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.

Death & Lightning

It's storming again. And with storms come thunder and lightning. This always prompts one of our children to ask a question about lightning. It always makes me wish I majored in nuclear physics, or something more practical like that, so that I would have better answers for all of the questions.

Today's question came from Chloe. She said, "I'm scared when I sleep and it lightnens." I replied, "You can't be scared when you're sleeping honey." But Gavin, ever the vigilante, always on the look out for false information being doled out to unsuspecting little kids, corrects me by saying, "Actually, you can be scared when you're sleeping if you have a bad dream, like about a monster or something." Correction noted.

But this did not thwart Chloe off her path, she came back with question in hand, "Can lightnen make you dead?" I know she is just testing Chuck. I have heard with my own ears, Bennett educating Chloe in all the things that could kill you. Lightning was one of them. I caution Chuck to tread lightly here, she's going to be taking this one to the bank.

Thankfully, Chuck is quick on his feet and comes back with, "Well, I suppose it could kill you if you were outside, running around barefoot with a large metal pole in your hands." To which she replied, "It will kill you dead forever?" He had to be honest, so he said, "Yes." but was able to temper all this death and destruction questioning with, "But as long as you're inside the house it can't hurt you. You're safe."

Then Bennett decides to contribute his two cents, "Well...actually, lightning could strike the house and kill us all dead and make a fire." Thank you, Bennett. Now, I'm sure she'll sleep much more calmly knowing all the facts.

Chloe's Prayer

"Dear Jesus,

Have a good day. Bennett is my fwend now. Amen."

Novel Idea

Chloe and Bennett have both been enlightened on the exact same day. Their epiphanies came only seconds apart. They both felt the need to share their new found ideas with me. As we are walking through the grocery store, Bennett, in the loudest voice he can muster (because that's the only volume he talks at) informs me, "Mom, I like Chloe today!" Then he turns to the new object of his affection and proclaims in front of witnesses, "Chloe, I like you. Let's be friends."

Whew...what a relief. He has finally found a need for his sister in his life and the best part is, he has come to this conclusion all on his own.

Chloe is excited beyond words at his declaration of love and must also make her feelings known. She gets my attention by cranking up the volume of her already high pitched voice and exclaims, "Mommy, I yike Bennett. He my fwend. We're fwends, wight, Bennett? Let's hold hands." That seems to close the deal.

My heart can now rest easy that my two youngest have agreed to be friends...at least for today.

Welcome To My World

Just pretend, for a second, that you are a fly on the wall in my house right now (in reality, I have at least 4, so nobody would really even notice you were here). Mind you, all these things are occurring simultaneously! This is what you would be witness to:

1. The Rocket Washer - Ever since we moved back to Texas, our washer and dryer have not been the same (maybe that's because they were abused by the movers - just a hunch). Now, whenever I do my weekly 7 loads of laundry, I get to hear the sound of a rocket taking off into outer space when it comes time for the rinse and spin cycle. This is great for my blood pressure. My heart starts to beat at least twice a fast. The noise is deafening. But, hey, at least we have clean clothes. The alternative is worse - lugging all my stuff to a laundry mat?! I'll take the rocket washer any day.

2. As if the noise elicited from the washing machine isn't enough, I thought I'd also turn on the vent hood over the pot of chicken I'm boiling in order to prepare the dinner for guests that just happened to be in town tonight and would like to stop by around dinnertime.

3. The third set of noises would be those coming from Chloe and Bennett as they clean up their superhero hideout off the stairway. And yes, the entire hideout of 3 bean bags, a teddy, a tinker toy sword and back-up masks and capes all fit on one step. The best way to describe the noise they are contributing would be to call it: nonsensical talk at the top of their lungs. Sometimes it parlays into a made up song, sometimes an interesting pattern of rhyming words in a non-stop shrill sound. But at least they're cleaning it up on their own!

4. Gavin is in the kitchen making banana bread - without my help. Unless he can't find something or doesn't know where something is, or wants me to watch him to make sure he's doing it all right, or hold the bowl for him. But hey, I love to encourage independence! Be sure to add the mixer to the list of noises being generated.

5. The dog's non-stop barking out doors - we've yet to understand each other's language and are having a bit of a communication crisis.

6. Oh ya, I'm also in the middle of folding the dry laundry, making lunches, being asked if I can sew Bruce's hair back on (Bruce is Bennett's hobby horse he made and his mane is falling off) and getting a chemistry experiment together because that's Gavin's latest kick right now. All the while trying to talk in a manner that can still be heard over the stupid rocket washing machine. Gavin asks if making banana bread counts as a chemistry experiment and I'm all over that one - YES, yes it does my son!

7. I have had to leave my blogging post no less than 4 times to attend to asundry matters deemed of utmost importance by my dependents.

8. And then there's my beloved work-at-home husband sitting at his 'work station', a safe distance away from all chaos with his precious headphones securely attached to his head - oblivious to all of this.

And I'm wondering why I have a headache right now?!

Wedding Worries

Last weekend we attended a wedding. I had no idea the impact this would have on my children. Chloe just wanted to dance. She couldn't understand why we weren't dancing the moment we got to the church. She had on her 'tap shoes' (black patent leathers), therefore, she was there to dance. However, seeing the pretty white princess (a.k.a, the bride), calmed her down just a bit. But then she got to thinking about it and all she wanted to do was dance with the princess and she wanted to do it now. I'm afraid I put just a tad too many happy tales of dancing at the wedding into her susceptible little brain and failed to pass on the solemnity of the event preceding the reception.

Bennett was a hoot! That kid is Mr. Romeo. However, on this special night, he only had eyes for me. I wore my special, little black dress that is reserved for special dates with Daddy to places like the symphony where you get to dress up. I've never gone on a date with Bennett in my fancy, black dress before. You would have thought I put it on just for him. He didn't take his sweet, little eyes off me all night. He tried to sit next to me whenever possible so he could put his arm around my shoulders. He would wink at me from across the dinner table. When asked by other pretty grown-ups if he would like to dance with them, he replied, "No, I'm only dancing with Mommy tonight." and he'd look at me and smile.

Dancing with him was hilarious. You would have thought I had a magnet in my tummy and his head had the other magnet in it. He would lay his head, actually press his head is probably more accurate, against my tummy and just look up at me as we rocked back and forth to various tunes. He also placed his hand securely on my back side - again, another magnet issue, I think.

Then there was Gavin. The surprise of the night. He's highly confident, yet doesn't show it, a huge planner, a have-to-know-how-to-do-something-before-he's-taught-how-to-do-it kind of kid. Very meticulous. He doesn't necessarily have anything against girls, but he doesn't really notice them. So, you can imagine our surprise when out of the blue, as soon as the bride walks out the back door of the sanctuary, he exclaims, "Now I'm really worried!"

"What on earth could you be worried about right now, Gavin?"

"Well...I don't know who I'm going to marry yet. I don't know who I'll invite or where it will be."

He's dead serious too. This scenario obviously never presented itself to him before and and now he is forced to think this whole thing through right here and now. And it gets even better. We get to the reception hall and see the wedding cake. Gavin is speechless at its beauty. It has a waterfall in the middle of it! Could a cake get any cooler?! Gavin doesn't think so. As, the servers are cutting the cake, he leans over and whispers to me, "Mom, can I go up there and ask them if they'll save that waterfall for my wedding? I REALLY want it!"

I told him, "I'm sure they'll make even cooler waterfalls by time he gets married." I guess that will help him narrow down his choice in brides. The one who goes for a waterfall on the cake must be the one.

Lego Lunatics

As you can see, we have alot of Legos. And now we have alot of Legos in nice, neat, color-coded, little, organized piles all over the floor. Ahhh, this is an anal person's heaven. I LOVE to organize! I convinced the boys that this would be a fun activity. Bennett held on longer than I expected, so I'm giving him a participation ribbon for: A Job Well Done For A 5 Year Old Attention Span. Gavin, however, was as excited as me at this venture. I could see the organizational flow chart taking shape in his neatly compartmentalized little brain. Only a few more years as my apprentice and he me might just outdo me in this category. But the icing on the cake was that we actually had FUN doing this for 3 hours straight.

And color coding isn't the only thing we did. That was just the beginning. We went out and bought our very own Lego Container (and got it 40% off too!). Not that Lego makes such a thing, but we invented our own. Boy does it feel good to be efficient, thrifty and organized all at the same time! Gavin and I were giddy with excitement at the challenge that lay ahead. How were we to organize all these Legos? Should we separate by color, piece, size, length? This challenge was growing by the minute.

Daddy is also willingly sharing in all this fun - with equal, unabashed excitement. I mean, if this is how you're willing to spend an entire Saturday afternoon, you have to really believe in what you are doing. Organizing the kids' Legos is an area near and dear to Chuck's and my heart. We put our heads together and came up with a game plan. We delegated responsibilities between the 4 of us (Bennett was still slightly more happy to be doing this than taking a nap) and never looked back.

Here is just one of the seven modules we pain-stakingly devoted our afternoon to. To be honest, I'm slightly disappointed that I had to combine colors, but at least like pieces were put with like pieces. I had to concede on that one. Otherwise, we would have probably ended up with 30 perfect bins and one Mommy highly over-protective of her perfectly organized Legos that they would be for-looking-at-only. That probably wouldn't go over very well with my kids. Therefore, I have proposed an adequate solution. Whenever they would like to play Legos, I will be ever present to help retrieve and/or replace a piece in order to keep them in sound structural and maximum operating condition.

But the truth of the matter is, this organizational masterpiece will probably incur it's first few misplaced items early tomorrow morning. I will just have to practice mustering up my best, "this doesn't bother me" face and smile as I walk away with a twitch in my head. Really...this was all about the kids - THEY wanted it organized, right?

The Fly Hunter

We have been plagued with flies this summer. It was probably due to the endless rains we've had all spring. Whenever we open the door to the house, we have to almost sneak in so that no flies feel invited. But inevitably, 2 or 3 manage to make themselves at home each time the door is slightly cracked.

Bennett keeps asking me, "Mom, why did God make flies? What is their purpose?" Good questions. I have no clue! Chuck seems to think that their only purpose is as food for other creatures. I guess that answer is better than, "just to annoy us and remind us that life isn't all about us."

Anyways, we seem to be constantly shooing away flys, at the dinner table, sitting on the couch reading, laying in bed, while brushing our teeth. They are very non-discriminating. They don't care who they bother, as long as they bother someone. My favorite is the "fly by". This is a different breed of fly altogether. They are brazen, shameless, purposefully trying to irritate the human inhabitants of the house. They get their little wings humming as fast as possible and then calculate how close they can get to your ears, eyes and nose before being swatted. I think they do this as 'dares' from other flies.

So, the other night I'm getting ready for bed and brushing my teeth. There are no less than 3 flies as my companions with me in the bathroom. My irritability factor is rising exponentially. I ask Chuck if he could "PLEASE DO SOMETHING!" His solution? He grabs the closest hand towel and starts attempting to pop them. He's whipping everything in sight. He pops the mirror and anything in the path of the towel becomes a casualty. But it's worth it for the small piece of mind that comes with knowing that there will be no more 'fly by's'.

In order to getting out of the 'whipping zone' I perch myself upon the bed where I have a perfect view of Chuck in action. There is my protector, armed with a towel, speedy eyes, an acute sense of hearing and those strong muscular arms ready to whip any flying, annoying, creature who dares enter the solitude of our bathroom. Talk about being territorial.

How can one describe the sense of pride that wells up in your chest your husband yells, "YES! I got him - he's dead, or at least injured - now I just need to find him." Ah, all my fears seem to fade away. Love bubbles up in my heart as I watch him spin around the bathroom like a madman whipping at apparently nothing, but knowing he's doing it for me. He doesn't care about looking foolish - he's in 'hunter mode'. He will not rest until every last fly is accounted for and his dear beloved (that's me) can sleep peacefully. At one point, he even trapped one of the trespassers in the water closet (the polite name for the toilet area). He shut the door and all I heard was the flailing about of arms, the towel repeatedly hitting the walls and sounds of the hunt such as, "AHA - now I've gottcha ". It only took 15 minutes of bravery and a keen sense of knowing the every movement of his enemy before we could go to bed knowing that there were no unwanted guests in the house.

Then Chuck came up with a brilliant idea. This might just be a new family business for us. We could advertise ourselves as the "Fly Hunters" and accompany people at their family reunions, church picnics, company bar-b-q's, you know - any large celebration that involves alot of people and a cookout. That invariably draws the flies. Then there we would be - wildly thrashing about, wielding hand towels to pop the flies with. We may look like fools, the people may accidently get hit once in a while. But what a peace of mind we would bring to your party. You would know that as long as we're there, you need not worry about the flies. Kind of reminds me of "Ghostbusters", huh?! Think about it - I think there's definitely a market for it!

Twice the Work

I have memory issues. There, I feel better now that that's out in the open. I have THE WORST short term memory and this post is here to prove it. Either that, or I just love to do things over and over again since I can't remember doing them the first time around.

Yesterday was laundry day. I have my little routine where I bring a load into the laundry room in a basket, transfer clothes from washer to dryer then put clothes from basket into washer. Easy. Doesn't require much thought, preparation or genius. I just follow the same order time after time.

Who knew I could mess up something so easy? The day had been rather busy and I was in and out of the house most of the day. I prefer to stay home on laundry day...you know, keep up with the rhythm. And yes, there is a rhythm to doing laundry - at least if you want to have all the clothes folded and put away by the end of the day and not all in one big pile on my bed. So, now you can see that my rhythm was messed up and evidently when that gets messed up, my memory is not far behind.

Another thing I like to do is multi-task. You would think this might be hard for someone with my mental condition...on the contrary, I seem to thrive. My mental lists are rather astounding. I don't even have time to transfer everything from my head onto paper - it would take way too long. I tend to scurry around the house in 5 different directions, on some sort of mission. Often times, the mission is accomplished. But then there are those times when data control gets locked up and I walk into a room and just stare because, for the life of me, I can't remember why I even came in there. Thus sets the stage for my laundry mishap...

Taking the clean clothes out of the dryer was only one of the things my mind was thinking about. I was also getting dinner ready, talking to the kids, feeding the dog, yada, yada, yada. So, clothes are now safely deposited into the basket. Default mode kicks in and I transfer wet clothes from washer into dryer since that is what I always do. Then without thinking, I put more soap and water into the washer and transfer clothes from basket into washer and walk out of the laundry room.

Then about 10 minutes later it hits me...What did I just do??? Don't tell me I just put the clothes I just cleaned back into the washing machine!!! Arghhh!!!! I still have 3 more loads of laundry and its already 6pm. Why was I on auto pilot? Why didn't I think? Why did I just create double the work for myself? Where is the turn off switch for my brain? Actually, I would prefer to CTL/ALT/DELETE and reboot myself. How many other times have I done this and not even realized it?

But I would like to say that we have VERY CLEAN clothes this week! There is always something positive in every situation - sometimes you just have to look very hard for it.