Mind Your Bee's and Dude's

When I was a little girl, we often congregated in our living room, cinnamon toast in hand, to watch our favorite program on the old box television.  Mom or Dad would instruct the remote (usually the kid that was best with numbers) to get up and turn the dial the 6 or 7 clicks around to find Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.  Sitting there on our rust colored carpet, we learned all we ever wanted to know about the mysteries of the animal kingdom.  

These days, most of that valuable knowledge has been replaced with other things more applicable to my life (like the phone number to the Poison Control).  BUT..... I do recall the Secretary Bird.

The secretary bird is a bird of prey that has really long, powerful legs and isn't particularly fond of flying (although it can).  What it is fond of, however, is snakes. 

Ms. Bird would sneak up on an unsuspecting snake and THWAP!  beat the living tarnation out of that reptile.  And then the secretary would step back and just stare at that snake.  Daring it.  No, taunting it to move.  If that snake so much as twitched a muscle or slithered its forked tongue...THWAP!....another relentless assault from the secretary's lightning fast legs.  

And to add insult to injury to the already dead reptile, or just because, or to show the rest of the world that secretaries really are the boss.....the bird would thwap that reptile another 87 or so times just for good measure.  Then madam secretary would gobble down the deceased slithery serpent with no apologies for the violent assault that delivered the food to her beak.

I've never forgotten that bird and its unwavering confidence while facing a formidable foe.  It holds on to the self-confidence that sometimes gets lost when life deals us a poor hand or the world gives us a new set of rules.  Whatever the cause, holding on to the assurance that you possessed in the easy times can be more tricky to hold on to when life gets sticky.

Now, instead of being the secretary, seizing the day and standing tall, I find myself relating more to the beleaguered reptile.

Just when I think I've gotten ahead...THWAP!...I realize there's more laundry underneath someone's bed.

Just when I consider giving myself a pat on the back for going to the gym 5 times this week...THWAP!...I see some "newsworthy" story about a leggy blonde going back to work to model Vicky's secret underwear.......5 WEEKS AFTER GIVING BIRTH!!!

As soon as I put a delicious and healthy meal on the table that I'm convinced Owen will eat...THWAP!...he's changed his mind about liking chicken.

THWAP!.....THWAP!.....THWAP!......

I need to be schooled in the fine art of seeing the positive even when chaos is swirling about like a hurricane.  My homework should be a few minutes in front of the mirror telling myself that I did a good job, despite the THWAPS!

I think I've found the perfect teacher for my class in self-affirmation.  He is a strawberry blonde, somewhat rough around the edges, loud and determined guy who still sucks his "fum" and sleeps with a "blankee."

Professor Kai is demonstrating to me every day that he doesn't need the world to tell him he's important....he's telling the world.  

With a devilish grin and a swagger he says, "I hannsome."  

Kai doesn't worry himself too much about insignificant details.  He tries to put his "unnapants" on "the way Daddy tells me."  If he inadvertently puts them on backward and inside out, he gives himself a pat on the back anyway because he at least remembered to put them on in the first place.

With Kai's criteria for being all you can be, we would all be 4 star generals by now.  In a particular moment of self-appreciation, Kai said to me in his most animated voice, "Mama!  I don't bees trouble!  I don't poop in my pants!  I'm AWESOME!!!" 

And just when he thinks he can't be any awesome-er, he writes his name all by himself and shouts, "Look what I dood!"

When I grow up, I want to be more like the secretary bird and more like my Kai.  I want to remember all the things that I "bees" and all the good things that I "dood." 

And I can start with my underpants......Right side out?  Check.  Tag in the back?  Check.

I'm AWESOME!

All Boys

*I wrote this back in July 2010...pre-Cora.  It still holds true.  But I'll be adding another list in the coming years:  "You Know You Live With a Drama Queen When..."

Ah....the testosterone that hangs in and around my house like the humidity of a hot July day in Alabama:  There is always a faint yet distinct aroma and the energy is intense.  It is inescapable.  So to honor the time when I have a homogeneous set of children, I wanted to write down a few thoughts.


You Know You Live With All Boys When.....

1.  You think about designing your dream house, the first thing that comes to mind is installing a urinal.

2.  You keep super glue in your purse just in case they split open their foreheads.... again.

3.  Anything is turned into a sword and everything is capable of making a gun noise.  Little boys point their fingers at strangers in a gun-like charade.  Very nice.  I promise I'm teaching gun safety...."Put that pea-shooter down!"  (100 points if you can name that movie.)

4.  Gravel and dirty rocks are presented to you as being "pretty" and must always be lovingly displayed.
   
5.  When asked "will you play with me," be ready to be on the losing end of a smackdown...WWF style.

6.  The toy bins are labeled "Vehicles", "Legos", "Bad Guys" and "Weapons" (to take care of the "Bad Guys" in the neighboring bin).

7.  Cargos, jeans, t-shirt:  Wash, rinse, repeat.

8.  After a blessing on the food, you find yourself saying, "Please!  Put away the sword and eat your peas.  You know there aren't supposed to be any weapons at the table."

9.  They shout, "Let's go to the playroom and play Zookeeper Who Gets Eaten By a Lion!"


Here are my boys doing a few boys things (which don't involve being eaten by a wild animal):