A Box For Halloween

I have a confession to make: I'm not a big fan of Halloween. (Pause for boos and hisses.) Sure, I like the free chocolate, carving pumpkins, and making eating caramel apples.

My gripe is mainly over costumes.

When I was younger and only had to worry about coming up with one terribly clever costume, I was sometimes able to manage it, usually by stopping at Goodwill and picking up some vintage atrocity from the 60's. I have collected several of these over the years and now rotate through them, always spending Halloween clothed in one of several polyester outfits from the box under my stairs. I never could get comfortable with the idea of spending money on a cheap costume that would only be relevant for one night.

The problem, of course, got worse as we tacked on the kids. I can sew, but I despise it (plus I'm incredibly slow), so sewing my kids Halloween costumes has always been out of the question.

But it's okay because shortly after school starts, the glossy magazines begin arriving in the mail. They offer to turn your toddler into something amazing (for $60 or more plus shipping). Costumes parade prominently around stores before summer is even spent. As a result, my kids believe in love at first sight. How could they not when they've experienced it, year after year, as I attempted to whiz by the Halloween costumes without them noticing?

When kids get their hearts set on something, it's hard to say 'no,' isn't it?

The trouble is, their love is fleeting and the next time you walk through the store, you'll find that the object of their desire has changed. But if you don't buy it when they see it then their size will sell out. Then you'll really be stuck. You don't want to be the mom stuck on Ebay, frantically bidding on the very last costume in your child's size. Trust me.

A few years ago, quite by accident, we hit on a way to avoid the issue entirely. Remember when your child was one, and he enjoyed playing with the boxes his toys came in more than he wanted the toys? Never underestimate the power of a large cardboard box, even when your child is no longer a baby.

When my son Energy told me he wanted to be a hermit crab for Halloween, my first response was a resounding 'no.' He had it all planned out, and it sounded incredibly complicated. His plan involved paper mache, balloons, and chicken wire. I hate Home Depot. The thought of traipsing through the store with four young kids in search of chicken wire so my son could make a mess in the yard attempting to make a wearable hermit crab shell was not appealing. So I stalled him, turning to the internet for guidance. There had to be somebody, somewhere, selling a hermit crab costume, or at least a video on how to make one, right? Right? You can find anything on the internet.

Apparently, not.

I told him he would just have to think of something else. But he pressed the issue and, eventually, I came to see that being a hermit crab was really important to him. I promised I would help, but we had to go with my plan, which did not involve paper mache or chicken wire. Or balloons.

I like to keep things simple. I'm no good with a sewing machine, but I'm awesome with a can of spray paint. So my plan revolved around a cardboard box and some spray paint. Before long, we had a passable hermit crab. My son was ecstatic. And he was convinced I was the best mom EVER, which was an unexpected bonus.

Energy's costumes in subsequent years have all revolved around cardboard boxes. I suspect they will for many more years to come.

At his school Halloween party, dressed as a calculator, Energy got angry because everyone kept pushing his buttons. :) They were really cool buttons: we attached them to the box with springs so they popped out after you pushed them. His classmates couldn't resist.

This one's a mailbox, before we put the US Mail signs on it. Energy's plan was to crouch down on people's front doorsteps so all they would see when they opened the door was the mailbox. Then he would pop up and scare them.

Here's the completed look, along with his entourage of an angel, a vampire, the grim reaper, a ninja, and someone who loves them all.











And here's a little gem I found in the archives. This is Energy, as Larry the Cucumber from Veggie Tales, in his very first box costume. This was before we really understood what we'd hit upon--we were just super poor. We made it out of a Costco cheerios box and leftover craft paint.

This year's cardboard box creation: A Rubix cube.

Also, Mellow has decided to follow in his brother's footsteps and will don the cardboard box for the first time this Halloween. Here he is in his Minecraft Steve head.












After so many box costume successes, we have come to believe that they are the best. In no particular order, here are the reasons box costumes make Halloween great:

• People think you're creative, when in reality you're just lazy and cheap
• Your kids will change their minds about what they want to be a week before Halloween. Just count on it. With a box costume, you can wait until the week before to make it and you don't have to worry about it selling out at the store.
• Making a costume out of a cardboard box is cheap, cheap, cheap!
• The looks we get from Target employees when we ask if they have any large, clean boxes we can have for Halloween costumes are priceless.
• Almost anything can be made out of a box if you use your imagination
• Kids can wear whatever they want underneath their boxes. No more freezing cold kids because the costume makers skimp on cloth and don't leave room under their costumes for extra layers.
• If you like attracting attention (which Energy does) wearing a giant, spray-painted box is a great way to do it.
• You can throw it away after Halloween without feeling like you're wasting your money

Since I obviously love boxes so much, one of these years our whole family should go as coordinating boxes. We could be the cereal aisle at the grocery store, or we could go as gallons of ice cream. We could be Minecraft blocks or a family of Legos. We could even dress up as bricks and go as our house. The possibilities are endless!

Disgruntled Toys Annonymous

Eight years ago, when Mellow was two years old, my life depended upon knowing the exact location of two tiny toy cows that fit perfectly inside his fists. As we all know, two-year-olds have a tendency to lose their toys and then not understand why you can't procure them out of thin air the moment they want them back. To avoid the inevitable meltdowns and broken-hearted weeping, I ended up buying several of the little toy cows so we would have a better chance of finding one when Mellow demanded it. The cows ended up in constant rotation. They were very good about taking turns getting lost, so we were usually able to find at least two when we needed them.

Now Caboose is following in his brothers' footsteps, only the object of his deepest affections is a Lightening McQueen matchbox car. The heavy-duty, die-cast vehicles are slightly more expensive than the little plastic cows (read: ridiculously over-priced), so my method of buying several and letting them take turns being lost is slightly less appealing.

I've been pondering over the phenomenon of the favorite toy going on regular holidays and wondering why they have to go away so much. Also, have you ever noticed that when your child's favorite toy disappears, he is the only one who is able to find it? You can turn the house upside down looking for it, and said child will cry himself to sleep for several nights in a row. Then, one day, you happen upon the child, who is happily playing with the lost toy and your jaw drops in amazement. Since he's too young to offer any explanation over where he found the toy, its hiding place will forever remain a mystery.

So I wonder... where do the toys go when they disappear? Is it really just a coincidence when they go missing and return shortly thereafter or is there something bigger going on?

Cue imagination sequence...



Lightening McQueen rolled into his first meeting with trepidation. Even though he was used to meeting new people, the large conference center was packed with unfamiliar faces. 

A large, muscled toy soldier stood at the front of the assembly behind a podium. "I hereby call this meeting to order. If you're joining us for the first time today, this is Disgruntled Toys Anonymous. We meet every day. We have an open door policy, which means you're welcome to pop in unannounced and stay for as long as is needed. My name is Tom and I've been a member of this chapter for six years."

"We'll start off the meeting with our motto, then we'll hear grievances." Tom raised his arms and all the toys in attendance rose from their seats. A chorus of voices chanted out:

I am a toy, but I have feelings too. I am more than an object of desire. Although I love my owner, I have unique talents and abilities that can't be pursued when I am too well-loved. I am therefore entitled to take breaks as seemeth fit. I will return home when I am ready, and my child will love me more for the absence.

"Wonderful!" Tom's voice echoed throughout the room. To begin our round of grievances for the day, we'll hear from Mr. Sill E. Puddy."

A sickly-pale, portly ball bounced to the center of the stage and leaned into the microphone. "Hello, everyone. Thank you for hearing me today. I've had a real rough week. I used to be popular, you see. I used to be desirable. But in recent years I have been reduced to a mere dollar toy." He paused, and a single tear rolled down his face. He continued haltingly. "I'm a pity gift. A party bag tchotchke. Something to be purchased only to be thrown away a short while later. Kids hate me because I don't flash or talk or have a power cord. Parents hate me because when kids leave me in their pockets, I end up going through the dryer and destroying whole loads full of clothes." He choked out a sob. "I might be here at DTA to stay." Sill then rushed off the stage, hiding his face in shame. 

"We feel your pain," Tom exclaimed from his seat as Sill made his way past. Shouts of "You are among friends" and "Don't lose heart" rang out from the audience. 

While Mr. Puddy melted back into the crowd, a large, awkward structure made its way to the stage. As it rumbled forward, bits of it fell off and had to be collected and brought forward by the stage crew. When it reached the podium, a chorus of voices rang out in stereo, "Hi. We are Legos. We've taken the liberty of dropping off our owners' favorite sets at will and coming as a group. We are very popular and never get any time off. But we must always be aware and watch out for each other. If ever we find ourselves separated from the group and picked up by a parent, there's a very good chance we will go straight into the trash." A collective shudder rippled through the room.

As the Legos were finishing up, a row of Tinker Toys were making their way to the stage. They sent forward a single Tinker to voice their grievances. A deep voice said, "Hello all. My name is Tink." A murmur rippled through the audience, and McQueen could hear muffled laughter. "I know what you're all thinking. I have the same name as that girlie fairy. But it's even worse than all that. Sure, kids love us. We are really cool toys. But parents hate us because we have so many small pieces. We get scattered to and fro, stepped on, and sucked up into vacuum cleaners. Parents do their best to hide us in closets where their kids will forget all about us. It really is a very hard life. We just needed some time away. It's so great to be here with you all - thanks for your support."

Lightening McQueen shuddered. He couldn't imagine being shut up in a dark closet, hidden away from the love of his child. In fact, he couldn't relate to any of what these toys were saying. Maybe spending his time being squeezed to death in the sticky fingers of a young boy wasn't such a bad life.

When no more toys approached the stage, Tom stood and strode to his podium. "Thank you for coming, one and all. I hope this has been a time for you to relax and gain strength from others in similar situations. We will now break for our workshops. If you are interested in speaking at our next meeting, or are in need of a list of today's classes, please see Wanda." He raised his arm and a large doll stepped forward, her hair twisted into unattractive clumps of yarn at the nape of her neck. 

Lightening McQueen shook his head and fled from the conference hall before anyone could rope him into coming to a class with them. He zoomed back to home base as fast as he could. 

He missed his boy.


...End imagination sequence.


So now you know where toys go when they disappear, only to mysteriously reappear a few days later. Be sure to keep your favorite toys happy, or they just might take a longer vacation than you or your child would like.

The Aftermath of Hurricane Summer

It's amazing how we all turn into a bunch of slobs during the summer time. For the first few weeks, at least, I try to keep the mess under control, begging my kids to clean up after themselves at the end of each day. But by the end, I've completely given up. So for the past few weeks, while my kids are being enlightened at school, I've been busy digging out. If my life were a news report, it would read something like this:


Reporting to you live from news channel 8, this is (insert name here) with a special update.

Yesterday marked the two-week anniversary of the end of Hurricane Summer. For those of you just joining us, the ten-week long Hurricane Summer blew through the homes of many recently, leaving massive destruction in its wake. The unprecedented length of Hurricane Summer has made it one of the most destructive, though surprisingly non-deadly, hurricanes in history. Cleanup efforts are well underway, but are expected to take anywhere from three weeks to two months.

We are reporting to you live from one such home, where residents are reeling from the shock as they struggle to recover. In this home, over 5000 Legos have been rescued so far, discovered in an alarming variety of hiding places after the hurricane stormed through. Because they were spread so far, many have not yet been recovered. The number of Legos reported missing is rising at an alarming rate. The following website has been established to assist residents who are still searching for a beloved Lego: richardslegorecovery.com. Rumors have surfaced that the Legos are somehow secretly reproducing at night while residents slumber, but nothing has been confirmed.

An astounding number of abandoned vehicles has been reported as well. Many are in surprisingly good condition, despite the abuse they endured during the storm. If you are in need of a new car (or Thomas Train), they are first come first served. (Please note that all available cars and trains are much smaller than the average family car. They will fit in the palm of your hand.)

A record number of tiny pieces of paper have been found after a scissor-like, gale-force wind blew through the area with a vengeance. At first glance, residents mistook the tiny paper clippings for snowflakes.

Several unidentified food items have been found ground into carpets and couches throughout the house. Some smell like peanut butter. Other patches are covered in an orange dusting. We can surmise that countless tiny goldfish lost their lives over the course of this storm. Additionally, it appears that this particular hurricane had an affinity for chewing gum. Sticky mounds in a plethora of colors have been located on and under the couches, mashed into the carpet, wedged between floorboards, and perched decoratively on bookshelves and dressers.

And, as always in these kinds of disasters, the amount of unidentified debris scattered throughout the house is massive. Toys, snacks, shoes, socks, blankets, electronic gadgets, books, markers, clothes, crayons, utensils, cups, snack bowls, goggles, pillows, etc. The items sit, scattered haphazardly throughout the house, waiting for their owners to claim them. The debris is currently making travel throughout the region exceedingly difficult. Caution is therefore advised if travel is attempted, though residents should consider avoiding it for as long as possible. If travel is unavoidable, expect major delays.

Residents of the Richards' home, and others in the affected area, are making the best of their situation. As governor Mom oversees cleanup efforts, you can expect to catch her consuming excessive amounts of chocolate. Her aids are telling us she is unlikely to consider running for a second term.

An Introvert's Guide to Stay-Home Parenting

My kids are back in school and I feel normal again. It's amazing how fast I went from total-raving-lunatic-who-can't-focus-long-enough-to-form-a-complete-sentence to semi-normal, functional adult. What made the difference?

One little hour-and-a-half of silence.

On a typical school day, we run errands and do household chores in the morning while Energy, Mellow, and Bright are at school. After lunch, Plucky gets on the bus for afternoon kindergarten and Caboose goes down for a nap. Then I have almost two hours before Energy comes bounding off the middle school bus. Compared to the constant song and dance I feel I must keep up to entertain everyone over the summer, this feels like a well-deserved reward.

Silence is golden, as they say. But for me, and other introverts out there, silence is essential. The Huffington Post even says so in this article detailing the signs of an introvert.

Before I became a parent, I didn't know I was an introvert. Sure, I often felt a bit shy and always hated being in the spotlight. But I didn't understand all the complexities that go hand in hand with my introverted personality--most notably, my need for alone time to recharge my mental and emotional batteries.

Introverts crave solitude. Though we may enjoy spending time with large groups of friends, or children, as the case may be, some alone time at the end of it all is vital. Without it, we are unable to recharge and regain a sense of normalcy. For a stay-home mom, on call 24/7, this alone time can be extremely elusive. To compensate for the lack of silence during my days, I tend to stay up way too late at night. I have always considered this to be a character flaw, but I've come to understand that it's my way of recharging. I enjoy the silence. I revel in it. It makes me feel alive again, and ready to tackle a new day.

But I do need to be functional in the  mornings and throughout the day, so I've come up with some ways to fulfill my introverted needs without compromising my sleep every single night.


1. Ignore the phone. If you don't feel like talking, don't answer it. If it's important, they will leave a message and you can call back when you're done recharging.

2. Don't be afraid to hide out in the bathroom when necessary. I've mentioned this before, but I often resort to the bathroom to escape the noise and chaos of the house when I just need to breathe and clear my head. I also do this at parties sometimes when I'm just tired of making small talk. Don't laugh--it totally works.

3. Keep a pen and a generous supply of sticky notes handy. Your non-stop inner monologue will often feed you brilliant ideas when circumstances prevent further pondering--like when you're driving, cooking dinner or reading to your kids. Write them down and think more later. 

4. Don't try to fit too many activities into one day. This includes laundry, grocery shopping, play dates, dance class, whatever. I try not to plan more than one morning activity and one afternoon activity per day because I know trying to squeeze more in will stress me out. With five kids, and lots of different interests, this gets tricky. But I'm a firm believer in kids not being over-scheduled and, between all the running around that comes with my job, sometimes I just need to spend time in my home. Limiting each of my kids to one extracurricular activity at a time makes this manageable.

5. Ignore people who tell you to come out of your shell. Only do it if you want to, and only on your own time. Being outgoing and outspoken is not a marker of success. (Unless you are in school and being graded on classroom participation--in that case, suck it up. Sorry.) Luckily, as a stay-home-parent, nobody is grading you on anything. If your Pinterest perusals have led you to believe otherwise, remember that the things of most importance aren't the kinds of things that can be captured in a photograph and plastered online. 


In summary, I love being a stay-home mom. There are many ways I've found in which it actually suits the introvert within me. For example, I don't have to show up at an office, primped to perfection every morning at 8:00 am. If I want to stay in my PJ's till noon, no one has to know about it. Also, I don't have to make small talk with coworkers. The only thing small about the conversations I have is the size of the people I have them with.

I've spent a lot of time trying to reconcile my inner introvert with a job that requires me to spend my days with tiny socialites. I've only recently realized that there's nothing to reconcile. Whether you're an extrovert or an introvert, being a stay-home parent is hard. The key is to take joy in the moments that suit you and take heart in the moments that don't.

The Back to School Blues

Summer is drawing to a close. As the temperature cools and the days slowly shorten, my kids are getting excited and anxious about the impending start of a new school year. I love summer because it gives us a chance to slow down and enjoy each other. Over the summer we have no music lessons, no dance recitals, no after school activities and no homework. Best of all, summer is a break from the detestable business of packing lunches. I don't know why, but for me, packing those little brown bags every night is one of the hardest things about the school year.

Some of my kids are ecstatic about their upcoming new year. Others are nervous. Similarly, the back to school season always holds a mix of emotions for me. It's not as simple as either loving it or hating it. I have loved having my kids home for the summer, without the rigid schedules and homework battles of the school year. But, lately, everyone seems to be getting tired of each other. Maybe our house isn't big enough to hold so many personalities together. Maybe the kids are nervous and taking it out on their siblings. Whatever the reason, it's a fact that the number of screaming fights breaking out among my little minions increases exponentially as the start date for school approaches.

To articulate the range of emotions we're all experiencing this time of year, I've created a list of pros and cons. Because one can never have too many lists.

 Back to School Pros and Cons

Pro

The noise level in our home will return to a decent level for the first time in ten weeks.

Con

As the kids swap their flip flops for gym shoes, I will have to start washing and matching socks again. Bleh!

Pro

With the decrease in noise, I might actually be able to string two sentences together without losing my train of thought or... ummm... what was I saying?

Con

Back to school means winter is coming and I am not ready to start paying for heating oil yet.

Pro

My twelve-year old will no longer be bored!!!!!!!! Apparently, once mom and dad stop being cool, kids don't like going more than a day or two without seeing their friends. A whole summer is unbearable.

Con

The rat race begins. Piano lessons, dance class, gymnastics, math team, scouts, homework and time to be a kid must all be crammed into the two hours between getting home from school and dinnertime.

Pro

Back to school means Fall. Which is my favorite time of year.

Con

With the kids in school all day, I'll have to get more creative at finding moments to bond with them.

Being at peace with the whole back to school thing comes down to celebrating the milestone this time of year represents for each of my kids. They have grown and matured right before my eyes. They've become closer as siblings, through playing as well as fighting. And though I will celebrate making it through another summer with my mental faculties in tact, it's been my privilege to watch it all happen in slow motion to the deafening soundtrack of childhood joy.

The Mommy Magnet

Today while swimming in the pool with my kids, I was reminded of an interesting phenomenon. After finding one end of the pool overcrowded (read: lots of little hands clinging to me as I struggled to swim), I escaped to the other end. Less than a minute later, the first set of hands arrived, followed closely by four others. They once again reached for me, this time grabbing on as I tried to swim in the deep end.

I escaped to different areas of the pool several times, only to find that my little ducklings followed me wherever I went. I don't think they did this consciously. They were involved in a make-believe game that didn't include me. But they still wanted to be wherever I was.

The phenomenon is called the Mommy Magnet. That is, mommies are like magnets. Our children can't help but be drawn to us. Kids seem to have some sort of homing beacon that allows them to track you down no matter how clever your hiding spot. That is all well and good. Everybody needs to be loved, and I enjoy a good hug as well as the next mom. But what about when we need our space?

In those moments when you just need a mommy time-out, a good hiding spot is essential. I've tried many over the years and I'm here to share what I've learned.


The couch
When the kids are playing nicely, and you think you might like to put your feet up after standing, running, walking or climbing stairs for the past four hours straight, it seems logical to head for the couch. That's the purpose of couches, right? To put your feet up and relax? While it may seem like a good idea, DON'T do it. Especially not with a good book. Without fail, within sixty seconds of sitting down, someone will get hurt, call for you, or come find you. Somehow they know that you're comfortable and they just can't stand it. It is therefore never a good idea to settle down on the couch when you need a break. 

Outside
I've had marginal success with this one. Usually, it takes them longer than usual to track you down outside, but it can backfire if you're not careful. When they eventually discover you sitting quietly on the front porch steps, you are in for a real treat. Prepare to spend the next several hours outside pushing swings, wiping sidewalk chalk off your hands, and chasing basketballs into the street. Oh, and wrangling bikes out of the shed, cleaning off the spider webs, and pushing them up and down the street when the training wheels get stuck in the sand that the city never cleaned up after winter. If you love being outside, this is great. If you're a homebody (like myself), you will need to mentally prepare for this possibility the moment you step outside. 

Your bedroom
The kids will find you pretty quickly if you are in your bedroom, but at least there's a lock on the door. (If there isn't, now's the time to put one in). If you aren't bothered by the incessant banging once the kids track you down, then by all means, hide in your bedroom.

The bathroom
I've resorted to the bathroom on many occasions. When Energy was two, he was a master of world-class, two-hour-long tantrums. I used to lock myself in the bathroom whenever I felt on the verge of a mental breakdown. Dealing with a wicked tantrum was easier after putting some space between myself and the out-of-control child. Over the years, my bathroom hiding habits have grown somewhat in scope. The bathroom, it turns out, is an especially handy place to go when you're in the middle of a good book and really want to finish the chapter before starting on dinner. It's also a great place to use your smartphone for checking email, scrolling through Facebook, or catching up on the news. Despite the less-than-desirable surroundings, the bathroom has often provided me with some much-needed alone time and is one of the most reliable places of retreat. When hiding in the bathroom, the homing beacons usually take a few extra minutes to kick in before alerting your kids that you have gone rogue.

The kitchen
I recently discovered that sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. Since I'm ALWAYS in the kitchen, the kids don't notice when I take a break there. The homing beacon doesn't register me as missing when I'm sitting in the kitchen, and so has no reason to alert the kids to go find me. We have two bar stools in our kitchen and, while kicking back on the couch would certainly be comfier, I can often take long mental breaks perched in one of them. With my laptop or kindle on the counter in front of me, I can mentally vacate while dinner slowly burns on the cook-top. It's a great set-up and I highly recommend it.


Here's one final tip for you. You should never, EVER attempt to write a blog post at any time while your kids are awake. It will not end well.

Of course, even though I know this, I have yet to learn my lesson.

My Life as a Twitter Feed

We are two weeks into the summer and it seems I should have scheduled myself some blogging time. Or any alone time, for that matter. In regards to keeping the peace in our home, my ambitious schedule is working marvelously. It's encouraging me to plan activities that get us out of the house so we can enjoy our time together. But there is no one time of the day when all five children are equally engaged.

During morning screen time, Caboose (who has not yet developed the deep love of screens that his siblings have) needs attention. During reading time while Caboose is napping, Plucky (who is just reading words like 'the', 'and', and 'it') needs attention. When reading time ends, Energy (who is too old, apparently, to use his imagination for entertainment as his younger siblings can) requires attention. And then it's time for me to make dinner. The madness really never ends.

So now I'm back where I was several months ago, trying to figure out how to obtain a time turner so I can have a small measure of peace during the day. Additionally, I've found that nights no longer hold the guaranteed down-time I have long depended on. Since we are so busy during the day, night time is when I either fold laundry, go grocery shopping, or collapse into an exhausted heap on my bed.

Despite my best efforts to come up with a clever solution, there seems to be nothing I can do about it. So perhaps laughing will help. I've collected a series of tweets that popped into my head this past week and am posting them here for your reading entertainment. They were never actually tweeted, of course, since I no longer have time to sit down at my computer during the day. Hopefully I'll be able to look back at them later and smile.

In the meantime, I'm doing my best to enjoy the summer and the extra time I have to spend with my kids. Silence is a luxury that will have to wait until fall.

Worst words to hear first thing in the morning: "Mom, the toilet is overflowing again." #sonotfun

I finally discovered where all lost things go: under my ten-year-old's bed. #cleaning

Living with five kids is really quite simple. Just learn to tune out the screaming. #TheNewWhiteNoise

You know you have too many kids when you fill not one, but two, full-sized Costco shopping carts on a regular basis. #hungrykids

My pre-teen's verbal loop: "I'm bored. I'm hungry. Can we go home? I like pi." Repeated endlessly until sleep knocks him out.

My too-heavy purse is actually filled with rocks. Daughter collected them weeks ago and slipped them in for safe-keeping. #SurpriseDiscovery

Noise torture is a very real thing. #itstooloud

You know it's time for a break when going to the dentist feels like a vacation.

Speaking of the dentist, perhaps I should schedule myself an appointment. It is, after all, the busy-mom alternative to going to the spa. You get a cushy chair to kick back in, and you don't have to help anyone do anything for a whole hour. The experience is also enhanced when you close your eyes. Just try not to doze off.