This Kid...

You know, it's hard to post about just one of your kids. You run the risk of playing favorites or being overly sarcastic about one. That doesn't apply to children under two. Children under two are under a different rule structure.

It's probably been awhile since I posted about Cole. Just Cole. And I muse to myself why that is. So, here's my external though process.

Cole is mysterious to me. I can't really explain this. Hence the word mysterious.

Cole is totally random. I posted on this a LONG time ago and not much has changed in the way of randomness. The subjects have shifted. There are more random questions and discussions about Camaros and Harry Potter now. Cole lives in a 'what if' universe. Like "Mom, do you think a dragon could go faster than a Camaro?" and "Mom, what if you had an owl?" How do you answer these questions? Mostly like this: "Cole, dragons are fast, but notoriously bad in the corners, so that would be a great race to watch." and "Well, if I had an owl, I'd send it to keep an eye on you at school."

Cole is always evolving. Two years ago, Cole was like watching Snoopy caught in a never-ending happy dance loop. Now, at almost 10, there's much more introspection. More reading, thinking, quiet reflection. Not that he isn't still completely hyper - it's his home base. But he ventures into the quiet, brooding realm more often. Also, when Cole was 5, we were begging him to try out his bicycle (with training wheels and all), but he wasn't interested. Now, he's known as the more fearless kid in the neighborhood. It's an evolution that confounds and amazes me.

Cole is built over a highly active fault. No, not a flaw - a fault. Think San Andreas. He's calm on the surface, but underneath there's dangerously tumultuous activity. Getting Cole to talk about the way he feels is sometimes hard. He doesn't want to hurt feelings or admit that a situation is negative in any way. He prefers to wear his rose-colored glasses (even though the prescription in them is WAY off at times). But, push his buttons too far (ask Pearce how) and you have a 9.0 on the Richter scale. Devastating.

Cole is beautiful. There are times when I look at Cole and his warmth overcomes me. He has a beauty that I can't explain. It's from the inside. It's all that mystery and optimism and turbulence causing something like a radioactive glow that emanates from his eyes. You might have to be his mom to see it. But it's there.

This kid...he's beyond wonderful. Beyond my understanding. Beyond lovable. Beyond explanation.

The real reason I love Facebook

I'm going to try (key word) to keep this post short, but just like a really good plot, sometimes you need an unabridged version to satisfy.

I have a crazy family. I know, you're thinking who doesn't? But the special brand of crazy in my family is spectacular. I love it. I always have. As a little girl, I always felt like a movie viewer to my own life at family gatherings. My uncles were the hilarious leading male roles and my aunts were the beguiling, if not long-suffering and ever eye-rolling leading ladies. To put it in terms of 80's pop culture; my uncles were the Jack Trippers and my aunts the Janets of my life.

I have the fondest memories of watching their sibling rivalry manifest itself into things like an indoor hand-stand contest, or a singing-Christmas-carols-over-the-other contest. And the one-upsmanship in joke telling was almost mind bending at times for me.

But it wasn't always fun and games. I learned valuable life lessons from my uncles. I learned that you don't EVER outgrow parental scoldings. And that a hand-stand contest in your 40's leads to days of soreness. I learned that ANY word can be used as the basis of a joke (even if you have to stretch it beyond its recognizable origins).

I so wanted to interact with these beloved characters, but much like your favorite TV show, they were untouchable. Separated by the distance of a generation and my ignorance in spinning tall tales at such a young age (oh, and that one incident where I wrote a curse word on paper and blamed it on my most innocent cousin). Separated by my obnoxious pre-teen years and then my absolute disrespect for all adults in my teen years. Finally, separated by my inevitable, but exploding adult life and family.

Then, Facebook happened. My uncles slowly joined one by one. And now I have access to their hilarity on an ongoing basis; not just at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. My uncles might be the real reason I love Facebook so much.


I have a few uncles who might be embarrassed by this post. And a few who will take complete credit for it. But they are all part of the ensemble cast that made up my favorite sitcom. My childhood.

The saddest game of Hide-And-Seek. Ever.

Yesterday, Stone suggested that we play Hide-And-Seek. (Cute aside: I counted first and he hid by crouching in the hallway with his arms over his head.)

When it was his turn to count, he decided that since he was little he only needed to count to three. So, I made a mad dash for his room and threw myself behind a large kitchen/grill toy. As I was dropping to the floor behind it, my leg caught on this thing sticking out of the toy. I saw white stars in my eyes. My vision blurred a little from the pain. But I pressed on and grimaced silently behind the toy in order to continue the game. If you can take a moment to visualize me writhing in pain like a mime. Or better yet, over-dramatic, silent movie style...yes, that's it.

I hear Stone go past his bedroom door calling, "Where are you? I'm going to fiiiiind you!!!" The pain becomes a little more tolerable and I notice that he's gone far enough away that I can barely hear his voice. So, I make a teasing hoot to get him to come back my way. Now I can't hear him at all. I make another teasing hoot. Nothing. I call out, "Stone?" And he walks past his doorway saying, "Mom, I'm not playing Hide-And-Go-Seek anymore. Cade and I are going to play with cars."

Here I am, crouched behind his kitchen toy, leg throbbing - and he decides he's not playing anymore. After 27 seconds of looking for me. Next time, we are going to talk ahead of time about finding your playmate before deciding on a new activity.

My mommy merit badge for today (8 inch ruler):

Family Walk

We started a new family thing that I'm really enjoying. After dinner is over and everything is cleaned up, we go for a walk/ride around the block. It's the most amazing change in our life. It's quite possible that no one in my family gets as much out of it as I do, but it's fun enough that we even hooked Chad. You probably already know this, but walking around the block is a great science and social studies activity for almost everyone. We pick up old, brown magnolia leaves and check them out. Then, we crunch them up in our hands. Cade loves it. We stop to observe ants carrying huge chunks of food down the seams in the concrete sidewalk. We talk about the danger of 'The Street' and the safety of 'The Sidewalk.' Amazingly, we've discovered that we have neighbors. Prior to this activity, we assumed that the houses in our neighborhood were owned by phantoms. It turns out that we were the phantoms. Neighbors exclaim to us, "Oh! I know that house, we always wondered who lived there!"

Mostly, though, I love watching my family walk together - no arguing, no worries (save those related to The Street), no electronics, no canned lighting. Just the sun, the breeze, the neighbors, and God all around us.

**contented sigh**

Last night, I ventured out with one piece of electronics and shot a few pictures.

Just for fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

Just for fun Friday

Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning!

Here's a funny picture that tells so much more than you would see at first glance.



First, you can't tell by the picture, but I had a momentary lapse of judgment at the grocery store and bought a package of those Huggies Jeans diapers. You might have seen the commercial on TV - here it is. He's got one of the diapers on and I unleashed him outside to get pictures of it.

Second, he's not playing with his privates here. I forget that they are literal at this age. Had I yelled at Stone to 'show me his diaper,' he would have shaken his booty at me or waddled like a duck. This is what I got from Cade with that command. It's reminiscent of what I get when I ask him to show me his belly or nose or knees. The look of concentration and the two handed Vanna White presentation of said object.

Third, we went to the doctor this week for our two-year check up and these were his numbers:
your child at the 36th percentile for weight.

your child at the 13th percentile for height.

your child is at greater than the 97th percentile for head circumference.

That's right; GREATER than the 97th percentile for head circumference with a less than average height and weight. Meaning my child is a human representation of a helium balloon. Now look at the picture again. You have my permission to laugh. He'll grow into that head.

Just for fun Friday

Here's a new fun thing I'm going to try. Each Friday, I'm going to post a picture I took that week that makes me smile - or laugh - or say 'Hmmmmm.' These won't be the most amazing pictures, just a warning! Here's the first one.



What makes me laugh at this picture is how it encapsulate so many things. There's the Starbucks cup in the background. You wouldn't know it to look at it, but it represents friendship. My friend brought me that delicious, frosty beverage for our playdate. It's one of those details that doesn't mean anything to the viewer of the picture, but always means something to the taker. You know?

Then there's my position in the picture. Do you ever look at a picture and really give thought to where the photographer is? Most of the time I don't. This picture makes me laugh at myself. I climbed all the way up onto a jungle gym not to play with my kids, but to snap pictures of them. How wrong is that?

Which leads me to my 'Hmmmmmmmm' moment. Stone doesn't even know I'm there. He's not posing, smiling, or even aware of mom with the camera. Begs the question of whether I need to put down the camera. Maybe mom needs to stop viewing her children through a lens and get involved. So that the view from my eyes (read: NOT my camera) is one where my kids are smiling and laughing at me.

Really, do we ever LOOK at a picture that hard? Maybe I should call this Freudian Friday...

A Good Day

Today was a good day. Today was the kind of day where I had solid moments of clarity. Sometimes, the noise of my life causes a static between me and how good things are. Sometimes there's a curtain of chaos covering the masterpiece of my life. But today I was lucky enough to see my children without the static.

Moment One:
We were walking to a pool and I was carrying Cade (who had no shoes). It was like, 487 degrees outside and we were already tired just from being awake in August in Texas. Halfway to the pool, I realized I'd left the swim diapers in the truck. So, I handed Cade to Pearce and ran back. Once I had the swim diaper, I turned around to see Cole and Stone walking together and talking about something. And Pearce was carrying Cade, who was completely content to be in his biggest brother's arms. If I had an iota of artistic ability, I'd try to capture it on canvas! Pearce looking down at Cade. Cade with his head on Pearce's shoulder. Cole and Stone so far apart in age yet playfully running together in anticipation of pool time. It almost stopped me in my tracks. Of course, then Pearce put Cade down WAY too close to the pool and the moment was lost to my all-out sprint to the pool while yelling, "Pearce! Grab Cade!"

Moment Two:
Tonight, we ate dinner at a local Mexican food restaurant. Our favorite local band was playing on the patio. Pearce was sitting with friends (MY friends) and Cole was listening to the band off on his own. Stone was sitting in Chad's lap and I was holding Cade in a rare moment of cuddliness. Again, I was hit with this overwhelming feeling of relief. Of peace. These are my boys. And they are wonderful. And different. And they are mine - not speaking possessively, but with reverence to God, who decided that these particular four should go with me.

Anyway, I know this is a sappy departure from my norm, but I felt like sharing that things aren't always poop on the ceiling fan and stepping on sharp toys in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I'm rewarded with a moment, and in this case two, that reminds me of how lucky I am.

Family Creed

Chad and I went on a marriage retreat over a year ago (it was nice - here's the info). One of the things that stuck with me was the value of creating a Family Creed. The couple presenting that session had an example of their family's creed. They tied it to the bible and I remember thinking how much I wanted one. A set of principles or beliefs that we can go back to in times of 'confusion' (meaning anytime ownership of a toy is called into question or an insult launches a thousand ships).

Interestingly, wanting a family creed is quite a different thing than having one. Or even starting one. I thought about it when we got home, and after realizing that I didn't have a clue where to begin, I let it fall to the back of my mind which is the equivalent of solitary confinement for ideas - never to see the light of day.

Here's the great part - sometimes God really does just drop a gift into your lap. Nicely packaged with a bow. I was listening to a message by Steve Langford on Ephesians 4:21 - 5:2 and there it was embedded in the scripture. My family's creed. It's a beautiful text and it is perfect in its completeness. All I had to do was translate it into kid-friendly language. Thank you, God.

Goodbye to the Baby Daze

Today, Cade turns two. And a thought occurred to me; the baby days are over.

Officially.

I've been kind of waiting around to see what kind of mom I'd be at the big events. I have friends whose children are going away to college. Some are stoic, some are tearful. I've been kind of worried that I'm going to fall into the former knowing that the latter is where the 'good moms' fall. But, I've found that with this particular milestone, I've stayed true to what my parents always said of me by defying category. Because I'm not stoic or tearful. I'm flippin' ELATED! Tomorrow marks a turning point toward things like:
1. My own meals. I mean, like every bite belonging solely to me.
2. My very own private time to use the bathroom.
3. My own showers - no more shaving my legs in precarious positions because I'm worried the baby will get whiskers in his eyes, or worse, look up and be completely scarred for life.
4. My own bed. Ok, this one's still way in the future since my 4-year-old is the worst offender.
5. My very own husband. Because neither Chad nor I belong to one another right now, but to the dictatorial little squatters.
6. Freedom from other people's poop (and additionally about $100 a month in the pocket when we say goodbye to diapers).


Sounds heartless, but you know me. I mask the sentimental in sarcasm. So, in order to redeem myself in your eyes, I admit that I'll miss things like:
1. Fat rolls on wrists, knees, and ankles that are meant to be kissed.
2. Feet that are shiny and new. Seriously, babies have beautiful, shiny feet.
3. An addendum to #3, but deserving it's own number - baby toes. Yummy.
4. Hair that smells like sunshine (big boys smell like tennis ball cans).
5. Contagious giggles - this doesn't go away at 2, but it's getting there.
6. Eyes filled with wonder and awe at God's creation, without even knowing the word God.
7. Cuddles that come from boo-boos.


Oh, there are more things that I'll look forward to and things that I'll miss. But I'm feeling it all at once tonight and my mind is too weary (mostly from attempting to make a crocodile cake) to get them all down.

I know it was harsh when I called my kids squatters, but they kind of are. They find a nice place in your heart and then claim it by sheer virtue of being there. See? Just because I don't use fluffy words doesn't mean I don't love my kids! So, Happy Birthday, Cade. The last of my babies. And goodbye to your baby days, but hello to discovering who you are as a boy.

I know you are, but what am I???

It's finally begun. And it took volunteering at Vacation Bible School to make all the tell-tale signs come together into one concise message - "I'm not as young as I used to be." Maybe concise isn't the right word. Because I could also say the message my body is telling me is "I'm not as young as you think I am."

I'm not fishing for support or kind words (or sarcastic admonition from those older than me). I'm just recording the event.

The morning after the first night of VBS, I was pretty relieved with how little soreness I had from jumping, twisting, and waving my arms about. The second night, I came home and took an Aleve. This morning (after the third night), I woke up and was surprised to find that my knees sounded like doors on a haunted house. My left shoulder ached so badly, I could hardly open the Aleve bottle. And my left achilles tendon...well, let's just say it tried to talk my left shin and calf into retaliating against me for grave injustices.

But, I have to tell you this - even if I have to run through the Emergency Room on Friday night after VBS is over; it'll be so worth it. That sea of little faces smiling and dancing and jumping around having fun come back to me every time I take a step and my knees threaten anarchy.

Tonight, I'll give my whole body a Braveheart soliloquy before VBS. And tomorrow, I'll ask Chad to open the Aleve bottle, get two out, drop them into my mouth, and pour some water down my throat. Because I won't be able to move. At all.

Then, when my body laughs derisively at me and says, "I told you you are older than you think you are." I'll respond with, "I know you are, but what am I?"

Playing at Jakey's 4-Way Grocery

When I was a kid, my great-aunt, Teenie (whose real name is Jakey), owned a gas station in Kilgore, TX. It was just down the road from my grandparents' house. When I was old enough to walk down there, it became the highlight of my visit. My cousins and I would trek through the sticky heat and enter the air-conditioned relief of her store with a dollar or two in our pockets. For me, it was always the same treats, a Chocolate Soldier (a lot like a YooHoo) and a cherry ring pop. Aunt Teenie sat behind the cash register counter and chatted with customers while we picked out our treasure. Sometimes, if I was alone and I could be talked into singing a song to her, she'd give me the drink and candy for free. She taught me songs like 'When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain' and 'Moon River' and I sang Journey's 'Open Arms' to her. It was quite the trading of pop culture between us.

Jakey's 4-Way Grocery has long since closed and time has claimed her wooden siding and roof. Vandals have given her windows a jack-o-lantern appearance and the insides are filled with family member's storage of forgotten belongings. But, she's still beautiful to me. For a girl who grew up in a more suburban setting, the store's rural decline is magical, if not bittersweet.

My parents moved back to Kilgore several years ago and live next door to my grandparents' house. I visited them this weekend and decided to take my two little ones on a walk down to the store to get some pictures.

Release the Kraken

Confession time (again). Right around the time one of my kids turns 15 months, I lose my humanity. Until they reach about 3 years old, I'm befuddled, exhausted, spacey. Symptoms of this manifest themselves in a myriad of ways.

At church, you might be in the middle of a conversation with me and I will, without dismissing myself, scamper away with wide eyes.

On the phone, you might find that you are having a conversation with two people. Or four people. It might sound something like:
"Yesterday I was at the grocery...DON'T STAND ON THE TABLE!...and the avocados were...WE DON'T EAT LEGOS!...such a good...OH NO!...I have to go...**click**

If you have been a victim of either of these situations, my apologies. You see, from 15 months to 3 years old, I feel like my every day is solely devoted to keeping my child alive. Cade in particular. I used to joke about how Stone was going to be the kid who walked out of the house with a cape and a plunger saying, "Don't ask if you really don't want to know, Mom."

But Cade...

You can only childproof your house so much. I can keep him out of sockets and ovens, and most of the time dryers, but try keeping him off couches, tables, cats, piano benches, toilets (older brothers aren't always diligent about closing bathroom doors), and weight benches. I'm convinced that dare devils are really people with faulty depth perception. Think about it.

At any rate, now that it's summer, I have some back up to help me chase him from one near-death feat to another. Pearce and Cole are invaluable partners in the cause of keeping Cade alive. When Stone was this age, we lovingly called him Babyzilla. But that term doesn't do Cade justice.

We spend our days getting from morning to nap time and then again to night-night time. And each time we let him out of his crib, someone yells, "Release the Kraken!"

Parenting by Force

I have super cool kids. Not perfect kids. I mean I can't get sappy on you and say they are little angels. They are more like imps. Or, starting into my Star Wars themed posting, they are more like Ewoks. Cute, but impish. Yes, that's a better description. In Pearce's case, though, he's less Ewok and more Anakin.

***If you are Star Wars illiterate, please see the glossary below***

Without going into detail (because you really don't want to know how Pearce got himself in trouble this time), I had to find a way to convey how important it was to trust your parents. How important it was to have your parents' trust. And, conversely, how damaging/dangerous it is NOT to trust your parents. And that's where my streak of brilliance became clear.

I sat in a conversation with him that would have looked to an outsider like a monologue on my part. Pearce sat hunched, embarrassed, resentful while I prattled on about the value of trust and the perils of lying...blah...blah...blah...
I saw his eyes glaze over and I knew the conversation was over. So, I stood and told him that I was done with what I needed to say. That if he wanted to talk to me about the importance of honesty between us, he could come to me at any time. I gave him the choice and I went on with my day.

Later, in the car, he told me he was ready to talk about trust and to be completely honest with me. This is where the lightbulb officially went *ding*!!!

I asked the boys if they remembered when Anakin started to be confused by the Emperor. He started by making decisions that he didn't feel good about, but he was told that he would have something good from it (in Ani's case, the equivalent of super powers in the force). I asked, "Do you remember while that was happening what you felt every time he had a conversation with Obi Wan or Padmé? Do you remember when she asked him, 'Ani, what's wrong?' what you wanted him to do?" Both boys passionately recalled how they wanted Anakin to TELL SOMEONE! They said, if he had just been honest with Obi Wan or Padmé, he wouldn't have gone to the dark side! That Obi Wan and Padmé loved him and would have helped him. (Can you see my brilliant conversational arc ahead?)

I asked whether they thought Obi Wan and Padmé had Anakin's best interests in mind. They said yes. I asked whether they thought the Emperor had his best interests in mind. They said, "No! He was using Anakin."

I told them that the world was the Emperor. I explained that by 'the world' I meant anyone who tried to get them to do something that they knew wasn't right. I told them that anyone who tried to get them to do something against their better judgement did not have their best interests in mind (just like the Emperor) even if they were offering something in return. Then, I explained how as a parent, all I had was their best interests in mind. I finished by saying, "I'm your Obi Wan." They looked at me with wide eyes, so I repeated it.

"I'm your Obi Wan."

So, this is my new parenting technique. Parenting by Force (also known as the Obi Wan Parenting Method):

I will only tell you the truth.
I will allow you to learn hard lessons and love you through your mistakes.
I will protect you from things that are over your head.
I will teach you how to use your powers for good and how to trust yourself.
I will love you enough to take a lightsaber through the midsection for you.

Wouldn't that make a great poster? Might happen.

Star Wars term glossary:

Anakin - a heroic, but confused character who succumbs to the draw of the 'dark side' of the force. He eventually becomes Darth Vader.

the Force (as defined by Obi Wan Kenobi) - "The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together."

Obi Wan - a major character in the Star Wars films who mentored both Anakin Skywalker and Luke Skywalker. He's the equivalent of Gandhi and Bruce Lee mixed together.

Padmé - also known as Queen Amidala. She was the Queen of a planet and a politician. She fell in love with Anakin Skywalker and became the love of his life (and mother of Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia).

The Emperor - the main antagonist in the film series.

Ewok - let's just let the picture define them

You win some; you lose some.

I find it funny how MANY pictures I have to take of my children to get one to come out. Stone in particular. His face is constantly morphing.

You know how much I like to let the pictures do the talking.

You win some:











You lose some:


Never ask a child under 6 to say cheese. It just doesn't work.



Looks like Stone smells something pretty rank.



"Is that lady really wearing spandex in public?"

In all fairness to Stone, I was playing with a new Photoshop action, so the first two are pretty fixed up. But still, what the heck is up with those facial expressions???

5K Training Update

I hope you enjoyed the humorous narrative that was my first run. I'm here because I have almost 4 complete weeks of training under my belt and I have VALUABLE lessons to share with you. You know, in case you are considering torturing your body in such an exquisite way.

Lesson One:
Remember the errant saddlebags and knees? Let's just say they are assimilated. For you Trekkers (by the by, 'Trekkers' does not cause a spell-check red flag - we geeks have come a long way), they are in the collective. However, and I stress this, my lungs and heart are still in full rebellion. They have banded together to stage a coup. They are trying very hard to keep my saddlebags around. My saddlebags must have a great personality.

Lesson Two:
If you get cocky about how well you are doing, run your routine in reverse. Today I discovered that I HAD been running downhill most of the way. Reversing the routine, well, it changed my paradigm. And gave my heart and lungs a bit of a tactical advantage...

Lesson Three:
I decided to mix up the play list a bit. I added a U2 album to my running playlist. U2 makes music for motion. The guitar player plays like he's on the move. I want to jump into a convertible and get my Grace Kelly scarf flowing to their music. If people in a horror movie had U2, they'd get away EVERY time.

Lesson Four:
Wind and humidity are evil.

That is all.

Refuge

I decided to start the C25K (Couch to 5K) program. It's a slow, regimented program that will train me to run a 5K in 9 weeks. I've had knee problems from jumping into a running program ahead of the beginning, so this time I decided to take it slow. Today was the first day of the program. So, this morning, I left the house with my cell phone and lots of optimism. I downloaded a program to my phone that sends audible tones when I'm supposed to walk and then when I need to run. It works 'on top' of my music, so I get to listen to my favorite playlist while training.

About three minutes into the 5 minute warm up, I realized something. It was quiet. I mean, there was music in my ears, but there wasn't a person around needing something. No one calling "Mamma" over and over and over again. I was alone with my favorite music and the cool April morning. Euphoria.

Until the tone rang and it was time for my first 1-minute jog. My body responded with a resounding "NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" My shins started burning after 15 seconds. My knees felt like they had sand in them. My
saddlebags protested by sending my brain messages that they were bruised beyond functioning. Just as I was thinking, "What WAS I thinking," the song I was listening to ended and I was once again reminded of the quiet. It was much more powerful than my body's rebellion.

I paid attention to my body. Felt the muscles in my legs working - allowed myself to be in awe of the human form. I felt the breeze across my cheeks. I almost wanted to close my eyes.

Another tone and I was walking for two minutes. My legs were burning. Lungs were weighted. From a 1-minute jog. This was bad. But the quiet, it was so worth it. So, I gave myself to the quiet. Listened to my music, paid attention to the pounding of my feet against the pavement. I was aware of the earth around me, of my body finally settling into the work - loosening in relief that the long winter of inactivity was over.

It was a blissful and painful 25 minutes. The secret to getting outside for a run? 11 years of motherhood to four kids. Who knew.

A whole new ball game

You'd think that, having four kids, I'd be pretty educated at this parenting thing. You wouldn't think that I'd be getting schooled by an 18-month-old. Alas...

Staying at home with children is a whole new ball game. It's sort of like this: say I was an expert at baseball. Let's compare the wisdom I gained raising Pearce and Cole to that. I'm a seasoned baseball veteran with overall good stats. Enter Stone and (especially) Cade. You've just taken me from my comfortable world of baseball and dropped me onto a cricket field. Ok, there's a pitcher, a bat, bases - looks slightly familiar. Except you call the pitcher a bowler, the batter a batsman, and the field is sort of roundish with only two bases. Suddenly, I'm in familiar-looking, but totally alien territory.

You get it? That's what it's like raising these two little ones (again, especially Cade). Case in point, this morning, I was feeling pretty cocky. Too cocky. I needed to get the Monday routine started. Mondays, I have the house cleaning to do - vacuuming, mopping, dusting, etc. - on top of my normal daily routine of laundry, dishes, and phonics with Stone. I devised a brilliant plan to keep the kids out of my hair for what I was sure was going to be along time.

Sidewalk paint.

We have a *tiny* pad of concrete out our back door that was the perfect place. They were safe, engaged, and (best of all) out of my hair.

I went to load the laundry and make the bed feeling pretty good about myself. This is what I came back to. People, I'm telling you it was no more than 3 minutes later.























































































Who am I kidding? Raising Stone is like Cricket. Raising Cade is like being dropped into Quidditch.

Good thing he's so cute. How else would he survive?

Lost - an alternate universe of my own

I know. You are used to humor. And maybe I'll throw some in here so you don't feel shell-shocked. Waylaid. I'm convinced there's a worm hole at the entrance of Pearce's school. I wake him up each morning and he stumbles into the kitchen with sleepy eyes and bed head and hugs. He still looks like a boy in the morning. He gets ready by himself - never has to be redirected anymore (ok, sometimes I have to knock on the bathroom door when the shower time goes past 10 minutes). He gets in the car and we talk, laugh, banter on the way to school. He gets out of the car, tells me he loves me and enters school...

...and becomes a clownish, distracting, unfocused menace to society. Just this year we've had two detentions, two referrals, multiple phone calls and emails from not just one, but three, teachers. What happens to my son upon entering the school? Remember my post about body snatchers? I'm convinced my theory is wrong as he's still my Pearce at home. Why can't I get through to him? Do you know how hard it is to punish him when he acts pretty awesome around me? Can you imagine how confused I am to learn that these problems are occurring? I'm exhausted from thinking about it, trying new methods of encouragement, consequence, reasoning. I live in dread of the school's phone number. And there are no positive messages coming from the school, so this year has just beaten me down. Can he really be that bad a kid and me not know it? Am I being duped by my child? Is an 11-year-old capable of keeping up a perfect farce at home? I don't know anymore.

Why does he have this split personality?

Two words.

Worm hole.

The Best Milkshake in the World

Saturday, I'm heading to Carlsbad Caverns with my mom, my two oldest boys, and my niece. I haven't been since I was around 14. I'm looking forward to seeing it with adult eyes. At 14, I was looking past stalagmites to see if there were any cute boys my age also touring the cave. Guano was mildly interesting - mostly because I've always been amused with potty humor and, come on, bat poop being used for scientific purposes is kind of funny. I also vaguely remember stalactites shaped like inappropriate body parts. I might even still have a picture of a giggling me standing in front of a calcium carbonate breast.

Mostly, though, I remember the milk shake at the end of our descent into the earth. That milkshake was the single best milkshake I'd had in my long 14 years. And to this day, I know I haven't found a milkshake to compare to it.

So, I'm looking forward to several things. For one, my mom told me that she was in charge of discipline, so I get to be fun mom (and aunt). That means cannonballs in the indoor pools, potty humor galore, and lots of jokes at Muddy's (my mom) expense. I'm looking forward to seeing my kids discover Carlsbad and see how the differ or compare to me as a kid. I 'm looking forward to getting some pictures of the cave with a digital camera (maybe even of some calcium deposit body parts or bat poop). Mostly, though, I'm looking forward to the milkshake that is waiting for me. The milkshake that has held my heart captive for 23 years. The milkshake that turned me against all other milkshakes. The Carlsbad Caverns milkshake reward for descending nearly 800 feet into the earth.