Seriously?!?

We were driving around town today when Gavin asks me, "Mom, when you get decapitated, are you still alive?"

I have a few questions of my own first, 1. how in the world would i know that? 2. what brought about this line of questioning? 3. is there ever a time when you're not thinking? 4. you realize I'm just a mom, not a nuclear physicist or an accomplished surgeon? 5. really?!?

But instead this is what flowed forth from my humble personage, "Uh...no!"

I then decided to draw on all my previous medicinal background and knowledge (there is none - except for what I read in books) and threw this little tid-bit back at him, "Well, you see Honey, once the head comes off (did I just say that?), the heart keeps pumping blood for a few seconds, so I'm sure it's squirting out all over the place. But, the heart needs the brain in order to function, so after only a few seconds of pumping, it will eventually stop." How's that for scientific?! It's rather unfortunate I didn't have my trusty little medical dictionary in the car with me for just such a moment as this.

Of course he has a come-back. He obviously asked this loaded question for a reason. "Well, mom, then why when you cut off a cockroach's head, does it live for another 7-10 days?"

"How in the world am I supposed to know the answer to that?! How do you know that?"

"I read it."

"Do you believe everything you read?"

"Well. I read it in two books."

"Ok then. I guess it must be true if two books are telling you the same story. Assuming this is true, cockroaches are an anomaly then. That shouldn't happen."

"Wouldn't blood squirt out everywhere?"

I want this conversation to be over. First I have an image of a decapitated human floating around in my brain, now I have a cockroach running around without a head. When will the madness stop? How do I know the bleeding or dying habits of cockroaches? All I know is that I step on them and they crunch. I don't investigate to see if they crawl away without an appendage or head. My bad I guess. Then I would have more accurate information to pass along to my off-spring.

Thankfully, Bennett comes to the rescue with his vast knowledge all things animal kingdom related, "Gavin. Cockroaches don't have blood." So there.

"So, I think that a person would still stay alive for a few seconds after their head is cut off." explains Gavin trying to tie this whole morbid conversation together. Evidently, we are now entering into the hypothesis stage of this conversation. I agree. Can we be done now?

"So, who wants hot chocolate when we get home?" There's really no easy way to change subjects, but this seemed to do the trick.

The Surprise

What's better than wanting something and waiting a long time to get it?

Getting surprised with that something!

That's what happened to our family last week. I had been missing my parents for months now and had no idea when the next time we'd get to visit them would be (due to the failing health of my Jadziu). But we understood this and didn't want to pressure them. We were okay sacrificing for a little bit. But the time and distance started becoming too much. I had even asked Chuck within the past month if we could take some money from savings so the kids and I could fly up to see them. But nothing really paned out. It was just way too costly.

Then came a week ago Friday. It was movie and pizza night. Bennett and Daddy were at his baseball end-of-season party. Chloe, Gavin and I were watching a movie that was lulling me to sleep. It was 8 o'clock at night. Someone knocked on the door. I thought it was the neighborhood kids since I'd recently heard them outside kicking the ball. I thought it went over the fence and they were coming to ask for it. Not.

I open the door and to my surprise there stood my parents. They drove 2, 11 hour days to get here. To see me. Well...okay, probably more than just me. But for that moment it was me. My first thought was how dirty my house was (of course). But once I jumped that hurdle, I just enjoyed the time. It was an amazing, wonderful week. Funny thing was....the week I wanted to fly up there to see them would have been that exact same week they came here. Now that wouldn't have worked out too well would it? How much better it was to wait. I'm reminded of a Bible verse: "Trust in the Lord and wait patiently for Him." It's always better that way.

A cozy little home I found for them that's a lot closer - on the grounds of the Dallas Arboretum.

Obsessed

My boys have become OBSESSED with this series of books. They eat, sleep, drink, talk nothing but this book. They've stopped playing and spend every spare minute reading. This would not be out of the norm for Gavin...but Bennett? The child has morphed into a book worm. He has read 5 of these books in one month. This is the son who would find any reason to not like a book, unless it was Hank the Cowdog. His criteria for a book are very high - it has to have good writing, be funny and enlist great characters. I guess he found the whole package in this series. I had no clue he would stop everything in order to read. He even asked to go to bed early on more than one occasion so he could have extra time to read! Who are you and what have you done with my son oh author of great stories? His goal this week is to finish the next book in two days. This is the child who would only read Calvin and Hobbes, graphic novels or books about cheetahs when there was nothing else to do. I'm loving this! I'm going to ride this wave as long as it lasts. I often find Gavin and Bennett in deep conversation through-out the day over the characters, what happens next, discussing the plot and talking about everything owl. Thank you Kathryn Lasky for writing such awesome books that makes my children want to get lost in the world of reading. Their imaginations will never be the same!

On a recent chat session Bennett & I were having over this little obsession, he explained the process called "Moonblinking". This is when the bad owls, have the good little owls stare at the moon and all recite their names at the same time. They are never supposed to look at the moon for long periods of time, the good owls know this. This effect is supposed to cause confusion for the little owls and change the essence of who they are. They are supposed to become mindless little minions of the 'bad owls' and forget who they are and where they came from. It's like being brain washed. At the end of this little lesson Bennett tells me, "Mom. I kinda like to think of last year at public school was like Gavin and me being "moonblinked". But it didn't work. Thanks for teaching us at home mom." Hmmm....maybe he's on to something.

Be Careful What You Teach

These would be my childrens' favorite chip alternative. You see, we've been studying about nutritious eating, servings per ounce, calories per serving, cost per serving...all that fun stuff. I had no clue how literal my children would take all this. Now they read the labels on every food item in the house. That can have good and bad consequences. Bad for me when they read what I'm eating and come to me and say rather loudly, "MOM!!! DO YOU REALIZE YOU'RE EATING 500 CALORIES RIGHT NOW!" Thanks for that. I was trying to ignore that little fact and just enjoy the taste. Every day at lunch, these same people count out EXACTLY 17 crackers in order to get only 90 calories from their 'chip' consumption for the day. Oh...they know how to read a box. I did NOT teach them to do that. I do not do that. I just teach the concepts, they decide when and where they want to apply them to life. Don't even get me started in their quest for finding "high fructose corn syrup" on every box in the grocery store. Or the search for GMOs in every box not labeled 'organic'. Life is fun around here.

Being Bennett's Mom

It's Birthday Time again, a time of reflection and reminiscing. My sweet, sensitive, relational, little boy is turning 9. His sweet smile has always been contagious. His need to make people smile, laugh and be happy is what drives him. He stands for Truth, Justice and the American Way. He hates to see unfairness in this world and takes it upon himself to try to right all wrongs. He MUST relate to anyone he meets (a trait he gets from Mommy). He MUST be holding, sleeping, or playing with a ball at all times (a trait he gets from Daddy). He has 13 stuffed animals that he calls his 'kids' and each have a name and a power. He can memorize a song, comedic line or saying after seeing/hearing it once (I'm jealous). He has a quick wit. He has a huge appreciation of art. He smiles the whole time he's playing any sport - he's so happy to be playing he just can't help it. He has an extensive knowledge of all things cheetah and would like to be a zoologist when he grows up (after his pro-football career, of course). Speaking of football, he said he'd give his Dad and me free tickets to sit on the sidelines of all his pro games and spending money to eat at the concession stand (sweet!). He's still at the age where he wants to marry me when he grows up. But at the same time he says he will take care of me when I'm old (like 40, he says). I told him the only way I'll live with him when I'm old is if he lets me eat cookies everyday and he said that was okay - so I'm relieved. He still calls me Mommy.

I learn so much from each of my children. From Bennett I have learned to draw what I'm feeling and that drawing pictures and giving them to people makes them feel better and helps get feelings off your chest. I've learned that giving people a smile goes a long way. He makes my heart smile. Every year Chuck makes a little slide show of their lives up to their current year and we put it to their favorite song. When we asked him what his favorite song was this year he replied, "Live Like You Were Dying". That is so Bennett. Every moment I get with him, I enjoy to it's fullest because that's what he does with those he's around. He has such a thankful heart.

Word Play

No less than 3 minutes after waking up, Bennett wants to engage me in the meaning of words. He asks me, "Mom, does 'deca or deci' mean 10? Because decimeter means 10 meters and a decade is 10 years." You're right buddy, that's exactly what it means. "Okay then, I came up with some new words: a decimist is a person who sees 10 good things and 10 bad things. They're more like a realist. And a decanut is a donut with 10 holes." Pretty cool stuff, my friend. Way to use your brain.

He then goes on to expound about his thoughts on pessimists and optimists. He explains that a pessimist is skinny cuz they only see the skinny side of things and optimists aren't fat, but more like medium cuz they have bigger stomachs about things. They always see things full. What a neat mental picture to have to explain a word that is really only a concept. I think I want to be fat today when it comes to my outlook on life. But if truth be told, I think I'm more of a decimist.

The Door Stop

I'm happy to see Bennett finally found a use for his deodorant. Because it sure isn't being used for it's original intent.

Greater Appreciation Needed

Bennett made a pretty bold proclamation yesterday. "Mom, it is my opinion that people do not appreciate illustrators like they should. There are some really good illustrators out there and people only give the authors credit."

I totally agree my astute son. Especially when it comes to children's books. I will normally buy or borrow as many books by the same illustrator once I find one I like. The pictures are art and we have a high appreciation of it in this house. Especially Bennett. He illustrates everything, his math, his language arts, his writing...nothing is safe from "The Illustrator".

From experience, I have coined the saying, "It's all about the presentation." Meaning, if something looks good, it doesn't really matter if it is or not, if it appears to be good, the perception is that it is good. This works in interior design, marketing, advertising, web design, speeches, you name it. I automatically like the story more if the cover is beautiful or catches my attention. I love the story alot more if the illustrations are detailed. It makes me ponder the story more as I go. Obviously, this gene was passed down to Bennett.

Bennett has composed a list of illustrators that make 'the cut' in his book. It's cute because it also tells alot about what he's like and what he appreciates:

Susan Jeffers

Trina Schart Hyman

Bob Marstall

Gerald L. Holmes

Bill Watterson

Jan Brett

Too Hard

When Bennett was 2 and he encountered a situation too difficult for him or was told to do something he didn't want to do, he would arch his back, stick out his bottom lip, summon his most whiney voice and pronounce, "Too hard!" and scowl at us. It was hilarious back then, especially if we knew the task was rather easy and he just didn't want to do it. With all the effort and hoopla he would put into telling us how 'hard' something was, he could have already accomplished the task asked of him.

Right now, I'm feeling very much like little Bennett. At least, that's how I imagine God must see me when I fuss and complain about things I feel are "too hard" for me. I've been agonizing over a particular issue for quite some time now. I often feel that in my mind, I'm complaining loudly that it's just "too hard" to do, therefore, I conclude, it (or I) must be wrong.

How in the world did I ever correlate hard with wrong? Because it's easier for my flesh to see it that way and make sense of it, at least that's my opinion and experience. Sometimes doing the hard thing is a matter of faith...you do it even though it's not fun, easy or other's around you aren't doing it, but you know that you know that you are supposed to.

It is in the hard times that growth is happening. Growth is not always fun. It hurts. Ever heard of 'growing pains'? I've often heard the phrase, "God loves you just how you are, but he loves you too much to not let you stay that way". Growth involves dying to myself, my flesh, being less selfish...that would qualify it as "hard".

It's hard to have a baby, but that doesn't make it wrong...it just makes it hard. There's joy at the end of the hardship. There's growth that you couldn't have had any other way. The Bible tells us to "count it all joy when you encounter various trials for they are building your faith" (my paraphrase). It also says to "give thanks in all things for this is God's will for you".

I choose to be thankful in this hard thing. I can only see the here and now. I have such a limited scope. I choose to trust God since that is called "faith" and that is what pleases Him. All life's struggles (and joys) are opportunities to bring us closer to Him. How can I not be thankful for that?

But that doesn't mean I still don't want to complain at times or stiffen my back in protest. But hopefully that happens less and less and before I know it, I can do "it" and not even realize how hard it is anymore. That's maturity. That's growth. Then it's on to the next lesson that will feel "too hard" for a time.

Questions

I have 4 different kinds of questioners in this house. I love it. It has taken a few years of research before coming to this discovery phase, but I think I've finally got them nailed.

Here's Gavin's line of questioning (it usually involves my sitting next to a computer armed with a Google search engine): "Mom...what is one dimension?" Glad you asked honey. Because you know, that's another one of the million things you think you know until you have to explain it. He is expert at asking me those types of questions. However 'unsmart' I may feel by many of Gavin's questions, I love that he asks them because I continue learning new things every day - often things I wouldn't have thought to ask, thanks to the way his brain works. This little question/answer period we share often turns into a beautiful time of discussion and another way of seeing God in our lives. For the record (just because I know now and can explain it), one dimension is a line drawn from one point to another. While we were reading thru Wikipedia, we also learned that time is often considered the fourth dimension, something new I did not know and was excited to learn. Our little talk took us back to God and how He is not limited by any of our earthly dimensions and how grateful we are for that!

And then there's Bennett's line of questioning, "Mom, can I have 1 cookie or 3?" Why would you skip the number 2? Why go straight for 3? Why would 3 even be an option? Most would want 1 or 2...but not Bennett. He also loves to ask me the obvious such as, "Are we going to the store, Mom?" when we've just pulled up in front of it. We have a whole different line of reasoning going on here. Lastly, he loves to relate, especially if something 'bad' recently happened to him, for example: he accidentally breaks something, gets disciplined for it and then asks, "Mom, was there ever a time you broke something and your parents got mad at you and you felt this way?" Every. Single. Time. He has to know he's not alone in this world. I love my little relater.

Chloe only asks questions she knows the answer to. Why? I still don't understand. For example: she sees Chuck pull into the driveway through her window then she'll come downstairs and ask me, "Mom, when is Daddy coming home?" Since I didn't just see him pull into the driveway, I answer, "I'm not sure, Honey...it should be soon." To which she'll reply, "He's home now, Mom. I just saw him drive up." Then why ask?! She only asks, so she can tell. I guess in some warped sense this helps her feel smarter - but she doesn't need any help in that department since she is as smart as a whip anyways. She hates not knowing the answer to something, it makes her feel dumb - whereas, when Gavin doesn't know the answer to something, he wants to ask to find out. How do I get her from point A to point B? Obviously, this is a one dimensional project I have to work on.

Lastly, there's Chuck. I include him because, like the children, he's always asking me questions. His are similar to Chloe's...not that he already knows the answer, but he's not really looking for an answer. It's called a rhetorical question. And he's mastered them. His line of questioning usually takes place in the car. His rhetorical questioning was developed by his love of reading random billboards or store signs or anything he sees in the outside world (by outside I mean anything on the opposite side of the windshield) that has words on it. He'll read his sign...aloud...for all to hear and enjoy and then he feels the need to comment on it, but the comment comes in the form of a question. Example: we pass a sign that says, "dogs for sale". Well, now we've just opened a whole can of worms. He asks me (I'm assuming it's me, since I'm in the front seat with him, but maybe he's just talking out loud to himself), "Do you think they have Rottweilers? Do you think there's alot of them or just 1 or 2? Do you think they're licensed?" How would I know? I saw the same sign and there were no answers on them. I can only speculate as to answer. Do you really want one from me or are you jus thinking aloud? You would think I'd be used to this after 14 years of marriage, but alas, I am not.

Since I am the author of this blog, I do not have to divulge my type of questioning. :) But I'm sure it's not a secret to anyone who knows me. I live in a constant state of questioning...but I make sure to keep it in my head. I question everything, all day long, all the time. I guess our kids are just hard wired to ask questions, be they legitimate or not.

Stop the Noise!

You know how sometimes things happen and they aren't funny at the time but people say you'll look back one day and laugh about that? Yeah, well, something happened this morning and we still haven't gotten to the 'laughing about it' stage quite yet. It was a little traumatic. It was very dramatic. It was also very loud.

Let's set the scene: It is a peaceful, quiet, still-dark-out, early morning. My alarm went off at 6am and I made it out of bed a little after. We slept with the windows open since the low dipped into the 50's and the fresh night/early morning air always smells so pretty. It is still very dark outside at this time. I am normally the only one up. Actually, I lie. Ninja and I are both awake - she's eating greedily at her bowl and I'm enjoying my quiet time. The only light on in the house is in the kitchen, where I am.

I sit down to read and hear a random beeping noise. I immediately register that noise to be our idiotic alarm system. It has some type of short. Every so many days we have to 'reset' it. By that I mean, hit the # or * button to stop the random quiet beeps and still allow it to work normally. Thankfully, our system is not monitored. This is a key point of the story. Also important to note is that my husband is not an electrician.

The alarm pad in is the utility room across the hall from Gavin's room. I thought I'd go rescue him from the incessant beeping emanating from 10 feet from his head. That sound would have kept me awake all night but he is a sound sleeper. So as not to wake up my child, I did not turn any lights on. I walked into the (pitch black) utility room and just pushed the button like I always do.

Did I mention it was dark? Apparently I didn't hit the right button because out of nowhere a fog horn type siren started blaring throughout the entire house. I panicked and started hitting all the buttons on the key pad. Nothing stopped the noise. Noise is too placid a word, imagine the sound a nuclear bomb raid siren might make or an F-16 jet flying through your house. Imagine a sound that makes your heart want to jump out of your chest and makes you instantly start sweating and loosing all ability to think clearly. That type of "noise".

It seemed like an eternity before Chuck raced to my rescue. I'm still in the dark hitting buttons and he shows up and starts hitting some more. I explain my pathetic mistake to him amidst the screaming siren. He runs upstairs to the main controls for the alarm system and can't open the darn box. It needs a key! What a huge design oversight, I'd just like to add. Like we can find a key under such duress!

The very first thing that popped into my head was, "Oh GREAT! The windows are all open and we're going to wake all our neighbors up." I wanted to go close all the windows. Is this a rational thinking pattern? Then I had visions of a firetruck and 5 squad cars, lights flashing, sirens mimicking the sounds emanating from my house, pull up outside and aim a spot light at our house. I HATE drawing attention to myself but at the moment I felt as though I was pulling a huge stunt to do just that. The only thing I could think of was: stop the noise!!!

Thus, you can now understand what I did next. I left Chuck to fend for himself in the closet with the locked box and I ran, grabbed a chair and a pillow (I was careful as to which color - why I even care, I have no idea), raced to the hallway where the noise was screaming from and pushed the pillow onto the box to try to stifle the nuclear siren sound. The box is located in the upstairs hallway on the ceiling. I am now standing on the chair, holding a brown pillow over a box on the ceiling trying to muffle the 100 firetruck sounding sirens blaring into the still, early-morning air. Something is wrong with this picture.

Chuck finds me in the hallway shushing the alarm and I'm trying to tell him that I think we should either 1. call the fire department (but how do you explain that it's not a fire emergency on the phone with a noise that loud in the background?) or 2. pull that noisy box off the ceiling and disconnect the wires. He votes for the last option and prays we don't need to resort to the first option. My chair comes in handy as he uses it to pry that thing off the ceiling and just start pulling wires. I felt like we were a bomb squad team trying to diffuse a bomb. Actually, he was doing all the work, I was just the idea generator, the one who caused the entire ruckus and the one who felt like a heel at the moment. Things were not looking good for me to have a productive quiet time this morning.

Mercifully, 10-15 minutes later the incessant noise stopped when Chuck yanked the right wire out of something. Finally, we could breathe again. Ahhh....quiet. I am hyper-sensitive to noise anyways...so this just made me want to go stick my head in the sand somewhere.

All I could do was whimper a pathetic, "I'm so sorry everybody. I think I hit the wrong button." Do ya think?! All I wanted to do was make it quiet so everybody could sleep in nice and soundly. I achieved the exact opposite.

Meanwhile, Chloe is in tears in our room. She thought there was a fire and rightly so since the loudest fire alarm in the history of fire alarms was going off right outside her door. Bennett was dazed and confused. He thought there was a burglar in the house. Gavin didn't even bother to get out of bed...he said later that he thought that if it was important, we'd come get him. The dog was too scared to eat and she was hiding in our room with Chloe. Boy, did I have some explaining and apologizing to do. And all of this because I only wanted to stop an irritating little noise.

Thankfully, none of our neighbors heard a thing (or at least never told us they did) or came knocking on our door to complain. No squad cars or firetruck showed up. Everyone just went back to doing their own thing. Chloe and Bennett got in my bed. Chuck got ready for work. I went back downstairs to resume my 'quiet time' and Gavin remained inconspicuous in his room.

You know you're in for a great day when it starts off like that!

I have had this twitch in my left eye all day. Seriously, I am not making this up, I really do. I wonder if it's related?

Date Day

What a special day it is when I get to spend quality one on one time with one of my children. It is always precious and at very random times. Most often, we have to plan ahead for a very long time for a date. Today happened to be Chloe's and my lucky day.

First order of business is the dressing up. You can't go on a date unless you're 'dressed up', which of course means a dress (skirt will suffice) and heels. This was our going out attire:

Note about Chloe's dress - it was mine as a child, just in case you're having 70's flashbacks. She has been waiting for just the right time to wear this antique. It has been hanging in her closet forever and she deemed today was perfect for it's unveiling. She chose her outfit all by herself and allowed me to choose my own (this time). I love how her hair fits the era perfectly as well. Hello 70's child, welcome to 2010.

To start our date, we began with 'The Hunt For a Cowboys Shirt'. This was top priority. You see, in this house, fall means football and football means 'Go Cowboys!' which obviously means you MUST wear your team colors to support your team and enable them to win each week. Chloe was the lone man out. She has yet to own her very own Cowboys shirt. Poor girl, I know, we're wretched parents, our oversight in this area was pathetic. For crying out loud, I only joined the 'wear your t-shirt on game day' band wagon at the end of the season last year (when all the shirts were on clearance). But no longer is she an outsider in her own house on gamedays. She will now be proudly sporting her long sleeve blue shirt with a Cowboys star plastered obnoxiously on the front so that she too can show her loyalty to football and 'The Team'. The only one we could find, or should I say, the only one I would spend money on that was within my price range, was in the boys section of the store. But she's okay with that...afterall, this is Date Day and everything is peachy keen on this day of days.

After leaving the store with our new acquisition I tell her that I'd like to take her out to lunch and I was thinking of a Chinese place since I know she loves Wonton soup. But she politely declined and asked instead to go to La Madeleine. That is where we have always gone on dates together, and that is where we must go today. We are sticklers for tradition, I found out.

But I'm so glad we went there because the food was delicious, the conversation wonderful, the setting perfect and we felt like to little ladies in France. Couldn't have been more perfect for our girly-girl time together.

The next stop was the cherry on top for this girl. I took her to Charming Charlie's. A little boutique that has all types of fun girly things like costume jewelry, hair clips and stuff, purses, scarves, etc. and best part is, the whole store is organized by color. It wreaks of femininity - therefore, the reason I've only been in there exactly twice with the family. Thus, the reason I thought Chloe and I would enjoy staying there as long as we want just walking in circles looking at all the pretty, sparkly stuff without any boys in tow to 'ruin the mood'. And oh did we have fun. I told her that she could pick out anything she wanted to for $10. After her initial shock and excitement, her fist question was, "Does it have to be one thing for $10 or can it be two things that equal $10?" Because, you know, more is better. Lucky for her, she found 2 things she just couldn't live without for only $10. She is now the proud new owner of an adorable flower headband and a locket (that she has "wanted for ever and ever").

We did end up with one little hic-cup in our day and that involved Chloe's purse. I was holding it for her because she couldn't possibly hold her new purchase and her heavy purse at the same time, so I caved and carried two purses. As her purse was rubbing up against my leg, I felt something wet and saw a wet spot on my skirt. As we opened it up to see what was leaking, to our surprise we saw two, week old pears decomposing in the bottom. I can honestly say I've never left a pear in my purse to rot, so I wasn't exactly prepared to know what to do. We cleaned it out over a trash can as best we could. And by clean it out I mean, dumped everything that was on the inside onto the outside. Nothing was salvageable. Not even the purse. Mold is gross, especially when it's spreading throughout the bottom of your pink, vinyl purse. I felt horrible chunking my daughter's purse into the trash in front of all those passersby. She was in tears. This was not the mood I was going for. She was mourning the loss of her purse. I can understand. I am also a 'purse person' - love them - always have.

I assured her repeatedly that I was not upset and that mistakes happen and how sorry I was for her. We found a place to sit down and cry it out. We brought the camera along, so I thought it would be fun to try to lift her mood by taking silly pictures together. Thankfully it worked.

We had fun laughing together, making silly faces, posing for the camera and not crying. The weather was perfect fall weather, making that much more fun.

After our photo shoot, we couldn't wait to get home to show Daddy all the stuff we got and change into our 'Team Cheering Shirt' so we could watch the game with the boys. What a perfect way to cap off our perfect day together.