The Superhero and The Penny

In his quest to unlock the mysteries of the universe and in an effort to contribute to the well-being of mankind, Captain Owen continues his relentless pursuit of testing the laws of nature and the limits of his mother's patience. For example, a few of his experiments have been....

"How many places can I potty and poop that are NOT approved waste receptacles?" (Answer...too many to count.)

And...

"How far up on the wall can my chocolate milk go?"
(Answer....to the crown moulding.)

The latest theory put to the test was....

"What is the next best place to put a penny besides my piggy bank?"

Answer...

The superhero and his older cohort eagerly cracked the eggs and stirred the batter for the mound of sugary goodness that was to be Kai's birthday cake. Upon turning out the miniature loaf of cake I noticed a perfectly round hole in the top. After further inspection, a penny was located at the bottom of the pan with cake baked right on to ol' Honest Abe.

Of course, Captain Owen was the first to come to the mind of the experienced Mama! So he was subjected to some intense interrogation. Captain Owen dutifully stuck to the superhero's creed which is...

"Deny! Deny! Deny! And then give someone else the credit!" (Translation: Blame your brother.)

But after a few transparent denials, he succumbed to the pressures of a relentless Mama, and confessed.

Apparently, superheroes don't hide their money in offshore accounts or the predictable piggy bank.

They prefer cake.

The Superhero and The Pirate

Our super hero has been dormant for a while. It has been his time to refuel and recharge and get ready for re-entry. So get ready, Houston...

He's baaaaackkkk!

Captain Owen has reemerged from his self-imposed hibernation and come back bigger, better, stronger and ready to make his presence known. He is no wall flower. No shrinking violet.

Captain Owen has never met a challenge he couldn't face. The battleground of choice, you ask?

None other than the illustrious, expansive, energy-draining........

Super Walmart.

It is tricky for a superhero to know if a stranger is a friend or foe. (This is especially the case in a place as large as Super Walmart.) It takes some serious contemplation and well-honed superhero instincts to discern the intentions of another human being. For example, today he asked me if I, along with various other family members, were "strong and righteous."

In addition to the "strong and righteous" qualities he detects, Captain Owen has a detailed checklist of things to look for in determining one's status. One such item is.......

An eye patch.

It is best for Captain Owen to be contained in his supercart as we tackle the jungle that is Super Walmart. (2 days earlier he broke a gallon container of grape juice all over aisle 3. Perhaps he was on a reconnaissance mission and needed to test the response time of the employees.)

So, as we rounded aisle 4 and got ready to tackle aisle 5, the superhero's muscles tensed and he jumped up from his cozy perch in the supercart.

He stealthily peered around the corner and quickly glanced back at his Mama who was muttering something like, "Sit back down, Owen! You are going to fall out onto your head!"

Her words were in vain. There were bigger things at stake here. Besides, a superhero is well skilled at risking life and limb in pursuit of the greater good.

With the biggest 3 year old voice Captain Owen could muster and an arm outstretched towards an unsuspecting man, my superhero proclaimed....

"Mama! He looks like a pirate!!!"

A rather plain looking man in regular Levi's and a Nascar t-shirt (we are in Alabama, you know) turned around.

And then I got it.

He had an eye patch.

So, the Mama employed a stealthy maneuver of her own and did a 180 with the supercart and bolted to the other side of the Super Walmart. She was in no mood to witness an "interesting" exchange between a curious Captain Owen and an annoyed looking pirate with an eye patch.

One Year Ago Today

Yeah, I know. These are a year late.

But I've been busy! I had a baby. AND I moved.

(NOT the most flattering picture....I know.)

I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing this time last year!

I was laying in a hospital bed at Stamford Hospital in Connecticut. I was tethered to an IV bag and a catheter (lovely, I know). I was glued to the clock watching the minutes tick by until I could press my little button. The button that would deliver the nectar of the Gods.....my pain meds. Every 8 minutes I could depress my lifeline and get some sweet relief.

Sometimes I pressed it early. Only a minute or two. I knew it wouldn't deliver what I was after any earlier than 8 minutes...but you can't blame a girl for trying. I was hoping for a malfunction of the timing device. I was hoping for a little luck. Something. Just one extra drop. I was desperate.

Oh, well. I guess the hospital didn't want to make an addict out of a maternity ward patient. Every 8 minutes had to suffice. And it did....but barely.

I was held together with 12 staples on the outside and "too many stitches to count" on the inside. (My doctor wasn't really keeping track but his best estimate was "dozens." I think he was too busy trying to put me back together to worry about counting. My insides thank him for not trying to multi-task!)

I was under strict orders to "move as little as possible" by a man who had never birthed an 8 pound 10 ounce baby through his stomach. As if moving WAS possible! And even if it were, they would've had to decrease my piddly little 8 minute allotment.

But.........

I would endure 1000 staples and many multitudes of stitches to have Kai in my life. I would even do without my blessed pain medicine button, my lifeline. But I WOULDN'T do without my Kai.

I wouldn't do without the memory of him sleeping next to me in our hospital bed all bundled up tight and secure. The one blessing of not being able to move was that the nurses felt it was safe for Kai to sleep right there with me. It was comforting to me. It was peaceful. I was grateful.

March 12, 2008 was the sprint.

I'm in the midst of the marathon now. Only one year down and an eternity to go.

I can't wait.

I couldn't be more blessed. Stitches, staples, scars and all.

Happy Birthday, Teedles!

Daffodil Daze

My mom has a thing for daffodils. When I was young she would pull over our mini-van on the side of the road and tell us kids to "hop out quick and pick as many as you can!" No matter if it was wild daffodils on the side of a busy road or the plantings to the entrance of a community.....spring time was open season on daffodils for her.

Perhaps it was because we had hard packed Georgia clay around our house and she couldn't grow daffodils of her own. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt, the capture or the fragrant bounty. Whatever the reason for her obsession, you could find my mom and her rag-tag band of daffodil bandits rounding up fistful's of ill-gotten-gains and speeding away in the getaway van on any given day of early spring.

Through the passing of the years my mom's love of daffodils has not diminished. Thankfully, however, her wisdom has increased and her conscience gotten the better of her. Instead of leading her grandsons down the path of daffodil infamy, this Grandma has been reformed and rehabilitated.

With better soil and a bigger conscience, my mom has given up her wayward past and decided to grow the daffodils right in her very yard.

So, with a clean conscience and a waiting vase, my mom sent Drew and Owen out to pick daffodils in her own yard. No getaway van and no adrenaline. Sadly, I think these daffodils are not as thrilling for her as the contraband of yesteryear. At least my sons won't have to go down the road I traveled.

Thanks for keeping my sons above the law, Mom!!!

I convinced them to switch from this basket...

to this (for obvious reasons)...

They were instructed to pick the flowers to have long stems (just as I was many years ago)...

Drew was the quality control officer. All short stemmed daffodils were rejected.

It was nice to see my boys picking daffodils without having to look over their shoulders. Although, Owen still did.

The sweet smell of a vibrant daffodil. There is nothing like it!

Sphere of Influence

Kids can learn and be influenced and not really know they are being taught. This is really quite a relief for me because it requires less effort on my part! At the same time it is scary because it brings into sharp focus the fact that I cannot control their sphere of influence for much longer.

Drew is the first to venture out. It really must be a difficult task to be the trail blazer in the family. Actually, he's been the guinea pig for his parents, the cherished first grandchild and nephew (until Owen came along and knocked him off his throne), and the only "only child" his parents will ever have.

He's known the joy of not having to share and the trauma of an overzealous Mama feed him mustard greens, kelp and tofu. The agony of having to endure his parents' constant parental experiments and the ecstasy of having our full and undivided attention until Owen arrived. He's been the "first" for everything. He's had a full life in his scant 5 years.

Alas, his life will soon get fuller and my carefully controlled sphere of influence will deflate drastically.

The pin to prick my bubble of control?

Kindergarten.

It's a whole new world. A world of macaroni necklaces and playground politics. A world of exciting new friends like streptococcus, pneumococcal, and rhino virus.

Nerve-wracking for me and greatly anticipated for Drew. He's ready and he's willing and he's already talking about how he is going to love kindergarten. My little engineer-in-training....and I love him for it.

Not much gets by my Drew. So I've carefully surrounded him with positive influences and fought away the bad. I don't believe it takes a village to raise a child....certainly not MY child. However, I do believe it takes a whole family to raise a child. I want the influences of Grandmas and Grandpas and Aunts and Uncles. It is with these associations that I believe Drew and his brothers can get the reinforcement of our teachings.

Uncle Kimball is going for his second tour of duty in as many years...this time to Iraq. So Drew has been spending time with Kimball and his new wife, Annalise. He's been soaking up information about Kimball's motorcycle and being schooled in the ways of airplane, bomb and gun noises.... all very important information for a young boy!!

But it wasn't until I overheard a particular exchange that things came full circle for me. My sphere of influence theory was tested and proven victorious!

Drew has been taught by Jay the importance of treating women with respect. Many times I've stifled a giggle as I've watched Drew wrestle with a door that was too heavy for him to hold as I've passed through. Surely, our teachings have been reinforced these past days as Drew has watched Uncle Kimball treat Aunt Annalise with kindness, love and respect.

After a session of daffodil picking in the back yard, my suspicions were confirmed. Drew chose a daffodil for Aunt Annalise and instructed Owen to follow him. As they rounded the corner, I overheard Drew instruct his brother in the ways of the world. "Come on, Owen," he said. "Let's give this daffodil to Aunt Annalise. We've got to be nice to the ladies!"

Ah, everyone loves a gentleman!