New Identities

I was just informed that we are no longer who we think we are. I know that sounds confusing, but life in my house normally is. It seems our entire family has recently morphed into a superhero family of bees.

My new identity is that of "Honey Bee". This makes sense considering my affinity towards honey. Chuck will now be known as "Yellowjacket". I believe this handle was chosen for him since he is so fast and speedy. Gavin is "Wasp". I don't know that there's a reason other than that was his latest superhero invention. Plus, he likes the idea of being able to sting and not immediately loose his life. Bennett is now, "Hornet". Makes sense considering how he can get himself riled up so easily. And lastly, Chloe is "Bumblebee". They are usually known for being very loud and noisy and a tad bit bothersome. I have no idea why they chose that name for her.

Just thought you might like to know. If you hear of any great escapades against evil and injustice in the news, know that it was probably the Bee Family out and about just doing their job.

Chloe Language

I just love three year olds. They are so expressive. They try everything because they think they can do everything by themselves. They ask 'why' at least 146 times each day. And they have the most adorable imitation of grown-up talk. Chloe is at the top of her game right now. She's even 'teaching' me how to spell words such as CAT. She tell me, "Mommy, dis how you fpell tat: B-L-U-L-C. Now say it with me taaaat. Good." I'm a willing student, it seems, so I get lots of these little impromptu lessons from her.

Today we were sitting on the floor working on a puzzle together. She was sitting on my lap. In the most polite, kind voice she says, "Mommy, those poky things on you leg are hurting me. Could you please go raze them. You have a razor on your baf-tub." She was just waiting for the right moment she could use the new word I added to her vocabulary this morning as she picked up my razor and asked, "What's dis?" I just love how she even tried to conjugate it.

We always tell ourselves that we'll never forget how our child says this or that in a unique or funny way. We fool ourselves into thinking they'll talk like that forever. However, we forget that time marches on and they have a way of changing without us ever noticing. Then we look back and regret not remembering how they pronounced a silly word. Well, this post is here for that reason alone. When Chloe is 10 and talking very articulately, she'll find this post, read it and laugh her head off. Here's some of my favorite sayings in 3 year old Chloe language:

duhbana (banana)
duhsketti (spaghetti)
foo meet (excuse me)
fums (thumbs)
welpum (welcome)
olibs (olives)
hankerchips (handkerchiefs)
dat-o-tay (that's okay)
led (red)
hud (hug)
feepin booty (sleeping beauty)
fambled edds (scrambled eggs)
peez fop it (please stop it)
fpark-ul-lee earwings (sparkley ear-rings)
I fmell fumpin (i smell somthing)
you wittle finker (you little stinker)
yester night (last night)
thanks you

When I Grow Up...

Chloe is forever frustrated by the fact that she is not a 'real' mommy yet. I mean, after all, she wears the high heels, the lipstick, the dresses and a lovely assortment of jewelry, including new dangley earrings. What more must I do to be a 'real' mommy? must be the thought running through her naive little head. She's always asking me, "Mommy, why can't I be a mommy now?" And then I take the easiest course and remind her that she hasn't gotten married yet and all mommies need to get married first. Well then, now we have a host of new problems to tackle. "But I don't know who I'm going to marry or what my dress will look like or what shoes I will wear?" We always end our deep conversation with the same conclusion, that thankfully she doesn't have to know all that now, that God has it all planned out nicely for her and its our job to wait. In the mean time, we get to have fun playing and pretending to be a mommy (even though, technically in her mind, she has all the 'gear' to be a real one right now). My, my...the trials of being three.

Then there's Bennett. My little superhero. And truly he is. He loves to rescue people. He rescues the one who gets left out by including them, he rescues the one who is sad by trying to make them laugh, he rescues the one who is hurt by comforting them. You are not allowed to be sad around Bennett or one of two things will happen....he will end up sad just like you because he feels your pain so deeply or you will end up laughing because he will do his latest stand up comedian routine on you and you will laugh so hard you will forget what was plaguing you. The superhero options are endless, as of late, it's changed from ninja to knight. But it's always someone strong enough to defeat evil. I have no doubt he'll grow up to be my little Mr. Incredible!

I've wondered for many years now what Gavin might want to be or could accomplish as he gets older. I have no preset ideas or expectations for him. However, I've been very puzzled by the array of things he enjoys and couldn't possibly see a connection to all of them...until yesterday when Gavin announced: I think I want to be an actor when I grow up. Ahhh, now it all makes sense. He told me, "I can do everything I love being an actor: I can dress up in costumes, pretend to be something I'm not, be imaginative and read alot." I have to admit, I'm a much bigger fan of this line of work than I was when he declared the trash truck driver occupation. But there's always being a chemist to fall back on if the whole acting thing doesn't work out. He could wear a costume to the lab and no one would know.

It's so fun being young and seeing the whole world filled with opportunity. It inspires me to want to do the same...no, not become an actor or knight but to never stop dreaming. When I grow up (trust me, I'm so not a grown up yet), I want to start an orphanage and teach all the kids life skills and share all the unconditional love I've been blessed to live in. I also want to open a bookstore. I want to travel the world (being on The Amazing Race would be soo cool). I want to be a tour guide. Now I feel like Chloe, so much to do and learn and so little time. My greatest challenge seems to be living in the here and now. I'm living my dream right now, the rest will come in time.

Reality vs. Vacation

Ahhh...just the word vacation conjures up such feelings as restful, joyous, carefree, all the time in the world to do whatever you want (within reason and budget) without worrying too much about all the responsibility that is an ever constant companion back in "the real world".

Our last little foray into that blissful state of mind was only 2 short weeks ago. Amazingly enough, our vacation was 'normal'. No outrageous, crazy happenings that seem to befall our family. We looked and acted like every other 'normal' family. I should have known then that it wouldn't last forever. I knew that once we got home, reality would hit us hard. That seems to be our 'tradition', if you will. We prefer to have unimaginable, unexpected and expensive things happen shortly upon our arrival back from paradise. We wouldn't want to fool ourselves into thinking that the troublesome-free life we just experienced for a few too precious days could really be attainable for people such as ourselves. Take last week for example:

I picked up the dog from the kennel and brought her home after taking out a small loan to pay for her private suite during our 2 weeks away. The only way I can justify spending that kind of money on her is because I know they all love her there and take such good care of her. But that's beside the point. Upon entering our house and being greeted with unequivocal adoration from her siblings (the human ones), she realizes that her bladder is just not strong enough to contain all her excitement. Clean up number one occurs less than 4 minutes upon reestablishing familial connections. I guess that was my error, I probably should have had everyone come outside to formally greet her. What do I know about dog training?

She then takes her place in our room, where Chuck works from home. They are working buddies. She seems to like the quiet clickitty clack of the keyboard (that's an oxymoron) and I like that his eyes are keeping watch on her. I guess Chuck likes having her there too...I never really asked...this set up works too good to worry about that now. So anyways, I run an errand with the boys while Chloe stays home and takes a nap while Chuck is working in our room. He runs upstairs to check on her. He is gone maybe 2 minutes. In that amount of time Elizabeth has seemingly exploded. She decided to let Chuck know what she feels about him leaving her. She proceeded to poopie and then frolic about in it all over our room. We have not even been home for 24 hours yet!! I stayed gone long enough to let Chuck pick up that indescribable mess in peace. I was just trying to be thoughtful.

Once I got home, and assured our puppy that she was still loved (at least by me anyways), I let her back into our room. Bad idea. As a bonus, she proceeded to throw-up from some unknown ailment. The pile was massive. Again, this was in our room. Yuck! We had to sleep with nose-plugs that night.

And lastly, on this, our first day back from vacation, we started noticing a burning smell. What on earth could be burning in our house, I ask myself. Come to find out, this was the day our dishwasher decided it was done with us. We eventually find out that it will cost more to fix it than to replace it. So, we venture out to our local appliance store to buy our second appliance this month. Didn't see that one coming.

These types of events keep us grounded in reality. This was actually a walk in the park compared to our return home greeting 5 years ago. You see, we were still in that time of life when vacations were a rarity for us. All extra money goes to food and things we need in order to live. Thus, when Chuck's work awarded him an all expense paid Mediterranean Cruise, we were speechless. We knew this would be a once in a lifetime experience. We treasured every surreal moment we had. It is my conclusion that the better the vacation, the worse the descent back into reality. Here's what awaited us:

We pick up our children and drive back home. The instant we walk through the front door, my nose tells me "something is seriously wrong here." Either something was dead or rotting, but it wasn't pretty. We quickly discovered it was the 2 bags of chicken we left sitting in the back seat of the car parked in the closed garage. I had bought like 12 packages of chicken the day we left because they were on an unbelievable sale - and I am not one to pass up on such a bargain. You can imagine the blame game we instantly started playing, "I asked if you brought everything in from the car?"..."Well, you should have checked.." yada, yada, yada. Forget all the "I love you's" and strolls hand in hand we had while walking through Portofino, Italy just a day and a half ago. Now, it was about being right! My house smells like 12 dead chickens and I'm about to throw up!!

But as we were arguing, we realize not only are we starting to wreak, but we're also sweating. It seemed to be getting hotter and hotter in the house. We then join forces, even for a short bit, and run over to check the ancient thermostat. Our HVAC unit was about 20 some odd years old at that point and we knew it would be biting the dust soon...but did it have to be today?! The temperature continued to rise in the house - not good in Texas during the end of April.

We decided to go back over to my parents' house on the other side of town. I was to drive the kids over in our other car, which still stunk because everything we owned stunk at this point, but not as bad as Chuck's car, a.k.a The Chicken Car. Chuck was going to attempt to clean out the car and then drive over to my parents' house to meet us and try to ride out the current heat wave at our house.

It seemed to be taking Chuck a very long time to clean out the car. Come to find out, the Chicken Car died on him on the way over. He's not 5 minutes away and he's stuck. This was before we owned cell phones. So, he's now walking to the nearest convenience store to find a phone to call me to tell me the news. I don't even know if he had a quarter on him to make the call. We were both ready to cry at this point. The world can be so cruel. It was piling everything on us at once. It's hard enough to deal with the fact that we would forever be reminded of our collective stupidity by leaving chicken in a car for a week. But add to that that it just died on Chuck and he's having to beg for a phone - what have we become?!

Somehow, someway, we were able to pick up Chuck, get the car towed, buy a part and get it fixed - thanks to my Dad's knowledge of the inner workings of an automobile. In a haze, we somehow made it home again that night, emptied an entire can on Lysol in our house and fell into a very hot, sticky, smelly sleep as we tried to rid this horrid nightmare from our memories.

Ah yes, the best part is...Chuck parked the Chicken Car outside that night with the windows down in order to try to 'air it out'. Little did we know it would rain. The next morning we now had a very wet, moldy smelling Chicken Car. Ah...the good old days...where would we be without memories such as these to look back and laugh at?!

Author's note: None of this is embellished in any way. All of this really did happen, unfortunately. The good news is, we lived to tell about it!

Ode To The Rocket Washer

Your memory, I shall always hold dear
because you left me partially deaf in one ear.
I shall also miss your lovely dent
It reminds me of what you cost me in rent.
To keep you in storage for months on end
Unaware that you were needing a mend.
My new machine will not have a screw driver to keep it in place
How could something so perfect compare with your unique face?
I shall also miss the panic attack you caused
Just because you were doing your job.
What will I hear during my wash days now?
The hum of a new wash basin will calm my nerves, how?
It was nice while it lasted, my noisy friend,
But now you have met the very end.

A Moment In Time

This is the most precious of times to me

the ages of 8 and 5 and 3.

Time will not stop and let me treasure it more

so I will write down my feelings like never before.

I want my children to remember what fun we had,

what an honor it is to be their mom and dad.

Life is so simple and pure and sweet,

like when Chloe decides to rub my weary feet.

Or when Bennett so timely lets me know:

"Have I told you how pretty you look today, Mommy?

I don't think so."

I love it when Gavin comes up behind me and hugs me so tight

to show me he loves me with all of his might.

He always offers to pump my gas,

I never even have to ask.

Bennett loves to write words upon my back

and giggles aloud as he spells the word "rat".

Chloe is awed with pictures of me

back when I was a bride at 23.

They don't know how adorable they look

saving the world from evil crooks,

dressed in only their underwear and a cape.

Their imaginations are soaring as I watch them make

weapons and umbrellas out of tinker toys,

special necessities for girls and boys.

I love how the boys play so well together.

I pray their relationship will last forever.

Bennett's heart is so sensitive, he loves everyone.

He feels bad for people who are not not having fun.

He also loves girls and likes telling them so.

Gavin's desire to learn more and to know

all the answers to life's questions blow my mind.

I love teaching and guiding him and watching him find

his passion for things that he wants to know more,

like science and history and computers galore.

Chloe's attention to detail at three

never ceases to amaze me.

Each day she says this more and more,

"Mommy, what can I help you for?"

Our times at the dinner table each and every night

remind me of laughter and thankfuls and eyes filled with light.

God, thank you for showing your love to me

by giving me each child, one, two and three.

Beware!

My children have recently taken to posting signs on all sorts of things. Take this one for instance. Bennett painstakingly wrote out this warning all by himself, added a little flair with the sticker and then used an entire roll of tape, adhering it securely to his bunk bed. He didn't ask me how to spell a thing. So, let me translate for you: "No bude (body) git (get) on to mi (my) bed". From an educational standpoint, I'm super proud of this. He wrote it all in a nice, neat line with similar size letters. He used a wonderfully bright, eye-catching color that would indeed get noticed. And I've got to say, as a designer, I love the decorative touch of adding such a cool car sticker. That would definitely make me think twice before illegally "gitting" on his bed.

Evidently, I missed the memo that said we were to all make warning signs and attach them to our beds. Either that, or Chloe was not going to let Bennett do something fun without her. So, she decided she could do just as good a job and let it be known, in no uncertain terms, that Belle lives on her bed and you better not sit on her. I asked her what it said and she was sure to tell me. But it changed each time I asked. At least it looks pretty, matches her room and she wrote in large letters so as to catch the attention of anyone passing by. I'm inclined to think that Bennett taught her how to tape.

And last but not least is Gavin's special secret message. He has gone so far as to write his own secret alphabet known only to the inhabitants of Gavin World. He's the only inhabitant I know of. He carries his 'decoder' around with him in his pocket, just incase he can't remember which letter is which. This is securely fastened to the door of his room. All I know is that others beware, but Mommy is allowed in.

I don't have a sign taped to my bed yet, but when I do, you'll be the first to see it here!

No Cuddles For You!

The other day I had to discipline Gavin while we were at the pool. I made him sit out from the pool for the rest of our time there. As you can imagine, this did not go over very well. After he had plenty of time to brood, I decided to go over and talk to him. To say he was mad would be an understatement. It also told me that the discipline was working.

Gavin is not one to talk about his feelings openly. He's not usually able to explain what he's feeling and why. But he obviously had plenty of time to give his feelings a once over and was ready and willing to tell me how he was feeling. This is what he said, "Mom, I'm so mad right now that I feel like I don't want to cuddle you for the next 3 days!"

I told him that I could understand why he felt that way and told him he was taking his discipline like a man, even though he didn't like it. By the walk home from the pool, he had seemingly forgotten how mad he was at me as we walked hand in hand talking about what we were going to make for dinner. He even asked if he could help.

And yes...I ended up getting my cuddles the next morning.

It Finally Happened

One of my biggest paranoia's is being afraid that I've walked into the wrong public bathroom. For me, that would mean unknowingly finding myself in a stall in the men's room. I guess I don't need to be paranoid anymore. It finally happened and I've lived to tell about it.

It's not like I just saw the sign and ignored it and charged in full steam ahead to confront my fears. Oh no, that would be too simple and easy for me. I prefer the hard way. In college, in the main student center, whenever I would use the public restroom, I would always try to memorize the color on the walls, just in case I 'accidentally' (see the paranoia had already begun it's stronghold on me back then) found myself walking into the wrong one, I would instantly know by the color on the wall. Duh!! That and the fact that I would most likely find myself surrounded by the opposite gender.

But the wall color was a big issue for me, for whatever stupid reason. Actually, I know the reason, but to divulge that would be to give the reader too much insight into the crazy world known as my brain. You see, I forget things very quickly. It is quite possible that I would look directly at a sign, read it and have no clue what I just read within 5 seconds. THAT is called short term memory, my friends. So, in my mind, I had to have a trigger to let me know, after the fact, if I was indeed in the right place or not. So when that panic hits me and I'm already locked in the stall, I must be assured somehow that I'm where I'm supposed to be - thus the reasoning behind memorizing bathroom wall colors. Simple logic, right?

So here I am today in a public building I've only been in a handful of times. I was unaware of proper wall colors. Actually, the doors to each restroom were, in my opinion, way too close together. They were only separated by 4 water fountains. And, another factor that played into my identity confusion...the cleaning ladies were standing in the open doorway of this restroom. Therefore, my brain reasoned, they must be standing in the ladies' restroom. I don't know that I even bothered to look at the sign. I just walked in, with Chloe in tow. It only took half a second to register once I saw a wall of urinals and a man standing there...oops!!!

Even retelling the story, I'm horribly embarrassed. So, instead of sneaking out of there with stealthy precision, I open my big mouth and alert Chloe, "Uh oh, honey, looks like we're in the wrong place!" To which she quickly and loudly answers "WHY??" This caused the poor guy at the urinal to notice us. At least I was in the proper frame of mind to know that I shouldn't make eye contact. I did an about face and darted out of there as fast as I could drag Chloe and didn't stop until I read the sign on the next door marking it as the correct one for my gender. I then appropriately hid behind the door.

Once I was safe within the confines of the female restroom I began to think about how that could have happened. I passed no less that 3 people as I was on my way to that door, and none of them saw it in their hearts to show me the error of my ways or my profound mistake in judgement? Were the cleaning ladies trying to play a practical joke on me? Why was there no written warning that both the men's and women's restrooms were the same generic color with no distinguishing features other than the urinals? In my opinion, that's just bad design. Obviously, I was ready to place the blame elsewhere.

After exiting the proper restroom, I once again meet up with the boys who were patiently waiting right outside. I asked them, "Did you see me go into the wrong bathroom?" And in unison they said, "Yes." Like this is a common occurrence for them. Then Gavin says, "We were out here making jokes about it and wondering why you did it?" Join the club!

Handy Tip

Gavin has been giving this whole marriage business some serious thought ever since the wedding we recently attended. Case in point: today at lunch he comes out with, "Mom, the bad thing about getting married is, you can't just marry what ever girl you pick - she has to want to marry you too." Excellent marriage tip, Gavin. Did he think picking out a girl was like picking out a lollipop?

Whose Kid Is This?

I asked Bennett to get all his cowboy stuff together so I could take a picture of him. I DID NOT ask him to pose as Tim Conway or Don Knots. I laughed for 5 minutes straight. And my camera is super slow at taking pictures, so he had to hold this pose for a good minute before my camera decided to actually capture this memory. He said he was 'being serious'. This is indeed, my son's interpretation of what a cowboy looks like using only items found in his room: a minutemen hat, an unbuttoned plaid shirt, a tinker toy six-shooter and the all important bandanna scarf.

He was equally proud of his horse. Although he has his beloved Bruce (a hobby horse he made and is very protective of), he opted for a more creative version of a horse. That would be the chair. Notice the tae-kwon-do belt so deftly tied to each side as to appear like a harness. Notice who's being harnessed. The other tae-kwon-do belt would be the lasso that is an ever present accessory of all cowboys. His six-shooter is now secure in it's holster tucked into his pants while he is now holding onto his rifle. He needed each hand free to hold all his gear, thus the reasoning behind tucking himself in securely behind the reins.

Since this child of mine has left me speechless yet again, I will end with one of my favorite quotes:

Imagination is more important than knowledge.
Knowledge is limited.
Imagination encircles the world. - Albert Einstein

Narration Play

This is new to me. As a girl, I don't believe I ever played by narrating out every single thing I was doing. Yes, my Barbie's carried on civil conversations, my babies maybe needed a bottle now and then and my Holly Hobby oven worked great, but I never explained what I was cooking as I was cooking it. My frame of reference might be a little skewed because I do not belong to this gender.

But this seems like a perfectly normal thing to do to my boys. They have been narrating their play ever since Bennett could talk. I would be open to a hosting a psychological study of this phenomenon. I keep telling myself that I need to sit down within ear shot one day and just write down every single thing they say as they're playing. Too bad I don't know short hand. They talk so fast and the story changes pace so quickly I can barely keep up. But today, I persevered and was able to record a 2 minute exchange of fast paced, random ideas as they bounced back and forth between each boy - neither of them missing a beat. This might not make sense to us, but in their little imagination world, it all flows together perfectly.

Bennett: "Your muscles are breaking and cracking....you have a beard..."

Gavin: (laughing hysterically) "no, snakes don't have beards..."

Gavin: "....and then you open the door..."

Interspersed between each comment are 'boy sounds' (for lack of a better descriptive word). You know....arghhh....awwwww.....kbush....bam.....pow.....splat....and other random sounds of rolling on the floor, wrestling, jumping, falling, attacking.....just your run of the mill 'boy sounds'.

Bennett: "...then the ceiling broke down...and you got in the rain..."

Gavin: "...I'm an agile snake..."

Bennett: "...then why did you trip?"

Gavin: "....because I wasn't suspecting you...then a hole opened up in the ground, just as my tail go in it shut and no bomb could come in...."

Bennett: "...now we're in the jungle, my tail wrapped onto a vine..."

Gavin: "...then suddenly, all my friends appeared from the trees..."

Bennett: "...then suddenly, I had a million heads, a million tails, a million bodies..."

......insert loud groan here.....

Bennett: "...then I grab onto all the snakes in the universe..."

Gavin: "...suddenly the trees began to move but they weren't trees at all, just bushes on 13 rattle snakes coiled up..."

Bennett: "...and then right as one almost touched me..."

Gavin: "...then suddenly I sucked up all my snakes and they all appeared, copperhead, rattlesnake, watersnake....Watersnake flooded the place and then it turned into the ocean...."

Bennett: "how you doin friend?"

Then as abruptly as it began, it ends. Suddenly it's quiet and still. I begin to contemplate if I should be worried...that is until I hear Gavin reading, "Pirate Mom" to Bennett. Then it segways into Legos. Then just as abruptly, that activity stops and they are suddenly cowboys needing me to tie on their bandanas and Bennett is affectionately riding Bruce with his tinker toy gun stuck into his pants.

If all this play in some way helps them role play for the men they will become...I am REALLY curious as to the line of work they will be choosing.