Freedom of Choice

The bedtime-all-request-hour was in full swing tonight when I made the rounds at bedtime. Having sung "I Am A Child of God" the past 472 nights in a row, I knew what Owen's choice would be. So I started the song but was abruptly halted mid-stanza.

"I get to choose the song," Owen proclaimed with much enthusiasm.

(Maybe I'll get to sing something different? Maybe his musical tastes are widening?)

"Pardon me," I say, "what song would you like?"

"Ummm...........

I Am A Child of God, " he says.

OK, well, at least he gets a choice.

On to Drew's room where I remember to let him have his choice, even though I know what song I'll be singing.

Yep, "The Star Spangled Banner" it was.

I look down to see my little boy doing a silent karaoke as I sing our National Anthem. He is mouthing every word.

When I finish he asks what the song was about. Not one to shy away from a lesson about our wonderful country, I go on to explain that the song was written a long time ago when people were fighting to make this land into a country. There were people that wanted to be free to choose how and where to live and not be under a king or queen that took things from them....especially their right to choose.

Furthermore, I told him that his Uncle Kimball is in Iraq (and last year in Afghanistan) and Uncle Merrill who was in Iraq, are trying to help the people there gain their right to choose. And aren't we lucky to be able to make our own decisions?

After digesting this information and recalling the words to the song, "the bombs bursting in air," Drew asks,

"Why don't they just play a game to figure out who gets their way? And if they want the same thing they can just toss a ball back and forth to see who gets it. And if they don't want the same thing then they can just go away from each other. You shouldn't tell other people what to do."

If only it were that simple, maybe my brothers would never have to leave their families.

But I like that it is that simple for Drew.

The innocence of youth. I wish, sometimes, I could get that back.

Growing Pains

*Our home grown goodies.

I have never been a grower. I don't derive much satisfaction from working the soil and nurturing the tender buds until they yield their harvest. I enjoy the fruits of other people's labors. Fresh produce and freshly cut flowers for my table and windowsills are divine.

So when Jay and the boys planted a garden I was the biggest cheerleader of their efforts. From the choosing of the seeds to the tilling of the soil. From bunny proofing to watering to picking and eating. I cheered them on. I ooo'd and aaahh'd over each little sprout. But I didn't do much more than that. Jay is the one that desires a green thumb. I desire the finished product with no dirt under my nails.

Green onions, zucchini, peppers, sunflowers, jalapenos, peas (they were pitiful peas) and carrots. After much waiting and constant checking by the little farmers, we had our first vegetable. And we had a decent yield. For several dinners we had fresh corn and then corn chowder. And then we had a corn worm and I was done with corn for a while.

And then came the prolific zucchini. Zucchini soup, zucchini bread and muffins, zucchini stir-fry and zucchini potato cakes. And JUST when I thought I couldn't figure out what to do with my zucchini anymore....Captain Owen comes to the rescue.

I hear from the toy room the sounds of bombs and airplanes and giggles and shrieks. As this is a normal occurrence, I just tuned it out until I heard Captain Owen shout, "Drew! Let's throw the zucchini at the ceiling like a rocket ship!"

Those boys had squirreled away in their toy room their most favorite zucchini to use in a manner befitting little boys, not necessarily a zucchini. Apparently (from the look of that poor green squash), that zucchini had spent days moonlighting as a boat, airplane, truck and rocket. More power to it! For soon it was to become another boring dinner.

And so I chopped, diced, boiled, cooked, seeded, shucked and peeled. But I didn't grow....produce, that is.

I'm in the business of growing little boys into men. I'm growing a string bean, a carrot top and what appears to be a very hearty melon. I'm growing boys that don't see a zucchini, they see a toy. Boys that play with their food, and eat it, too. (Well, everyone except Owen, that is.)

My only wish is that all they needed was sunshine and water to bloom and grow. I could do that. But they need my love and imagination and organization and creativity and tenderness. And just when I've reached the bottom of my bag of boy fertilizer, they need more...my energy and time.

So what is left?

It is when I'm scraping the bottom of the bag, desperate to find one more handful of something to give, I realize that my growth hasn't stopped just because I'm "grown." Perhaps in those needy times, I am growing the most, in tandem with my boys. They are aging me into this perfect patina of patience and love and slight insanity.

And they're tossing in a heaping handful of fun for extra measure. Gotta love those hooligans. They are redefining perfect for me. And I like it.

See? NOT perfect!

Still not perfect.
(On the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.)

Thankful Thursday

I. Jay and his parents. 35 years ago today, my mother-in-law gave birth to her first child and I'm the benefactor of her, and my father-in-law's, exceptional parenting skills. I lucked out. I'm so thankful to have spent the last 10 years with Jay and look forward to decades more.

II. A husband who gets a birthday present that is just as much to please his pulled-pork lovin' Southern Belle as it is for him. We're........ I meant Jay, is getting a smoker tomorrow! At last, I can have a decent pulled pork sandwich anytime I want without having to travel home to Alabama. Bring on the pig!!!

III. A round-bottomed baby who is in the 96th percentile for height and 70th for weight....probably because he tosses a cookie off his plate in favor of a crisp apple. And it could be his insatiable desire for Carnation's Breakfast Drink Mix. Apparently, it is the drink of champions.

The Trouble With Boys Is...

Apart from the stitched and glued up skin (Owen and Drew) and the chipped teeth (Drew) and the missing tooth altogether (Kai), I believe my boys are living a healthy and balanced life. It is I who has lost all balance and some of my sanity!

I've infused my wardrobe with as many girly things as my budget will allow and I wear a very feminine scent daily......even though nobody notices or cares. I notice and I care! So when I'm pouring salt on a slug on the driveway or forcing a smile and a pleasant "thank you" when I'm handed a gift of a giant bug from a grimy hand; all I have to do is take a wiff of my perfume and know that not all of my femininity has been drowned in this sea of masculinity.

I've composed a short, and personal, list of things entitled....

"You Know You Live with ALL Boys When..."
(I warn you, it ain't pretty.)

You hear a veritable symphony of toots coming from the back of the van,
enough to resemble a high school drum line at the football half-time show.
FOLLOWED BY....
a chorus of giggling.
AND....
the loudest giggler is the big boy driving the vehicle.


You just never know what will be dismantled, disfigured, flushed, blown up, modified, melted or "fixed" next.


You always have a front row seat to a WWF show.

Occasionally you have to do the wrangling and wrestling yourself.
Kai has challenged me to a center ring fight more than once.
And he's in the heavyweight division.



You have four toilets in the house and I only use the one in my room
which remains off limits to all but me.
I believe that little boys are only meant to go potty in wide open spaces.
Let me tell you, some of my sanity has been lost to the fumes of my bleach cleaner.


My Men. I can't live with them. And I can't live without them.

Thankful Thursday -- better late than never

I made a promise to myself to list things that make me thankful every Thursday. Technically it is Friday, but I am no less thankful for these things.

Apple picking at beautiful and fragrant Hartland Orchard.

Enough teeth left to take a bite out of every apple on the ground.

Successful first days of Kindergarten.

Kai's Tooth

Get Drew off to school for his second day of kindergarten.....check.

Clean house for Book Club discussion at my house....check.

Host 5 ladies and 10 children for lunch and delightful amounts of girl gabbing.....check.

Welcome home Drew from another successful day at school.....check.

Watch as Kai barrel rolls down 3 stairs and pops out a tooth....check.

What?
It popped out?

Yep, his bottom tooth just shot out of his mouth like a pop gun. Kind of sounded like one, too.

Between the copious amounts of blood and wailing I managed to call his dentist at 5 minutes to 5:00 and was told "bring him right in."

I was sure that he was going to be in terrible tooth pain the entire 20 minute drive to the office. However, after Kai managed to pitifully moan "coooookieee," I had a feeling that the pain and wailing were just about over.

After an inspection from the dentist, Kai was declared "just fine." Just fine if you don't care about a gaping hole in your child's grin!

We were also told that it may or may not (a phrase I loathe) cause damage to the future permanent tooth and that.....I'll quote directly here...."Even if it did, there isn't a damn thing we can do about it." (We really like this dentist. She's just our style.)

So out we went to get some chicken nuggets and fries and begin our life with hillbilly boy.

It is about perspective, right?

Sure it isn't a limb or otherwise necessary appendage. But it was his perfect little tooth that helped to make up that perfect little smile on my perfect little round bottomed baby.

I feel a little bit in mourning. Perfect has now turned into "quirky." And dare I say it....

Red-necky? (I AM from Alabama. I'm sensitive about those kinds of things.)

Now he will be followed by a question...

"Oh, your boy is so cute....what happened to his tooth?"

"Would you look at that smile? Darling.....has he ever been able to eat corn-on-the-cob?"

So, I don't have the heart to post a picture today. I'm admittedly vain (and dramatic, Jay says). I'll gather up my courage and gain perspective and make myself laugh at the whole thing............tomorrow.

Then I'll post a picture.

Oh, give me strength! (that would be the dramatic part)

Dear...

Dear Sleepless Night,

Your presence here has been most enlightening. I've learned a lot of things about life during our HOURS together beneath the full moon. You've educated me on the world during the twilight hours, when half the world is asleep, and you continue to do your tap dance on my brain. I can hear the crickets and the frogs and the birds doing dances of their own.....you must be two-timing me, because they're awake, too. Could they also be contemplating the same things that my mind has been churning around and around like a rock tumbler?

Last night I spent a good hour on how nice those little salad forks are that are made of wood and look like robot hands. A FULL HOUR!!! I've always wanted some of those. A modest wish...

I tumbled around some menu ideas for my upcoming lunch with my book club ladies. A pasta salad, perhaps? What about a strawberry spinach salad that would be perfect with the aforementioned tongs? We read "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" but I don't think a potato peel pie would be edible for our rather feminine palates. And yet, I contemplated...

I made mental lists of food needing to be purchased, abandoned projects that needed to be revived and windows that are so filmy with little hand prints that they look frosted. Nice for privacy but not so nice for aesthetics. And still, I pondered...

And I thought about kindergarten.

I mulled over how I felt about sending my child off with strangers for 8 hours and how I was informed that 10 days advanced notice is required to take my child on an extended vacation. 10 days!!! And I have to get "approval" for MY child! MY child.....or is he now Prince William County Public School's child?

Can't we talk about these things at three in the afternoon instead of three in the morning? My dark circles would be so appreciative.

Sleepless Night, you weren't so bad to have around when I had to study for a test. But when my alarm clock squeals, "MAMA!" from its crib at 6:30 a.m. and I have to attentively listen to Captain Owen talk about how he "dream-ded" about putting eggs in the wrong place (which was this mornings dream conversation)......well, I need all my wits about me.

So I've devised a plan to make your transition OUT of my life a bit easier.

I bought myself a pair of these.....

I wrote down all my lists and checked off a few to-do's.

I've tumbled and pondered and contemplated and mulled and wished and listened. What more could you want from me?

Please. Go. Away.

Thank you, and good night.

Thankful Thursday

**Photo sizes are a little crazy. Still trying to figure a few things out with a few different programs.

With all the complaining and belly aching that I post on my not-so-private family journal, I've decided to infuse a little cheerfulness so that my posterity won't think I'm a grumpy, petrified old stick in the mud. So every Thursday I shall try to list some of the happiest thoughtful thoughts I can think. Hopefully one day, if my boys read my ramblings, they will know that their Mama loved her life staying home with them.....well, most of the time.

I am thankful for.......

Boys that recognize my vocal acumen by requesting
"The Star Spangled Banner" (Drew)...
and
"Santa Clause is Coming to Town" (Owen)
for their bedtime recital.

Cankles....
when they aren't my own.

Brothers who find the fun in everything...
and nothing.

Husbands who always carry their fair share of the "family business"....
and then some.

Big boys that say (after an overwhelming orientation),
"I thought you should hear some good news, Mama.
I'm really excited about my Kindergarten class."

Squeals of delight... on the baby swing.

A carefree childhood.
They'll be grown up soon enough.