Ism of the Week

Sometimes, when the boys get things wrong, I find that their mistakes are even more accurate than what they meant to say in the first place.

"Cael, can I have that paper that was on the table?"

"No, it's mine now."

"Excuse me?  That paper had a phone number on it that I needed to keep."

"No, Mom, don't you know?  Finders keepers, losers sweepers."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah.  I found it and I cut it up with scissors, so I get to keep it.  And you lose, so you have to sweep the floor."

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Class of 2013

Happy 2014!  So far, ours is off to a very uneventful start, which given the alternative in a house full of wild men, is completely welcome.  2013 ended dramatically, with 12 half-written blog posts in my iPad that never came to fruition thanks to a series of interruptions and holiday celebrations.  So let's start fresh, with a wrap-up of 2013's superlatives, in no particular order, including a few stories you may not have heard.


Most Exciting Announcement - In November we revealed that we are expecting baby #3, which until recently when I began to feel movement and have hit the grace period of my second trimester, I had affectionately nicknamed "the unseen beast within that has ravaged my complexion and destroyed my stomach lining".  Isn't it catchy?  We're still very excited and only minimally concerned that the child will emerge as a rabid animal or even more fearsome, another energetic blond haired, blue-eyed boy.

 
Most Likely to Get Arrested - It seemed as though Graham lost all of his inhibitions this year, taking each and every opportunity to drop his pants when we weren't looking.  Three guesses as to what my resolution is for Graham this year?

  

Tastiest Treats (a.k.a. Why I Didn't Sleep in 2013) - I had the opportunity to make four fun cakes this past year for my nephews and my own boys, helping me to hone my decorating skills and my ability to function without sleep.  All jokes aside, I enjoyed making their days more special and the chance to get my hands dirty rather than constantly picking up others' messes.

 
Best Investment - While we were drying off sunning ourselves in Seattle last summer, our latest addition was being constructed in our backyard.  And like all other aspects of our lives, it wasn't easy.  The assemblers arrived several days late, behaved badly in our absence, and left with a large pile of lumber and plastic in our driveway.  Upon further inspection, the materials were revealed to be a second playset which the company seemed uninterested in retrieving, so a small donation to the foul-mouthed assembler left us with what we now refer to as "The Fortress".  With the boys now housebound thanks to laughable amounts of snow this winter, I can look back at the purchase with affection and serious confidence.

 
Most Likely to be King - Cael was asked to serve as the Homecoming Prince last October, giving the high school students in Joel's district a lesson in good looks and how to treat a lady.

 
Most Mysterious - In March, I awoke one day to a ridiculously swollen and bruised knee that I had not, to my knowledge, injured in any way.  It took a couple of weeks to return to normal, and the mystery remains unsolved to this day.  Where is Robert Stack when you need him?
 
 
Scariest Sale - Most recently in our revolving cycle of Airstream purchases, Joel sold off our 1980s Airstream motorhome to a special effects director from California, who flew out, picked up the silver beast and attempted to drive it back to the west coast.  Instead, the huge trip led to a series of new mechanical problems that, in an as-is (Craigslist) sale were not our responsibility but did cause us to receive several threatening emails demanding money for repairs.  By late June when it all blew over, we were grateful to have several weeks of radio silence and a large mountain range for protection.

 
Most Challenging - In our quest to have one more baby, we received our first positive test result in late July, and waited little time before sharing the news with our immediate family.  God had a different child in mind for us, however, and we lost that baby not long into the pregnancy.  We are happy to now be expecting our healthy baby in mid-June, and for Cael and Graham to take on the new role of being big brothers.


Hairiest Valentine - For Cael's preschool valentine party, he was asked to create a unique valentine that he made himself.  My son was unfortunately born to a type-A perfectionist, however, and I was unable to let him go through with his idea of painting live frogs pink and taping them to construction paper.  Instead, our hand-crafted mustaches were a hit and a good source of laughs through much of February.

Most Likely to Hit a Rock - I still maintain that I am a safe driver, but after sideswiping a concrete planter two years ago and driving straight over a decorative granite boulder this fall, I was forced to reevaluate my driving skills.  I came to the conclusion that all child and adult passengers are safe under my vehicular care.  But rocks and hard places?  Watch yourselves...

 
Biggest Milestones - Graham began preschool this year in his usual, quiet way, and Cael ascended to the ranks of Kindergartner with a few weeks of consecutive calls and emails home.  Some just take a bit more time to adjust, I'm guessing.  But judging by the ever present marker-written words on any shred of unused paper or tabletop (or wall), a fair amount of the actual learning is sinking in between the newly-acquired bad words.

Most Horrible Purchase - After hearing Joel mention that he'd heard of a funny new game available on Amazon, I jotted down the name and purchased "Cards Against Humanity" for one of Joel's Christmas gifts.  On the box is written, "A party game for horrible people", a statement that I didn't quite understand until we played the game with a group of friends and laughed and cried in horror at not only the shocking suggestions given by the game, but in shame for finding it funny in the first place.  If you're easily embarrassed, don't even go there.  But if you do, don't judge me.

Cutest Reader - Graham showed off his adorably cute and remarkable memorization reading skills with his favorite book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar.


 

Strongest Craving - It was only a few weeks into my pregnancy before I started having cravings for certain foods, and about ten weeks before I knew, with absolute certainty, that I needed to eat a lobster tail.  Thoughts of lobster inundated my every waking moment.  No other foods held the same excitement.  So when my good husband drove us to Red Lobster, something special was going to happen.  And I've never felt less guilty about powering down so much seafood.  (We also managed to take a special video, too.)

 
Most Trying Trip - As a nice break for our family before returning to work and school, Joel and I packed up the boys and headed out of town for a night to spend some Christmas money and get away from our usual routine.  Instead, we battled dangerous weather at every turn, found nothing that we wanted to purchase for ourselves, and halfway through our return trip had to stop in a small town along the interstate to book a hotel room to avoid the wind and snow that had made driving nearly impossible.  The boys were exhilarated by the constant surprises and hotel pools, and we were relieved we hadn't blown that extra cash after all. 


So that's it!  There was so much more we did that I couldn't fit here, but I'm ready to put 2013 to rest and practice writing 2014.

I should have it mastered by mid-April.

Sleds Away!

As if Christmas weren't dramatic enough in my household, last week's agenda was cut short by Joel taking a turn at our family's stomach flu epidemic while I suffered from a nearly hallucinogenic migraine headache.  And because that was not quite exciting enough, our neighborhood was blanketed in a thick layer of ice on Thursday, and on Saturday night, several inches of snow.

While our winter wonderland is very pretty and a nice reassurance of a white Christmas, it has made traveling difficult, and we've been forced to find entertainment closer to home.  And what better entertainment is there on a snowy day than sledding?

With two small children and one pregnant woman, there are probably better, safer choices.  But this isn't a story about being responsible.  This is a story about a black diamond-grade sledding hill, and how we put our kids on slippery surfaces and sent them careening toward the bottom.

Joel had heard about a particular hill known for very fast and steep sledding passes, so we drove (slowly) across our little town to ride the hill.  I even thought that, provided there was no risk of running into anyone, I might be able to take a turn myself.  But as soon as I stood at the top and felt as though I couldn't see the bottom for the clouds at my feet, I knew it wouldn't be an option for me.  But for my innocent children and fearless husband?  Bring it on!

Joel rode with Graham for the first pass, because our littlest wanted to go but was afraid to attempt it alone.  I wanted to record their descent, but the drop was so steep (photos do not convey) that when they sat down, they immediately began sliding before I even had my camera out of my pocket. 

They shot down the hill faster than my children run from asparagus.  But they were safe, had fun, and I was able to catch a couple of photos of them climbing back up to the top.

Five minutes later they were still climbing.  Eight minutes after that they'd ascended maybe three feet.  And very quickly we realized that the real risk of sledding on this hill was not the danger of reaching the bottom, but paying the medical bills from the massive coronary suffered on the trip back up.

So when it was Cael's turn, we sent him solo.



He was fine, and I got a nice clip of his wipeout at the bottom.  And he had so much fun that when he army-crawled back up and dropped the sled when he'd nearly reached the top, we simply laughed and headed home to the gently graded safety of our own yard.

In the end, it didn't matter that our sledding escapade got cut short, or that it would have been easier to build a snowman with baking soda than with such fluffy snow.  In the end, what really mattered was that no one threw up.


Oh yeah, and that we were together.

Ism of the Week

"Mom, I think I know why Santa has such a big belly."

"Oh, really?  Why is that?"

"Because we leave cookies and eggnog for him every Christmas.  And if he eats cookies and eggnog at everybody's house, he'd be huge!"

"I bet you're right!  He needs to eat better for the rest of the year or he won't fit into his sleigh." 

"Yeah.  You should be careful too, Mom.  I saw you eat one of those cookies you made this morning and you won't fit into the van if you keep doing that."

The Most Embarrassing Time of the Year

Do you ever feel like, when you set out to teach your children something important, your bad luck and their limited social skills conspire to embarrass the heck out of you? 

Last week I was out with the boys running a few errands when we decided to duck into HyVee to grab a few grocery items.  As we approached the entrance, Cael noticed the Salvation Army bell ringer and asked me what he was doing.  I tried to explain that there are many families that don't have as much as we do, and that the money people give goes to help those families all year, and at Christmastime specifically.

Photo credit here.

And then I thought there was no better lesson than to let them put some money in the bucket themselves, knowing that they not only love to take my money whenever possible, but that they also love to throw it away, whether in a mall fountain or in a video game at Godfather's Pizza.  So I fished around in my wallet, only to find that I had literally nothing in my coin purse, save for one earring and a plastic coin that goes with Graham's cash register toy.

"Oh, I guess I don't have anything now, guys.  We'll have to do it another time."

"Okay, Mom.  But what about the kids with no presents this year?"

The guilt trip wasn't needed. I felt guilty enough for having nothing to give and for missing a chance to teach my kids something valuable.

We headed inside to collect our groceries, and on the way out I swiped my debit card to pay for my green beans and french bread.  And it was when we were walking by the bell ringer that it happened.

Photo credit here.

Why did Cael feel the need to sell me out?  I don't know.  Maybe it was because I chose not to let the boys ride together in one of those themed truck-carts.  Possibly it was because I wouldn't buy any jicama simply because "it looks like a potato and a baseball had a baby".  Or more likely, Cael just saw an opportunity to embarrass me, and seized the moment like the social vulture he is.  So he turned to the bell ringer and literally shouted...

"MY MOM DOESN'T HAVE ANY MONEY FOR PEOPLE AT CHRISTMAS!"

What could I say to that?  Not only was it true that I had no cash, but my face was as red as the ringer's bucket, so I grabbed their hands and tried to hustle to the car.  But Cael wasn't finished until the job was done.  Loudly.

"But Mom, how come you had money for groceries, but not for people who need it?"

Touché, Cael.  Aren't my kids oh-so lucky to have a mother who will teach them the important things in life, like ranking pistachio ice cream above making a difference? 

Knocking on Virtual Wood

Sometimes I think this blog has magical powers.  But like most crazy (or maybe just exhausted and misunderstood) people that think they have that gift, I can't seem to harness my power for good. 

In the past, I have made mentions of house floods and within days, the carpet is inexplicably soaked and I curse myself for not knocking on wood.  When I comment that the boys are behaving well, they respond by trashing the basement and peeing in the laundry baskets.  So with these sorts of experiences under my belt, I really should know better, right?

Remember how I posted the other day about how it can be a nice break when my kids are feeling under the weather?  The fates (or maybe this sinister blog) thought that was a perfect segue to test my parenting skills in the face of stomach flu.

I got a phone call from the school before lunchtime on Thursday requesting that I retrieve Cael after he had gotten sick in a hallway trash can.  After scrambling to get my day care kids picked up, I got him from the school and drove him home, listening to his proclamations that he wasn't going to get sick again.  Instead, I spent the duration of the day emptying his bucket every 30 minutes and doing my best to keep the kids separated. 

But just as I explained in that fateful post, when Cael gets sick he is not his usual, energetic self.  He wants to snuggle.  He wants to sleep near me.  And, germs be damned, he wants to touch my face all the time.

So my Thursday and Friday were spent fending off gastroenteritis and systematically disinfecting my whole house.  And I deserve some serious kudos, because no one else in my family got sick.

Knock, knock, knock.

All that is left for me is to learn from what has happened.  This blog clearly doesn't work like a genie's lamp.  I cannot simply ask for what I want and hope it happens.  Instead, if I think something is beyond the realm of possibility (and say so), I might have a very tiny chance.

Except for winning that mega-millions jackpot.  That $550 million could NEVER, EVER be mine.  Not ever.   

Right?

From Decongestant to Destruction

Okay, I'm just going to go ahead and say the thing we're not supposed to say as parents.  You won't judge, right?

It's a nice break when my kids are sick.

Would I prevent it if I could?  Absolutely.  Would I prefer them to be healthy?  Of course.  But alas, I don't control the fates any better than I can control my own hair, so I figure that there is no harm in enjoying the few benefits that may come with a cold that leaves my boys a bit under the weather.

First, the snuggles.  Oh, how they want to sit on my lap and have me rub their backs, or stroke their hair just like when they were very little.  And as long as I am able to steer clear of the clammy head/runny nose region, I get as much contentment out of the experience as they do.

Secondly, my boys are never as agreeable as when they are under the weather. 

"Cael, would you please eat your broccoli?" 
"Sure, Mom."
"Graham, are you ready to take your nap?" 
"Yeah, I'm sleepy."

But the best, most tolerable and, dare I say enjoyable parts of their suffering is that neither of my offspring are in any condition to continue their campaign for the systematic destruction of my home. 

On any given morning, I dread descending the fourteen stairs to the boys' bedroom and family room, where they have likely been awake since dawn dumping out toilet water and throwing projectiles at the moving ceiling fan.  When they first begin to feel ill, their antics are somewhat less physical, the boys opting instead to somehow access and poorly alter the system settings on our computer, but when their colds are in full force, they simply sleep.

I get to sneak quietly into their room and rouse them gently, kissing their faces and nuzzling their sleep-matted hair as they cross from asleep to awake.  They reach for hugs again, and they ask about medicine.

In short, when they are sick, they need me again.

But as much as I savor those sniffling moments of closeness, I want them healthy.  I want them to go to school and learn; to run and play.  So instead of saying the things I'm not supposed to say, I do the things a mom is supposed to do.  I wash their hands, take their temperatures and push the fluids.  And before I know it, I have to smile (and sigh) when I see underpants hanging from the fan and feel water under my feet.  Because, after all, a mischievous boy is a healthy boy.

"Mom, Graham was swinging on the towel rack and it ripped out of the wall!"

Anyone's kids feeling under the weather?  The Foreman boys are available for playdates...