Destination.....Destiny

**This was written last March when I was in the throes of First Trimester blahs.  The photo was actually taken the day I found out I was pregnant and finally had an excuse for the grumpiness and lack of patience!

"By prevailing over all obstacles and distractions, one may unfailingly arrive at his chosen goal or destination."  --Christopher Columbus

For Captain Owen and Grandma, the final destination was Salt Lake City to visit Auntie and Uncle Neil.  It was a long day of traveling.  There were long layovers and delays. Captain Owen was hauling a backpack loaded with necessities such as fruit snacks, crayons and Matchbox cars.  Refraining from kicking the seat in front of him (with all his superhero muscles) took great restraint.  Not to mention the exhaustion that comes from keeping track of Grandma!

The wiggles and whining (dreaded enemies of Captain Owen) were getting the better of Owen so Grandma said, "Owen, just a little bit longer.  You are being so patient!"


But the hour was late, the day had been long, and there was a lengthy drive ahead of the weary travelers.  Captain Owen dug deep and took a personal assessment of what strength he had left.  The conclusion was grim.

After some soul searching to make a thorough determination, he had no choice but to respond with an honest and humble (for a superhero) answer:

"It is not my destiny to be patient!!!"

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess.  But, oh how I love this answer!  Perhaps I shall frame it and put it on my wall, for it does my weary soul some good....Even superheroes have a vice!

No Fair

There is a famous saying in the Lewis family that originated with my sister.  When someone would dare cross her, correct her, punish her or otherwise look at her with an unpleasant expression, she would spit out her now infamous phrase....

"NO FAIR!  YOU'RE MEAN!"

As an adult, more often than I'd like to admit, I've uttered that very phrase when all other words were inadequate.  The child in me sometimes just wants to burst into tears and fits and spew those words out in succession like an angry erupting volcano.  

And because the phrase is so universally cathartic to say, you can scream it, state it, mumble it, or even whisper it and the outcome is the same.  Try it.  It makes you feel like you have the upper hand, even when you are sitting on a deck chair of the Titanic.  It fits in any and all situations and works equally well when said to an inanimate object.

When our insurance company wouldn't pay for Kai's birth expenses because "we didn't inform them that I had a child" (even though they paid for my C-Section and prenatal care), I may or may not, after exhausting all other adult persuasive arguments, uttered...."No Fair!  You're mean!"

Recently, at my OB appointment, I stepped off the scale and the nurse told me the staggering number that is now my impressive weight, I uttered under my breath, "No fair!  You're mean!"

But when Owen was forced to take a time out while we were at the beach and I heard him mumbling to himself, while sitting on his sand bucket, "No fair.  You're mean.  Nobody likes me." I couldn't help but say to him...."You're right.  This isn't fair.  It isn't fair to ME!"

Could someone please put me in time out, on the beach, where no one is allowed to talk to me and I'm not allowed to do anything?  This is a cruel bit of parental irony, wherein I'm sucked into an alternate universe and I hear my child complaining about an absolute paradise situation.  Par.a.dise.

Wishing you could trade places with a 4 year old?  Not fair.

Not being able to? 

Very mean. 

Unsavory Sayings

 Florida 2010

Drew is a literal sort of fellow.  He likes rules and schedules and routine and thinking (and over-thinking) before he provides an answer. i.e. "Drew, would you like a peanut butter and jam sandwich?"  "Well, let me think, hmmm.....um.....ahhh.....Yes! That would taste nice."  
(Keep in mind that Drew has a PB&J every single day for lunch.  Yet I continue to ask him in hopes that he might like to deviate from his routine.  And he never does.  But I routinely ask anyway.  Life is exciting around these parts.)

So when Drew blurted out this uncharacteristically speak-before-you-think statement I had to record it.  He said, with surprise and disgust in his voice,

"My bottom sucked up my pants!"

Being terribly frightened as to what this event might look like but also needing to satisfy my curiosity like a rubber-necker on the highway, I turned around to see what in the world he could be talking about.  What did I see?  

I saw Drew picking a wedgie.  A simple wedgie.  That was it. 

A common occurrence for an uncommon boy...

Uncommon and routinely wonderful.  That's my Drew.