Seriously? I'm THIS far behind?

OK. Halloween 2011. An out of control extravaganza, as always. A spectacle. A spooktacular. You get the drill.

Poor Belly-Boo. We're so chronically overscheduled in the fall that on October 30th, Evie was just getting around to celebrating her 12th birthday, which fell way back in July...she invited Desi, Ashley and Emily to head out with the crew to Fright Fest at Elitch Gardens, LoDo, Denver. It's always a good time, but there are freak-out cast members who walk around with chainsaws and bloody knives - and the longer you stay, the more in-your-face they become.

As mentioned previously, Shane's birthday falls on the 30th; on the evening in question, Matt did not cause the carving knife to come in contact with the birthday boy's skull. No need to call social services.

The girls experimented with chenille stems, and the boys went for the straight carve.

Gracie, gettin' her spook on. She's so sassy.

Grace as Ariel. Fetching as always. The boys, however, have outgown the costume stage of life, and I HATE it. My compensation is their desire to be decked in Broncos' jerseys, not just on Halloween, but nearly every freaking day of the NFL season. As far as compensation for lost childhood goes, it's a fairly even deal: our Tebow-led squad was quite the story, quite the bandwagon, quite the rallying and unifying force in the Rocky Mountain region, for four blessed months, anyway. I'm sure I'll blog about it.

And once again, October left us breathless and staggering over the finish line into November...we have yet to recover.

The Scouting Report

Crawling back into the ring, you know how it is when you're down for the count...

So, when was it, early November? Gracie Lou, who, along with her troop, blazed through the requirements so thoroughly and so rapidly, was able to bridge to Brownies after only one Daisy year. And mere hours after we finally got all her bling applied to her Daisy tunic...

she became a Brownie, complete with new sash to decorate. Add that to the list.

I predict corrective dentistry in the years ahead. This, by the way, was the time period in which I volunteered to the troop cookie mom...this was when it seemed possible that I wouldn't bankrupt the troop and still be able to perform basic tasks, such as shopping, cleaning, laundering, etc. It was a simpler, gentler time, last fall was...sigh...

Not long thereafter, Shane advanced to the Bear den...all new opportunities to run around the church building and avoid the well-meaning and thoughtfully planned activities set in motion by a new set of god-fearing adult leaders. Yay!

Glory, glory, alleluia...those cubs keep marching on.

In the interest of time, we'll fast-forward to late January and the Pinewood Derby Cup Series...I dig our pit cards. Dad was out of town for the race, but engineered the crud out of cars for his boys and youngest daughter to enter into the Crawford family's annual bid for last place. Didn't disappoint, either. Our status is secure.

Ty, as an 11-year-old scout, was exempt from all rules and regulations, and put out this opponent-halting beast, only to find that the lane lines were prohibitively high for his...what should one call them? Unsportsmanlike barriers? Well, he had to remove them. Much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But a last-place finish nonetheless, so, no harm, no foul.

Shaner's masterpiece.

Ty's first Court of Honor - he got some kind of award. Do people really expect me to keep track? Something to pin on me and someting to apply to some part of his uniform. And on and on it goes...

Occupy Washington

This was the year: Fall Break found us taking advantage of the hopitality of family and the taxpayer dollars of Americans everywhere...staying in Virginia with Matt's brother and his fabulous family, haunting the greater D.C. area freeways, Metro stations and public landmarks. You might recognize this little joint: while we were wildly appreciative of Senator Mike Coffman's efforts to arrange a tour, the 7 a.m. start time was a bit of a kick in the teeth: we left our digs at 5 a.m. (that's 3 a.m. Colorado time, folks)...

Monticello, home of my hero and yours, Jefferson. Charlottesville has seen warmer days, I imagine, but I'm good with it: Virginia in the summer would kill me. The more I learn about good ol' T.J. the more my admiration grows: what an amazing set of personalities set in a certain sphere at a certain time to make the impossible come true: government by the people, for the people. The grand experiment. If any of these men, and women, I suppose, were once ounce less than what they were, we'd still be the biggest colony in England, drinking our overpriced tea.

Though time didn't allow the tour of Ford's Theater I would have preferred, we saw those monuments in all their glory (MLK's was thronged with people as it was newly dedicated), the Mall, the Smithsonians, Udvar/Hazy, Union Station, the White House, the Capital, Colonial Williamsburg, Wolf Creek Lodge, Monticello, the University of Virginia, Mount Vernon, Manassas, Gettysburg. So much to see, so little time, but we made a fair dent, I'd say. The hope is that we made an impression on the noggins of the kids in tow, gave the something to think about and be grateful for.

Who drains a Reflecting Pool? I mean, kill the entire moment, people.

Not the best shot of Jefferson's Memorial, but I wanted to capture the cool reflection. Vivid memory of this building: a group of teens miming a piece about God and the writing of the Constitution. It was...um...

But what a great trip. Proud to be an American and all that. Even the OWS protestors were a great springboard to discussions highlighting what makes this place the shining light on a hill: we're the best thing going on the planet right now. What a privilege to live here and be able to take it all for granted. God bless America.

Shane Roman

A caveat: this will be picture heavy. It's Shane. I don't have a more photo-worthy child. Or, at the very least, I don't have a more visually entertaining child. He's now 9, which boggles the mind, how quickly he seems to romp through his days...

Sunday birthdays are the absolute worst, but this little man soldiered through without a scratch. Here he kneels before his homemade personalized sports quilt courtesy of Grandma Norma: check the square boasting his mad swimming skills.

Just a pricelss pic - you never have to guess with this fella. Does he like his new catcher's gear received as a present earlier that evening? Ya think?

His only gift request. So perfect for him - he's a good hitter, he can chase down your grounder, but what he really wants to do is stop you from scroring, because to allow you to do so would render his own accomplishment as worthless. I know, I know, we're working on it. But, really, I've learned with him: it's much more about how you do than how he does. Let's embrace it, shall we? If you're too busy judging him, you don't have time to love him.

So back to that Sabbath birthday...we have that horrible 8-11 a.m. block for church. Which we hate directly before it occurs and while it's slogging on, but once we're home at 11:30? Suh-weet! All day to ourselves. And when your birthday falls on Halloween Eve, hey now, festivities abound: carving pumpkins, eating garishly decorated cupcakes, roasting seeds, watching Linus and the Great Pumpkin as well as 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow'...which he loved because of the core violence and creep factor, but one which I really should have checked more thoroughly beforehand.

Great Pumpkin Meet in Longmont, birthday eve. Which he swam with Eve. But once he was dry, the whole lot of us headed downtown to Elitch's for what is turning into the annual Crawford family boys' birthday party - this year Grace could ride most of the 'big kid' rides with Dad and the fellas. I took one early turn on the teacups and was out for the duration. No rejoicing.

Without this kid, it would just have been another routine drive up to Aspen for a swim meet and just your average death-defying trip through blinding snow and ice up Vail Pass in a vehicle without an operating defroster. See the joy he brings to all occasions?

If his career playing Halo in our basement doesn't pan out, he's all set to be a cartographer. Here he navigates the corn maze during his field trip...

dares to pretend he is cowed by his buddies' fervor at his party...

and pulling the poker face at the Pack Meeting wherein he scored all this bling through Scout Camp and proudly advancing to the Wolf den. Ah, Shane, seriously? All of your siblings are fantastic, and I adore them. They make me cry and laugh, I love them with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. But without you...? Can't even consider it.

Ty Clark

Our suspicions were confirmed when we received neither owl nor letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (though, technically, we could receive one prior to the next school year, yes?), but it was still the happiest of birthdays for our 11-year-old Ty.

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The sheer dumb luck of having a Wednesday birthday in the Crawford household makes it necessary to receive gifts on a Tuesday...the inconvenience was more than offset by yet another Wii time-waster...

and this amazing bat. I'm still mesmerized by the fact that a whittled down and polished piece of wood can inspire this level of reaction, but, there you are. Birthday dinner was served at Gunther Toody's, a fabulous '50-s themed diner just up 'in town'.

Wednesday is anathema in this family - if you need to be there, it's scheduled on a Wednesday evening. Between the hours of 6 and 8. So, Wednesday, October 12, we had a birthday, as well as pack meeting wherein our boy was awarded his Arrow of Light and crossed over to Boy Scouts, and, not a group of people prone to lounging about haplessley, said boy was promptly afterward trundled over to the not-even-remotely-close ballfield where his fall ball team geared up for their first playoff game.

But that's all we had on the agenda. Before Ty went on to hit a ground triple allowing the go-ahead runs in the game and accordingly awarded the Offensive Player of the game, his magnificent 11-yr-old scout leader, Monte Pierce, walked us through the drill of what to expect as Ty continues through Scouting...

Ty knew all the right answers and gestures for the whole shebang, which, if you know Ty at all, is crucial - he's not one to wing it.

Proud and happy days. Payoff days, if you will, for the seemingly endless shutting between practices and camps and meetings. Eleven years of plain good fun with a darling boy for whom we will be forever grateful, who has taught us so much, required so much and given so much.