Flattery and Bennett

Here's a peak into Bennett's brain:

Yesterday, he and I were laying in the hammock visiting about our day, solving the world's problems and just enjoying the weather. Then he makes an announcement. He felt the need to stand and present this, "Mom, you know, you and Grandma are alot alike."

"Oh really? How do think so, Sweetie?"

"Well...you both smell good and you both like to spend time with me."

Oh the ties that bind.

And then there was today. I'm thinking he's secretly taking lessons in flattery.

We were on our way somewhere and were probably going to be a little early. I informed the kids of this and told them we might have to wait a little while for our friends. This did not phase Bennett in the least. He eagerly presents his solution, "Oh that's no problem, Mom. We can just sit and admire your beauty while we wait."

The problem was, he wasn't being the least bit sarcastic. He was totally genuine. I guess there could be worse problems we could have to be dealing with.

This does not count the multiple times a day I get custom white board messages prounouncing his love for me or telling me 'U Rock Mommy' or exclaiming his undying affection for me. I love being the center of his little love struck heart. I know one day it will change...but right now is perfect just the way it is...flattery and all. (Trust me, the pictures he draws of me are in no way flattering).

Texas Beauty

Gorman Falls

Fields of Wild Flowers

A Beautiful Firewheel

Our Campsite

A Deer in the Bush

Gorman Falls

How To Avoid An Answer

This genius verbiage came to me this past weekend. We were in the midst of our latest greatest camping adventure down in the Hill Country of Texas. For most that know me, camping is not my forte. To quote a great saying: "some men were born great, other's had greatness thrust upon them" - my version: "some ladies were born to camp, other's had camping thrust upon them". I fall into the latter category. I go to see the joy on my children's faces. We won't even attempt to delve into the psyche that is my brain and try to understand the origins of my camping fears. If I were playing a word association game some words that pop into mind when the word 'camping' is uttered are: hunger, dirt, porta potty, acrid smoke, migraine, hard ground, snakes, bugs, dirt....you get the idea. But I was not about to let my fears, negative associations or general dislike of the sport, hinder my kids from experiencing this adventure for themselves. After assuaging my fear for the past few years, I've actually come to like it, sort of, in it's own little way. I love nature, I love my family, I love fresh air...so in a sense, I could possibly grow to love camping too. It all hinges on bathroom facilities when you get right down to it.

All that to say, I was assimilating in to my new environment for the next 48 hours. We were on a little hike after our first cook-out dinner. I'm still trying to shed the hee-bee jee-bees nature sometimes induces in me. Telling the children not to touch anything green is pointless. My eyes are darting back and forth across our path in search of any reptilian friends. Someone of the younger generation asks me a question. I hear it, but can't shake the stupor I'm in. I'm focused on the task at hand, I can not, under any circumstances, deviate from my search for snakes. I hear the question and know an answer is needed. I don't even know what the question was, so how can I commit to an answer? The best I could come up with was, "Okay Honey, we'll do that closer to later."

WHAT?!? Talk about non-commital and utter avoidance. I'm sure they felt they had my complete attention at the moment. Then Chloe actually called me down on my response. She's like, "Mom, what does that mean anyway?"

"It means, Honey...that I'm otherwise occupied and have no clue what to say at the moment and it just plain sounded good."

I'll probably post some amazing camping pictures for y'all....closer to later.

Get Well Soon

I have been sick with strep throat the past several days. Bennett just can't handle this. All of us hoped I would get better, not for my sake, but for Bennett's. His compassionate heart was just bleeding for me. It was so beautiful to see his genuine concern. But he wouldn't let up. He was constantly trying to make me better. Like one more foot rub would do the trick. Or one more Berentstain Bear book he read to me would finally break the spell. He brought me water with a straw and a little note. He was constantly checking on me. And my favorite...bringing me Ludens, my absolute favorite "medicine". I am apparently the only adult on earth who thinks Ludens has any medicinal qualities...and thankfully Bennett believes me, because he showered me with plenty of them. Then in one last ditch effort to make me well he creates a powerpoint slide show for me. This is it:

Evidently, this picture represents serenity and encourages health and wellness.

The last part, written in the pretty font, is part of a Bible verse and I say to kids each night. I thought it was adorable how he got it mostly right and he interpreted "may he lift up his countenance upon you...." as "acountinents"...I'm just now learning that this is how he hears it.

Evidently, this is what I look like when I sleep. I like how my legs levitate. And just for the record. I do NOT snore.

More encouraging words, although a bit morbid. I'm hoping he doesn't think my strep throat will lead to an early demise.

This is us, without arms, standing next to a river, proclaiming our love to one another, seriously.

If this can't make a person well again, what can?

Know Your Name

A couple days ago Bennett asked me what his name meant. Evidently, he'd been talking to some friends at school who knew what their names meant and he became curious as to what his meant. I remember that I loved what it meant when we chose it, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it meant when he asked me. Thus a trip down memory lane ensued when we had to take out his baby book to look up the meaning.

Bennett means: One Who Walks With God

He produced a big smile on his sweet little face.

Then this morning he tells me, "Mom, I've been thinking...I think I want to start acting like what my name means."

*this is where my heart is melting with joy over the sensitivity of this sweet child*
I told him that was a very mature thing to want to do and asked him what prompted it. He replied, "Well...I just think I need to start taking it more seriously...be who I am."

Only God can inpart wisdom like that to a person.

I asked him, "What would that look like?" He sat contemplative for a few seconds and then answered, "I think I should probably starting thinking more before I act, put others before myself and just remember what it means to walk with God."

Substitute Chef

As I walk into the kitchen with my groceries for the week, I find a little note from Gavin on top of this cookbook. It reads, "Mom, for one week, can we please have dinners out of this cookbook? They look so good! Thanks! Love, Gavin" Where was he when I was agonizing over what meals to cook for the week? This is the most dreaded chore of my profession (mommyhood). I love to cook, I love to serve people, I love to see the smiles on their faces when they are enjoying my meals and believe it or not, I even love to grocery shop (I attribute that solely to the wonderful people at my grocery store). But I HATE, utterly hate trying to decide what it is we should eat week in and week out. I can't commit. There are too many options to choose from. I wish someone would just make a weekly menu for me. Life would be so much easier that way. But life is not about being easy and I'm too picky of an eater to let anyone else make our menu - thus, the cycle begins again each week with, "So guys, what should we have for dinner this week?"

Hence, you can understand the irony upon seeing this little note AFTER going thru the dreaded ritual of meal planning. That didn't stop me from running to Gavin and giving him a big hug for rescuing me from next week's torture session.

Since he was given the green light, he decided to write out our menu and then proceeded to write the grocery list of items we needed. I could get used to this. The whole "not thinking about it" part did wonders for my brain capacity that week. I felt energized, renewed. I might just promote him to my personal chef. Granted, he didn't pick one meal I could eat...but that didn't matter to me, I can always throw a salad together and be semi-happy.


Here is my new chef in action. He loved the freedom of controlling the family's food choices; of following the recipe all on his own without me standing over his shoulder. He actually told me to "Go sit down Mom, I can do it all." He doesn't have to tell me twice. I was actually surprised by some of his menu selections such as Greek Salad. He told me he just "loved red onions", since when? Come to find out, my whole family loves red onions, who knew? Matter of fact, everyone loved everything he made. There wasn't one "Ewwww...what's this??" or "Do I have to eat it?" like I'm normally accustomed to when testing a new recipe. He was praised, lauded and hailed a wonderful chef. Looks like I've cooked my way out of a job.

In this picture he's making Spicy Bean Soup. Even I liked that and I don't like beans. We each got like 3 spoonfuls only because he failed to notice the serving size. Just one of the many lessons learned while figuring out this whole chef business. Needless to say, we raided the refrigerator for leftovers afterwards.

Now on any given week we have meal choices already in pre-ordained days of the week...but that is just an outline, a guide if you will. Who actually eats what they plan on each day? We're not that organized. I like the freedom in deciding, "Hmmm, I don't really feel like eating that tonight, I think I'll pick this instead." Unfortunately, Gavin doesn't get that. He doesn't understand the whole 'feeling' part of this process. Bennett and I are in touch with our feelings, but Gavin, he likes to do things exactly like the book says, no variation, no deviating, stick to the rules and no one will get hurt kinda guy. So, when I switched up a meal on him and asked him to make Greek Salad on a day it wasn't written down for, he about flipped out, "What?!? It's not on the menu until Wednesday!" I like to refer to this 'feeling' as intuition. I had a feeling that the fresh ingredients needed would go bad before he made this dish and didn't want to see that happen, so I up-ed the day on him. I told him it's called, "going with the flow". Once he wrapped his brain around the idea, he was cool with it.

His hardest entree was one called Salmon Fish Cakes. Very labor intensive but also very delicious. He did such a good job and didn't complain one bit. However, I advise getting salmon that already has the skin and bones taken off. This particular recipe required a quick run to the store to get the right fish by the person who made the oversight in the fish department - me. But dinner was still great 2 hours later than expected. The one meal he never got to make was Quiche. He was really looking forward to that one and kept pronouncing it "kee-shay". It was quite cute to see the french chef in him come out. But, Mommy wasn't in the mood for kee-shay. I wanted pizza. We were able to twist the kids' arms on that one. Talk about role reversal!

He even treated us to Crepe's for dessert one night. Very cool. Why have I never tried this? I'm thinking I might start using the Children's cookbook from now on. We filled them with cool whip and jelly and had very happy tummies! The crepes that is - not the kids.

I'm liking the perks that come with older children: no more diaper duty, no waking at random times in the middle of the night, no more cleaning up all the food in and around a high chair three times a day, no runny noses...the list goes on and on. But believe it or not, I'll always miss those chores associated with those ages, but I'll also treasure the joys and unknown that each phase of life brings us with these, my most favorite people in the world. Growing into life is always a wonderful, risk-taking, love-filling, age-changing, mess-making, constant-learning, unknown adventure. Carpe Diem!

If you ever stop by, I'll make sure and have Gavin whip you up a little kee-shay.

The Paradox of Time

Who can stop it?
Do we even want to?
Does it fly?
Or does it stand still?
Is it ours to make the most of?
Or God's to fulfill His will?

Is it a gift you can give?
Or something you treasure?
If it's something we're to use wisely,
Why do we so often waste it?
I can't take it with me when I die;
I can add no more to my life no matter how hard I try.

As time marches on do we remember or forget it?
Can you cherish a moment in time?
Can you capture it in order to share it?
Can you speed it up when its too hard to bear?
Or slow it down to show a loved one you care?

Do I count it by cycles?
Or focus on each minute?
Is it something my finite mind can comprehend?
Or is it one more thing to trust God in?

The only thing about time I know for sure:
There is a time for everything under heaven and
He has made everything beautiful in it's time.

Mystery Problem

The problem is not a mystery...it's what's causing the problem that remains a mystery. See these bushes:They have been decimated by the mystery azalea bush eating monster - the tree too. These bushes used to be twice their size. They used to have such thick foliage. The promise of lots of blooms during spring and summer was eminent. And then this carnage. I was devastated. I asked everyone what we could do. What type of creature eats innocent azalea bushes? The poor things look like someone went crazy with the pruners and then ripped off all the leaves. But I can promise you I (nor did any of my people) commit such an act.

We were beside ourselves. We wanted to set up a video camera and get proof. But it only happens at night. We're not the high tech kind of people. We don't have the proper lighting to illuminate the area in order to see what we're recording during the pitch black of night. So that option was out.

Then we (I) had a most genius plan. I've seen/heard of instances where you put a garden gnome or ceramic animal out in the garden and it tricks the unwanted invaders into thinking something bigger than them is already in the garden and therefore they're not welcome or wanted. So...there I am playing a psychology game on our 'monster' - they're probably just bunnies, but the vicious type.

I chose this adorable little puppy dog to place in the garden. A LOT of thought went into choosing just the right type of lawn ornament. I knew it would be a reflection of us and didn't want to freak the neighbors out or anything. There were too many options of what to choose truth be told. So in the end I ended up picking out the cute puppy. I guess gullible, naive and 'walk all over me' is the message we wanted to send out instead of threatening, treacherous and mean. The monster scoffed at the sweet puppy. Our ceramic (actually resin) dog did nothing to curb his midnight appetite for our shrubberies.

A sweet friend, who is experienced in all matters of gardening, suggested something so atrocious I actually laughed out loud when she mentioned it. She said that she knew that fox urine worked to keep critters away. Hmmmmm. My first question was, "who in the world goes around collecting all this urine?" I guess the answer wasn't important. The fact is that it works and now we can fix our problem.

So...we go to Lowes and ask for fox urine. Of course they don't carry that, but some young, hip dude who worked there said he heard that human pee did the trick just as good, so don't go waste your money on all that expensive fox urine when you've got plenty of human pee-ers in your house. I'm thinking maybe he was playing us.

But of course we tried it. Being the ever cost efficient one that I am, I'm also going to opt for the free option of any variety. If that means my boys must pee in a jar so that we can be rid of the monster bunny, so be it. I will spare you the picture of the pee jar. I left in the garage with strict instructions to all boys in my house that they MUST pee in that jar if they love their mother and want to see her happy because her azalea bushes are blooming again. They must take one for the team. It's not that hard anyways - it was actually probably very convenient for them.

So, once a week, me and my magic formula in a yellow container, march around the house making a bee-line for my left-for-dead bushes. I pour the scary human pee all around the bushes and lift up a quick prayer for results.

I kid you not...human pee IS just as effective as fox pee. And I have proof! Look at this, people:

It lives!! It grows!! It makes me (and ceramic puppy) happy! Granted, there are only 4 blooms on it - but look at the life it exudes! It has leaves. Just in case you can't see well enough, let me give you a close up picture of my pride and joy:

A lot of blood, sweat and tears (and other bodily fluids) went into this beloved flower. I want to savor this moment. Hard work and a little intimidation pays off in the end. Mystery critter - beware. We are armed, waiting and ready!

Green Thumb Woes

I decided this year to try to channel some "Little House In The Prairie" pioneer gumption and make my own garden. Unbelievable, yet true. Have I mentioned that I'm horribly idealistic? That is paramount to this story. I had visions of becoming self-sufficient, at least in the vegetable department. We were going to become a family that ate off the land from things we grew with our own two hands.

Since Chloe was my only homeschooler this year, I had tons of plans for fun things to do and plenty of time to do them in. We've done most of them but had put off one big one - the garden. I decided to not do a fall garden for two reasons: 1. I was very intimidated by the whole concept and 2. it was going to be hard! Why start something hard when it's destined to fail with the winter weather looming so close at hand. I need a much larger bell curve. So, I decided to put it off until Spring. A Spring garden seemed a lot easier (I have no idea why, probably just because it was some futuristic time frame).

I did some preliminary research (I use that term very lightly). I talked to two friends who were/are successful gardeners. I even looked at the books they recommended, but didn't actually read them. I did however, read all the type in bold print - just to hit the highlights. And last but not least, I found a gardening book at Half-Price Books that was on clearance for a dollar that seemed right up my alley titled, "A Victory Garden for Kids". I know we no-longer live in the WWII era, but I loved the idea. I again, scanned thru that book just enough to pick up a few key points like what to plant when. I learned about fish juice and when to use it.

I also like to count my time talking with the cashier and bag-boy at the grocery store as part of my research phase. When anyone who gardens finds out someone new is about to start, they feel compelled to give you a plethora of information that you'll never remember because you don't have anything to write it down with but you sit there shaking your head and smiling acting like the novice you know you are just to be polite. I remembered a few things from this exciting encounter: plant marigolds to keep the insects off your plants (did I? no) and tie ribbon on sticks to keep the birds out of your garden (yes, sort of). All that advice and I can't believe those are the only two things that stuck!

Come late winter I was on Chuck like white on rice to get him to dig me out a 'plot'. He of course, has to calculate and do everything just so and correctly, whereas I prefer to wing it most of the time. Figure it out as you go along. Let me just say, his way is better.

After several weeks, Chuck finally accomplished his portion of the task. Now it was my turn. I had already planted all my seeds in one of those little greenhouse containers you get at Lowes. It's called 'seeding the plant' for those of you other novice gardeners. Boy, those seeds were doing a great job. I felt my thumb getting greener by the minute. Now, even though I didn't thoroughly read one gardening book, I did read the entire back of each seed packet. I knew exactly what was expected of me and my seeds.

As those little seeds were growing, my job was to put all the soil and mulch in the plot out back. I was also to build a little fence because I am not growing a garden to feed bunnies. I have never in my life built a fence and I am proud to say I finally 'figured it out' and made me a fence, all in one afternoon. And I didn't even have a staple gun, I used all nails and some mesh like material. Hard to do!!! But I felt invigorated after accomplishing what I previously thought impossible. If I can build a fence, I can definitely plant and grow a garden. Look at my lovely handiwork:

Only, too bad for me, because the little seedlings I had so professionally grown died. And it wasn't even my fault. I had to put the whole little greenhouse thingy outside one day (while the granite people were making a huge mess of my house) and the wind and elements killed every chance at life those little guys had. I mourned my seeds. That meant I would have to actually plant the seeds in the dirt of my plot by myself. I know plot sounds more graveyardish and sadly enough, that is what my garden was turning out to be.

Three weeks elapsed and still no sign of life. I faithfully watered my garden daily. Every two weeks I put fish juice on it. I started thinking to my self, maybe I should have actually read a book on how to do this properly. But then I also thought to my self, did the pioneers have books about how to grow a garden? Nooo! They learned by trial and error just like me. That's as far as my conversation with myself progressed. Then I decided to take drastic action. I was actually going to dig up one of those seeds and see if it was doing anything. I couldn't even find one of my seeds.

Actually, I take that back, my watermelon seed grew two baby leaves. We all rejoiced. But one little watermelon does not a garden grow. I had to resort to buying plants that were already alive and growing. Thus, my new and improved garden:


This leaves me in a state of consternation though. What in the world did Pa do (remember, "Little House" is my mentor here) when he couldn't grow his crop? He couldn't go to the Olsen's and just go buy a new one? Oh how far we (me) have fallen as a society that we cannot be self-sufficient for our own food. All my ideals have taken a beating. My optimism is crushed. Yet, in the midst of all that, I thank God I'm not (nor was I ever) a pioneer! There is something to be thankful for afterall.

And another thing...this was supposed to be a 'homeschool project'. The only one I see getting homeschooled here is me! I guess that's another good example of how learning never stops. I might fail (or semi-cheat) this go around, but I'll have learned something and be better the next time I try (please!).

Proper Finger Names

Mr. Thinks Alot over here has decided we'd all be better off if we adopted his new finger naming system. His life's goal is to make everything easier. It would be so much easier on us all if we didn't have to think so hard about the names of our fingers. Thus, he proposes the following:

The Thinger
The Finger
The Minger
The Ringer
The Pinger

My son is nothing if not uniform. He loves all things that have meaning and purpose. You've got to admit, this just makes more sense. By the way, he informed me that his pinger hurts this morning.

The Dish Washer

In our house, each of the kids have after dinner chores. We don't typically rotate them or switch them around simply because of age and skill set - the don't correspond or transfer well from job to job. But as of late, they've been asking to switch with each other and we've been tentatively watching from the sidelines to see how it goes. So far, so good.

All that to say, typically Chloe doesn't do the dishes. I let her sometimes when all I have in the sink is tupperware and plastic cups. Nothing can get broken and she can't get hurt. But she's 6 now. That's big. She feels she's entitled to do all things 'big'. That includes dinner dishes. And what pride she takes in her work. She's very detail oriented, so this job was actually a perfect fit for her.

She calls me down when there's only one item left in the sink, a bowl with left over salad in it. She wanted to know what to do with it. She asks, "Mom, should I put this in the garbeler?"

Then I'm quickly reminded how 'big' she really is. I couldn't correct her. I thought garbeler fit so much better than garbage disposal - that sounds too grown up.

After instructing her in the proper use of the garbeler, I watched as she handled it like an expert. Life is fun when you look at it through the eyes of a child.

Data Overload

This scene unfolds before you while we are at the dinner table (where else?):

Gavin: "Boy, I sure was hungry at lunch today."

Me: "Why Honey?"

Gavin: "Because I only had a half a sandwich."

Me: "Were you not hungry?"

Gavin: Just looking at me with a silly grin on his face.

2.5 minutes later.....

Me: "Ooooooohhhhhh!!!!"

Here's the problem. Gavin always gets two circle ham sandwiches in his lunch - everyday. Bennett always gets a half a sandwich (any variety). I normally make this sometime in the pre 7am hour. Both lunch boxes are the exact same shape and size, just different colors. Unbeknownst to me, I put the wrong sandwich baggie in the wrong lunch box and there was no quality control checking up on me and they went out that way.

Upon realizing the error of my ways, I grabbed my head and moaned. And laughed. And moaned some more. I asked Chuck to just commit me to the mental hospital now. I do believe either I'm processing too much data in that tiny brain of mine or I need to start downloading some of those big files up there to an external hard drive to make more room.

Then suddenly, the error of my ways hit Bennett and he proclaimed, "So that's what was different about my lunch. I knew something wasn't right." But he ate the sandwich anyways (& threw the other one away).

Gavin just found the whole scenario hilarious and very typical of his loopy mother. He's come to expect these sort of shenanigans from me now-a-days.