My children are often forming a wall (a.k.a, barricade) in front of me most everywhere I go. I know that deep down in their little hearts, it comes from the desire to stay ever near their mother dear. They don't want to leave my side, wander, stray. We seem to be attached by a string of invisible glue at all times. Although I greatly appreciate the thought behind the action, I'm beginning to tire of my 'wall of children' everywhere I go (let me clarify - I'm tired of the whole wall action - not the children).
You see...they think they're 'helping me'. Say, hypothetically, that we're at the library and we're looking at a row of books. Guess where the children are? Yep...right in front of me, blocking my view of the books that we're trying to look at. Again, hypothetically, say we're at the store and we're checking out. Guess who's blocking my use of the the little debit/credit card thingy-ma-jig? You got it. I mean, it's not like I am capable of sliding my card myself, or inputting my own pin number. I must bring three helpers along for such tasks. They must be in the center of all the action. They don't want to miss a beat.
After 10 years of parent-hood, you'd think I'd have some sort of system to combat this by now. Yet I fall prey to this simple, little trap they set up time after time. I'm either way too naive, give them the benefit of the doubt too much or just plain idiotic not to see it coming. I have tried the whole 'Speak in a Soft, Kind Voice to Get Them to Listen and Step-Aside' approach. But often it comes out a little too sarcastically, or hissing like or with an evil eye attached. I will get the desired action for a good minute...but then the wall migrates back to its predisposed position.
I absolutely loose it at the library most times. They have found my breaking point and it just so happens to be at the library self-check out. This is my personal torture chamber. And what's worse, is that we go to the library 1-2 times each week. Our family is addicted to books. We leave with like 50 at a time. Now imagine 'the wall' helping you check out 50 books/movies. This does not go well.
This scenario is pretty-much an exact replica of each and every visit to the library:
mommy - "Let's go check-out guys", said while taking deep, cleansing breaths inward and remembering to exhale slowly. Remain calm is my mantra.
kids- running like a herd of wild elephants thru the quiet library so they can claim the coveted 'first in line' position at the self-check out stand.
chloe - in a less than angelic voice, "I was here first!" while squeezing and pushing in between Gavin and Bennett.
bennett - "No you weren't, I was here!" standing his ground. He stands for truth, justice and the American way 100% of the time. There will be no giving on his end. Justice and fairness for all begins and ends with him. If you're weaker, smaller, whinier...there is no grace for you. You lose. Period.
gavin - dropping books out of his arms left and right as he, unsuccessfully, tries resting the books on a small corner of the table. Very clueless. Most often times I have to ask him to stop reading the book at this moment so we can check it out. Please...focus here Gavin. I need a little help. But I shall get none. I'm alone in this little venture.
Now that everyone is in position in front of me and in front of the scanner where I need to scan my library card, I can contort myself around, through, beneath, over them so as to get through with this wretched process.
Each and every time we go to the library, I ask the kids to have all the books they want to check out OUT of their library bags BEFORE they line up in front of me and BEFORE they attempt to scan their books. Do you think this has ever happened once? That is just way too much to think about with the excitement of scanning your own library books looming so tantalizingly close at hand.
And each and every time, I end up rolling my eyes, sighing heavily and holding my tongue as I watch this whole fiasco unravel before my eyes. And if I might happen to have any books to scan...it's near impossible because of my little wall...they don't budge. They might just lose their place in line if they scoot over even one millimeter. Why this boils my blood, I will never quite know...but it happens each time like clock work.
Don't even get me started on the whole pushing the elevator button first thing. I might just fall off the deep end. Suffice it to say...I refuse to be an elevator button referee any longer.
Please don't ever come to the library with me...you'll see me at my worst mommy moment.
We LOVE to travel. The kids are awesome little traveling buddies. Granted...we've gotten stuck in our share of automatic circle doors and caused alarms to go off, stood at baggage claims for almost an hour and had to run to the bathroom right before boarding...but overall, it's always a super fun, exciting experience. This time was no different.
We were on our way to D.C on a Friday afternoon to see Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy (who was working up there at the time). A friend kindly dropped us off an hour and half before boarding. We made it through check-in and security with no sweat. We were like a well oiled machine. We made it to our gate with plenty of time to spare.
Unfortunately for us...we were also in the middle of a thunderstorm. A thunderstorm in Dallas normally shuts down DFW. They normally always produce high winds and severe weather. Thankfully, the friendly skies like to look out for our safety, so they canceled our flight. Except...nobody told me. I found out on one of our many jaunts to the big screen to find out its 'status'. Well what'd'ya know...we're not leaving after-all. Hmmm...I wonder when we are leaving? Valid question. Except, nobody was at our gate to handle all the questioning people. So, naturally, I gather all the kids and all the gear (each of us had a large carry-on) and desperately go in search of some answers.
I come upon a ticket agent who does her little clickity-clack thing on the mysterious, hidden computer that I can't see and she tells me, "A flight is leaving in two hours, but out of another terminal. You can either run the 10 minutes it will take you to get over there or take the sky tram and talk to the ticket agent over there." Like the naive idiot that I am, I say, "Okay" instead of "Why can't you just clickity-clack me into your computer from here? Why do I have to go to another terminal on the other side of the world for them do it on the same hidden computer?" This same question would come to plague me the rest of the day.
Naturally, the kids and I RUN all the way from terminal A to terminal C to try to squeeze ourselves on the next flight out. The lady tells me its already full, but that there's another flight leaving at 3pm and she'll try to put me on stand by for that. "Oh thank you so much!" I respond. Again, naivete is guiding me through this day. We're only 7th on stand-by...we're very optimistic we'll get on.
This same little charade plays itself out over the next 10 hours. Yes...you heard me right. We got to the airport at 10:15am and were still waiting for a flight at 10:40pm that night. The worst part was that half that time, we were the first 4 names on the stand-by list!!! A list that consistently had at least 70 people on it.
We were really hopeful at one point (I mean really, you've got to have hope when you're stuck in an airport with a ton of people all trying to get out) when the ticket agent called our name and issued us tickets to get on the 6:30pm flight - WOW! I knew we'd get on! We weren't seated together, but that didn't matter - we were actually on the plane - goal accomplished. Unfortunately, someone was already sitting in the seat I was assigned. Bummer. I talked to the flight attendent about it and she told us we had to get off - that there was a mistake - ya think?! That's a great feeling - everyone watching you get off the plane, with all your kids and all your things. The kids asking very loudly why we can't go see Grandma and Grandpa. Even the Captain came out and asked what was going on. I asked him if I could sit with him - seriously....but he said something about being against the rules.
Once we got back to our familiar terminal all hope was lost. It was like someone popped our balloon. We had already taken at least 6 rides on the sky tram (which I found out was free - very helpful information to know!) - the excitement about the 'roller coaster in the sky at the airport' wore off about the 3rd time.
You know me and food...I came prepared. I brought plenty to feed us for lunch and a little snack for 'just in case'. It was long gone by 10pm. I didn't eat dinner thinking we'd be getting on the next plane (and the next and the next) and I'd eat once we got there. Oh where does this eternal hope spring from???
I felt like a momma duck with all my little ducklings trailing behind me back and forth through-out the airport. At one point, as we were exiting off the escalators into yet again, a new terminal and a new gate number, the kids saw something that made them gasp. As we were walk/running to our new gate, we almost walked over a giant mosaic on the floor. The kids did a collective gasp and backed off it inorder to view it better. They were all astounded by the amazing artwork on the floor. We had to analyze every aspect of it...the colors used, the pattern of the tiles, what kind of bird was in the picture, what he was doing and why oh why did they let such beauty be on the floor and not of the walls for all to enjoy? At certain points through-out the day, Gavin would give me a hug and say "Mom, I feel like I need to give you a hug right now" and all frustration would leave me. Or Chloe would start massaging my shoulders and Bennett my fingers. How can you stay tense with such attentive children trying to keep you calm.
We also played our share of games. I made the mistake of passing the time by teaching them one of those hand clapping games where you sing a sing-songy rhyme and pat your hands together in a pattern. I cannot even tell you how many rounds of "Knick knack patty whack give a dog a bone" I sang over and over and over again. Also, thank God for stupid Happy Meal toys...that also provided hours of endless, brainless activity. We were armed with perfect tools to weather out this storm.
Realizing we were not going to make the 10:40pm flight either...we settled in for the long haul. The kids curled up on the floor and got comfy. They amazed me. THEY DID NOT COMPLAIN! If they didn't, how could I? Afterall, this was an adventure...we've gotten to ride the sky tram multiple times, run on the moving sidewalks too many times to count and enjoyed untold trips up and down fun escalators - how can you NOT be having fun?! Then we decided that getting to camp at the airport was even more fun cuz, really, how many people have gotten the chance to camp (without the tent) at the airport? You can now add us to the list.
Around 11pm, some generous soul finally brought us blankets and another asked if we could use some cots. I got the kids uploaded on to the cots (no easy task dragging a sleeping 10 year old, who is almost as tall as you and dead weight, 4 feet over to a collapsable cot). I sat up for the long haul. I gave my word to Chuck that I would not sleep that night. I would stay up all night and watch over the kids. Needless to say, he was beside himself the entire day and night being so far away and not able to fix our problem and not being able to convince me to go home or to a hotel. I'd eventually found out during one of my encounters with the multiple ticket agents that we had been confirmed on a flight that left at 6am the next morning (although my luggage had already been sent on a different plane to a different airport - that was the least of my concerns!).
I tell you what...I am NOT a night person...I am the epitome of a morning person. I'm dead on my feet by 10pm. So this was going to be a challenge. Short of labor, this was the only time I've ever pulled an all-nighter. Seriously. But do you know...it was such an amazing time. I sat there mulling over the day in my head, praying and thinking. I knew there had to be a purpose for all this. I love efficiency and this was anything BUT efficient - why did this happen? As I was praying the Bible verse where Paul says, "I want to know you in the fellowship of your suffering and the glory of your resurrection" came to mind followed by the question, "Is this too much to suffer for me?" Wow. If this was suffering...then bring it on. I've lived a very 'suffer-free' life. If I have to 'suffer' my convenience...then so be it, if it brings me closer to knowing Him. There was a wonderful peace that enveloped us that day and night, despite the small trial we had to endure.
Two other, tiny miracles occurred that night: 1. I did not get a migraine. That is huge people. I'm hypoglycemic and normally graze all day long. I get a headache if I don't eat every two hours. Plus, when I get stressed a headache will normally envelope me faster than you can say "stuck at the airport". I was absolutely astounded that my head and stomach remained relatively 'normal' (under most people's standards) the entire day and night despite my lack of food. And 2. My contacts didn't pop out of my eyes. This is a big deal. I was wearing contacts that I should have thrown away 2 months ago. They are normally so dry by 3pm that I have to take them out. I had no replacements (that's why I was wearing them for so long). I was expecting them to just fall out with each and every blink as I stared mindlessly at CNN on the large screen tv trying to pass the hours away in the middle of the night. Yet...that did not happen. That is an honest to goodness miracle in my life. Look at how many good things can happen when you're looking for the good instead of complaining about the way things are.
Lessons learned: never try to leave for D.C on a Friday afternoon and always pack more food than you think you might need - you never know when you might have a random camping adventure.
So we're sitting at the kitchen table eating our lunch and listening to some pretty happening tunes from my 80's/90's mix cd (which the kids requested, by the way, I am in no way brainwashing them into thinking this genre is the best music ever). We're just sitting there making small talk over our pretzels and oranges when this song comes on:
If you don't recognize it by the cheesy video, that's fine...I'd never seen the video before either, but the song is classic. It's the music and the words that really matter here (I had no clue how to imbed only that in my blog). It is so overly melodramatic and so 80's synthesizer and echo-y voice typical. You just gotta love it for the raw emotion it bleeds.
Then out of nowhere Bennett says, "If I ever don't feel loved, I think I'll just come and listen to this song and it will help me feel loved again." I think I laughed for 5 minutes straight with tears pouring out of my eyes. Each time I thought about it, I got a fit of the giggles again. That is just so typical of Bennett. He wears his heart on his sleeve. That song would definitely make him feel loved again - it fits him perfectly!
It just hit me that that title doesn't really sound right. I'm meaning it as in 'breaking in a new pair of tennis shoes' not stealing the tennis shoes. We actually bought this house - we didn't break into it...but we are definitely 'breaking it in'. Now that I've made everything clear as mud, we can begin our little story.
We just moved a few weeks ago and are having a wonderful time trying to make our mark on this new home. Actually, its a pre-owned home, so we need to get our smell in it (this post is just going from bad to worse, isn't it?! - that's not the kind of smell I mean...), our personality, our TLC. These are 4 sure-fire ways that have helped us put our mark on this house and call it our own.
1. Make sure the upstairs toilet overflows the first day you own it. Be sure that all towels are still packed snugly in an unmarked box so that the only thing available to stop the excess water from dripping down the stairs are small random face cloths and paper towels. Make sure this happens while your Daddy is in a video-conference meeting downstairs in his office and your Mommy is not at home. Throw in one child who, when put in the middle of a stressful situation, panics and turns into a statue covering his face because he can't stand to see the mess...another child who has a guilty look on his face but keeps saying "it's not my fault!" and yet another who starts crying because it doesn't look pretty anymore. There is now no question about which bathroom to avoid in this house. Thankfully, we discovered this 'selling point' early on.
2. Play a family game of Hide-and-Seek. So much fun. It's especially fun when no one finds you and you keep staying in the same cramped quarters for 15 minutes or more. An added benefit of this game is having to hide with one of your children because she is too scared to hide by herself - so now, in this highly competitive and time-sensitive game, you not only have to find the perfect hiding spot for yourself, but one for your companion.
3. Make up lots of running games since you now have a huge space to run around in - INSIDE the house. I normally have the rule that all moms have: no running in the house. But how can you enforce it when the one who made up the game is the DAD?! Chuck tells the kids, "I'll go to some far corner of the house and then try to run like my tail is on fire to the other end of the house while you kids hide and try to jump out and tag me while on my way to previously decided upon destination." Oh goodie. I actually never saw this game first hand (thank God!) but heard from all involved how 'totally cool' it was. But I was privy to another little running game, also thought up by my ever creative and ingenious husband, called, "Let's run up and down the steps as fast as we can and count how many seconds it takes" (right after we have already put our daughter to bed, which just happens to be at the top of this staircase - minor point). Again, our competitive natures take hold and I just can't be left out of something so fun...so we each do it twice. We even timed it on the iPhone - so it was official. Chuck tried the 'skip alot of steps' method whereas, I chose the 'run real fast up each step so you don't trip up the steps' method. Seemed to work fine since I only came in a second after Chuck. But both boys tied my score. I'm still baffled by that...how can that be when their legs are shorter than mine?
4. Lastly, in an effort to give the house a nice aroma, put your favorite dish on the stove to simmer and let the smells waft through the house. Simmer is the key word here - medium...that would be too high. I found out. I put a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce on the stove (on medium) and left to take Gavin to piano class. An hour later I come home to the lovely aroma of: burnt spaghetti?! Gross!!! It stunck so bad. I'd say this house is almost broken in now...and what do you know, it only took 3 weeks?! Not bad.
Five years have passed too quickly. As joyous as birthdays are in this house, this one was particularly melancholy because Chloe is the baby. When the baby turns five, she's no longer a baby. It was another wonderful day at the Arboretum, as is our tradition. From year to year, the flowers are her gift from God, bringing beauty to the world around her. We never know if we will be enjoying this beauty in 50 degree weather or 80 degree weather - but its always a beautiful sight to behold and a tradition we hold dear.
Four was fun. But something I noticed about my baby was that she didn't want to be the baby - she wanted to be big like her brothers. She's always acted older than her age. I sadly realized that I expected her to act older and didn't cut her enough slack to just be four. Four year old girls like to whine, giggle and cry at the drop of a hat in any random order all through-out the day I've learned. I'm always learning with Chloe. Since she's my first and only girl, we learn as we go. Isn't that life?
Three....sweet, sweet, three. This has always been my favorite age with each of the kids. I love how they talk and their wonder at the world around them. Chloe has always been a girly-girl, but this was the year that she wanted to always be, act, dress and talk, just like me. What an honor. But how often I forget little eyes are watching, little ears are listening. She keeps me on my knees before God. I have learned more about grace and mercy through this precious little life. It is an honor to be her mommy.
We just watched the video of two year old Chloe tonight and laughed with the recollection of the sound of her voice and her little mannerisms. She was an obstinate two year old, always wanting to do the opposite of what we wanted. She was also very serious while taking in the world around her. She spoke little, watched alot, and adored her brothers. And her hair...it was a riot. She finally started getting hair at two. I've always loved her hair...or the lack of it.
Can you get happier or balder than this? I think not. Even though a one year old is a lot of work, they are equally as much joy. We would laugh so much over her new discoveries with this world and the words or sounds she came up with for each new, learned thing. She was fascinated with shoes at this age. She loved wearing my high heels and flip flops and she could hold her own in those little, fake, plastic high heels. We would have no way of knowing that this fascination would reach epidemic proportions by the time she turned five.
She was treated like a princess from the very start. Bennett could not wait for his little "Zozee" to arrive. He adored her and lavished affection on her. Gavin took great pride in being able to carry her to me or feed her. She changed our whole family for the better. Daddy was on a six week sabatical when she arrived and had the time to bond with her at home unlike the boys. We didn't miss a beat after she was born. She fit into our crazy lifestyle perfectly. We were out and about within days of her birth.
You would think that because I homeschool I spend oodles amount of time with my children. And in theory, that is correct. But it is not the type of time that matters I have come to find out. You see, when I'm schooling, I'm more objective oriented, purpose driven, always looking to the next task that needs completing. I have to be expert at juggling my normal home responsibilities with school/education needs of my children. Multitasking is the name of the game.
In the early years, when the kids were all little, it wasn't such a big deal. We played much more than we worked. We still enjoyed each other's time. But as they've grown, my play time with them has shrunk. It is a constant battle I struggle with. I feel that I give them myself all day long...how can they expect me to play with them in the afternoon when I HAVE to get dinner ready, cleaning done, or any of a gajillion other things that I had hoped to do in the small 2 hour time slot I have available before dinnertime?
It hasn't helped with the whole moving thing. First there was a whole house to pack, then a whole house to unpack and decorate. Needless to say, my mind has been on many other things for a long time. I hadn't realized how much I had not been giving my time to the kids. And they only want me...not my agenda, not teacher, not the 5 minutes I give them as I rush back and forth between each of their needs. They wanted me, whole-heartedly just giving them attention and being with them.
So, yesterday I made an announcement at breakfast that each one of them would get a whole hour with Mommy today to do whatever they wanted to do with me. They would have my undivided attention. I would willingly go along with any plan (if you know me, you know that's hard for me). We drew names to find out the order. Gavin got first, Chloe second and Bennett last (each the way they had originally hoped it would be).
This is the fun part of it all, finding out what it was they were hoping to do with me. I can't tell you how much fun I had - it was a blast! It brought back memories of simpler times. Times when I didn't let a schedule dictate our day, when I cherished the time I had with them instead of thought of all things I still needed to get done in a day and wondered when I'd finally get "my time". How had I fallen so far from my 'first love'? It broke my heart that they were thrilled with a single hour of my time.
My time with Gavin began with my reading to him. We have been reading "Alice In Wonderland" (an extremely weird book, might I add...the author must have been on something...it makes NO sense!). But Gavin loves this book because of his love of all things fantasy, so its right up his alley. Then he read to me...a book called, "The Sign of the Beaver" which I thoroughly enjoy. After that, we built a model airplane together (something I didn't know I could do). He was so content. He got all his schoolwork done after that without complaint.
Next was Chloe. She LOVES any chance she gets at 'being in charge'. First we played 'make-up store' and then you're supposed to walk over to the 'hair-dresser store' after you get your make up done. After we were beautiful, we played mommy and daughter (obviously with the roles reversed). We got all her teddys and dolls all dressed up and brought them to 'church'. Me and the babies got to sit on her bed, while she stood and read to us from the Bible. I was allowed to ask questions as long as I raised my hand. It was precious.
Finally it was my time with Bennett. He's very physical, so I knew I'd be doing something that didn't involve sitting down. Of course he picked playing basketball. So we went outside in the 40 mile and hour winds on a 50 degree day with the threat of a thunderstorm looming perilously overhead. It was a challenge trying to throw the ball against the wind. But surprisingly, I actually won the game of "around the world". Bennett was a good sport about it. Then we came inside and built a pirate ship he had. Another 'hard to do' thing..but super fun.
Bennett even sent me an email thanking me for our special time. He even sang me a special 'i love mommy song' as well as lavished me with many accolades about being 'the best mom ever' the rest of the day. My heart was so full.
I was so refreshed by time with each of my favorite people. I vowed to do it each week. I will not let the busyness of life, the demands of life or the demands of each day get in the way of cultivating time with my children. What a wonderful lesson I learned yesterday.
Funny thing happened the other day...I saw a five dollar bill on Bennett's dresser. I nonchalantly asked him where he found it (because he previously informed me he was out of cash). He said, "Oh that. Gavin gave it to me." My first instincts were to dwell upon the brotherly love being bestowed between my two, fellow, male children. As I was reveling in their kind-heartedness towards one another, Gavin came into the room. I appropriately thanked him for being so sweet to his brother. How wrong I was.
All this "brotherly love" was actually a kick-back, come to find out. Gavin later explained that he wanted to play alone, but Bennett kept bugging him to play outside with him. Why Gavin would ever go outside and play sports instead of roll around the floor of his room in Gavinworld being some imaginary superhero is beyond me. So, he decided to pay him to leave him alone!!! Where in the world would my sweet, first born ever come up with such an idea?! I was so shocked with this revelation, I didn't know what to say. I was dumbfounded. So, I went and got Daddy.
It was Daddy who informed me that this type of thing has a name and that name is extortion and you are NOT allowed to use those types of "incentives" on your brother or sister - or anyone, ever, for that matter. Then we had to cover all our bases since we never traveled this road before and we never technically gave him the rules about 'paying off people to get what we want'. We decided to be very specific. The new family rule now states:
"There will never be money exchanged between siblings in this household for the following purposes: time alone, food, bribing in order to watch the movie or play the video game/board game that we want. You may also not pay your sibling to 'keep quiet' about an offense or accident that may or may not have happened. You may exchange 4 quarters for a dollar - but that is it!"
Now that the new rule is in place, Chuck further explained the whole extortion, bribery, kick-back thing and why it is wrong, bad, deceitful, harmful, ad nauseam.... I don't know why Gavin's first thought was not to just use his words to explain his desires to his sweet brother. Obviously, once you turn 10, words are scarce and saved up and used only when needed. It seemed easier to pay Bennett than talk to him. I hope this is a lesson we will never have to discuss again.
Just goes to show...whenever you think you have this parenting thing down...one of your kids throws a curve ball at you.
I heard the kids playing upstairs when suddenly, Bennett starts crying about something that happened. I figured they're old enough to handle small disturbances by themselves, they don't need me stepping in to fix every little problem.
But then Bennett starts amping up the volume on his little, whiny cry and starts making it sound more pathetic than it was just 2 seconds ago when he was upstairs. Now he's in front of me with his face twisted in (feigned) agony. When he finds just the right whiny pitch that will make his injustice seem believable enough, he starts in:
"Mo...ooo...ooo..mmmm. We were upstairs playing Aunt, Cuz and Cousin and I got a pillow and was running at Gavin with it when he just picked up his leg and put it out at me and hit me here (while pointing to his reddened knee)."
AND???.....
Seriously...is this your entire complaint? And is that even a real game you're playing? Who plays Aunt, Cuz and Cousin? And HOW do you play such a game?
Once the obvious questions were out of the way, I attempted to get Gavin's version. Often times, it would appear that the two parties of a disagreement lived on two different planets. The other kid normally gives a version of the story of such contrast, that there was no way they could have been in the same room together, much less witnessed the same event. Lucky for me, Gavin's rendition supported Bennett's pathetic accusation.
I know parents aren't supposed to take sides...but I just couldn't see this one any other way. I was like, "Bennett...so, you're telling me that if Gavin was running at you with a pillow with the intention of hitting you somewhere on your body, you would just stand there and take it and not try to defend yourself?"
"Well...no...I guess, I would." Of course that sentence makes zero sense - but I knew what he meant.
Me again: "So, here's the deal...either I handle this situation for you and it will involve never touching, wrestling or rough housing with your brother again and you can both come downstairs and do some fun chores for me....OR...you guys can try to solve this on your own."
Didn't I make that sound appealing. I was rather pleased with myself.
Suddenly, reconciliations were made and they were back to the fun of "Aunt, Cuz and Cousin".
Another day. Another problem solved. If only all parenting issues could be this easy.
This week was "W" week for Chloe in school. We always do an activity related to our letter of the week. For once, I was ahead of the game and actually had an activity already planned out. I was very proud of myself (you see, normally my brain is scrambling for an acceptable activity right before its time to do it). I was so excited to tell Chloe that her "W" activity this week was going to be about water and incorporate her very first science experiment. Only problem was, I didn't have part of the experiment...I still had to go to the store to get it.
Before I go any farther, let me explain the deep, scientific concepts involved here. First, you get a cup of water and fill it with a few drops of the food coloring of your choice. Then you insert a white carnation. Then you watch as the water flows through the flower and turns the carnation's petals the color of the water. It's almost like magic...especially when you're 4.
So...we're at the store and lo and behold, guess what type of flower they're completely out of?! Of course there were no white carnations to be found. So, me in all my wisdom decides that if this experiment can be done on a carnation, it can certainly be done on any old flower as long as its white. We find a perfect bunch of white mums and head home to conduct our scientific research.
We barely make it in from the garage when the kids are begging to start the experiment and are already searching for the food coloring. We don't even have time to unpack the grocery bags. We simply grab the mums, cut a few off and stick them in the jelly jar. Chloe has chosen a beautiful shade of purple while Bennett goes with blue water. I told them to be sure and check back often and find out what was going to happen to their flowers. I made the build up so huge, that they kept coming in from playing outside just to check on their flowers.
This experiment doesn't take long. Within a few hours, the petals should have turned colors. Notice the words: should have. These darned mums weren't turning any colors...they just sat there being all white and mum-like the whole rest of the day and into the night. Great! I cannot have Chloe's first science experiment end in failure...this will traumatize the rest of her scientific endeavors for years to come. I know the experiment works...I've done it before. Evidently, the flower is an intrical part of the whole procedure.
As luck would have it, I was up in the middle of the night getting some headache medicine when I noticed those flowers again. I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep with white flowers still staring back at me. So I did the only other thing that made sense. I went and found the same food coloring the kids used, dropped plentiful amounts onto the mums, grabbed a paper towel and started rubbing the color into the petals. There...now we have a nice purple mum and a brilliant blue mum...with dots on them. You see, the food coloring didn't rub in all that great. But what the heck, it's 2 am and I'm not about making things look perfect or 'believeable' at this time of the morning. All I want is for my headache to go away and the flowers to change colors. Is that too much to ask?
The kids were beyond thrilled when they woke up and ran to check their flowers. In their eyes, the experiment worked. However, they were surprised that the color showed up in dots. Hmmm...me too. I quickly and discreetly disposed of all signs of the experiment before any questions could be asked.
This would not be my first or even second entry about my sweet, boy-child choosing to 'go commando'...no this is my THIRD POST! I'm beginning to think we, as parents, have done some major oversight in the department of when and when not to wear underwear. We had another 'incident' today. Here's the story:
Chloe, Bennett and I are out in search of jeans without holes in the knees for Bennett. We find a store, we find a pair of jeans, we go into the changing stall to try them on. However, Bennett asks if Chloe and I could leave. I figure he's just into the 'trying to be modest' stage (how could I be so dense as to even think that Bennett has an ounce of modesty?!). Oh, what a fool I was.
So, he comes out of the stall and I do the typical mother thing and pull on the jeans, check the waist, see how much room to grow he has left. It was during that last evaluation that I discovered the lack of underwear. Now the whole making me leave the changing room thing is starting to make sense. He didn't want to get caught! This would have been his second time in two weeks of being caught for the same offense.
The other commando incident happened at the Dr.'s office of all places. He's laying down on the examining table for his well child appointment. The Dr. is making sure everything is where it's supposed to be. As he begins to unbutton Bennett's pants he starts laughing and says, to no one in particular, "Ah....I see we're going commando today." This is NOT the place to be making parental mistakes or showing any sort of incompetency. How could he slip out of the house on today of all days without underwear. Of course my first reaction is to feign disbelief and gasp, "BENNETT!!! - what were you thinking?!" Thank God the Dr. downplayed the whole thing!
But now, here we are in a store with my son trying on umpteen pairs of jeans WITHOUT underwear! How did I get to this point in life? Am I not direct enough in my expectations for my children? Must I ask them everyday if they remembered to put on underwear? Why would you even want to go without them? It's cold out, for goodness sakes.
We continue on in the store as if we're normal and leave without giving away the fact that one of us is underwearless. We get in the car and I start asking Bennett questions. "Honey, what makes you want to go without underwear?"
"Well...it's not that I don't want to wear underwear...it's just that...well...sometimes I don't have any left in my drawer."
"Honey, I know for a fact you have underwear in your drawer today."
"Well...then maybe it's because I like to save my underwear for the rest of the week so I don't run out."
"Oh really. So, you're into underwear conservation?"
"Ya."
"Oh, I see. So, if you were me, what kind of discipline would you think appropriate for someone being deceptive about not wearing his underwear?"
"Well...I would make him brush his teeth for 4 minutes."
"How in the world does that relate to not wearing underwear, Bennett?!"
"It would make me think about it while I'm brushing my teeth."
I have now gotten to the point in the conversation where I can no longer hide the huge smile spread across my face. This line of reasoning is getting crazier by the minute. He's dead serious too. Chloe decides to pipe in with, "Mommy, this makes me want to wear underwear every day too."
"What? Now you? Do you go commando too?"
"Yes. But from now on, I will put on a clean pair of panties every day."
Then Bennett feels it's necessary to add what he's learned from his 7 years here on earth to the conversation, "And Chloe, make sure you put your socks and underwear in the hamper everyday!"
Way to score points, Bennett. But it's a lost cause at this point. I have no reasoning ability left in order to think of an appropriate discipline that will curb this type of behavior in the future. I used to think that teaching a child to put underwear on was a one time deal...kinda like learning how to use a fork. You teach them once, they do it forever. Evidently, that's not the case in this house. We need further underwear education...let's call it 'continuing underwear education'.
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UPDATE: In case you're wondering...yes, I finally did come up with an appropriate (in my opinion) discipline to help curb the wayward ways of my non-underwear wearing son. I had him take all his underwear out of his drawer and then fold them all and place them neatly back in the drawer. My only hope here is that he sees that he actually does have underwear and to see what they feel and look like. Kind of like a 'getting acquainted' session. And, as the ever the sensitive parent, I felt obliged to let him know that if he felt that the amount of underwear he had in his drawer was in any way inadequate, to just let me know and I would dish out whatever cash it takes to get him some more.
This was to be the night of all nights for Chloe. This was, in her mind, the culmination of all she's lived for these past 4 1/2 years. She had this piece of paper safely tucked under her pillow every night for the past week. She memorized every word on it. She read it to her stuffed animals. She brought it outside to show her friends. She read it to me every night for a week. It may as well have been a year we made her wait. There were so many preparations to make. Instantly, she wanted to know what she should wear. When can we lay it out? How should we do my hair? What are we going to eat? What if I toot? Real princesses aren't supposed to toot.Excuse me? She said, "Mommy, what if I'm at my Daddy/Daughter Dance and I toot?" I'm surprised this is even a question. "Honey. Just because you feel like you have to toot, doesn't mean you have to do it right then and there. You may go to the bathroom to toot." I can't believe our parenting has been so vague in this area. So all week long she'd come running up to me holding her butt saying, "I'm trying not to toot, Mom." Great, Honey. I'm so proud of you. Thankfully, all her fears were for naught. All her 'practicing' paid off.
Every dance she ever attends will now be measure next to this one. Any boy, will forever be compared to her Daddy who adored her all night long and danced the night away with his princess. I'm so thankful Chuck took the time to do this with her.
The right outfit was paramount. She chose a 'Real Princess' dress for this formal occasion. This was her 'ball' after all. Chuck said they even had a red carpet lining the walkway up to the recreation center that they decked out specially for the occasion. When he asked her to help him pick out his tie, she was giddy to see he owned a pink one. How perfect! It would match her dress perfectly. But instead of choosing that one, she chose a dark colored tie. We asked her why and she said, "What if all the other Daddies make fun of you Daddy because you're wearing a pink tie?" Fashion conscious, yes. But making sure her Daddy doesn't feel bad was more important than matching. He assured her that nobody would make fun of him and she was thrilled to have him wear his pink tie!
I think her favorite part was the pink rose Chuck gave her before they left. It was supposed to be pinned on her dress...but we didn't have a safety pin big enough. So she carried it around with her all night. This is love to a 4 year old!
Bennett loves his Uncle John. Everything about him. So you can imagine how he took the news that his Uncle (who is career Air Force) has to go to Iraq. War is so hard to explain to kids. They don't understand why everyone doesn't just sit down and talk out their differences (kinda like we make them do). This event is weighing heavily on Bennett's little mind. We pray constantly. We talk it over. And it seems he has come to some peace with it. Daddy had him make a special Powerpoint presentation for Uncle John for his computer class. I won't insert his actual slides in here...but this is the closing message Bennett wrote for him: truth is what matters and you have faith when you go to war may the force be with you!
