I don't like spiders...especially anywhere near my beloved bed. The other day I saw a spider ambling its way up the wall behind my headboard. I was able to secure a flip flop in record time without ever taking my eye of the spider and brought it to a swift and timely death. That was a little gross, but nothing like what I'm about to share.
I had just awoken yesterday. Bennett and Chloe had been cuddling me and had now made their way to the kitchen. I was still lagging behind in my bedroom getting ready for the day. When what should I see before me but a spider ON MY PILLOW! To say that I freaked out is an understatement!
Many thoughts begin a tumultuous roll through my head. The first being, Where did this come from? How long has it been on my bed? Are there more? Am I not safe from insects even in my own bed? Will I forever feel as if a spider can just drop onto my pillow at any given second?
So I did what any normal person would have done, I grabbed the closest object to me and beat it to death. However, the object within immediate reach happened to be Chloe's baby doll who was just cuddling with me. All I needed was a semi hard surface in order to make full impact with the spider. I saw that surface in the head of the baby doll. I think I whacked that poor spider at least 10 times. I grabbed the baby doll by the leg and just let her rip. Thankfully Chloe was not around to witness such an action of self defense.
I was able to clean the doll's head off enough so as no one would be the wiser. My secret was safe with her, I could tell. My pillow was scarred with the effects of the spider's blow-out. That was an easy fix. I decided that if I switched pillows with Chuck and flipped it over to the 'clean' side, he would never know. He doesn't make it a habit of inspecting both sides of his pillow before laying his head upon it . But I just couldn't go thru with that part of my plan. Call it spousal devotion or a guilty conscience...I ended up just flipping the pillow and keeping it myself.
Then comes the inevitable...bedtime. I had the worst case of the hee-bee jee-bees ever! I had this strange feeling that something was on my head. I found myself scooting farther and farther down the bed. I kept trying to brush some imaginary object off my head. I even asked Chuck to "please check under the bed for a spider's nest or lair or whatever" before we went to bed. Of course he appeased me with a quick glance under his side of the bed. That's probably why he was able to rest so easy and I got up twice and turned the light on just to make sure I had no unwanted bed companions.
Then it occurred to me today, Why don't you just strip the bed and start anew? Great idea! So tonight I plan on either, sleeping on Chuck's side of the bed or sleeping on the sofa! But this time - I'm definitely switching pillows with Chuck!
Tonight Chuck, Bennett and Chloe were playing hide and seek while Gavin & I were preparing dinner. Next thing you know there's a lot of crying and screaming going on. Chuck rushes Chloe to the kitchen to put some ice on her newly acquired boo-boo. Come to find out, Chloe had found the perfect hiding spot under her bed, but upon exiting, she bumped her head and was now the proud owner of a brand new shinny bruiser on her forehead.
This broke Bennett's heart. As Chuck & I were busily trying to calm her down, we can hear Bennett in the background saying, "I wish I could have gotten hurt so Chloe didn't have to. I wish I could take her boo-boo from her. I wish it could be me instead. Even though I got a bad boo-boo yesterday and nobody helped me, I would still want this boo-boo too. My boo-boo still hurts pretty bad, but that's okay, I could still take this one." Little Mr. Tender-Heart in action. Seeing his sister in pain brings him to his knees. He just can't handle it.
He decides that since he can't take the boo-boo, he will do whatever it takes to make his sister happy. Thus begins Operation Make Chloe Smile. He stops what he was doing and pours every ounce of energy into seeing that his sister recovers from her trauma. Plan A comes in the form of a cucumber. He rushes over with a generous portion in hand. She's a little apprehensive about allowing him to put this unknown object into her mouth, but he's smiling so sweetly and gently trying to cram it down in there, how can she resist? Either she acquiesces or he is finally able to pry her lips apart, but somehow, the cucumber ended up in there. It didn't seem to have the effect Bennett was looking for, thus begins Plan B.
Plan B is to try turning on the tv to see if her favorite show is on PBS while she sits on my lap with ice on her head. Unfortunately, no luck there.
Plan C begins to take shape. He asks Daddy to accompany him downstairs so he can get the markers. Up he comes with 3 markers in hand (of the washable and non toxic variety). He walks over to Chloe with a huge grin, "Who wants a logo?" How could a logo not make anyone happy? So he proceeds to draw various shapes, lines and dots on her chest. When I ask him what it is, he replies, "We'll see...". When I press the issue, he concludes, "Well....it's a......a......a.....butterfly, yah, a butterfly, except for it's a different kind of one. It's a kind from old times back in Egypt." Chloe is thrilled. She loves the logo.
However, that is only the beginning of Operation Make Chloe Smile. He feels she needs more. She was hurt badly. Then it comes to him....he goes and gets her beloved Barbie library book and her little toy radio. There, that should do it. He then decides to abandon all else and sits with Chloe and continues to put ice on her head in 5 second increments. He finally deems that she's had enough ice and decides it's now time to begin dancing to her nifty little radio tunes.
I hear him make a bargain with her, "Chloe, if you promise not to whine, I'll let you have my doggie for 3 days...but if you do whine, oh well, then you'll never get it." This seems like an offer she can't refuse. Without giving it any thought what-so-ever, she quickly responds, "Oh tay, Netnet." The love of a brother!
Life is good again.
Thank you Bennett, for showing me what love in action looks like.
Gavin has been pondering something very serious for a while now. He solemnly shares with me that he has (and I swear, I'm using his exact phraseology), "One extra boob." Sensing that the conversation will proceed no farther if I begin rolling on the floor with laughter, I stifle my outburst in order to hear why he has this conviction.
He then tells me that this 'third boob' is on his face. I gaze into his cute, little, seven year old face to try to see this anomaly that apparently concerns him to the extent of needing to share it with me. I see nothing resembling a 'third boob'. So I ask, "Honey, can you point it out to me?"
He then zeros in on a large (and I think, adorable) mole placed perfectly on the side of his chin. I can't help but probe further, "Honey, how do you think this is like a third boob? It looks like a mole to me." He was just waiting for me to ask this question, "Well...it's big." is his instant reply. But I also have a comeback, "Yes, honey, some moles are big. This one is not flush with your skin, it sticks up a little bit." That only seems to add fuel to his fire. He's evidently already thought all this through, so he proceeds with, "yah, and see if I pull on it like this...I can make it pokey." At this, I'm out of replies, so I decided to end our conversation with, "Honey, I still think you're handsome, even with your 'third boob.'"
We are the lucky (temporary) owners of a pool table. As of late, it has only been for the grown ups. But times are changing and Chuck found it in his heart to open up the joy of pool to our younger generation. What was once taboo for their age and stature has now become the most desired object of their affection.
The reason for Chuck's sudden change of heart regarding the pool table is actually a bit selfish if truth be told. Yesterday was a very long day. We played everything. Yet we still had an hour left before bedtime and 3 pairs of eyes starring up at us waiting longingly for a game idea. Legos were out, superheroes were out, bionicles were out, kitchen was out, hide and seek was out and its too dark to play outside. And then it happens. I saw the lightbulb go off in Chuck's head and the words were out of his mouth before I could stop him, "How bout we play pool ball?"
The kids have affectionately referred to this game by this name since it does indeed use a ball and is in fact a pool table - not to be confused with a regular pool which is simply a place to jump, splash and get wet in. Thus the nick-name, pool ball.
I lovingly ask, "So, what are we supposed to do with Chloe?" Chuck says, "She can watch." I'm sure this will go over well with Chloe. The kids are doing their typical non-stop jumping and dancing around. To actually be asked to play a grown up game made them so giddy they couldn't sit or stand still.
Chuck decides we should play teams. Gavin & I were team 1 and Chuck and Bennett were team 2. Team 2 always plays with the short stick. Team 1 shares the long stick. And Chloe sits perched atop a stool that puts her exactly eye level with the pool table. And since her eyes can see, that also means her hands must touch. Whatever balls ended up in front of Chloe were nicely rearranged into a pattern that she felt suited her better. Actually, she turned out to be more like a referee or that guy who sits there on the tennis courts overseeing the game. She insisted on constantly telling us who was on who's team. She constantly told us in no uncertain terms to "GO!" And when it got too quiet she would quiz us to see if we remembered which team we were on, "Mommy, what peem you on?" Other phrases I remember being uttered at strategic parts of the game (i.e - like when I'm concentrating) were, "Me no play pool ball yet, me only 2." and "Mommy, me see led (red) ball!" and "Mommy, me see lellow ball!" this continues until she positively identified every ball color on the table and whether or not it had a stripe and a number on it. Maybe this is why this has only been an adult game up until now.
The boys picked up on it remarkably well. Gavin has a great hit. He can always hit the white ball and hit it hard. It might not always hit the ball he's aiming for, but hey, mine doesn't either.
Bennett had to carry his stool around with him where ever he went so that he could actually reach the table. His form was interesting. He balanced the stick between two fingers making a
'v' on the table and then he held the stick like it was a torpedo and if he dropped it, it might explode. I have no idea how he was able to ever hit the ball - but he managed to a few times. At one point, he ended up trying to hit the ball like 10 times but kept missing and getting a severe case of the giggles. We spent more time laughing at Bennett and his cackling and form than getting the balls in the pockets.
This was turning out to be an awesome activity - that is, when we could find the balls that Chloe had kindly moved for us. Turns out we all had a huge case of the giggles and the laughter brought us closer together. Who knew? An event I thought could turn out disastrous, had actually turned into a beautiful memory. One of those times I wish I could freeze frame. Thank you Baby, for suggesting an impractical activity and thank you kids for being who you are and making me laugh all the time. I hope I have alot of laugh lines when I get old!
Every other 'normal' mother I know would be thrilled to death that their precious 7 and 4 year olds were not only familiar with the term homonym but could actually be able to produce one if asked.
That's where I'm not normal. You see, I'm SICK of homonyms and homophones. However, my children (and even Chloe to a point) are OBSESSED with them. I'm not joking, every 2.5 minutes a new one is thrown at me. You'd think they were on this secret mission to uncover all homonyms/homophones in the English language in less than a year.
Their level of excitement about these anomalies of the English language are causing me to wonder if I'm being secretly taped for some pitiful reality show that is trying to unearth the idiosyncrasies of the English language.
If only that were true, then there would be some reason for our madness, but no, I have since come to discover that it is purely out of joy that my children lambast me with these parts of speech day and night.
Gavin truly has a strong grasp of this concept. Give him 5 minutes to come up with as many as he can and he could shoot out 10 of them - all grammatically correct and used in a sentence.
Then there's Bennett. Some days I think he really knows what he's talking about, then most days remind me that he just got lucky on the word he chose and he really has no clue. Here's how I know: (snipets of actual conversation to follow are from the best of my memory, however, my memory is on overload right now and could not possibly remember everyone of the infinite examples he has casually thrown out).
Bennett: "Rock Mom, like I see a rock and like, the rock is on the floor."
Bennett: "For Mom, like I am four and I look for that."
Bennett: "Beyell (how he pronounces bell) Mom, like I see a beyell and like, I have a beyell around my waist." (This was said as we were entering a certain food establishment with this word in its title.) Gavin is quick to jump upon this as a simple enunciation error and swiftly corrects Mr. Homonym Man by informing him that he is indeed wrong under no uncertain terms. I might have chosen a more gentle approach - but that's what brother's are for, I guess.
Bennett: "Look Mom, like look at that woodpecker and like, I you look pretty." (that one earned points for ingenuity).
Bennett: " Hey mom, like 'hey' like hey I want that or like, hey give that to me." This is being said as we are walking through the grocery store.
FINALLY I intervene and save us all from utter homonym exhaustion.
Mommy: "Very close, Buddy, but it's actually 'hay' as in the stuff horses eat and 'hey' come back here." Why am I doing this...am I actually trying to encourage more homophones? I'm walking a very fine line here. I definitely don't want to damage his developing physcy by constantly saying 'No, you're wrong!' - but I also don't want him to give up just cuz he didn't get it right. So I guess ultimately I am the responsible party keeping this endless cycle of homonyms going...this realization has just now occurred to me as I sit here typing away...Hey! Here and Hear - I thought of one! See, it's catchy isn't it?!
What I've learned from Bennett: NEVER stop trying. You will eventually get it right. You never know until you ask. It's all worth it in the end if you made them laugh!
What I've learned from Gavin: Don't stop learning until you get it right and then say it over and over and over again so that the repetitive process burns the information into your internal hard drive forever.
What I've learned from Chloe: Copying those around you who are older and wiser is an awesome way to learn.
And the most important lesson learned: THERE ARE WAY TOO MANY HOMONYMS/HOMOPHONES IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE! WHO WILL PUT AN END TO THIS MADNESS?!? Is there some national English language hotline I can call?
I am so lucky. I get to learn something new every day and most days its because my kids have taught it to me. Here's what I've learned today:
1. Woodpeckers should be called 'Housepeckers' because they prefer to peck holes in our house instead of trees - or maybe they think our house is a huge tree. Thank you, Bennett, for this lesson.
2. Knights are probably the coolest thing to play. Today we made our own shields from cardboard and designed our own coat of arms. Gavin was the double tailed scorpion, Bennett was the red dragon and Chloe was the little, pink pony. In their minds they are real knights and take all this very seriously. They spent an eternity sanding down their swords of wood to make them super smooth so as not to get slivers (which both boys ended up getting prior to the sandpapering episode). They learned that knights spoke Latin and that boys their ages were called pages and also practiced and played with wooden swords. Their excitement is contagious and showed me how fantasy play grows your imagination in ways you can't even measure.
3. I've learned from my children how vitally important it is that we accept, love and show patience to everyone different than we are. Isolation is cruel, lonely and sad and should never be experienced by anyone if we can ever help it. If we are ever the ones to be left out or shunned we would want someone else to treat us the way we would hope to be treated. This is a beautiful lesson that runs deep on many levels.
4. Homeschooling is really just life. It's children who love to learn so much, they never want to stop. The moment I turn something into a 'school project or lesson' the joy is gone - but when we experience it as play and fun the natural curiosity returns. I no longer put myself above the children but learn along side them. They can tell the difference. I think its so important for our children to see us actively learning. They copy everything they see you know.
Bennett and I have been experiencing some pretty deep conversations lately. Take yesterday at snack time for instance. Him and I are sitting on the kitchen floor, busily filling our tummies when he lets his true feelings be known:
"Mom, there's sumfin I've been wonderin ever since I was a baby being born...do bugs have blood in dem or air? Cuz it seems every time you smoosh a bug, only air comes out?"
No question is too hard for me when you have your trusty, dusty Science Encylopedia by your side. I whip it open to the bug section and find a neat little diagram of a bug and thankfully, it did indeed show the bug's blood vessels. You can set your heart at ease now, dear Bennett, Mommy has scientifically proven to you that bugs are not filled with air only. Next question please.
Thinking that he has some deep seeded issues of holding questions in too long, I pry into his brain and try to figure out what's going on in there. Fortunately, I succeed in opening the floodgates.
The next question I get asked is, "Mom, I've also been wonderin, ever since I was born, what 10 plus 8 is."
Oh have you now??? This line of questioning intrigues me. Yet, I stick with it, knowing that all he really wants is my undivided attention and time with me. He just thought of that question 2 seconds ago. It was the first thing that popped into his mind. Oddly enough, him and I were just doing a little bit of math right before snack time. I give him the answer he has seemingly waited years to hear. "Oh" is the depth of response I get. He's already mulling over his next pseudo question.
But I am pleasently surprised. Instead of a question this time, I get to witness his brain in action. He's kind of thinking out loud about this next issue. This is exactly what he said:
"Mom, when I become a Jedi, if I can't make my own light saber, I'll just get a sword instead. I guess I could build it - maybe take a stick and melt it to make the handle. Then I could get Daddy's screwdriver fork type thingy and I could rub it on that to make my sword killable."
"Hmmmm." was the extent of my reply. What does one say in response to something like that? I'm thinking to myself, So, this is what's running through your mind when I'm asking you to eat your food and you're sitting there staring at me with a blank expression? Or am I somehow overstimulating your already over active brain with too many books? Do you really think becoming a Jedi is a suitable career option for you? Why would you want to make something killable? Do all boys think like this, or should we look into some counseling?
However, in the end I end up giving him a giant hug and thank him for sharing the things he's been wonderin about. Without times like this, I wouldn't have that special window into my son's thoughts and wouldn't be priviledged to see the things that make him tick.
But now that he brought it up, there's something I've been wonderin about ever since I was born too.....why has God blessed me with such an awesome life??
As Chloe and I sat doing puzzles together today, I realized something profound. It's time that we bring some excitement into the otherwise boring and predictable sounds of your typical barnyard - at least Chloe holds such convictions.
Try as I may, she continues to give the animals HER sounds, not the ones I'm attempting to brainwash her with - you know the same ones that have been passed down from generation to generation. Did you know that dolphins now live in the 'barnyard'? That seems to be the reality that my daughter is living in and she refuses to believe anyone who attempts to tell her other wise.
Below is a re-creation of an actual conversation that occured between Chloe and myself earlier today:
Mommy handing Chloe a puzzle piece of a pig. What does this say, Honey?
Chloe: gose, gose (gross, gross).
Mommy, laughing her head off, gives her a horse piece to see what in the world this creature says in her world.
Chloe: hee-hee
Mommy decides to hand her a sheep. What is this one, Sweetie?
Chloe: a feep. honk, honk
Next I give her a rooster.
Chloe: dat a rooser. ka-kooo. She then sees a dolphin from another puzzle and says, "Dat, too." So I ask her what it says and she responds, "ruff, ruff"
So, there you have it. If I ever appear to not understand what you're telling me or seem to be confused by adult conversation, it would be because of such conversations as the one you just witnessed. You cannot spend your days talking about things that don't exist or aren't real and not begin to question your sanity. The line between make believe and reality is a VERY thin one in this house. I often find myself spending alot of time looking for that line and never finding it.
When one spends much of their day and time listening to tales of superhero feats attained by 4 and 7 year olds or listening to the new sounds that the animals make now-a-days through the eyes of a 2 year old, one tends to have a far-away look in their eyes. This same person tends to also question whether or not you are being 'for real'. Don't take it personally, just nod and shake your head and let this person believe that she is 'normal'. Thank you!
This would be our family's code word for anyone (inside our family unit) who might have 'forgotten' to wear appropriate undergarments. This normally only happens to one of our family members...can you guess who? Of course you can. One word says it all...Bennett. I love that little guy! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have much to blog about.
This would actually be my second post regarding Bennett's underwear habits. Should this be? Never-the-less, this is where I find myself in life and feel the need to share it with anyone who will listen.
So, the other day I notice (I won't divulge how I came about this pertinent piece of information, just that I did) that Bennett is not wearing any big boy pants under his shorts. Curious as to his train of thought and excuse for this 'oversight', I ask, "Bennett, are you not wearing any big boy pants today?" He abruptly stops what he's doing, looks at me and tries to asses my mood. I can see the thoughts scrolling across his forhead: Am I in trouble? Should I pull the 'I have no clue how this could have happened' look? Do I pretend I didn't hear her? Do I go up and give her a kiss and lavish her with compliments? Is she happy about this discovery? Should I pull the 'oh, I forgot' tactic? Hmmmm...choices, choices.
Finally, an answer spews forth from his lips,"Well...I seen Gavin do it and it kinda made me want to." Goodness, I wouldn't have seen the Blame the Brother strategy being applied to this situation. Yet, he seemed to pull it off pretty good. It did divert the question at hand away from him momentarily. But I wasn't about to be caught up in his mind games. Instead of calling Gavin over to find out if this was true, I chose to follow up on my first line of questioning.
Being that this isn't the first time I have caught him Going Commando I wanted to see if there was indeed a reason behind this whole charade or if it was simply what I feared: laziness. Actually, I guess there could be a third reason, no clean underwear was readily available from his usual stash. But since I am well acquainted with the laundry schedule and how many pairs of underwear each child has, it was highly unlikely that he had none left. Normally, he opts for turning the dirty pair inside out and wearing those before Going Commando.
Back to the conversation at hand..."Why do you like to do this, Bennett?"
"Well...it's kinda fun and silly too." Then he pauses as if he's thinking of something and shyly looks back up at me and finishes his train of thought, "The only bad part is that when you have to pee, you can't pee in your pants." This one caught me by surprise. What does that mean exactly? Why would that be the 'bad part'? Is he making it a habit of peeing in his big boy underwear? Do we need a refresher course in potty training? Have I utterly failed at explaining the purpose behind wearing underwear to my son? I chose to ignore the assault of 'pee questions' flooding my mind and put on my best, "oh" expression and tried very hard to move on. Where to, I don't know. All I know is that he was succesful in diverting my attention away from the the fact that he was going commando.
That would be me...the socially inept one. I will be the first to admit that I suck at social situations. I prefer to busy myself when in the midst of a large group of people. I hope to God that nobody asks me a question. And if, God forbid, I am caught sitting next to someone I've never met...well...can you say 'awkward'? That's me. If and when I open my mouth - it's not long before I find my foot in it.
I have found three common things happen to me whenever I do choose to try to look normal and join a conversation in progress. I either:
1. try to say something serious and everybody thinks I was trying to say something funny...so they laugh at me. Then that takes me back to deep rooted issues of...well, never mind, that's another blog.
2. try to say something funny and people just stare at me and we all sit there awkwardly as I begin counting ceiling tiles. Or...
3. try to make small talk - which I'm HORRIBLE at! I so don't do small talk. I can talk about major life issues, but I CANNOT talk about small, non-important things.
So, as you can tell...I'm a ball of joy to talk to when you first meet me.
Tonight, one such situation presented itself and I pulled a 'typical Cori'. We were at a party and were surrounded by many people we did not know. The one person I did know introduced me to her friend. She also gave me a morsel of information that I could possibly use in my attempt to 'small talk' with this new person. She told me that 'new person' used to live in Texas. Well, what do you know? What a small world, I did too! Well...we must obviously have a connection of some sort, right?
So, 'new person' told me that her husband actually used to be Texan. I found that an odd thing to say 'used to be'...like he has since changed allegiances. We have a saying in Texas, "Once a Texan, always a Texan" (as if there wasn't already enough Texas pride). Since her statement was odd, I chose to pursue it. This is where my social ineptitude comes out in full force.
I say, "What do you mean your husband 'was Texan'? He doesn't want to associate with Texas anymore now that he lives here? Her answer was short, "No, he died."
Sometimes I'm such an idiot. What kind of come back does one have when they have just tried to make a joke about someone's dead husband? What was I to say? I search the room looking for anyone to help me here. Everyone has conveniently looked away. I have to respond. The clock is ticking and everyone can hear it. How can I save face here?
I ended up finishing off by asking how he died. I then sat there for the next 15 minutes talking about death while at a birthday party.
I'm happy to report that I was successfully able to evade any further conversations the rest of the evening.
How glad I am that I don't have to stand up in a crowd and 'blog aloud'. I'm thankful for this medium for those of us who are so socially inept we end up making fools of ourselves.
Should 2 year olds already be exhibiting signs of OCD? That is just one of the many questions looming in my head as I head off to find a new pediatrician.
Chloe has become quite the little 'Monk'. Of course, as her parents, we find it hilarious since we often exhibit many of the same symptoms. In children, it's cute. In us adults, we have to give it some type of disorder name. Thus...OCD. I prefer to refer to it as...intense love of cleanliness and efficiency; or maybe even...one who takes great delight in spatial orderliness and symmetry. Either way, it is so funny to see these blatant signs of OCD manifesting itself in a two year old's body.
Here's how we know the mantle has been passed down to her:
1. Chuck made waffles for the kids' lunch the other day. After Chuck had poured the syrup onto each plate, he mistakenly left it sitting in the middle of the table with the lid wide open. How in the world is any rational, clean, obsessive person supposed to just sit there and eat comfortably while something is out of spatial order??? Chloe was acting extremely irritable and uncomfortable until she could no longer stand it. In her still slightly unintelligible grasp of the English language she tries to convey her dislike of the syrup lid being left ajar. Yet how is one who does not yet know the word 'lid' and 'ajar' supposed to convey such an important message? Easy - you whine. You whine loud and hard and you point and make as many gestures that annoy the heck out of everyone around you until they finally figure out what you mean. Once Chuck was able to replace the lid to its rightful spot, Chloe let out a huge sigh of relief and merrily continued with her lunch.
2. I took my flip-flops off in Chloe's room as I was putting her to bed tonight so as to make it easier to cuddle. We said our prayers, sang our song, and gave our kisses. Some time later, say 30 minutes or so, I hear her consistently calling my name. It sounds more like a chant, "Mommmmeeeee, Mommmmeeeee, Mommmmeeee." It never lets up. She is persistent, relentless, in for the long haul. I try, in vain, to ignore her for the entire time I hear the chant. I think to myself, "She has to learn to go to bed." However, she finally wins. I figure, "If I just go check on her, maybe I can quickly solve whatever problem seems to be bugging her." As I poke my head in her room, she sits up and points over to my shoes and says, "Mommmmeee, fip fop, me room, nooooo." In other words, "Mom, how could you be so careless as to leave your flip-flops in here? We all know I could never fall asleep with those things lying askew in my room. Please take care of the matter instantly." And so I did. I never heard another peep from her.
Thus, one can now understand our new term of endearment for our sweet daughter, our 'Little Miss Monk'. It is said with utmost affection...as well as much understanding on our part. As the saying goes, "You gotta be one to know one." I hope that's how the saying goes. I'm not very good at reciting sayings properly. Just smile and nod pretend you know what I'm talking about...the kids always do. Humor me - that's the best way to appease those of us exhibiting extreme signs of OCD.
How can you turn a peaceful, serene, undisturbed plot of nature into chaos? Simple…input the my family right into the middle of it. That is what happened to our poor mountain this past Saturday. It experienced us in full.
Since the day was perfect, Chuck had the ingenious idea of going for a little hike after dinner. We were all thrilled with the prospect. We rushed through dinner, got our dirty, grubby clothes on (not because we wanted to look like poor people, but because we didn’t feel like getting our normal clothes dirty), and bounded out of the house in search of a nature adventure. This was going to be good – we could feel it.
However, before any fun hiking could be had, I insisted we fumigate ourselves with an entire can of ‘Bug Be Gone’ – or some such variety. I sprayed hard and long. Anything that had a nose was going to be sure to stay a safe distance away from us! A mother has to do all she can to protect her brood from such evils as ticks, mosquitoes and whatever else that may lurk in the woods and feed upon the blood of unsuspecting hikers. Our fumigation session culminated with me dispensing such wisdom as, “Okay kids, DO NOT lick your face. It has poison on it.” That didn’t sound right, but they believed me and off we set.
Next, we drove down to the ‘starting place’ (if there is such a thing as that) for where we would commence our hike. Oooo this was going to be fun! We were all giddy. Excitement filled the air. There was a small field we had to cross before we got to the foot of the mountain. To my utter joy, this field had recently been mowed. The reason this caused such happiness to befall me was because it brought back such fond memories of childhood that I had to stop and immediately share them with the family. The hike could wait – its memory lane right now.
Okay troops, listen to this story…they all stopped and stared at me, squinting as if the sun were in their eyes. When Mommy was a little girl, my favorite thing to do was to take all these grass clippings and make houses out them (in a blueprint looking form). I thought they would think I was ingenious, brilliant, had come up with the world’s coolest activity. As I’m talking, I’m gathering handfuls of grass clippings and neatly arranging them into the latest housing design that just popped into my head. I’m lost in my own little world reminiscent of decades gone by. When all of the sudden I hear laughter. What, I wonder, could be funny about my design? Then I saw it, they were making a mockery of my grass clippings by gathering handfuls and throwing them at each other….boys. To each his own, I guess. My trip down memory lane was cut short, when we ran out of grass clippings.
So now, here we are at the start of the woods. We walk gingerly along the narrow path. Gavin, the self appointed leader, Bennett, insisting on being second, Chuck behind them and Chloe and I walking hand in hand. Since she is so close to the ground, she notices every single little thing on it and stops every few feet to pick ‘it’ up and show me. I was hoping this would be a discovery adventure for the kids, just not every few feet. When suddenly, we come to a fork in the path and have to make a choice. Do we go up (at an unimaginable – and in my opinion – very unsafe incline) or to we continue on our level course?
The boys outnumber the girls in this family. In other words – risk and excitement normally beat out caution and sensibility. Being that this was a family event and that I wanted to be with my family, I relented and climbed 75 degree angle of a slope set before me. Have I ever mentioned before that I’m deathly afraid of heights? Well, I am!!!
Another plus for us, is that our bug spray is definitely working. All wildlife within a mile radius of us has instantly scattered – that includes other human beings. There was not a one in sight. This concerned me a bit being that I might just be falling down a mountain soon and was hoping someone would be within earshot to hear my piercing screams. Man, why did I put so much bug spray on? At least I didn’t have any gnats blocking my vision as I’m clawing my way up the side of the cliff.
So here we are – on our fun, family outing. Bennett is the leader this time. This is only because he is the one who is most likely to slip and we would rather have him up in front of all of us so that when he does we all tumble down like bowling pins…er, I mean, so if he does, we’re there to catch him and brace his fall. So, guess who Chuck puts behind Bennett – ME! Oh great! Don’t look down, don’t look down, is all I can keep repeating in my head. Then there’s Gavin behind me – louder than all get out. That kid is so LOUD. Between him and the bug spray, I think we’ve scared away even the ants. At the end is Chuck who has my sweet, precious little daughter wrapped like a tortilla around his back. She spends much of the time screaming about the hair that is in her eyes. But Daddy is holding onto her hands for dear life so as to keep her positioned on his back at just the right angle, so my poor dear is unable to brush the stray, ticklely strands of hair out of her line of vision.
Whilst attempting to scale the beginning portions of Mt. Everest, Gavin decides that it would be a good time to tell us about the powers of his latest imaginary super hero he just created – at the top of his lungs. When he gets excited, he talks even louder. I’m thinkin now is not the best time to show me all his creative abilities. Survival is of utmost importance to me right now. I yell at him to “PLEASE be quiet and save your story for later!” yet being ever so careful not to damage or scar him emotionally. I go on to explain that my outburst comes out of self-preservation, not any dislike of his latest superhero.
Bennett turns out to be a phenomenal leader. He takes his Spiderman abilities seriously. He was grabbing every root and rock available and scaling the hill at an amazing speed. He didn’t once slip. And because I was following my fearless leader – neither did I. Once we reached the top and looked down, a wave of nausea hit, my legs turned to jello and I had an overwhelming feeling of free falling. Thankfully, Chuck was hanging on tight to me and reminding me to breathe.
I was SHOCKED! My entire family made it to the top of a mountain. I conquered my fear. We had fun!
On the way back down, I was once again explaining to Gavin why it’s important to not talk so loud in the woods (or anywhere in public for that matter). I told him he needed to be aware of his surroundings, ever on the lookout for ‘things’. That, of course, prompted an obvious question, “What kind of things, Mom?” Oh, just like, BEAR and stuff. I of course am freaking out about the possibility of running into anything living (I am so not the outdoorsy type). I’m looking up in the trees, thru the dense underbrush, and every few seconds I stop and do a 360 scan of my immediate surroundings. You would think I had Special Ops training under my belt. If there was a bear, I would be the first to know. Nothing was going to surprise me on a fun family outing.
Meanwhile, at the same time of having to deal with ‘the loud talker’, Chuck was having to deal with ‘the whacker’. Bennett constantly was picking up sticks, many 3 times his size, and whacking the first tree that was in sight. We obviously have a lot to turn about hiking etiquette. Chloe on the other hand, is ‘miss naturalist’ and not afraid to touch anything. We found her wandering over to a hollowed out tree decaying in the woods and poking her head into it. Great! Chloe, don’t you know the dangers of what could be lurking in a hollow tree? Well, I don’t either, but it can’t be good.
On we trek, the end of our little hike is drawing near. When all of the sudden, my watchful eye spots something. I feel like I have the powers of Gavin’s latest superhero “Eagle Boy”. He has laser vision you know. Well, my vision was ever so keen on this hike. Thankfully, everyone halted in mid-step when I froze like a statue and whisper-yelled, “STOP – LOOK OVER THERE!!” To our joy, we were within only a few feet of a doe. She looked right at us and kept on eating. We watched each other in awe for several minutes and each continued on our way.
Not only did the kids learn not to be loud or whack things or fearlessly put your head in miscellaneous hollow logs on our hike, but we had the joy of teaching them numerous things. We got to touch and see moss growing on the north side of the tree, we learned how to tell which way was North, South, East and West, we learned about conifer trees having needles instead of leaves. Bennett can now spot a Robin and we learned what it’s song sounds like. We listened to the quiet of the woods and felt it’s cool breeze. We learned how to work as a team and do something very hard but very rewarding. That’s my favorite thing about my family…we learn together, we have fun together, we cry together, we laugh together.
Thankfully, we didn’t all see a bear together – then this story might not have ever been written!
