zoom, zoom, zoom

Tonight is the the night before the last day of 1st grade for our trio.  I'm not sure how it's possible, since it seems like only a week ago, I was writing about it being the night before their first day of first grade. Nonetheless, after tomorrow - they'll be on their way to second grade.

And then it's just a blink - blink - blink ... BAM!

COLLEGE. 

All too soon, I know we'll be staring at their empty rooms and wondering where the time went.

Mah babies!

This week we bridged sprinted (across a real bridge!) from Daisies to Brownies ...



Notice, I spaced the petals wrong so oops, we now have a STEM!



Look at those big kids in their brown sashes!! 



AND, we bridged from Tigers to Wolves.





Charlie and I have really enjoyed leading the troops this year and watching these awesome little people grow up. These awesome little people who are able to stand still and look at a camera.  I never would have thought it possible!!



This week, we received an exorbitant amount of paperwork from a year worth of school work. We stealthily recycled 99% of that material ... except for a few gems (I have a puppy, I have a sister, I have 2 brudr, I love my feieu [OK, so I have no idea what that means and will require a translation] ... I LOVE ME.)



.... and hung up several new pictures in our Kiddo Galleria.



Unlike last summer, when I was too bone tired to sign the kids up for any events, this summer in between what I'm sure will be a lot of tree climbing, bridge building, fort making and book reading ...  they'll be on a swim team and dive team. They started their daily practice two weeks ago and let me tell you folks, swimming is a BIG DEAL around these parts.  Charlie has registered and is now trained as an official time keeper.  For the past few days, we've been very busy practicing cheers for our first swim meet this coming Saturday.

We'll be cheering at SWIM MEETS?

It feels like we're entering a whole new world.

speed records

Mom!

Want to see how fast I can go?

WATCH! I CAN GO SUPER FAST! 

Are you watching? 

(Whoa! I don't remember these things being so slippery!)

How was that?

WAS I SUPER FAST?

when i was a youngster...

As the kids were snacking on watermelon today, I was telling them that when I was a little girl, watermelon had big black seeds that we'd try to spit as far as we could.

That was about as unfathomable to them, as it was to me that my mother's family would purchase an ice block every week to keep food in the ice box cold.

Ice box ... because they didn't have a refrigerator.  

After I'd explained what little I know about genetic engineering and how over many years, watermelons that produced smaller and lighter seeds were produced over and over again, the kids interrupted me and asked, "So, have you ever seen a real live dinosaur?"

sister love

they're all that and a bag of chips

After we'd dropped the children off to school today, Charlie and I ventured out for an appointment.  We spent three full hours together, in the middle of a weekday. Alone.

At this stage in our lives, that is extremely rare.

My sister recently told me that one of her friends had said, "Once the children move off to college and the dog dies, that's when life really begins!" That comment struck me as so hilariously funny because our lives currently revolve around our children and puppy. But today, it was a beautifully perfect near-summer day as we walked beneath the canopy of old shady maple trees and held hands, savoring every one of those blissful 180 minutes together. 

As we were strolling along, Charlie asked me if I'd ever imagined what my life would have been like, if we'd never had children. I pondered his question for a moment, before responding...

I'd still be with my employer - but chances are, Charlie would be, too. Instead of striking it out on his own, I suspect he would have taken the job that they'd proposed to him a few years ago and we would have moved to Texas. I'd probably still be driving a convertible BMW although maybe a newer model, and Charlie would probably be driving the Porsche that he'd wanted for his 40th birthday. We would have traveled to several foreign countries and been certified in scuba.  Chances are, we'd both be in better shape and I would have replaced my eye shadow a lot sooner. Our home probably wouldn't be styled in all earth tones. Why, we might have a white sofa.

And all white dining room chairs. 

After less than two minutes of this discussion, our conversation quickly shifted to the gap we'd have in our lives if not for our children. The aching gap that we'd felt before our children arrived. Those many years ago, when we had fancy things and no one to think about - except ourselves.

It certainly was quieter, back then. 

On that plane of existence, we lived large, we had lots of "me" time and dinners at upscale restaurants several times a week. On this plane of existence, our resources have been truncated and/or largely directed towards our four children and the only "me" time is when we're in the bathroom (and even that's not a guarantee...). 

Tonight, Charlie made an amazing dinner. Shish-ka-bob chicken and vegetables that he'd grilled, after marinating for 24 hours. Portobello mushrooms sautéed with fresh herbs and garlic served over basmati rice with an endive salad. When we sat down to eat, the children burst in to tears. THIS WAS BEYOND TERRIBLE.  Where were the tacos or fish sticks? 

So we struck a deal: tomorrow night, the kids get to pick what we'll have for dinner.

Charlie and I looked at each other and smiled.

The hugs and joy that our little ones bring in to our lives more than offset the exhaustion we typically feel at the end of the day. On this plane of existence, we work and pray harder, think faster and love more deeply than we ever imagined possible. Our hearts are so full, it often feels like they'll burst. And when we look in to our children's vibrant eyes, we see a future far beyond our time on earth.



On this plane of existence, with our cluttered cars, chalk-colored home and hot dog dinners ... we know, without a doubt, that we are the richest and most privileged people alive.

now, in other fascinating news...

Shortly after Charlie and I were married in 1994, I went out shopping one day. Whilst on that shopping soiree, I stumbled across a make-up counter in the Mall. 

Now, I'd never been to a make-up counter before. Up until that point in my life, all of the make-up that I'd ever purchased came from Rite Aid. Or a grocery store. But on that one particular day, as a newly wed bride and graduate student with a hefty sum of financial aid in my pocket, I was feeling mature, radiant and foolishly extravagant.  So I stopped by the Chanel make-up counter and very quickly, a team of cosmetologists descended upon me and worked their magic. For the next two hours, I sat in a black pleather chair.  During that time, there was a transformation of cosmetological wonder upon my face, the likes of which had never been seen before. 

Nor since. 

When it was over, I was handed a small bag of make-up supplies including (but not limited to) foundation, blush, eye shadow, mascara, eye liner, lipstick, brushes, foam wedges, instructions on how to recreate this look at home (which I never quite mastered) and a price tag that could have paid for all of my post-grad text books. That feeling of "Me So Pretty!" is what prompted me to traipse from the make-up counter directly in to a salon where I had eight inches of hair lopped off. What remaining locks were on my head, were permed and frosted. When I returned home, my new husband gasped and said, "Wow. Um? Gee, honey.  So, do you like this look?"  

Turns out: I did not like that look and it took five years for the perm to fully grow out. But eighteen years later, I still have some of the make-up that I purchased on that fateful day. The day that made me afraid to step near a make-up counter, again because:  

1. It's ridiculously expensive. 

2. It makes me do crazy things like cut off all my hair and get a poodle perm. 

Now, I don't know if the fact that I still have eye shadow from 1994 indicates how infrequently (and lightly) I use it, or if Chanel makes such a great product it just lasts and lasts.  

Or perhaps this just reflects that I'm someone who doesn't exactly have make-up shopping at the top of their priority list.  Despite the fact that I still have more eye shadow remaining, that would probably last me another couple of years, what recently drove me to replace my stash is the feeling that my optometrist would be APPALLED if they knew I was using eye shadow that was almost two decades old.  

Last weekend, I bucked it up, strode in to the Mall with a 20% off coupon and replenished my make-up supply.  Without further adieu ... introducing: my new eye shadow: 

Also, my new blush in it's fancy velvet carrying case: 

 

I opted to spend more on the Chanel because it really is better quality. Consider my eye shadow (and the compact case) has lasted for EIGHTEEN YEARS.  Compare that to my Target blush that I recently purchased (ten months ago, which is like yesterday in my make-up world) that has been crushed to smithereens.  Of course, I'd still use this until every bit was gone, but I have a trip coming up and this wouldn't travel well in my suitcase... 

By all accounts, I should now be set on the make-up front until 2030. 

Day #4: banana watch

Out of the 21 bananas that we had in our inventory on Friday evening, seven of the bananas were bordering on past-the-point of ripeness. Those bananas were frozen and have since been used in the making of banana pancakes, banana muffins and fruit smoothies. As of this writing, the remaining 14 bananas, have been completely consumed.

There was sadness in the land tonight during dinner, when there were only three bananas remaining and four children who all decided they wanted a banana. It helped get me over my own bout of sadness that my "Banana, Banana, Bo Fana, Fee Fi Fo Fana Banana Rama Blog Fest" was ending two full days earlier than I'd predicted, when the kids split up their bananas to share with their sibling who wasn't fast enough to grab one.  I love to see the love that is in their hearts. The love which isn't always visible and is often hidden beneath name calling, tattling, teasing and other behaviors that are entirely age appropriate.

(So the books say.) 



And even though there was some bruising on the three remaining bananas, that didn't stop the kids from eating them. Why this little bruise ...



I'll just dig it out with my finger ...



Rub it over here on the edge of the table where it will most likely be cleaned up by someone OTHER than me...



And ... well, hello fiber, potassium and iron!



It's safe to say: we're bananas over bananas. And at only $5.11 a share, I'm thinking a purchase of some Chiquita stock might be a wise investment.

Day #3: banana watch

This past Christmas, the boys bought their sisters "American Girl" dolls as gifts.  Our children's "attention" to specific toys really seems to wax and wane, but five months later - the girls still play with their dolls almost every day. 

It recently happened that they were playing with someone who had three American Girl dolls. So one morning as we were talking, the subject turned to the three American Girl dolls situation and Elizabeth indicated that she wanted another American Girl doll. In fact there was nothing else in the world that she wanted as much as another American Girl doll. But when I asked Carolyn if she'd like another doll, too, she shook her head and said, "Oh no - no - no - NO!" 

"No thank you very much!" 

Not that I'd actually purchase our children another two dolls for Christmas, but her response confused me, so I asked why. And in a very matter-of-fact voice she said, "Mom, they are so much work. Do you know how much work it is to care of two dolls? How could I ever do that?!"

(Note to self: taking care of two dolls is exhausting.)

(????) 

Perhaps even more so, than taking care of four children who decided they didn't like the color "brick" and have been methodically coloring the bricks of our home in with pastel sidewalk chalk.

Day #2: banana watch

A huge storm blew through our area, yesterday. We lost power in the afternoon and although it wasn't yet dark, the children wasted no time pulling out candles and making plans for the dinner that they intended to cook over the fire ... just like they had done last year, when we were without power for a full day. This time, we were only without power for a few hours, but we read several books and ate several bananas...



By candlelight. 

Day #1: banana watch

A few weeks ago,  I tweeted the following:

Before children: I'd buy 12 bananas in two years. After children: I buy 12 bananas a week. Now I know why they call 'em "Little Monkeys."
— The Amazing Trips (@AmazingTrips) May 12, 2012

Charlie came home from the store tonight with two bunches of bananas.  We now have 21 bananas. In years past, we wouldn't have bought that many bananas in two years time.

I'm curious to see how long they last.



When you've got four little ones who will eat them for breakfast, dinner, snacks and lunches ... I've got my hunches that all three bunches ... will be gone by Wednesday.

what's in you wednesday

The wonderful LL Bean raincoats, that I purchased two years ago when we first moved to Virginia, and which still fit the children perfectly fine, have defective zippers. 

We learned this, when we were in New York City, at the Statue of Liberty during Spring Break and it felt like it was -20 degrees and all four of the children were crying from the biting wind because their zippers were separating. So I decided that because LL Bean, being the wonderful company that it is, is a company that stands behind all of it's products and offers a replacement if you're not 100% satisfied, I'd return the coats.  My first opportunity to do such, was this past weekend. Instead of mailing the coats in, I opted to drive up to an awesome LL Bean store in one of our local Malls.  Going in to the store, I had in my hand four defective bright yellow coats that were in the following sizes:

One-4

Two-6X-7

One-8

It was my INTENT to exchange the coats for the exact same sizes, because that seemed like the ethical thing to do.  However, once I arrived in the store, they didn't have the exact same sizes in yellow. And I like yellow. It's gender neutral so the coats can be handed down and there is no bickering about anything related to coats because everyone has the SAME one.  This brings me great satisfaction and somehow appeases my need for resourcefulness, order, and peace.  

Once in the store, a very helpful clerk assisted me in picking out replacement coats for the children.  I had to suppress my glee that I was handed a new size 5/6 for Henry (the four fit, but this is even better) a new size 6X-7 for Elizabeth (she can still fit in her size 3 bathing suit, so this should fit her until she's 12), a new size 8 for William (who is only slightly larger than Elizabeth, so this should fit him until he's 10) and a new size 10 for Carolyn (who has grown another three inches since September and will probably be taller than me by the time she's 9.)  We are now set in the rain coat department for the next few years, but I felt a pang of guilt walking out the door with these brand new slightly larger coats, essentially for free, so I bought the kids all matching yellow rain boots. And Charlie bought himself several pairs of shorts, shirts, socks. If I hadn't stopped him, he would have also bought us matching canoes. And the racks to hold those canoes that go on the car. 

(We often lack self control when we're in outdoor recreation stores.) 

(It's one of our weaknesses.) 

The purpose of that introduction was to share my excitement about our new raincoats, but also, to highlight the fact that we went to the Mall on Memorial Day weekend. The Mall, where there were big sales. And thus, began some shopping for items that we'd need over the summer. Namely, shorts, bathing suits, shoes and other such items for children who seem to be wearing through their clothes in record time.  

(Fact: I don't remember William having so many holes in the legs of his pants? So all of those pants that had been handed down from big brother to little brother were in relatively good shape. Alas, all of those pants now have gaping holes in the knees. Moreover, the waist bands are shot and the poor little chap has to run around with one hand on the back of his pants to keep them from falling to his ankles.) 

The day after I went shopping for the family, I returned to the Mall to pick up a few items for myself. Which was a very nice thing for me to do, considering I haven't done any clothes shopping for myself in over a year and why am I wearing corduroys to work in 90 degree weather? 

That I haven't been in to a changing room in over a year is probably a good thing, because I don't think my fragile condition could have handled the fluorescent lights and huge mirrors that add not only weight, but dimples that, hey wait a minute, let me put this piping hot Cinnabon down and take a closer look: WHERE DID THOSE COME FROM?  

(Full disclosure: It wasn't a Cinnabon. It was a piping hot gloriously delicious pretzel that I was sharing with Henry and I'd been contemplating buying a second pretzel, until that very moment.) 

That's how (and why), for the first time in my life, I picked out a nice bathing suit dress.  My only complaint is that it "only" comes down to the top of my thigh and I'd really like it if it extended all the way to the floor. 

So, I've been tossing this idea around for a while (my whole adult life, in fact) and it's becoming more and more clear to me that although I may think about it, I'm NOT one of those people who are good about exercising every day. (Week / month / quarter).  Even when I did exercise every day and relished the endorphins because of it, I somehow lack the commitment or dedication or motivation or whatever it is that keeps people engaged in their exercise routine day after day.  I've got a great amount of admiration for those that don't let anything get in their way of a work-out.  But for as long as I can remember, I allow other things to take priority, so my life gets consumed with stuff that isn't directly related to me taking care of myself. It really feels like there is no time, which is a pathetic excuse. 

There's always time. 

You just have to make it. 

After the sight of myself in the mega mirror on Saturday, I'm making a concerted effort to do just that. Last night, I came home from work and jumped on my little trampoline for 20 minutes while the kids practiced their reading. Today, I took the stairs from the 2nd floor to the 8th floor at work and tonight, I did 100 sit-ups and 50 push-ups.  It was over the span of two hours, but it's a start.  

With my sudden gusto to get in to better physical shape, I'm praying I don't do something totally crazy like sign myself up for a triathlon.  

(At least not yet.)

favorite thing friday: tee-ball

A few years ago, Charlie picked up a portable tee-ball kit during one of his outings.



The tee-ball stand telescopes in and out of the convenient five-gallon bucket that we have loaded up with plastic whiffle balls and bases.





We use this all the time. 

I usually keep it in the car, so we have it handy when we're out.



And when we're home, I'll drag it out to use during Cub Scout and Daisy meetings, when the kids are getting rowdy and need to blow off some steam.  We've also been playing it a lot in the early evening, just before dinner.



Usually, it's just me against the kids, which is an unfair advantage because with four of them, they always load up the bases and will score 10 runs before I'm able to get one of them out.  As a result, it will often happen that 20-minutes in to a game, when I'm dripping sweat and the kids are laughing like little hyenas, I'll move the bases from our front yard to across the street, effectively adding 75 feet of length to the distance they need to run and be "safe."

Then, I'll cackle as they all complain, "NO FAIR, MOM!"

And I'll say, "NO FAIR? I'll tell you what's no fair ... FOUR AGAINST ONE IN BASEBALL!"



Sometimes, Louie will come out and help me.  He's pretty fast and will hustle after the balls that the kids knock out of the yard.



He really is a wonderful little puppy. If you can get past his propensity to eat used prophylactics and feminine products. I started to write about that in my post last night, but then deleted it.  Oh, but if it was only so easy to delete the image from my mind.

Sorry folks. You're in it with me. What I experience, you experience.

Sometimes it's a gift, sometimes it's a curse.

Now ... BATTER UP!

WHATEVER you do ... don't let him lick your face

Back in November, a few days after we adopted Louie, I was excitedly telling my co-workers about our new puppy. He is so soft and so cute and so perfectly perfect ... why, we almost adopted his litter mate!!



As I'm gushing about the love for our new dog, one of my co-workers looked at me and with a deadpan expression said, "You got a puppy? YOU ARE AN IDIOT."

His words surprised me. Until he explained that he had adopted a soft and cute and perfectly perfect puppy a year and a half prior. And he told me that it was only within the past few weeks, that he had stopped fantasizing about leaving his dog on the side of some desolate country road.  His puppy pooped and peed and chewed and gnawed and scratched her first year through life and he honestly didn't think he, nor the wooden windowsills of his house, would be able to endure puppyhood.

(Luckily, they did.)

We estimate that Louie is around seven months old and he is doing better on the housebreaking front. He seems to have developed more control and won't spring a leak with no fair warning. Although he does deposit little prizes if you're not watching him closely.

(Little prizes that aren't really prizes, if you know what I mean.)

His favorite hobbies involve climbing in to an open dishwasher and licking all the plates, slyly jumping up and rooting for food off the counters, and whimpering at us whenever we sit down to eat. He also enjoys drinking water out of the toilet, pulling our arms out of their sockets when we take him for walks. And jumping all over ... whomever walks past ... whenever we're out for an evening stroll.

Charlie bought Cesar Milan's book and has read it cover-to-cover, twice.

I can't say that it's helped much.

The one challenge that we're struggling with, above all others, is that this puppy gets in to EVERY-THING. Which is tricky because we have four children who leave everything laying around. And even if it's not "laying around" if it's within twelve-inches of his standing-on-rear-legs-height, it's in the Louie Zone and will be quickly consumed. We have him safely cordoned off in the kitchen when we can't be watching him, but he has still managed to chew every handle on every single hair brush we own. Shoes, toys, belts ... chewed. Crayons are chewed and digested which means that clean ups are always colorful.

A few days ago, Charlie took the dog for a walk around the neighborhood and as they were making their way down our picturesque street, Louie gobbles something off the ground.

Now I'm guessing that we have some amorous teens living in our neighborhood. And I'm guessing that those amorous teens have discovered that our street which is very dark and very quiet, is a great place to park their car at night.  And so it is that our puppy found an artifact that I believe had been used and tossed out the car window. An artifact that he chomped up and started to swallow and which my husband had to dig out of his throat. I was playing kickball in the front yard and could actually hear the yelling from several houses away, once Charlie realized what it was and worse yet - he had to TOUCH it in order to keep our dog from choking.

Oh, my oh, my oh, my.  I'm sure one day he'll grow in to an amazing dog.

Today, he's just amazingly gross.

may flowers

... and then three days after my niece Emily was born, Charlie's brother called first thing in the morning to tell us that his sweet daughter, Angela, had arrived. I believe that her birth was like a well orchestrated gift from heaven. When she was born, we were all mourning the passing of Charlie's mom, less than a month prior.  But to see this baby with her head full of black hair and huge brown eyes, she was a distinct reminder that although life is full of sadness - it is also full of great goodness.  This sweet baby brought all of us the joy, that our hearts so desperately needed.

Angela is currently finishing up her sophomore year at a top California University, where she is attending on a full-academic scholarship.

So she is beautiful AND smart.  Just like another smart and beautiful woman, with whom Angela shares her birthday. The woman to the left, holding two of our three babies? 

That's my Aunt Grace. Today is her birthday, too. And if you ask her (or even if you don't), she'll convincingly try to tell you that she is my mother's younger sister. Even though she once tried to run me over with her Cadillac and has never once shared her Godiva ... she's always been a second mother to me and I'm so lucky to have her in my life.

Happy birthday you, two.

We love you loads.

my oh my, time sure flies...

It was almost one year ago that I posted about my niece, Emily Rose.



Since that time, several people have written to ask how she is doing.  The fact is, she is doing much better. She definitely had her struggles last summer following her near fatal bicycle accident and severe head trauma, followed by critically low potassium levels and a pulmonary embolism.

But, in the early fall, she returned to her California University as a sophomore and resumed her spot on the women's golf team.  Today, she turns 20-years old. As her former nanny, I cannot believe how fast the time has gone. It seems like just last month, I received that early morning call from my big sister who told me that her first baby was here and she was in love. Twenty years later, we are so very glad that she is still here with us.

Happy Birthday Sweet Emily!

Your future is so bright. 

not the superhero ... although he does exist

These days our children are (predominantly), such a joy to be around. They are becoming more independent and conversations with them are engaging and fun.



Tonight, during our evening walk, we were talking about the difference between insects and bugs.

We never did figure it out, although I do know that a bug is always an insect, but an insect isn't always a bug. And I think it has something to do with their wing shape but until such time that I go look it up, that's all I know.  Nonetheless, William was telling me that he thinks that insects have more legs than bugs. He thought that a centipede was a perfect example of an insect.  Which I actually knew was incorrect because a centipede is an arthropod. I'm amazed at my ability to recall that one nugget of information from 10th grade biology, but there it is.

So William tells me that he wishes he was a centipede. Because it would be so much fun to have all of those legs and just think of how fast he would run, he'd surely be the fastest kid on the soccer field!

But then I said, "I think I'd go nuts with that many legs. I can't imagine tying so many pairs of shoes everyday and just think of all the pairs that we'd lose!  Most days we can barely find the pair that we need!"  Well, my son thought that was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard and was still laughing about an hour later when he was brushing his teeth for bed.

When I was tucking him in, he told me, "Mom, tomorrow I'm going to go find a centipede in our yard. I'm going to take my banana man and go down by the creek and see if I can find one under the rocks."

I replied, "That sounds great, Will!" But then I said, "Wait ... what did you say? Did you say banana man?"  He looked at me and said very matter-of-factly, "Yes, a banana man. You know ... those things that come in all different colors that you tie around your head when you work in the yard? Cowboys sometimes wear them around their necks?" Then he articulated, "A BANANA MAN."

"Do you mean bandana?" I asked, laughing.

He gave me an exasperated sigh and added, "That's what I just said ... a BANANA MAN."

There are certain words and phrases I'm not correcting the children about (yet), because I love (love, love, love) to hear the adorable mispronunciations. For example, Henry calls his brother, "Willyow" and his sister, "Littlebet." And William, it would appear calls bandanas "banana man." 

Which should definitely NOT be confused with Bananaman. 

Just so you know. 

grandmother, grandchild ... grand moments

There's currently a virus making it's way through our house. It felled Henry first, and then Charlie. This past Thursday, Elizabeth was fussy and complaining of a headache and by Friday morning, with a high temperature and overall weak feeling, she was declared the third victim.  Today, I thought she was on the mend, but when I had to turn around and take her home from a Girl Scouting event 20 minutes after we arrived - I realized that unfortunately, this bug isn't quite through with her yet.

This evening, once she'd had a shower and was in her pajamas, laying in bed with clean cool sheets, I asked if she'd like for me to rub some Vick's on her chest.  This is one of her favorite remedies. Along with Jell-O. And Tylenol. And ice chips. And bunny.  (Bunny always makes things better.) 

Sitting on the edge of her bed, I unscrewed the top, but before I could scoop out the balm, she held up her hand and asked if we could please call her Noni because she had a very important question. "Sure, we can call Noni ... but what for?" I asked.  We'd just spoken with my mother 30 minutes earlier and I wasn't sure what development had transpired in that span of time which would require my daughter to talk with her grandmother, again. Elizabeth replied, "You'll see..."

So I dialed the number and handed her the phone. When my mother answered, Elizabeth said, "Hi Noni, this is Elizabeth. I'm not feeling well and I think it would make me feel a little bit better if you sang me the rub-a-dub-dub song. Could you please sing it to me?"

I could hear my mother exclaim, "Oh sweetheart, of course I can sing it to you!" and then listened to the familiar, albeit slightly muffled voice, sing to my little girl, from several states away. With one hand on the phone, Elizabeth used her other hand to pull up her pajama top and point for me to rub in the Vick's. She then contentedly smiled around the thumb that was in her mouth as her eyes closed. By the time my mother had finished the song a second time, she was nearly asleep.

The voice which has soothed me for the past 41 years...

.... is now soothing my daughter.

And it's yet another memory, I want to bottle up and keep forever.

conversations with seven-year-olds

Charlie and I are having a difficult time deciphering fact from fiction with our children, these days.



Sometimes, I think that they themselves are having a difficult time trying to figure out what they might have dreamed and what is reality. Take for example, earlier this week, a truck was backing down the road in our neighborhood and struck a tree.  Several branches fell off the tree and took out the above ground power lines, which effectively took out the power to our neighborhood.

That's a true story. 

But when the children were relaying this to me, they went in to great detail about the driver who flew out of the cab and landed on HIS HEAD when the TRUCK EXPLODED. They had such passion, such conviction in their voices. The ambulance and fire trucks came in to the neighborhood with the lights flashing and sirens blaring.  I was stunned. Wow. Really?

The kids all looked at each other and nodded.

Yes. Absolutely. 

I went to find my husband and asked if he knew any more about this and when I told him what the children had told me, he chuckled. Yes, it's true the lines came down and there were firetrucks racing in to the neighborhood. But the man, who caused the accident and whom Charlie actually spoke to, was perfectly fine.  In fact, he was feeling smart and very lucky to be alive, seeing as the energized lines fell on his truck. Thankfully, he knew to stay inside and use his cell phone to call for help.

I'd like to interject here that if you ever find yourselves in a situation where there are downed power lines, stay BACK. And if those lines fall on your car, stay in your vehicle until help arrives. The car is grounded, so you - being in the car, are grounded too.  But if you were to get out and touch the frame of the car, which is energized, you would complete the circuit and be toast. Literally.  I'd also like to interject here that this situation was a very good reminder for me, because even though I know better, my first instinct would undoubtedly be to jump out of the car and run away as fast as I could.   Which is exactly what I'd do. And I'd be toast. Literally.

Today, the children were telling me that one of their classmate's fathers is in the hospital. Apparently, he had to have surgery and he is in very bad shape. Tomorrow, the whole class will be making him THANK YOU cards. Which I think they meant to say, "get well cards." Nonetheless, I'm sure that there is some truth in this story, since it was corroborated across all three.  But when I asked what had happened to the father that required the surgery, they immediately launched in to something about his ear.  Carolyn said that there was a bird involved. And William added that he was laying on the ground and a bird flew overhead and dropped a worm with rocks on it. RIGHT IN TO HIS EAR. So now, he's in the hospital and he'll be receiving get well wishes from first graders that might include illustrations of birds and worms. And his ear. And he might be confused?

I sure am.

Tomorrow, I'll call the teacher and get the scoop.  I'm guessing it's maybe kidney stones?

Tonight, I overheard one of the children telling our neighbor that they once had a band-aid on their leg for two years. When I interrupted their conversation and asked, "Really? Are you sure about that?" They eagerly nodded. "Yes! I once had on a band-aid on for two years. I mean, TWO MONTHS."

Our children are still mastering the concept of time, so I thought I'd just help them out a little. So I gave them a loving smile and said, "I'm not so sure about that, honey. That's a really long time to wear a band-aid. I think I would have remembered if you'd worn one for two months..."  That's when my sweet child looked up at me and with a not so sweet expression very knowingly said, "Well, that's because it happened before you were born, MOM."

Oh. Right!

Of course I wouldn't remember that.

sugar and spice vs. worms and snails

A few weeks ago, the children came home from school with an assignment that they had completed. Their teacher had read them a book about an "enchanted tree" and they were responsible for drawing a picture to illustrate the story.  

This is our daughter's picture:

She's used a lot of bright, pretty colors. There is either fruit or perhaps some kind of purple flower growing in the tree. She has drawn a little house, with well lit windows and a ladder leading to the door. And from the sturdy branch, she has suspended a swing with a smiling little girl, happily perched. 

This is our son's picture: 

It is sketched in pencil and is devoid of all color, except graphite gray. There is a bat flying around the sky with what appears to be a dinosaur coming in for the kill from the right side of the page. An alien has fallen from the branches and looks to be dead.  His Herry Pottr tree (probably much like a Whomping Willow) is perched on an island, surrounded by water (aka: wottr) and although it's not visible, there is also a BIG beast that lives in the waters. 

Last week, the children had a Book Fair at their school. All the children purchased posters which they brought home and promptly hung up in their rooms. 

This is the poster that our daughter brought home. 

And this is the poster that our son brought home. 

I think Thor's going after the guy who took his Twinkie... 

If you haven't read this book before, please go check it out. It is one of our children's favorites and this is what it's like at our house, every day. 

Girly girls and boyish boys. 

For anyone who might be opposed to allowing their children to dress up in whatever it is that they want to wear for fear they are tampering with their "orientation", I believe it is now safe to say with 100% certainty ....  

Gender confusion is a myth.