Flashback #2
"The tree."
Standing at the front door I felt prepared. I had an apple, my bag and a plan. I can't remember the reasoning behind the plan now but it certainly was the driving force of my adventure that day. Barefoot, I stepped out to the path, the bricks still damp with the morning dew. As a last minute precaution I veered over to what should have the front lawn but had been turned into one of two giant strawberry patches in front of our house. On a whim, the previous year, my parents must of thought we needed a little more strawberry in our lives so they tore out all the perfectly good grass and planted strawberries instead. We all thought this was pure brilliance and their efforts had turned a pretty amazing abundance of fruit. It only took me a moment to fill my pockets with giant ripe strawberries and move gingerly back to the sidewalk. Two minutes later I found myself at our tree. Co-owner of the tree and usual co-conspirator, Jen, wasn't there this particular morning. She wouldn't have approved as my motives were less than noble.
Our tree was a fair sized evergreen...some kind of fir, maybe. It's spiraling branches stretched out giving us enough room to squeeze up and around until we had a pretty clear outlook of the rest of the neighborhood. This morning was especially crisp and clear and I settle down quickly on my sappy throne. The key element of my plan was patience. That and my little bag. I dug out my strawberries which by now were only slightly mushed from my stealthy accent. With one eye on the house across the street I quickly polished them off. One by one the stems floated down like spinning tops. Time was passing and my keister was quickly getting numb from my precarious perch. Undeterred I started in on my apple, trying hard to eat as slowly as a 9 yr. old can. Only after spitting out the seeds did I start to fear that my wait was for nothing.
But then the door opened. A boy, my age but definitely not my friend, slowly walked out of his house onto his manicured front lawn. Apparently his parents didn't know about the advantages of a fruit yard. In one swift motion I whipped open my bag, pulled out a straw and threw a dried pea into one end while bringing the other end to my mouth. With a mighty breath I pulled back my head and then blew as hard as I could. It wasn't a direct hit but it got his attention. While reloading I shouted a threatening stream of adolescent vulgarity of the Scribner variety. It may have come out something like this; "Get back into your STUPID house you MORON!" That was pretty daring for me, but these serious times. I was a girl with a plan and that plan was harassing that boy back into his house. This was no time for pansies. His eyes found me quickly as this wasn't our first encounter. Before he could answer I had a better aimed pea flying in his direction. And then another. And another. Now, this next part I may have slightly altered in the vaults of my memory but as I see it he ran back into the house crying like the yellow-bellied coward I told him he was. It's all a little foggy. And somewhere there is a vague, nagging, memory of him yelling probably more explicit curses my way, fortified with a few small rocks...but I'm doing my best to repress even the idea of anything less than a total and complete triumph on my part.
Minutes later, as I recall, the boy was shaking from fear behind his front door and I was walking with a new spring in my step, whistling a victorious tune while swinging a half-used back of dried peas back and forth.
Now the irony. We moved to Scotland when I was 10. We moved back to the same house on Bridgewood when I was 13. That put me into the unrelenting clutches of Junior High. While settling down into one of my first classes I tried to master the 'whatever...I'm like, totally bored' look as the class introduced themselves. My cool facade was broken when the boy next to me stood up and introduced himself as Jamie. There was something familiar about that face but it wasn't until he looked at me with, with what I'd have to say was a bit of a snooty sneer, that it dawned on me that I was looking at my arch enemy. Puberty had only hit one of us during our time apart. The once scrawny neighbor boy was now a lanky 6 foot tall, pimple faced pre-teen. Possibly the scariest thing on earth. I may have added an inch to my stature, although that is debatable. My once wild unkempt hair was now shorter unkempt hair. Maybe he wouldn't remember? Maybe he'll mistake me for some other girl on the street. A nice one.
With all the courage I could strap on I managed a second side glance in his directions. Our eyes met. And yeah. He remembered me. I sank as low into my chair as possible and I could feel him smirking as he sat back down. Check mate.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
And now, a picture blog. Sara, knowing my power-hungry son all to well, bought Ethan this cardboard throne. Isn't it the bomb?! Snap! (love my inability to use lingo?) Ethan informed me and the rest of the neighborhood with his booming voice, that he is King Triton. Laina is the little mermaid. And Austin is Sebastian, the crab. They all seem content with their lots in life, so I let them be. You can't see, but Ethan made a trident out of tinker toys...the most versatile toy on the planet. (you can see part of it on the top right of the throne.)
Here is my sweet Laina. She was watching me ice my chipmunk cheek after the tooth extraction and when I put my ice down, she quietly picked it up and put it to her cheek. Empathetic or stealing my thunder? You choose.
After going mad with the constant complaints about dinner, I took matters into my own, crafty hands. We have now followed this new plan for over a month so I hope I'm not jinxing myself by posting it. I made magnets of fruits, meats, veggies, dairy, grains and a dessert marker. I used that modge podge, gouey, gluey stuff and painted over the top. Every Saturday everyone gets to pick one veggie, meat, fruit and dessert marker and put them on a day of the week. I fill in the rest. Then I shop for the items I need and we use those ingredients for dinner. Dessert can be anything from cookies to fruit (today it was grapefruit.) They don't get to choose what it is, just that we get something sweet. We've followed it pretty well and it has really cut down on the whining. It also has eliminated the 'what's for dinner' nagging. And my schedule-loving-boy is in heaven.
the mini board hides behind the big one and holds the extras we don't use. The big board goes over the fire-place. During dinner we quiz the kids on what belongs to what category.
And lastly, here is a picture Alaina drew on the white board. Doesn't it look like an old lady? I'm not sure if that is what she was trying for or if she was drawing me. Hmm. Let's go for old lady.
Here is my sweet Laina. She was watching me ice my chipmunk cheek after the tooth extraction and when I put my ice down, she quietly picked it up and put it to her cheek. Empathetic or stealing my thunder? You choose.
After going mad with the constant complaints about dinner, I took matters into my own, crafty hands. We have now followed this new plan for over a month so I hope I'm not jinxing myself by posting it. I made magnets of fruits, meats, veggies, dairy, grains and a dessert marker. I used that modge podge, gouey, gluey stuff and painted over the top. Every Saturday everyone gets to pick one veggie, meat, fruit and dessert marker and put them on a day of the week. I fill in the rest. Then I shop for the items I need and we use those ingredients for dinner. Dessert can be anything from cookies to fruit (today it was grapefruit.) They don't get to choose what it is, just that we get something sweet. We've followed it pretty well and it has really cut down on the whining. It also has eliminated the 'what's for dinner' nagging. And my schedule-loving-boy is in heaven.
the mini board hides behind the big one and holds the extras we don't use. The big board goes over the fire-place. During dinner we quiz the kids on what belongs to what category.
And lastly, here is a picture Alaina drew on the white board. Doesn't it look like an old lady? I'm not sure if that is what she was trying for or if she was drawing me. Hmm. Let's go for old lady.
Friday, February 20, 2009
This is your brain. This is drugs. This is your brain on drugs....get the picture. Remember those commercials? Obviously that could apply to my last post. I was going to delete it or rework it but then I decided to leave it as a visual remember to myself to say no to drugs. Well, at least while blogging.
Flashback Post #1
Jenny.
I spent my first 9 years living on Bridgewood Drive in the town of Santa Rosa, CA. The rainy winter months kept us inside but as soon as Spring started warming the air we were out on the street. By summer my brothers and I would be on the road playing tag, sardines, kick the can and any other game we could think of with the neighborhood kids. The clatter of bikes, wagons and bare feet was only interrupted with the echoing call of "CAR!" as kids scattered to the sidewalk, joining in the chorus as they ran. Then, as soon as the car passed, the barrelling wave of children scrambled back to the street to resume their games. As the rambunctious games rolled up and down the street, I was never too far from my best friend, Jenny. She is the center of any childhood memory I can dredge up
Jenny and I would play from morning until mom would ring her brass farm bell and cry out, "Everybody come for diiiinnnnneerrr!" As my brother scurried home (my sister, being a teenager never scurried if she was outside at all) Jen and I would walk each other home. We lived 5 houses apart and usually walked to our halfway mark, the yellow dead end sign where we would swing around and fret about how long it would be until we got to play again.
The thing about Jenny is that she was the exact opposite of me. She played the violin and piano. She excelled in gymnastics. Her waist long blond hair flowed behind her as she ran uninhibited through her life. She was fair, outgoing and a year older than me. I was small, dark and although I insisted on growing my wiry brown hair, the best I ever got was a knotty brown explosion that only got larger instead of longer. With coke bottle glasses that never stayed on my tiny nose and a serious speech impediment we were an odd pair. I never knew what she saw in me but I loved her fiercely.
On Sundays Jenny would run over in her rainbow tube-top and cotton short shorts and wait patiently while I threw off my lacy blue Sunday dress and shiny leather shoes and jumped into my own runaround clothes. Then off we'd go. Climbing trees, jumping on the tramp, sneaking down into the creek and always on some secret adventure. We were Indians, spies, punk rockers, government agents, astronauts and explorers. We'd use magic powers, invisibility spells, hexes and fairy dust. And every evening we walk to our pole, worn out, keeping our eyes to the ground to avoid the snails and slugs that would ooze through our toes if we weren't careful enough. Only planning our next day's adventures kept our spirits up as we sprinted off to our separate homes.
Flashback Post #1
Jenny.
I spent my first 9 years living on Bridgewood Drive in the town of Santa Rosa, CA. The rainy winter months kept us inside but as soon as Spring started warming the air we were out on the street. By summer my brothers and I would be on the road playing tag, sardines, kick the can and any other game we could think of with the neighborhood kids. The clatter of bikes, wagons and bare feet was only interrupted with the echoing call of "CAR!" as kids scattered to the sidewalk, joining in the chorus as they ran. Then, as soon as the car passed, the barrelling wave of children scrambled back to the street to resume their games. As the rambunctious games rolled up and down the street, I was never too far from my best friend, Jenny. She is the center of any childhood memory I can dredge up
Jenny and I would play from morning until mom would ring her brass farm bell and cry out, "Everybody come for diiiinnnnneerrr!" As my brother scurried home (my sister, being a teenager never scurried if she was outside at all) Jen and I would walk each other home. We lived 5 houses apart and usually walked to our halfway mark, the yellow dead end sign where we would swing around and fret about how long it would be until we got to play again.
The thing about Jenny is that she was the exact opposite of me. She played the violin and piano. She excelled in gymnastics. Her waist long blond hair flowed behind her as she ran uninhibited through her life. She was fair, outgoing and a year older than me. I was small, dark and although I insisted on growing my wiry brown hair, the best I ever got was a knotty brown explosion that only got larger instead of longer. With coke bottle glasses that never stayed on my tiny nose and a serious speech impediment we were an odd pair. I never knew what she saw in me but I loved her fiercely.
On Sundays Jenny would run over in her rainbow tube-top and cotton short shorts and wait patiently while I threw off my lacy blue Sunday dress and shiny leather shoes and jumped into my own runaround clothes. Then off we'd go. Climbing trees, jumping on the tramp, sneaking down into the creek and always on some secret adventure. We were Indians, spies, punk rockers, government agents, astronauts and explorers. We'd use magic powers, invisibility spells, hexes and fairy dust. And every evening we walk to our pole, worn out, keeping our eyes to the ground to avoid the snails and slugs that would ooze through our toes if we weren't careful enough. Only planning our next day's adventures kept our spirits up as we sprinted off to our separate homes.
3:34 p.m. It has now officially crossed the line between late and early. I have been staring at the ceiling for the last hour, bright eye-ed and mind going crazy with random thought. It may be the dull ache from the vicious tooth extraction I endured yesterday or maybe it's just the serious pain killers that I've been pumping through my body every 4 hours but sleep, apparently, is not on the agenda.
I've been thinking a lot about the book I just finished, Glass Castle & Jeannette Walls. Mom Jones sent it to me with a about 8 other books, each one with attached to a yellow sticky note with the appropriate rating. And yes, Mom, you are right. This was a 'good' one. Very good. And sad. And such a show of resilience without bitterness.
It made me think about my childhood, which was, by the way, a complete opposite tale then the one told in the book. But her very vivid retelling of her life made me look back at mine and I couldn't seem to stop. I was just going to continue lying there, keeping these memories to myself but I always was thinking about my friend Cynthia's blog. She has different days where she writes different types of blogs, one being way-back Wednesday. Here she has posted pictures from the past, anywhere from last year back to her teenage years. Now, I don't have the stick-to-it-tivness to write on a given day but I decided (about 16 min. ago) that every so often I would write a blog from the past. Mostly because, let's face it, I'm not getting any younger and already it takes all my concentration to remember what I have to do for the week. So, it is time.
I can't seem to think of a snazzy title like Cynthia and since the drugs are starting to set in, I think I better just settle on the first thing that came to my head...backflash. Now, when I muse about my past, I tend to get wordy and babble. This translates to lengthy blogs without pictures. So, if you come upon a "BackFlash" blog and you don't have really good amount of spare time to blow on someone else's good-ol'-days then I give you a free pass to wait for the next entry. That said, I'm betting on my Moms to be my sole audience which is fine with me since most my childhood through adulthood is full of rather embarrassing moments.
So after that 'lengthy and wordy' intro, I was about to dive into my first flashback but the drugs just seriously kicked it. All the words are now dancing in front of me and I'm worried that my entry might end up being a scary blend of run-ons and random thoughts, so I'm going to wait until tomorrow to write it. Which really isn't too far away so even though you are waiting on the edge of your seat, you won't have long to wait...
Wow. Ok. I just realized I've been writing backflash instead of flashback. That is funny. Proably more funny to me right now than to you. I could go back and replace them all, but the room is starting to spin and I feel like I'm seasick....which is also a little funny to me. Gotta love painkillers. Bedtime.
I've been thinking a lot about the book I just finished, Glass Castle & Jeannette Walls. Mom Jones sent it to me with a about 8 other books, each one with attached to a yellow sticky note with the appropriate rating. And yes, Mom, you are right. This was a 'good' one. Very good. And sad. And such a show of resilience without bitterness.
It made me think about my childhood, which was, by the way, a complete opposite tale then the one told in the book. But her very vivid retelling of her life made me look back at mine and I couldn't seem to stop. I was just going to continue lying there, keeping these memories to myself but I always was thinking about my friend Cynthia's blog. She has different days where she writes different types of blogs, one being way-back Wednesday. Here she has posted pictures from the past, anywhere from last year back to her teenage years. Now, I don't have the stick-to-it-tivness to write on a given day but I decided (about 16 min. ago) that every so often I would write a blog from the past. Mostly because, let's face it, I'm not getting any younger and already it takes all my concentration to remember what I have to do for the week. So, it is time.
I can't seem to think of a snazzy title like Cynthia and since the drugs are starting to set in, I think I better just settle on the first thing that came to my head...backflash. Now, when I muse about my past, I tend to get wordy and babble. This translates to lengthy blogs without pictures. So, if you come upon a "BackFlash" blog and you don't have really good amount of spare time to blow on someone else's good-ol'-days then I give you a free pass to wait for the next entry. That said, I'm betting on my Moms to be my sole audience which is fine with me since most my childhood through adulthood is full of rather embarrassing moments.
So after that 'lengthy and wordy' intro, I was about to dive into my first flashback but the drugs just seriously kicked it. All the words are now dancing in front of me and I'm worried that my entry might end up being a scary blend of run-ons and random thoughts, so I'm going to wait until tomorrow to write it. Which really isn't too far away so even though you are waiting on the edge of your seat, you won't have long to wait...
Wow. Ok. I just realized I've been writing backflash instead of flashback. That is funny. Proably more funny to me right now than to you. I could go back and replace them all, but the room is starting to spin and I feel like I'm seasick....which is also a little funny to me. Gotta love painkillers. Bedtime.
Monday, February 16, 2009
I'm just getting the urge to let you know what the kiddies have been up to lately. Ethan has been taking a gymnastic class. Here he is. Notice anything odd? Go on...click on the picture to get a better look.
Yep. He is, in fact, the only boy in his class. Actually, he is the only boy in the entire huge gym at this hour. Doesn't he look bummed out about that fact? He loves this class. He loves the climbing, the balance beam, the trampoline and, obviously, the girls. He gets so excited that he is constantly hopping about between activities. In the bird's nest where all the parents watch the kids, a man leaned over and said, "Is that real hyper boy over there, yours?" Uh. Yeah. Thanks? The boy with the red hair? Not a fan of unbridled enthusiasm? Really, where do you go from that question? Seriously, though, I love watching him. He is more passionate about a somersault that I am about 80% of the things I do in my life. I need a little of what he's got.
And Austin. Man, is my boy lazy. I mean, seriously lazy. I remember being a teenager and knowing that if I left to use the bathroom just a few minutes before dinner was over, than I'd miss the worst of the clean-up jobs. With 6 other kids in arm's reach of mom, I knew the odds were that they'd get the main three chores for sure before I was even missed. Dishes, table & kitchen. Oh yeah, the odds were good. I always chalked my actions up to me being extremely clever and not lazy but we all know what it was. And apparently I passed on the gene. Austin will avoid all hints of clean-up by any means possible. Today I informed the twinnies that one would clean up while the other was in the bath and then vice versa. Austin jumped at the chance of taking the first bath and seemed to stay in there an awful long time. When I finally insisted he come out he stood up and asked, "Is all the cleaning done already?" and then imagine him using jazz fingers to emphasis the bold words as he continued, "Is it sparkling yet? I don't want to come out until it's sparkling!" Oh yeah. He came out. I happily informed him that I had saved a good amount of sparkling for him to do himself. Ha ha ha.
So, here is my boy with his alpha-castle. And that is him at the top of it. By himself. Really, it's a dream come true for him. Behold: The Alpha Male. (That's right...seriously clever.)
And he's wearing his famous, "when I feel blue, I have to wear red." outfit. This is before the house was sparkling, naturally.
And Lainy. I really don't have anything to write about her except for...how cool is this hair-do?
It lasted a whole of 5 minutes before she decided she was a turtle and rolled on the floor. Pill.
Yep. He is, in fact, the only boy in his class. Actually, he is the only boy in the entire huge gym at this hour. Doesn't he look bummed out about that fact? He loves this class. He loves the climbing, the balance beam, the trampoline and, obviously, the girls. He gets so excited that he is constantly hopping about between activities. In the bird's nest where all the parents watch the kids, a man leaned over and said, "Is that real hyper boy over there, yours?" Uh. Yeah. Thanks? The boy with the red hair? Not a fan of unbridled enthusiasm? Really, where do you go from that question? Seriously, though, I love watching him. He is more passionate about a somersault that I am about 80% of the things I do in my life. I need a little of what he's got.And Austin. Man, is my boy lazy. I mean, seriously lazy. I remember being a teenager and knowing that if I left to use the bathroom just a few minutes before dinner was over, than I'd miss the worst of the clean-up jobs. With 6 other kids in arm's reach of mom, I knew the odds were that they'd get the main three chores for sure before I was even missed. Dishes, table & kitchen. Oh yeah, the odds were good. I always chalked my actions up to me being extremely clever and not lazy but we all know what it was. And apparently I passed on the gene. Austin will avoid all hints of clean-up by any means possible. Today I informed the twinnies that one would clean up while the other was in the bath and then vice versa. Austin jumped at the chance of taking the first bath and seemed to stay in there an awful long time. When I finally insisted he come out he stood up and asked, "Is all the cleaning done already?" and then imagine him using jazz fingers to emphasis the bold words as he continued, "Is it sparkling yet? I don't want to come out until it's sparkling!" Oh yeah. He came out. I happily informed him that I had saved a good amount of sparkling for him to do himself. Ha ha ha.
So, here is my boy with his alpha-castle. And that is him at the top of it. By himself. Really, it's a dream come true for him. Behold: The Alpha Male. (That's right...seriously clever.)
And he's wearing his famous, "when I feel blue, I have to wear red." outfit. This is before the house was sparkling, naturally.And Lainy. I really don't have anything to write about her except for...how cool is this hair-do?
It lasted a whole of 5 minutes before she decided she was a turtle and rolled on the floor. Pill.
Happy 'I LOVE YOU' Day! We enjoyed a fun, unhealthy, unproductive v-day on Saturday. It started with decorating cookies & cake followed by a brunch at IHOP, full of buttery, creamy, sugary delights. We went straight over to the dollar theater and watched a double feature of Madagascar II & Bolt. During these silly animated flicks we managed to down a bucket or two of popcorn for dinner. The kiddies thought they were in heaven. We had a pretty good time as well. It was fun to say 'yes' all day.
The rest of the weekend was spent saying 'no' and bringing them down from their sugar high. Not such a pretty sight but it had to happen. Here we are using our mad skills with the frosting. Gotta love timed pictures. :)
The rest of the weekend was spent saying 'no' and bringing them down from their sugar high. Not such a pretty sight but it had to happen. Here we are using our mad skills with the frosting. Gotta love timed pictures. :)
Friday, February 06, 2009
The twinnies are at an age where they say the funniest things. The best thing about writing down little cute sayings of your adorably cute twinnies is that you find them hilarious every time you read them. The down side is that it is never quite as cute or funny to someone who wasn't there. Lucky you, I have 10 pages of silliness.
Austin Boy
Austin was bummed out during a visit to The Discovery Place because there was always someone looking at the things he wanted to look at. My blue boy said, "Nobody likes me here. They all want to do what I'm doing." Later, a boy came and took a rope out of his hands. When Austin looked sad the boy let him hold onto the rope with him. A few moments later, Austin ran ecstatically down the ramp, pointed at the boy. "Mom. That. Is. My. Best. Friend!" As the little boy ran past, Austin shouted out, "Hey! You didn't ask me my name yet!"
At dinner, right after I told him to eat his rice, Austin asked, "Mama, how can me and you be married?" I matter-of-factly replied, "We can't, you can't marry your mama." He was clearly disappointed. "But I want to be married to you." This was serious business, so I kept it real. "No, you have to marry someone who is your own age. And someone who is your friend." After a pause he said with a sigh, "Laina, then?"
Austin loves Disney's 'Cars' movie. He's seen it a dozen times already but every time he does he gets upset when Thunder starts bashing the other cars. Distressed he said, "Mama, that car almost made me cry. But I closed my eyes and didn't let it rain." Sensitive boy.
Alaina
For some reason, my little Alaina has been seriously curious about death lately. She's not scared of it but it seems to pop into our conversations every now and then.
Alaina, "It's so sad. My elephant's mama died. She was really really really really old."
Interesting. I asked, "How old was she?
She immediately answered, "You know, like 34."
That's how old I am. When I relay that back to the girl, she smiled slyly and said, "Ohhh yeah. I mean, 34... 3. "
While the boys were off doing whatever, Alaina and I were hanging out on the couch. Looking pretty thoughtful, she said, "Mama, when you die I will talk to Jesus. I will tell him that I really need a Mama, 'cause I'm just a little girl." Okay. That was strange. I laughed it off, saying, "Well, that's nice, but why don't I hang around a little bit longer?" Once that girl gets her mind on something, there is no moving away from it. She said, "Oh yeah. But when you get older and older and you die I'll just write a letter. How do you write Jesus?" Immediately she picked up a piece of paper and a crayon and set off to do just that.
So there you have it. She had Jesus written on top, Mama (missing an 'm') in the middle and, of course, Jesus' picture on the bottom. Looks like she was going for concise and straight to the point to get her message across. And I guess now we're prepared for my imminent demise.
The twinnies
When asked who the new president was the twins called out, "President Oba-Mama!" No kidding. I really am in charge.
When playing with the broken magic spy pen, Austin said, "I know who can fix this, Mama." Let's see...Daddy? Mama? Ethan? Nope. Instead, Austin states, "Jesus."
Always a stickler for details (my 'actually' child) Alaina asked, "How is he gonna get to it?" Austin was pretty quick on his feet with his reply. "When I die I'll just really hold on to it super-dooper tight. He could fix anything. He's the big big big boss." A little later Austin comes back over to me and says, "Jesus watches over us all he time, but I don't want him to watch over us. I'm going to watch over him."
Ethan came in around 4 o'clock in the morning because he said he had a nightmare. "I was in outer space and I kept falling down." Since Robert was out of town I let the little Ethan sleep next to me. We both heard the twins playing in the living room around seven but neither one of us wanted to get up. Finally Laina came in and said, "Austin is getting these down from the big shelf" She was holding a book from the highest bookshelf we have. In order to get to it, he needed a chair to get up to the TV. Then he needs to stand on his tippy-toes to reach over the TV, past the first shelf up to the second one. I still can't figure out how he was doing it. But instead of taking charge of the situation, I sent Alaina back in to tell Austin to stop getting those books, while I snuggled deeper into the covers. A minute later, Alaina came back to tattle a little more. "Austin says, 'my brain doesn't want to listen to mama.'" Not exactly lifting up my head, but adding a little more force to my voice I said, "You tell him that his brain better start listening or his bottom will be going on time-out." And then, since I'd done my motherly duty, I turned over and went back to sleep.
"I'm slipping on the slippy ice. Help me, I'm falling. AHHHHHH! HELP!!!!!!! We're going to outer space. 10,9,8.....2, 1 BLAST OFF!" These are the things screamed from room to room as my three monsters ran around our house. Through the hall way they screamed,"I'm flying. Help I'm stuck in icky sticky mud." In the kitchen I stepped aside as they ran through yelling, "Chase me!" and "I gassed on you!" (That one was followed by squeals of laughter.) Up on the couches they yelled, "Save me!" "I'll throw down the rope!" "Pull him up!" Back in the hallway they yelled, "I'm goin' ta get you! I'm a monster! Arrgh! I'm going home! Get away from me!" Notice all the exclamation points? The level of noise was pretty outrageous. But they were playing and I was making dinner. Despite the three breakdowns where things got too rough for one or the other, I was able cook uninterrupted. As I was finishing up it struck me how different my life would be if I had three girls instead of the crew I was doing my best to ignore. I mean, I'm sure it was obvious what they were playing from their rantings.
That's right. Carebears. Apparently, Carebears on steroids.
And, because this post couldn't possibly be long enough already, here are a couple of sweet pictures of Ethan.
Here he is reading a story to Austin. This was in the middle of the day and a little more interesting because Ethan really doesn't read yet. But Austin didn't seem to care.
And finally...here is my sweet boy. I could just eat him up sometimes.
Austin Boy
Austin was bummed out during a visit to The Discovery Place because there was always someone looking at the things he wanted to look at. My blue boy said, "Nobody likes me here. They all want to do what I'm doing." Later, a boy came and took a rope out of his hands. When Austin looked sad the boy let him hold onto the rope with him. A few moments later, Austin ran ecstatically down the ramp, pointed at the boy. "Mom. That. Is. My. Best. Friend!" As the little boy ran past, Austin shouted out, "Hey! You didn't ask me my name yet!"
At dinner, right after I told him to eat his rice, Austin asked, "Mama, how can me and you be married?" I matter-of-factly replied, "We can't, you can't marry your mama." He was clearly disappointed. "But I want to be married to you." This was serious business, so I kept it real. "No, you have to marry someone who is your own age. And someone who is your friend." After a pause he said with a sigh, "Laina, then?"
Austin loves Disney's 'Cars' movie. He's seen it a dozen times already but every time he does he gets upset when Thunder starts bashing the other cars. Distressed he said, "Mama, that car almost made me cry. But I closed my eyes and didn't let it rain." Sensitive boy.
Alaina
For some reason, my little Alaina has been seriously curious about death lately. She's not scared of it but it seems to pop into our conversations every now and then.
Alaina, "It's so sad. My elephant's mama died. She was really really really really old."
Interesting. I asked, "How old was she?
She immediately answered, "You know, like 34."
That's how old I am. When I relay that back to the girl, she smiled slyly and said, "Ohhh yeah. I mean, 34... 3. "
While the boys were off doing whatever, Alaina and I were hanging out on the couch. Looking pretty thoughtful, she said, "Mama, when you die I will talk to Jesus. I will tell him that I really need a Mama, 'cause I'm just a little girl." Okay. That was strange. I laughed it off, saying, "Well, that's nice, but why don't I hang around a little bit longer?" Once that girl gets her mind on something, there is no moving away from it. She said, "Oh yeah. But when you get older and older and you die I'll just write a letter. How do you write Jesus?" Immediately she picked up a piece of paper and a crayon and set off to do just that.
So there you have it. She had Jesus written on top, Mama (missing an 'm') in the middle and, of course, Jesus' picture on the bottom. Looks like she was going for concise and straight to the point to get her message across. And I guess now we're prepared for my imminent demise.The twinnies
When asked who the new president was the twins called out, "President Oba-Mama!" No kidding. I really am in charge.
When playing with the broken magic spy pen, Austin said, "I know who can fix this, Mama." Let's see...Daddy? Mama? Ethan? Nope. Instead, Austin states, "Jesus."
Always a stickler for details (my 'actually' child) Alaina asked, "How is he gonna get to it?" Austin was pretty quick on his feet with his reply. "When I die I'll just really hold on to it super-dooper tight. He could fix anything. He's the big big big boss." A little later Austin comes back over to me and says, "Jesus watches over us all he time, but I don't want him to watch over us. I'm going to watch over him."
Ethan came in around 4 o'clock in the morning because he said he had a nightmare. "I was in outer space and I kept falling down." Since Robert was out of town I let the little Ethan sleep next to me. We both heard the twins playing in the living room around seven but neither one of us wanted to get up. Finally Laina came in and said, "Austin is getting these down from the big shelf" She was holding a book from the highest bookshelf we have. In order to get to it, he needed a chair to get up to the TV. Then he needs to stand on his tippy-toes to reach over the TV, past the first shelf up to the second one. I still can't figure out how he was doing it. But instead of taking charge of the situation, I sent Alaina back in to tell Austin to stop getting those books, while I snuggled deeper into the covers. A minute later, Alaina came back to tattle a little more. "Austin says, 'my brain doesn't want to listen to mama.'" Not exactly lifting up my head, but adding a little more force to my voice I said, "You tell him that his brain better start listening or his bottom will be going on time-out." And then, since I'd done my motherly duty, I turned over and went back to sleep.
"I'm slipping on the slippy ice. Help me, I'm falling. AHHHHHH! HELP!!!!!!! We're going to outer space. 10,9,8.....2, 1 BLAST OFF!" These are the things screamed from room to room as my three monsters ran around our house. Through the hall way they screamed,"I'm flying. Help I'm stuck in icky sticky mud." In the kitchen I stepped aside as they ran through yelling, "Chase me!" and "I gassed on you!" (That one was followed by squeals of laughter.) Up on the couches they yelled, "Save me!" "I'll throw down the rope!" "Pull him up!" Back in the hallway they yelled, "I'm goin' ta get you! I'm a monster! Arrgh! I'm going home! Get away from me!" Notice all the exclamation points? The level of noise was pretty outrageous. But they were playing and I was making dinner. Despite the three breakdowns where things got too rough for one or the other, I was able cook uninterrupted. As I was finishing up it struck me how different my life would be if I had three girls instead of the crew I was doing my best to ignore. I mean, I'm sure it was obvious what they were playing from their rantings.
That's right. Carebears. Apparently, Carebears on steroids.And, because this post couldn't possibly be long enough already, here are a couple of sweet pictures of Ethan.
Here he is reading a story to Austin. This was in the middle of the day and a little more interesting because Ethan really doesn't read yet. But Austin didn't seem to care.
And finally...here is my sweet boy. I could just eat him up sometimes.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Last week we went with Sara & Aaron and their family to the Carolina Raptor Center. It is a center where they rescue birds of prey and release them back to the wild when they are ready to fend for themselves again. The kids had a great time running around the woods and checking out all the birds. They also had a bunch of teenagers come around with the birds so everyone could get a closer look. Here are some pictures...poor Lizzy (Virginia's twin) didn't get in any of the pictures. :(
At noon we went to a nearby BBQ place. A BBQ place in the country is always a crap shoot but this one turned out to be pretty good. The fries were greasy and the ribs were tasty. What I didn't know was that Alaina is a serious hot-wings lover. She was still hungry after downing her own cheese sandwich, so I gave her one of my a chicken wings. I thought for sure it would be too spicy for her. The next time I looked up her face was covered with grease and she was down to just the bones. Seriously...just the bones. I mean, that girl ate everything else. More Please! What a silly girl.
At noon we went to a nearby BBQ place. A BBQ place in the country is always a crap shoot but this one turned out to be pretty good. The fries were greasy and the ribs were tasty. What I didn't know was that Alaina is a serious hot-wings lover. She was still hungry after downing her own cheese sandwich, so I gave her one of my a chicken wings. I thought for sure it would be too spicy for her. The next time I looked up her face was covered with grease and she was down to just the bones. Seriously...just the bones. I mean, that girl ate everything else. More Please! What a silly girl.
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