in a while is fun, I know…if you’re an adult.

But when you’re a kid…it just makes for a nightmare for your mom.

Last week: fire station (always a big hit with kids).

Yesterday: Cox Farm.

Does seeing baby pigs really count as educational?

It was freezing, but Jenny stripped off two layers. She was miserable, but she was miserable before taking off her sweater and long sleeved shirt anyway.

We’ll count this as “socialization” I guess.

Or perhaps phys-ed?…they did have to run up hills or climb a staircase for the slides.

Definitely cooper-ative play. Katie and her friend Maria were each too scared to go down the big spiral slide together, so their older brothers gallantly stepped forward to ride with them. Very sweet.

Biology class? (learning about the jaws of large sea creatures)?

Hay rides are a good lesson in how people used to travel before cars. Also, in how hay protects you from the wind and keeps you much warmer than you might have thought possible.

We were supposed to be meeting with a Catholic homeschool group. We got there and found one other mom. It was freezing and standing around was making everyone cranky, so my friend and I took off for the hayride.

Later, as we sat in the warm car and ate lunch, we saw the other mother again. She apologized that we hadn’t caught up with the group. It turns out we “missed” praying the rosary and the Angelus…in the freezing cold…with half a gazillion little children who were hungry for lunch and/or staring longingly at the slides. Well, actually, those saintly children were probably not doing that, but mine would have been.

I’m such a bad Catholic mom that I was elated that we missed the rosary. The Angelus would have been fine, but the rosary? in the wind and cold? No matter how good of a mom you may think you are…no matter how well you may feel you are raising your children in the faith…there will always be other families with mild-speaking moms and rosary-praying children to show you just how much more you could be doing.

The summer of 1991, I was 20 and halfway through college where I earned a Bachelor of Science in Civil Engineering and also completed the requirements for a minor in German. The head of the German Department at my school got me a job at an engineering firm in Germany. It was supposed to be a joint German/engineering internship, but the Head of the Engineering Department would not approve it. The reason: me and my big mouth.

I was a student in this professor’s Thermodynamics class. Thermodynamics has absolutely nothing to do with civil engineering, but it was a required course for all engineering students. This professor was consistently making me late for…a German class, and I, in front of the entire class, obnoxiously complained about it! Not too bright. It also didn’t help that I struggled in this class, and I think earned a D+. In my defense, I had no intention of being a rocket scientist, and I aced all but one of my civil engineering classes, so I’m really not too stupid. I just couldn’t calculate how much torque an engine operating at a certain speed with a certain power and at a certain temperature might produce. I also didn’t really care.

Anyway, my bad attitude and apparent lack of brain power prevented me from an engineering internship. So, I worked in the sales department. Interestingly enough, I had a career in sales and engineering after college.

In Germany, I lived on the first floor of a home. The owners lived upstairs and they rented the first level – two bedrooms, a bath and kitchen – to international employees of the firm. My roommate was a guy from Brazil. We got along great, although his German was so much better than mine that I don’t know how we managed to communicate.

At first, everything about my little home was fine. But then, a few weeks in, I was taking a shower and out of the drain popped two big, furry spiders. I really don’t like spiders, especially not the furry kind with huge bodies, long legs and snapping fangs – I swear they were chomping and looking for blood. Okay, I can’t be certain about the chomping fangs; I am near-sighted and generally don’t take a shower with my glasses on. Spiders, even huge, black, killer spiders, appear as moving, black dots. My near-sightedness makes me feel extra-vulnerable, since I can’t tell how aggressive that spider really is. Is he trying to run from me, or is he gauging the best angle of attack? I can’t tell, so I assume the worst.

Fortunately, Mr. Brazil was not scared of spiders and happily dispatched them every time they appeared – which was often. I’m just happy that this blubbering and babbling American girl was able to provide him with some amusement.

Now why am I remembering these horrid creatures? This morning, as I was about to step into my shower, I saw a darting black dot. Since neither Mr. Brazil nor my personal knight in shining armor was available, the defense of the home was all on me. I fetched my glasses so I could do battle properly, and washed the thing down the drain with only a few stifled squeals of fright (the kids were sleeping still, I couldn’t be too loud). And then I did what any sensible person would do – I closed the drain and showered in ever-deepening water. Those things can cling and crawl even in flooded drains, you know!

My entry: Cowboy Chili.

yum yum

If you decide to take a break after browning the beef and go outside to enjoy the nice weather, be sure to turn the burner off!

The baking soda did the trick on my pan – thanks!

Wow. We’ve made it to Week 7.

Today was Monday, even though it was Friday. Good thing, too, because we’re going on a field trip on the real Monday. So, Tuesday will be Tuesday, and my three days of grace I built into the start of the school year will be all gone. That’s okay, though. I was getting myself confused as to what day of the week it really was, and that’s not usually a good thing.

I’m amazed that with seven weeks in a row of taking my son to the doctor (a 3 to 4 hour door-to-door journey), we didn’t actually get behind. It’s probably good that it coincided with the beginning of the school year when things are moving slowly along. I’m sure Fritz would have spent many of the last Saturdays making up school work if he attended a traditional school. Now, we’re down to only once a month, but with surgery looming in the not-too-distant future I may need a few more bonus days.

Since we’re out of the classroom on Monday, Tuesday will be Day 32. I have a 32 week curriculum, which means by the close of business Tuesday we will be 20% done with the school year. And that is cause for celebration.

I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining about schooling my kids. I’m not. I love it. I also like running, and I ran a ten mile race. I trained for months (since I’m not a big runner). I worked hard. I got to the point a few times where I really didn’t want to go for a run. But I did. And I accomplished my goal. And I’m very happy with my success. And I’m still running. That’s homeschooling. There are days I don’t really want to do it, but I’ve got a goal and I’m plugging along. See you past the finish line!

What NOT to do:

Use your breadmaker to make a double batch of pizza dough (4 1/2 cups of flour) and forget to add that really crucial ingredient: yeast.

Ugh.