On a Gender

There is much anticipation when any child comes to a family.  We've been anxious and nervous and excited each time I've been pregnant to find out the gender of our children before they were born.  And given that Jay is the giving sort, he has seen fit to generously pass along his Y chromosome allowing me to experience the joy of having my three sons.  But there is a progression that took place with each pregnancy regarding the gender of our children.

Having Drew was just plain exciting.  Our first child and the first grandchild for the Lewis side and a boy.  Perfect.

When Owen came along I got the first inkling of the curiosity and drama that surrounds the gender.  I was asked a few times, "Do you want a girl?" And I always answered with the benign, "I just want a healthy baby."  But when it was determined that Owen was indeed an Owen and not an Olivia....I got multiple, "Oh!  How nice to have two boys close in age.  They'll be such good friends."

But when Kai was squirming around in my alarmingly protruding belly the question of "What is it?" reached a fevered pitch and was accompanied by..."I hope it is a girl!"  "You need a girl!"  or "Did you try for a girl?" (to which I sweetly replied, "Nope.  I tried for a baby.) And when I said, "We're having our third boy!" The general reply was one of disappointment, "Are you sad you didn't get your girl?"  I just rubbed my belly and said, "I'm happy to have my boy."


There are a range of emotions to feel if I were to have a boy or a girl:


When I look into the future as a mother of 4 boys I feel privileged, special and honored to bring up men who respect women, make an honest living and take care of their Mama when she gets old and cranky (or crankier, as the case may be.)  Four boys who always give her a kiss on the cheek even though their friends are in the room.  I think about how photographers are going to have to say, "Alright.  Just a minute....let me back up so I can get all of you in the shot and not cut off your mother's head in the picture."  (Because they'll likely tower over me like redwoods over an apple tree by the time they are 15.)  I envision my sassy leopard print peep-toe shoes side-by-side with 5 pairs of (including Jay's) stinky, clown sized clod-hoppers in the entryway of our home.


If I have a little girl I anxiously await the time when the rest of the rainbow is opened up to me and I can purchase pink and purple and mint green and patterns beyond stripes and plaid.  I giggle at the nights Jay will spend interrogating gangly, squeaky-voiced teenage boys at the threshold of our house before they take our daughter on a date.  "What are your intentions?  Where do your hands go?  Where do you hands NOT go?  When will you be back?"  And I pray that I eventually get phone calls from her when she has a question about her newborn or when her toddler channels Picasso with her red nail polish on her newly purchased bedspread. (To which I suppress a giggle, just as my Mom does.)

I've made a trip to the inner recesses of my soul and searched long and hard to see how I would feel if this is a girl or a boy.  I do not care one way or the other.  Honestly and truly.  Events of the past few years have taught me a lot about the preciousness of a child and how they are on loan to us to teach and nurture and love the best we can while we have them.  

What I want is a healthy baby.  Yes.  Most definitely.   I want my child.  However he/she comes to me.  I'll have the privilege to get to know his/her spirit no matter what type of package/body it is wrapped up in.  However.....


I have one teeny-tiny little wish.  Can he/she be calm and quiet and content to sit still instead of relentlessly making mischief and wreaking havoc and calamity?  Can he/she not really have an opinion until they are at least 8 years old?  


I'm not asking much.

Another Somebody

I've plopped down in front of my computer no less than a dozen times to write this entry and I just can't seem to find the right words to say.  This is probably because most intelligible language leaves my brain after dinner when I've already had to come up with about 325 thousand different words to try and get Owen to take a bite of his cantaloupe.  Cantaloupe!  The candy of the fruit family.  (My knowledge of the English language can't help me today....there is still a lonely piece of cantaloupe sitting on his plate downstairs in the kitchen.  His dinner now becomes his breakfast.  And the circle of my life continues.)

When words fail me I need not look too far for assistance.  Drew is always ready to fill in the blank when I can't seem to say it right.  In a rare moment this week, when I wasn't wrangling Kai or drowning in the piles of little boy clothes that seem to lurk around every corner, I took a walk with my boys that was actually peaceful.  And right then and there Drew said what I've not been able to say for 17 weeks (at least on this blog).

"I'm really glad we have another somebody coming to be in our family."


There.

I said it.  (Or Drew did, if I'm being accurate.)


Another somebody.

The final piece of our puzzle.


Another little hand to hold.  Another personality to get to know.  Another sibling for my boys.  Another voice to add to the already deafeningly loud chorus of opinions.  Another solid reason why we humbled ourselves and purchased a mini-van almost 2 years ago.  (Go Honda!)


I'm anxious and excited and nervous for a billion different reasons.  (Most of which I'll chronicle here at a later date....for posterity's sake.)  Mostly I want 10 fingers and 10 toes and all little baby bits and pieces in the right places, functioning the way they should, ready to be kissed and cuddled by me.


Another somebody.  I like the sound of that.

Why Everyone Should Take a Toddler to the Grocery Store....

You can't possibly have lived a full life until you are perusing the produce section and your toddler shouts....

"Boobies!!!!"

And when their eyes light up as you get closer to the lovely display of blueberries (said toddler's favorite fruit) they exclaim.....

"Big boobies!!!!"

 As strangers don't even try and suppress the judging glances,  you know that you've reached full adult status because you refrain from saying.....

"I guess he's not a leg-man."

(Thanks to Kai for calling blueberries the same thing as Drew once did and reminding me of this event that took place when Drew was two years old.)
Kai circa 2009 with his cheeks stuffed full of blueberries right off the bush and looking a lot like Elmer Fudd.

Drew as a two year old playing in our yard in Greenwich, CT.

Kai Turns Two (Last March 12)

I can't say for sure what exactly it is that my newly inaugurated 2 year old thinks of as he explores the exciting and sometimes scary landscape of life.  But I have some guesses........

Kai doesn't see the big wheel as merely a three-wheeled vehicle to leisurely scoot himself around on.  He sees it as a way to test his Mama's sprinting abilities.  He sees it as a rocket to sit on as he lifts his feet up to barrel down the steep driveway headed dangerously for the road below. 

Kai's glass isn't half-empty.  It is always half-full....because it is more satisfying to dump juice out of a half-full glass.

There is no problem (or barricade) that is insurmountable for Kai.  Any object can become Mt. Everest which was meant to be scaled.  And this Mt. Everest (and all others in the house) have been taken to the dump. (pardon the blurry image)

Kai does not see placed before him the world's ugliest cake with two candles to blow out.  He views the sad looking birthday monument as a way to practice his fire eating technique so that he can run away with the circus....where he belongs.

I can tell you what I see.  I see a boy who runs like a fugitive from the hounds when he sees a Kleenex in my hand.  But he has no qualms about wiping his snoobers all over my pants.


He is a boy who loves to give hugs and kisses.....after he has walloped you with an unforgiving blunt object or one of his stumpy limbs.  The kiss is accompanied by a surprised look on his face as if, "Did I do that?" and then the obligatory "...k?" (Kai speak for, "Are you okay?")

He is the spittin' image of Jay and has his Daddy's hands:  meaty, thick, capable, caring and strong.

His favorite person on the green earth is "Oh-wee" (Owen).  Coming in at a strong second, possibly even a tie, is his Daddy. If Jay so much as sniffles or sneezes, Kai comes out of the woodwork and says, "Daddy....k?" and gives him a rare gentle pat.

His two favorite possessions are his thumb and his "bankee;" which we use like a sheet over a bird's cage to calm him and soothe him when it is time for bed.  Generally, it works like a charm.

Kai isn't a "wait and see" kind of guy.  He is an "I'm going to make it happen at all costs" kind of guy.  The kind of person you would want on your side if you were stranded on a desert island.  But NOT the kind of person you would want on your side if you wanted to go watch a chess tournament or take a  leisurely stroll through a museum of rare artwork.  For that matter, he isn't the kind of guy you want on your lap at church, either. 


If I can only learn to try and see the world through Kai's eyes I might see a world full of endless possibilities instead of insurmountable challenges.  I would understand the full meaning behind "carpe diem" instead of wondering "what exactly did I accomplish today?"  And I might also learn that wearing your food on your face is better than wearing extra calories on your thighs!


Whatever it is that Kai is supposed to teach me, I'm grateful for it.  And I'm trying to be a willing student.  I'm grateful that he has been entrusted to my care and I can only hope and pray that I don't dampen his enthusiasm for life or damage his drive to explore and understand the world.  

Kung Fu Grandma

My Mom was here for a 2 day visit, which means......I got a pedicure (so I could break out my sassy peep-toe shoes without shame), adult conversation, a long overdue date with Jay (museums in DC and Thai food for dinner), treated to lunch at Chick-Fil-A, and some validation, relaxation, commiseration and commendation.  

What did Grandma get?  A whole lot of wrangling, wrestling, diapering and snack dispensing.  She got her bag pillaged as well as an accelerated lesson in "How To Open All The Kai Proofed Bathroom Doors Quick Enough So You Don't Wet Your Pants."  It takes dexterity, mental acuity and the patience of Mother Teresa to open these doors.  I'm considering passing out Depends to all my guests as a precaution.  Luckily, Grandma is still the sharpest knife in the drawer and was in no need of assistance.  (Owen has mastered it and Drew asks Owen to open the doors for him.  It all works itself out somehow.  If the door can't be opened quick enough they just go out and relieve themselves in the bushes.  One of many reasons it is nice to have all boys AND large shrubbery.)  

My mom willingly and knowingly accepts all manner of abuses when she visits our house.  There is no pretense of me trying to make her "stay more comfortable" with Martha Stewart-like accommodations.  She finds no fancy meals or sparkling clean floors or a relaxing retreat.  I provide her with clean sheets and towels and she brings her ear plugs and an extra parcel of patience.

She also brings little toys for the boys.  Curiously, she has a sixth sense as to what kinds of things the boys will like that will stimulate their intellect keep them occupied.  This trip it was Boggle and some drawing books.  They worked like a charm.

Things were going along nicely.  She didn't let Kai take a leisurely swim in the koi pond like last time.  And when we were in the city, Kai only got one headlight on his forehead after an altercation with an open door.  So all in all her Grandma time was a success for all parties..... until Kai and Owen decided to start jumping from the end table onto the couch and then dumping the end table over.  Thankfully there were no injures because Grandma rushed to the scene and said,

"If you boys don't stop that I'm going to have to get after you!!!"

She left them alone to ponder their behavior, confident that she was the victorious adult.  However, Owen translated the reprimand differently.  Apparently Grandma's reputation as a black belt in taekwondo (true story) precedes her.  Owen explained to his brother....

"Did you hear that, Kai?  Grandma said she's going to beat us up!"

Now I know her secret.  And it isn't the toys! 

 

 

Sleep Habits

A few nights ago....about 4.3 seconds after turning on the TV to watch compulsory ice dancing at the Olympics, Jay was out cold on the couch.  (But not before he could complain, "A twizzle!  What kind of sport has a twizzle in it?)  Apparently watching men and women dance around on the ice to the EXACT same music with the EXACT same choreography was not exciting enough for him.
  
Surprising.
  
In all honesty, I tried my hardest to be interested but my book about the witches of Salem in the 1600's was far more intriguing than the people of the 21st century dancing the "romantic tango" with knives strapped to their boots.  Twizzle or no twizzle.  And because I couldn't summon a marching band to wake up Jay and I couldn't haul him up to our room on my back, I left him snoozing away on the couch with visions of ice dancing cowgirls in his head.
  
As I walked past Kai's door I heard the telltale signs of a chest cold.  Since I had a big giant bed to myself I decided to put him in bed with me so I could listen to his breathing.  To monitor his developing cough.  That was my excuse.  What I really wanted was to spend time with him when he wasn't going mach 10 from one disaster to the next. And since that only happens when he is asleep, I seized the opportunity.  I wanted some quiet time alone with my "baby" who isn't a baby anymore but a toddler.  A full-fledged little boy.  That night I wanted to stop time and spend some peaceful moments alone with the boy who will always be my baby.

I snuggled him in and felt immense happiness just being close to him.  Until...

He proceeded to thrash about like a fish out of water.  He was twisting and turning and picking his legs up and slamming them down and doing his own version of the twizzle. I endured the beating for about as long as Jay endured ice dancing, and I returned my little whirling dervish to his own bed, my lofty idea of a tranquil cuddle chopped to bits with each swing of Kai's stubby arm.

It reminded me of other nights I thought it would be a good idea to have some peaceful moments with my sleeping boys.  While on our camping trip last summer, with the serenity of the Great Smokey Mountains surrounding us, I attempted to sleep between Chuck Norris and Kung Fu Panda in a little 2 man tent.  With Owen on one side and Drew on the other, I spent a pain filled night being karate chopped, speared, kicked, scratched and rolled over in the tent of terror.
  
Which brings me to these photos of our camping trip in North Carolina last summer. That is Chuck Norris on the right who enjoys the noise of electronics more than the chirping crickets.  Kung Fu Panda, below, who looks like he is about to snort his s'more right into his giant nostrils!  And that is Kai before he became Houdini and could escape from anything and pick any lock on the green earth.  Being quarantined in that pack and play was the ultimate of insults and the wailing cut through the quiet of nature like a knife.  Our neighboring campers loved us!  Oh, those were the days....

Melting Down

I've lost all creative energies.  Somewhere in the depths of this winter, perhaps buried under the snow, I've misplaced my creative juices.  It feels impossible to write anything or take pictures of anything that seem in the least bit interesting, beautiful, poignant or fun.  I've got a backlog of blog posts that I just can't bring myself to push the "publish" button because they don't feel right to me.  

I've narrowed the problem down to the need/want dilemma.
 
I often talk to the boys about the difference between needing and wanting.  When they whine, "But I neeeeeed a piece of candy."  I respond with a line straight out of the things-you-swore-you'd-never-say-but-can't-stop-from-saying-now-that-you-are-the-mom book.
  
"You need a piece of candy just about as much as you need a cavity.  You should say I want a piece of candy."  (This is followed by the same blank stare that I'm sure I gave my Mom.)


But now I find myself in the same need/want predicament as my boys.  I whine about needing a vacation with just Jay.  I also need to go skiing. I need a bigger dining room table. I also need to watch what I eat and lose a few pounds.  I need to exercise more.  I need, need, NEED........

So I'll do as the hymn says and "gird up my loins, fresh courage take" and march myself right into March....the last vestiges of winter.  I have what I need...my hooligans, my husband, a warm house, food and my health (physical, maybe not mental!).  I'll publish those blog posts because they are what they are, an accurate and perhaps mundane recording of our life.
  
But still, I neeeeeeed a vacation!!!!!!

Bathroom Humor

The situation in the Spencer boys' bathroom has reached critical mass!  I've written before about the little boy pee that somehow, mysteriously, magically is not in the porcelain receptacle that it should be quarantined in.  I've awakened in recent nights to the sound of a child staggering like a drunken sailor to the hall bathroom to use the facilities. (I might add here that my boys have NEVER wet their beds.  A miracle that has not gone unnoticed by their Mama who is NOT prone to being a ray of sunshine in the morning.)  When I should be hearing the distinctive sound of potty hitting the water in the toilet, I hear nothing.  Nada.  Which can only mean one thing.....the toilet opening is woefully inadequate for my children and should be enlarged to the size of, oh, a SWIMMING POOL to ensure that their pee actually makes it into its intended target!

To combat the germs that must surely be having a frat party in that petri dish we call the boys' bathroom, I've placed Clorox Clean Up wipes in the bathroom for the boys to use when their aim is off or they get distracted or if they just get a hankering to make the bathroom shine like the top of the Chrysler Building.  And I must say, things are better.  The boys have gotten into the spirit of keeping their space "fresh and clean."  Miracles DO happen.

Now that the potty issues are relatively in control (until Kai starts to potty train, have mercy) I've focused my rage at the copious amounts of Sponge Bob Square Pants electric blue toothpaste that is decorating the sink, counter top and wall.  I marched Owen into the bathroom yesterday and demanded that he scrub and scrub like Cinderella (a comparison he didn't quite understand given the fact that he is a boy with no sisters and doesn't have a clue what a Disney princess is) until no traces of toothpaste remained.


I left him in the bathroom, confident that he would be there until next week because toothpaste has a way of turning to mortar if left for more than a few minutes.  As I walked past the bathroom I heard heavy breathing and some muttering.  Alarmed, I listened closer and heard something that reminded me how lucky I am to be the mother of these three crazy boys.

With a voice as menacing as he could muster, while scrubbing vigorously, I heard him saying....

"Alright tough guy....

I've got you."

Owen was reading the riot act to those crusted on blobs of toothpaste!  He was whooping some blue toothpaste booty, not taking any prisoners and giving it the what-for!  

Sure enough, the bathroom was sparkling clean when he walked out of there with a satisfied grin.  Mission accomplished, a child's imagination in tact and a Mama taking the time to have a much needed laugh while savoring the sayings of a precocious 4 year old.  It makes those minty blue blobs almost worth it.  Almost.

School is Canceled Along With My Sanity

Prince William County Public School System has canceled another day of school as a result of the Snowpocalypse of 2010.  This makes almost two weeks with no school. 

Apparently some dude in a suit rocked back in his administrative chair, smoking a cigar and decided that because it smelled like snow, or it was too white outside, or I don't know what, he figured that instead of instructing our children and giving us parents back our sanity, it was better that our children remain at home until all 30 inches of snow has melted from our lives or we've been carted from our homes to the looney bin, grateful for the chance at some quiet in our padded room.......whichever comes first.

Can he possibly fathom what is happening to my impressionable young student?  Drew's brain must be turning to mush.  Brain cells just dropping like flies with every episode of Sponge Bob.  I'm certain of it.  Why else would we be having conversations like this?

"Mom, can you please open the bathroom for me?"  

(Only those older than 30 are able to open our Kai-proofed doors.  We've removed the door knobs altogether.)

"Sure, Drew.  Give me just a few moments."

"How much is a few?"

"About 2-3."

"How long is a moment?"

"About 2 minutes."

"So you'll be here in about 4-5 minutes?"

"Yes."

"How many seconds is that?"

"About 240."
"So you'll be here in exactly 240 seconds?"
"Yep."

"That is too long!" 

I could just feel the life force being sucked out of me with each new question. 

Luckily I had enough life left in me to open the bathroom door within the 240 second time frame.  But I just couldn't resist the golden opportunity of saying to Drew, "Don't forget to wash your hands for exactly 500 seconds after you go to the bathroom."

A few minutes later I heard the sound of running water and 24....25....26.....27.......

I love him.  I really, really love him.

Snow Days, Snow Days These Are....

Wednesday  02.03.10

Another school day canceled and book club luncheon (and gab fest) postponed.

Snow ice cream devoured by boys and neighbors. Tasting very sweet with a hint of something else....don't worry, it wasn't yellow snow.  It just had a unique "organic" taste in the background.

A fire, warm and crackling, to thaw out chilled toes and fingers.


Popcorn picnics in their jammies watching "Ice Age:  Dawn of the Dinosaurs."

Nachos for lunch with a side of hot chocolate topped with canned whipped cream (or a "squirt" as Owen calls it).

Dinner by candlelight (because candles have a calming affect on my boys and by that time I needed some calm).

A flyover by an Uncle piloting a Huey from Andrew's Air Force Base, circling our house like we were fugitives (those under 5 feet qualify, in my opinion)....my boys have TWO helicopter pilot Uncles.  They feel like the coolest kids around.  And they are. 

Friday  02.05.10

Then the BIG ONE hit.  The "snowpocalypse" as it has been called.  Over 2 feet of snow dumped on us in the space of 30 hours.  We (but mostly Jay) shoveled our 200+ foot driveway 8 times.  He certainly gets my vote for the strongest most hard working man around. Hefting around snow and kids is a lot of work!