The 2 Year Old

Two year olds are irresistible. Unfortunately, they make you want to have another little 2 year old. See, I used to have a 2 year old. Now that 2 year old is 5 and a half and we have another 2 year old. This cute sweetness is just another part of God's elaborate and complicated plan to fill the earth. Of course, unless you can adopt a child at 2 years old, you can't just get a two year old. No, they come out tiny, helpless, and needy. But when faced with the abundant joy a two year old brings you, it's easy to fast forward your memory past those first early days. Allow me to provide some peronal examples.

Will runs everywhere he goes. And it is a cute bouncy toddler jog. If I say, "Will, let's go put the laundry in the dryer," he jumps up and runs in there, ricocheting between door frames and walls. Getting to any destination is pure delight for him. He runs and jumps here and there all day long. His hair floats in the breeze he is creating and he giggles the whole way.

Will is appreciative of my cooking. Most meals, I serve his food to him and he starts to dig in immediately, unable to control his desire to eat. Almost every time, after that first bite, he doesn't even look up out of his plate but we hear "Mm. Good." It's does wonders for a mother's ego to have the 2 year old endorse her efforts. And this one is so subtle that it must be heartfelt.

Will loves to hug and knows how to. When the 2 year old hugs you, you know he's doing it. There is no doubt. Carter was the same way. Those small, strong arms wrapped around my neck - which by the way allows whiffs of berry shampooed hair to waft into your olfactory radar thereby creating a double whammy intoxicant. Whatever he's done to aggravate me, I can't remember it when he hugs my neck and smells so sweet.

Even when he's angry, it's so cute I have to bite my lips not to smile. Will knows what he wants and has no trouble telling me all about it. When he is thwarted in his attempts, he frowns, his nose flares out then sucked back in with heavy, defiant breathing, and then the clincher: he wraps his arms around himself. An adult just crosses their arms in front of them, but a 2 year old basically gives himself a hug.

I'll give one final example: 2 year olds can talk. And when they do, it's amazing! Babies go through two years of communicating with crying, gestures, facial expressions, grunts, and a word or two here and there. Then suddenly they experience the "language explosion." Carter did not talk until he was 2 and a half, but when he did, it was in full sentences and non-stop. Will began speaking sooner than that and it has been a fun journey. These 2 year olds pick up every little thing they hear from you, the tv, or a song. My goal for this month is to get Will singing "Jingle Bells." That right there is enough to break down this hardened mother into wanting another 2 year old. Will knows how to use his voice to show he's joking and how to use it to show he's angery. When he's doesn't want to do exaclty what he's told, he'll yell in a husky voice "Ott, uhn talking 'bout?!" But, sometimes his manners show up, all by themselves. "Tank ooo mama! Tank ooo. Tank ooo." He insists "Ohm Papa's boy." Until I start hugging Carter and then suddenly, "nooo! Nooo! Mama's boy! Ohm Mama's boy!" He calls himself "daddy." Points to Nathan and says "Mama" and laughs. Then when I finally asked "who am I?" He smiled and said "uhmmmm. Teapot!" A teapot? How does he even know what a teapot is? But what is the most fun is when Will tells knock knock jokes. They are always the same, but they make me laugh every time. "Knock. Knock, mama." "Who's there?" "TV (or anything he sees or hears)" "TV who?" "TV nobody." He can barely get that last part out for laughing at his own hilarity.

Most people refer to 2 as "the Terrible Twos" and there are a lot of behaviors to justify that. Two year olds have lots of opinions, and they believe them to not be just opinions but facts. Will will ask me what a word is and I'll say "be." He will look at me in a very serious manner and corrects me "BY." I say no Will, this word is BE. He will then slowly enunciate "BY" for his poor, uneducated, slow mother. No matter how much I insist that it's BE, he corrects me because he's 2 and I'm not, and he knows. They refuse to wear appropriate footwear to correspond with the season or weather. And a 2 year old never, ever understands common sense when it comes in between them and their goals.

But, none of that matters. God knows that when you have a two year old, you will forget that first year of sporatic sleep, lots of paraphernalia for even the smallest trip, and trying to figure out if the baby is crying because he's hungry, wet, angry, or trying to drive you crazy. You won't remember the second year of saving their lives a hundred times a day; pulling their fingers away from light sockets, finger sweeping the coins out of their mouths, and frantic calls to the doctor after they have fallen down the stairs or off the bed. All of that is forgotten because two year olds can feed themselves, help dress themselves, sit in the bathtub unassisted, tell you what's wrong and what's wonderful. But best of all is when he can say, in that sweet voice, "I wuv ooo, mama."

Or, when he sticks his head right down in the toilet bowl and yells "BYE BYE POO POO" as he waves so long to his latest accomplishment. That's good, too.

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas!

The Christmas tree is on the front porch. It's basically covering half the front door, still wrapped in the tree lot mesh. I am mostly just happy we have one. Carter left for school begging that no one decorates the tree without him. Of course no one is going to decorate the tree without him. Last year he unpacked all the ornaments, hung them on the tree, and I loved it. Sure, all the ornaments were below the equator and on one side of the tree, and largely hanging from about 5 branches. That's fine with me!

I admit that I have long grown out of the "just out of college/got it from the curb" variety of decorating. But when it comes to Christmas trees, I am more sentimental. I like colored lights because of the beautiful warm glow it creates. And because all white lights are used year-round now on every restaurant patio in the country. So, they don't seem so special. I don't want a tree that is just beautiful to look at, but full of ornaments that my kids have made, friends have given me, and others that have been passed down from my mom. While visiting a friend one Christmas, her mother explained that she had ditched all of her old, cheap ornaments and decorations and bought all new ones in the same color scheme. It was a lovely tree - for a hotel lobby. I suppose what I'm struggling to say is: I find the beauty of the Christmas tree to come from everything it represents.

A King. " A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse, ..."(Isa. 11:1)
A Savior. "And purchased my pardon on Calvary's tree." (My Jesus, I love thee)
A Light. "A light shines in the darkness" (John 1:5). History records that Martin Luther decorated a small tree with candles to illustrate how light shines through darkness (though it sounds like a serious safety risk). I love taking the kids driving around to look at all the lights; I love that we string lights all through our houses and yards in the darkest part of the year.
Tradition. Christmas trees have been traced all the way back to 7th century and all over the world.
Family. They can be a real family tree. Ornaments that are passed down, ones with children's baby hand prints, exotic ones from places you visited, tell the story of your family.
I can't label this last reason. Suffice it to say, I love the warm, fuzzy feelings having a colorfully lit tree gives a home. I can still remember sitting in the dark living room as a child and gazing at the tree and knowing it would only be there for a few weeks.

There are all kinds of Christmas trees and as I wrote last year, Nathan has been very creative in achieving the perfect form. My favorite is a real, Douglas Fir. One year, Nathan got a Scotch pine. I think it's because he liked the smell and is a Presbyterian Scotch-Irish himself. I was not a big fan of the Scotch pine. The aroma was over-powering and the needles pricked my hands when ever I tried to put ornaments on it. I finally gave up and Nathan decorated it with gloves on. And then all the needles shed to the floor on a daily basis I have seen plenty of fake trees that are nice, but assembling them is really more than I'm up to any more. Real trees require no directions, no fluffing of the branches, no disassembling. When Christmas is over, the Douglas fir is pulled back out the front door and left for the City's yard waste truck to collect it and make it into lovely free mulch. No storage space needed either. Real trees are just too convenient for me to consider a fake one.

By tonight, I hope our tree will be up, inside the house, and Carter can begin decorating.

Growing up, my mother hated putting up the Christmas tree and grew so tired of it being up, that it never lingered after December 25th. My dad loves to tell the story that he went to bed early on Christmas eve, woke up late on Christmas day, and MISSED the Christmas tree. It makes me laugh every time.

Where to begin?

I am having a hard time writing a blog these days. I just don't know where to start. I like for my stories to have a beginning, and middle, and a resolution. I find that just as I sit down to write something, more exciting things transpire and the paragraphs I've labored on have become obsolete. Plus, there's the pressure to be funny. Or poignant. Or at least self-deprecating. So, I've decided to just write stream of consciousness this time. It's what any good writing teacher would tell you to do. Just put something down to get the ideas flowing. So, here goes nothing:

First, Carter has learned to snap. I think one of his dear friends, Elizabeth, taught him how. It's bad enough that he has to practice snapping incessantly, but he also snaps like a lounge singer. There's a shrug of the shoulder and tip of the head. He only needs to learn how to wink, and he'll be ready to roll.

Will is going through a stage that his Mimi referred to as "the velcro stage." Every day he siphons more and more of my energy and sanity away by constantly needing to "hold you, mama." Oh, it sounds so sweet. It is sweet. But then I feel my eyes glazing over, my focus turning into the recesses of my brain, and catatonia setting in. One night, while simply trying to load the car to return to our house from Mimi's and Doc's house, Will followed me around crying and whining "No Mama. Hooooold you. Huuuug you, Mama. Hug you. Hold you." Mimi tried to explain to him that I was merely putting things in the car and then coming to get him. He clearly doesn't trust us any more.

Carter is loving Kindergarten. We recently attended our firt parent/teacher conference. The anticipation was horrible. I had no idea what to expect. Mrs. M had sent many emails praising Carter's sweet disposition and ability to follow rules. Clearly, she had two kids mixed up. She thought she was speaking to someone else's parents. But no, we arrived and she told us some amazing facts. She revealed that this son who crumbles to the floor in a toddler-like manner at the smallest rebuttal to his will is mature for his age. This child who has trouble following simple instructions like "please put up your shoes" though told no less than 3 times, is held up to his class as someone to emulate. The stunned look on our faces complemented by the side-long glances Nathan and I were giving each other were quickly recognized, and Mrs. M assured us that Carter is a very intellegent boy who is well liked by his peers. And he probably likes to sit at the table with all girls during lunch because he is more mature than the other boys. Uh, yeah, right. That's why.

Yesterday was Cassidy's family Thanksgiving lunch. Carter's class got to go to the cafeteria first. The children paraded in wearing their Native American tunics and head-dresses. Carter was the last child out of class and his face was that of a boy who'd lost his best friend. Though Nathan and I both inquired the reason for his sad countenance, he refused to offer any explanation. We wondered if it had to do with the skit the class would perform after lunch.

Monday, his teacher told Nathan that she had originally cast Carter as the donkey. When he said his part, "hee haw, hee haw" her aid and his special friend Addyson giggled. That's what they were supposed to do. It was a funny part. Carter got upset and so she changed him to the part of the farmer. I wanted get Carter to talk about it on his own and he didn't disappoint. He told me the same story. "When I said nee-haw nee-haw, Carrie and Addyson laughed. Then I sweated tears out of my eyes, but I didn't make any noise. That's when she changed me to Peter." I explained that Mrs. M probably gave him that part because it was funny and Carter's a funny kid. He seemed bewildered. I could tell that Carter doesn't understand the difference between laughing with him and laughing at him. I told him to watch and see if everyone laughs at the next day.

So, after lunch, Mrs M lined the children up and presented "Too Much Noise." The children were so charming. Each one said their part and seemed so pleased that everyone enjoyed their performance. Carter, however, spoke barely above a whisper. He seemed bashful and timid. When it came time for Marcus and Maya to say "hee haw, hee haw" the group laughed in delight. Carter immediately looked right at me and smiled. He got it. Then, it came to the part where Mrs. M read "And Peter was mad." Carter made his mad face, which it distinctive and dramatic. The crowd errupted and Carter quickly lost all expression and his cheeks reddened with embarrassment. I smiled at him and he rallied admirably. I told Mrs. M that it's hard to believe he can be so shy when he's so demonstrative at home. She assured me that neither does he act to timid among his peers and in class.

Will is a genius. I have been assured it's okay to brag about one's child when it's the truth. I'm sure that advice came from another mother who was bragging. Anyway, he is blowing my mind. It started when somehow, he knew most of his alphabet. I thought my mother was exaggerating when she said "I think Will knows at least 10 letters." Grandmothers are generous with praise, so I took it with a grain of salt. The next day, I was in the kitchen cooking supper and Will started gathering letters. After a I heard probably 15 letters, I just stopped and stared at him as he gathered the letters together. Now he knows 24-25 letters. And he also knows the sound that most of them make.

Then Will started saying his numbers. There is one book that he loves to read that counts up to 10. He will bring it to me, grab my hand, and order "Tount, mama. Tount." We usually have to read it 3 times. He knows all of this numbers between 0 and 10 but whether he knows them in order I can't say. He seems to know parts of them in order. 1, 2, 3. 7, 8, 9. But maybe not putting the whole thing together.

Finally, the other day at lunch, he said "wall words, peeese." Carter has a stack of sight words that we go over nightly. Each week he brings one or two new words home to add. A lot of times, we go over these words at the supper table. So, when Will wanted to go over them at lunch, I shrugged and gave in. I figured I would say each word and he could repeat it. My mouth gaped as Will proceded to tell me most of the words on the cards. If he wasn't sure, he would say "uhm, otts dat?" I would say "this word is 'here'." And he would respond "right, here." I was floored, to say the least. I called Nathan to tell him and he basically informed me that it was old news. He already knew Will was a genius. I have therefore, upped Will's tv time as a precautionary measure. Carter has already been noted as excelling in math; if I don't start now, they will be out-witting me by the time Will is in 4 year Pre-school.

And even though my boys are quickly out-pacing their dear old mom in IQ and physical strength, I love them more each day. Being their mother is by far the most challenging and rewarding job I've ever had. At least once a day, someone sweeps up Will in their arms and he beams his angelic smile and demands "aybody! aybody!" The rest of the family rushes in and we have a big ole hug. And everyone savors it.

Blessed Be the Tie that Binds

Mothers have a special connection with their children. Not that fathers don't, but a mother's bond is unique. A little baby grows inside your body, right there under your heart. When that baby is born, as he exits your body, he imperceptibly takes a piece of your heart with him. Almost like a phantom pain, your body still recognizes this piece that is missing. As a result, when your child is in pain, your heart actually feels it, too. A mother can physically feel her heart breaking with and for her child.

Right now, I know a mother whose heart is breaking. She just lost her oldest child to a rare brain tumor. He turned 4 the day before he died. This mother is a sister to my friend Sarah-Jane. Sarah-Jane is Bella's mother, and Bella is one of Carter's favorite friends. I've probably met Sarah-Jane's sister but she doesn't know me. I've read her blog www.prayforjoseph.blogspot.com regularly to keep track of Joe's progress. I have found strength in her faith and despaired with her in her anguish. Yet no matter how keen my powers of empathy may be, I can't fathom her pain. From reading her blog, little Joe reminded me so much of my own boys: strong willed, active, and smart. Maybe it was Joe's love for the movie Cars that really drew me in. Carter watched the movie a hundred times and had all the toys, too. Maybe it was the joy Joe displayed through these 8 1/2 months, enduring surgeries, treatments, scans, medicines, IVs and hospital stays. But most likely it is the invisible ties that bind us together as the family of God.

Her blog received over 250 comments yesterday. Messages of sympathy and love flooded in. Joe's story had a wide impact. There were many people who didn't know the family at all, just came across the blog and followed it. She has a map on her page that shows where the people who look at it are from. Literally, around the world, people were watching and praying.

So today, I'm not going to worry about the toys all over the floor, the play dough that is at this minute being smashed into the floor boards, the dirty dishes and stained clothes. Today Carter, Will, Nathan, and I are going to play. We're going to get our hearts beating with laughter and singing. Those little phantom pieces don't just work in times of sorrow, a mother also feels her children's joy.

The Moment of Truth

The day has finally arrived. It's the day I've been dreading all summer long. Carter walked up the street to his first day of Kindergarten this morning. He didn't seem a bit nervous until we found his seat. He sat there quietly. Suddenly he didn't look so big any more. He seemed really small.

These sort of changes wouldn't be so hard if I knew what it would be like once we settled into the routine. The uncertainty of the new makes me nervous. My cousin used to say that she dreaded the start of the new school year and she looked forward to a couple of weeks later when everything that is new becomes routine. I wonder what this new life is going to be like. What's Carter's teacher like? How much homework does a Kindergartener have? Is the cafeteria food any good?

Carter is very excited about Kindergarten, though. He eagerly anticipates everything he's going to learn. He told me one day that he can't wait to come home and teach Will everything he's learned. A few days later, impressed that I knew some bit of knowledge he said "Mama, you know a lot. When I go to kindergarten, I'll teach you everything I learn and then you'll be really smart." I agreed. I can't wait for him to teach me everything he learns.

I've been trying to remember what it's like to have just one little one around the house all day. I purposefully focused on the positives. I do remember how much easier it is to go to the grocery and run errands. Fixing lunch will be somewhat simpler. But even with the simplification it brings, I can't help but think it's the complicated entanglements that makes life so interesting.

When we brought Carter home from the hospital, he was so huge for a newborn. He cried so loudly. He wanted to eat constantly and never wanted to sleep. I was so happy to have my mother and mother-in-law around because I lacked any real experience with babies. Then one day, they all left. Nathan went to work. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do with this baby all by myself. It's funny now since I don't know what to do without him.

I'm sure Will and I will figure it out. As you can tell, he's not suffering. I get the idea being the only child around during the day suits him just fine. (Oh! The day is almost half over already!)

Birthdays

We are still celebrating Will's 2nd birthday which conveniently coincides with Nathan's 31st birthday. I think 2nd birthdays are my favorite. Will was just old enough to realize that it was a party but still too young to have expectations. Both added a digit to their tally on Sunday, July 27th. However, we had a birthday gathering for them on Friday. I have a strict rule that each child gets to have big odd numbered birthdays and even numbered birthdays are spent with discretion. Here's how strict I am: last year, when Carter turned 4, he got to invite one friend and his local cousins over for some cake and ice cream. No big deal. But you can't have 4 kids over and not have anything for them to do. So I turned to Nathan's brother who in turn transported two ponies to our house and gave everyone pony rides up and down the street. That was a low-key birthday at our house.

This year was no exception. Instead of just inviting over the local family for cupcakes and ice cream, we ended up with a full blown cook out. I insisted to my mother that even birthdays are small. She insisted to me that she would turn me in to social services with cold, hard evidence of my incompetence if I didn't "do something for that baby's birthday!" I repsonded "that's great for Nathan but what about Will?" Silence. She never has really appreciated my humor. I did, however, agree to have a "small gathering for local family." Mimi and Papa would be in town already. Mimi and Doc were free and could bring along cousins Grayson and Lane who were visiting them. Nathan's brother could pop in with his friend. Laid back. Casual. No stress.

That's when I decided I did, in fact, need more stress. I should make Will an Elmo cake. He really does like Elmo, so he should be pretty excited about it and it couldn't be that hard, right? Well, Ben Gates in National Treasure 1 and 2 did not have so much trouble as I did tracking down the Elmo cake pan that floats around the population of moms in our church. After 6 phone calls, two emails, and a wild goose chase, I finally pinned it down after holding a dollar bill in the sun, under a prism, and reading the secret message written in Dutch.

As I read the directions to bake and decorate Elmo, I started to feel like Nathan was getting left out. It was his birthday first. I should do something to equally and individually recognize him. I really didn't think another cake was going to work out because, well, it was a small gathering and we couldn't eat 2 cakes. He has always liked ice cream cakes and I figured I could just make one - minus more cake. I'm educated, I know how to Google, and seriously what's the worst that could happen? The worst that could happen is that your freezer is so stuffed with Kroger frozen vegetables that were on sale last week that you can't get the ice cream cake in the freezer to freeze into cake form. I had to do a lot of Japanese style folding of items to fit everything in, but the good news is the kids love brussel sprouts that resemble cranes flapping their wings.

Our little gathering was really starting to take shape. I learned from Ronald Reagan and my husband that delegation is essential. Let people do what they do best and don't micromanage. I delegated grilling hamburgers to one Mimi, potato salad to the other Mimi. I had Nathan making fruit salad and preparing hamburger toppings. Doc was helping out with side dishes. That left me free to do face painting! Yes, I said face painting. I didn't have ponies though!

Everything turned out great! Well, except that Will was slightly disturbed by a large, decapitated Elmo head on a platter. Cousin Lane declared it was the best birthday party he's ever been to. I don't think that was necessarily true, but when a 4 year old is having enough fun to comment on it, it makes this mom feel pretty accomplished.

Ode to a Minivan or My Odyssey to the Odyssey

After months, probably even years of resisting, the Honda Odyssey won me over. I barely even know how it happened. The minivan is a patient seducer. It really doesn't have to be assertive with its positive qualities, life will present you with enough experiences that you will begin to notice a minivan's functional beauty.

I was staunchly anti-minivan. I didn't feel superior to minivan owners, I just never grew up in a family wagon kind of house. As a child, I asked my father if we could get a station wagon. His response was quick and to the point, "No. I don't drive station wagons." I was small and didn't realize that as an only child, a station wagon was probably not all that essential. Furthermore, I had no idea that riding around in the leather clad comfort of Daddy's blue Cadillac Coupe de Ville was living the high life. I just thought that station wagons were neat. I mean, you could ride facing backward if you sat in the trunk area. I felt a certain solidarity with my old man when rejecting the early incarnations of minivans. When Carter first asked for a minivan, I told him what his Papa had said to me about station wagons, then added "Mama doesn't drive minivans."

Besides taking a cue from my dad, I never favored regular vans. They call them "conversion" vans. I have never discovered what they were converted from or to. These vehicles were a status symbol when I was in elementary school. I, however, found riding in them around the curves and hills of Eastern Kentucky mostly nauseating. They were dark and usually came with questionable art decorating the side. By using deductive reasoning I concluded that a mini version wouldn't be any better.

At some point in college, SUVs grew to prominence and I jumped on that bandwagon and held on tight. I liked what driving around in my Pathfinder said about me. This young woman is cool. She is au courant. If she had a black lab in the back, she'd even be a cliche. Unfortunately now, the SUV says gas guzzling idiot. And as my Pathfinder became older and older, and I was forced to realize a replacement was imminent; I looked at every option but a minivan. Highlander Hybrids. Pilots. Anything. Please anything but a minivan.

I was running scared. I knew minivan mom was inevitable but like Jonah ran from Ninevah and from God, I ran from the minivan. But, God has a funny way of curing a person of pride and vanity. My attitude shift honetly began when Nathan started looking for a new car for himself. We were test-driving a nice little European sedan and dropped in on our pastor who was recovering from knee surgery. He was convivial as always as we discussed vehicle selection and purchasing. I mentioned that I didn't really care what we got but no minivan. In his affable way, he asked "Can I ask you why it is you don't like minivans?" I was honest. I smiled and said, with no shame nor remorse, "vanity." His great, robust laughter supported his strong arm around my shoulders and he replied "oh, so you know it's pride!" It was in humor but it was potent.

He made me put a name on my attitude and as a result the scales fell from my eyes. First, it was the doors. On both sides, the doors slide back and without any effort. That sounds like laziness, but if you are trying to corral two boys in a parking lot with a cart full of groceries, it seems like your safest bet. The door opening is wide and I'm sure Little Will is going to appreciate not getting his head konked every third time I put him in his car seat.

The next thing was the amazing amount of room an Odyssey can create out of seemingly nowhere. A flip of a few switches and a tuck here and there and VOILA, you have no back row but an acre of cargo space. More space than the Pathfinder. My friend Kathy told me that if it's raining, she doesn't even bother to collapse the stroller, she just puts it in the back ready to roll! I was truly amazed. Again, that sounds like laziness but it's not. I don't know what it is, but it's not laziness.

Nathan's brother's both bought Odysseys for their families and my sisters- in- law raved about them. They talked about rear entertainment systems and headphones and sanity. Sanity? Really? Sanity? I am up for anything that brings sanity. I can use all of that stuff I can get. My friend Emily told me to just drink the minivan laced Kool-aid and forget all my reservations. She told me that I would never regret it.

After not being able to safely carpool Carter's friends because there was just no space in my SUV, I acquiesced. I want to be able to be helpful to friends. I want to be able to bring Carter's friends home with us sometimes. I wan to offer rides to church. I want Mimi and Papa to be able to ride in the same car with us when they visit and we go out together.

The last straw that broke my camel's back was my cousin. She listened sweetly and agreed to all my objections and even nodded to how it could actually be good to have one. She finally said, "it's not like you'd have to drive one forever. Your kids are only young for a little while and they get more and more involved in activities, so you're gonna need the space. And these aren't really like the old square boxes of bench seating. These new vans are luxurious and for all intents and purposes - rolling entertainment centers." She was mourning the loss of her own SUV and as they say, misery loves company. She was right, though. Leather interior. DVD player. Remote control doors. Satellite radio. Back-up cameras. All my defenses were down and I admitted to my husband that I'd been eyeing Odysseys as I drove around town. He laughed and agreed it was probably the best for our whole family.

Saturday, June 28, 2008, I became the proud owner of a blue, Honda Odyssey EX-L. It's almost the same color as my dad's first Cadillac. And now for it's best feature: I'm taking my dvd of Pride and Prejudice, a coca-cola, and a pillow out to the van, locking the doors, and enjoying the solitude. I was thinking of naming it Homer, but that name seemed too obvious and vapid. So, I'm thinking Penelope after Odysseus' wife. The minivan is surely a woman anyway, for she carries children around in her belly, she entertains them, and keeps them safe while showing them the world. But most importantly, she has the ability to hold their 15 cups.

How to Enjoy Your Kids

For a week, I have visited this page in vain. There was nothing worthwhile to write about. No one wants to hear about how many times Carter needed punishment nor how often Will whined. Our family has been having personality problems. Not just the little ones, but we big ones were acting out, too. It's amazing how little things add up and effect everyone in the house.

Carter repeatedly broke the rules and would justify himself by blaming us. He never quite grabbed on to the concept of accepting one's responsibility for one's actions. Mimi and Papa came to visit and Carter even blamed them for his sinful forays. He secretly took gum from Mimi's purse and left a pile of wrappers hidden in a corner. He snatched a bag of Teddy Grahams. And on and on. I couldn't remember the last day he hadn't been seriously disciplined.

Meanwhile, Will was causing his own brand of chaos. He has a painfully shrill shriek that emanates when anything does not measure up to his expectations. And trust me when I report that 80% of the day was not meeting his perceived needs. He would have moments of sweetness, of cuddling, and giggling, and saying incredible new words. But mostly, it was anger, shrieking, and dramatic episodes of flopping on the floor and burring his head under his hands.

The question is how does God give you patience? I've learned not to ask for it because the way to get it is kind of like the way of getting a baby. Through a lot of personal pain; there's a reason the phrase "the patience of Job" is so potent. Yet, I believe God was preparing us for something. I am secretly hoping that these last weeks have been a substitution for cranky teenage years. But, I know better. Maybe they are a foreshadowing, instead. I'm not sure. Nathan and I began with a calm approach, which turned into mild aggravation, then on to a simmering boil, and finally, bewildered numbness. We were out of ideas. Out of energy. And in the catatonic, 100 yard stare a still, small voice came to me. It's my fault. Well, not completely. But I had to take responsibility for my actions, too.

I started thinking why would Carter take foods out of the pantry? When we asked him he would just say "It's just so hard not to." For some reason, it hadn't hit me that if I feed him enough, he might not even think about what food was hanging around. He's growing a lot right now. He probably needs more food. And coincidentally, so is Will. I fed them a lot on Friday and even Nathan commented on how much food Will was eating. But he had to admit that both of them were in better moods and Carter didn't snitch any.

Another reason the boys might be acting out is they want our attention. So, we took them to the drive-in movie on Friday night. They loved it. Well, mostly Carter did. They both fell asleep in the back of the SUV cuddled up to each other, Carter with his arm over Will. I would have taken a picture but I was not anxious for a flash to wake them.

And the last reason, I figured out Saturday when none of us got a good night's sleep after being out at the drive in. Growing boys need more sleep. These growing boys aren't big on sleep. They might miss something fun and interesting. After a fun visit from Uncle Prentiss, Carter and Will both reached meltdown status. I forced them both to lie down with me for no less than 20 minutes. Will was out and actually drooling onto the pillow in two minutes flat. Carter took longer, but only about 8 minutes. He continued to sleep for 13 hours. Will woke up for about an hour and then went right back to bed. Everyone woke this morning with songs in our hearts. I heard Carter singing "If you're happy and you know it." I heard Nathan laughing with joy. I heard Will giggling in delight. It was nice to have my sweet boys back.

But hold on to your seats! There's more! Will fell asleep on the way home from church. Carter helped me finish up dinner preparation. The three of us ate together and Carter talked in a happy, charming way the whole time. He couldn't eat much because he talked so much. Nathan and I were enchanted once again. After the meal, the rest of us took a nap. Yes, Carter slept even more. Everyone slept some more. Everyone woke up with dancing this time. I purchased a new song for Carter on itunes and he, Will, and Nathan danced all around the living room.

In Sunday School this morning, we discussed suffering. One point was made that how can we truly enjoy and appreciate blessings without also knowing the experience of affliction. I don't know that I would necessarily call Carter's and Will's recent behavior afflictions, but they are more toward that end of the spectrum than the blessing. Which actually turns it into blessing; a blessing because after plunging to the depths, we have been lifted up to a new height.

I have taken solace over the last couple of weeks in gazing upon my hydrangea bush that Nathan gave me as an anniversary gift a few years ago. It is breathtaking this year. Full and colorful orbs of flowers, bowing the branches with their weight. Some clusters are blue, others are purplish, and a few even have a bit of pink. However, last year a late frost killed off the buds and not one single bloom emerged. It was just a green, leafy bush. Nothing to really enjoy. It was just sort of there. This year, I took no chances. When there was even a chance of a frost in late April and May, I covered them with my bedsheets. I wonder if I would have really appreciated the more than 20 blooms this year in the same euphoric way, if there hadn't been any last year.

Some Enchanted Evening

We needed to get out of the house and have some adventure. I, personally, needed to stimulate the economy. The boys needed to get out of their pattern of disobedience. I felt like a day shopping would provide just what we needed. I engaged the services of one very capable Mimi and optimistically looked to the coming day on the town.

First, Mimi kept the boys while I dropped by a clothing party. My good feelings continued as I tried on a lovely pair of pants that were too big and the consultant said, "Uhm, you're gonna need a 6 in that." I looked at her with a mixture of mistrust and elation. Strange combination, I know. But part of me felt like I was on candid camera and waiting for the hidden lenses to be shown and the other part of me just wanted to hug her. Once I got the size 6 pair on and they actually fit, I said "You realize I MUST buy these now. I will buy them and leave the tag sticking out for all to see." Everyone thought I was hilarious and I wondered how much they would laugh when I saw them at church, pants on, tag out.

The good feeling were short lived because upon my return, I found a box of Poptarts that had been on the very top shelf of the pantry, behind the couch with one missing. Some Poptarts are okay for Will; these were not. My mother-in-law felt bad that it was on her watch, but she shouldn't. He's really good at being sneaky. I called his dad who said he was immediately pedaling home. He was angry and said he was glad he would get the physical exertion to quell his wrath. All I could think was the bicycle riding music in "The Wizard of Oz." That tune of approaching, imminent doom. Carter was forced to sit on the naught step during the entire interim. Mimi and Will played outside and tried to stay out of the way. Once Nathan was home, more Phase 1 and Phase 2. But a new phase. This time he had to write sentences over and over. Just like old fashion elementary school punishment. Carter said he thought it sounded kind of fun.

Once this was all settled and I told Carter, "I hoped that today would be different. That you wouldn't do anything to get into trouble." He said, as only he could, "Well, maybe the rest of the day will be different!"

And it was different. I stimulated the economy as much as I could. If the day had only been longer! Mimi is so good at keeping the boys wrangled. It helps to have experience herding cats and I think she's herded a few in her day. The boys were sometimes loud. But boys are loud. And sometimes they were a bit unruly. But why would a boy enjoy Macy's? There is no reason for him to. Now, Lowe's is more up their alley. Though they were tired, there was really not much whining and it was actually enjoyable.

We returned home with goodies spilling out the doors. Normally, I'm not a spender. I get horrible bouts of buyers remorse. Not yesterday. Everything was essential. Plus Mimi is a wonderful enabler. There's one phrase that gets me every time: "You can always return it." These purchases were necessary and long over due.

Since Will feel asleep, exhausted from our day, we quietly unloaded it and gingerly laid him down in a cool bed. I placed the new chair cushions in the patio furniture our neighbors no longer wanted (these are nnnnice and they are crazy to get rid of them!). The cushions fit just right. Ahhhh. The new pants fit just right. Ahhhh. Nathan's new clothes were going to be great. The wedding gift was going to be just right. Ahhh. I love the feeling of accomplishment.

Finally, as the sun was gone and its light was fading, I dragged Nathan outside to sit in the new chairs. The heat from the day had disapated and the boys sweetly crawled up into the loveseat, cuddled up right next to me. The soft smell of honeysuckle floated around us. It was truly lovely. Then, I saw them. Lightning bugs began to rise, flickering their green tails. Carter and I leapt up and tried to catch them. There's some more over there and over there. I told him that when you see the first fireflies, that means summer is almost here. I retrieved a Mason jar from the kitchen to contain the ones we could catch.

I was transported back; I was only 5, running around, jumping, and grabbing at the air. We were all barefoot and it was almost completely night. Carter commented on how they were so hard to catch because it was so dark. I marveled at how I caught so many as a child. The night crept over and the street lights were all we had to see by. We kept our eyes peeled for rising fireflies. Once a group was spotted, we would run in attack. This went on for a long while, until it was well past time for bed. It was an enchanted twilight.

Idle Hands are the Devils Playthings

Yesterday at lunch, Carter was so charming and wonderful, Nathan pulled out the video recorder to capture his lectures on healthy living. He had been exercising, asked specifically for spinach to be like "Pie-o" (that's Popeye to you and me) and wanted to drink water because its so good for you. We talked about how cheese was good for his bones and cooked tomatoes are good for the heart. He, then, said "You know what's even better for the heart?" I really thought he was going to say God, but to my surprise, he stood up and gave me a hug and kiss. That was good for my heart. As Nathan rolled in for lunch, Carter was still midst his discussion on exercise and how sometimes he even makes up new exercises all by himself. Nathan and I were both proud and enchanted by our son.

Will, meanwhile, was sleeping and sleeping. He took a monster nap which must mean he's growing something. Probably his feet. This kid's feet seem so huge to me. Carter's feet were and are wide, but Will's feet seem to grow exponentially daily. Maybe they just look big because he's so skinny. So, Will woke up long after Carter's new commitment to healthy living. He had to be hungry because he hadn't eaten anything at all since breakfast, so I fixed for him a soynut butter and jelly sandwich. Carter retreated to his room where he produced sounds of a boy at play. I chose this time to download some sermons on the computer. I walked into the living room several times to check on progress; Will was slowly consuming his sandwich and Carter was in and out. Nothing seemed awry.

I called Nathan to talk about a walk to the grocery and supper menu. He was on his way home soon, so I finished up the downloading and began picking up the toys strewn across the floor. That's when I heard it. Will coughed. Carter was standing there in front of me and Will was upstairs and I heard the distinctive pre-regurgitation cough. I spun around and demanded from Carter "WHAT IS HE EATING?" The shock on Carter's face was instant. He stood dumbfounded. Again, in a loud, stern voice, I commanded "TELL ME! DID YOU GIVE YOUR BROTHER SOMETHING TO EAT?!" He stuttered and acted like he was thinking. I quickly and succinctly reminded him that Will can't eat just anything. I was hoping behind all my bravado that Will just coughed because he needed to cough. Realizing that the punishment he would receive was small in comparison to his brother's life, he took me upstairs and showed me the card of Santa Claus cupcake decorations. I don't know where these came from. I had never seen them before, but the card was empty. I would never buy them because I don't like little, colored bits of hardened sugar, so I'm not sure how these got into our house. I immediately looked for the ingredients and was alarmed to find that these are not just sugar, they are egg whites and sugar. Will is allergic to eggs.

I scooped Will up and he was not acting disturbed but demonstrated that something wasn't right in his mouth. I could see a splotch or two and grabbed the Benadryl. I knew he was going to throw it up, but it wouldn't hurt anything. And it might just help. Will loves the benadryl, so it was no trouble getting him to take the medicine. In a matter of minutes the 2 - 3 splotches were gone but I knew he was still going to throw up. That made me upset on several levels. First, he hadn't had much to eat and I knew his entire lunch was about to go. This also meant that we couldn't feed him too much afterwards because his tummy might be sensitive for awhile. Daily, I worry about getting enough fat into Will's diet despite the allergy restrictions. Second, it would have to be cleaned up and vomit is not fun to clean up. And thirdly, Will was going to be momentarily uncomfortable. Strangely, he was beginning to act normally. Maybe he wouldn't throw up after all.

Nathan arrived home about this time and I apprised him of the situation. He was livid. He bounded upstairs with Carter and discovered the hidden cache of candy our thieving son had stockpiled in and around his room. One of the items was perplexing: it had been on top of the refrigerator. How had he gotten that? Nathan required that he explain. Carter took him to the kitchen and demonstrated how he figured out how to climb up the drawer handles, onto the counter, to reach the top of the fridge. Nathan and I were overcome by shock, sadness, and dismay. He clearly knew he was doing something wrong because he was hiding it. He was sophisticated enough to ask for a treat occasionally to keep up the appearance that he was following the rules. Nathan called him a chocoholic kleptomaniac. Our son is a criminal.

That is when we began the lecturing phase of our punishment. Carter received a full and vivid description of the implications of his actions. The theft. The lying. The disobedience. The poisoning of the brother. He appeared to be duly sad and cried and prayed for God and us to forgive him and help him to control his evil ways. As we were transitioning into the corporal punishment phase, Will threw up. Carter was put on hold as the living room was cleaned up and hosed down. It took forever. As we shifted our attention back to the perp, Will threw up again. I had told Nathan he would throw up twice. He did. We took Will to the bathtub and Carter followed where he would receive phase two punishment. He did not take it willingly but got it and then took a bath as well. We then entered phase three, solitary confinement. He was escorted to his cell, uhm, room and Nathan and I began gathering the stockpile and putting away toys. The unfortunate thing is that as we cleaned Will's room, we found MORE! It was an open chocolate bar that had been processed in a plant that also processes nuts. Thus Nathan lectured more about Carter's greed, deception, and carelessness.

The villain was confined to his room for the rest of the night. I didn't feel so badly that he didn't get any supper because I got the feeling he'd already eaten enough candy to carry him through. Will cleared up quickly and assertively expressed his desire for more food. After some allergy free chicken, teeth were brushed by the head warden, and lights were turned out.

I feel like a failure. I have let down my two sons. Nathan tried to assure me that Carter is sneaky and not to be trusted. Our house was purged of everything candy-like. That's probably for the best anyway. I should have noticed that cookies and candies were disappearing. I should have recognized that when Carter was caught sneaking food at his Mimi and Papa's, he was probably doing it at home. I wonder if there is some kind of ankle-shackle-monitoring system I can attach to him. He'd probably just outsmart it. I tried to figure out how to take these qualities and hone them into something positive. The only suggestion Nathan offered was "Well, if we ever need someone to help us stockpile food...." Clearly, he didn't understand me.

Though neither of us felt like Carter was duly remorseful, we hoped it was because of his youthful optimism; he wanted to move forward. Unfortunately, we just caught him again. We put Will's Poptarts on the refrigerator and Carter climbed up and stole them. He is currently in Phase 3 again, after having an abbreviated Phase 1 and an multiplied Phase 2. I'm exhausted and need to go into Phase 3 myself. Alas, the loud crying from Phase 2 woke up Will. I expressed how confounded I was because I have tried to stay in the same room with the boys all day. I lapsed into house cleaning duty and that must be when it happened. Nathan says it's not my fault, but I can't help but believe it partially is. This is my job and these little souls are my responsibility.

The one tricky part of parenting is that it seems to be constant on the job training. There is no operations manual, but how could there ever be? No two children are alike. Separate situations rarely match up. There are few typical days. Some days are like vacation. Some days are like war. A lot of days are somewhere in between with varying degrees of peace and tension. I am starting to understand why Nathan and his brothers moved rocks around the yard for a couple of hours every morning.

All About Will

Usually, when writing these, it's easier to describe Carter's escapades and adventures because they are more readable. No one really is interested in Will's fine motor accomplishments but me and possibly a grandmother or two. I feel like Will gets short shrifted in these pages. But not today. He was busy yesterday exerting his ever blossoming personality.

It all began when we walked down to the grocery as a family. Carter begged for the wagon and Nathan conceded. Then, no one would ride in it. Carter ran on ahead of us and Will refused to get in. He insisted upon walking and running. The trip to the grocery isn't really that far but kind of convoluted. He toddled ahead, ever so cutely. On we trekked, Carter blazing the trail in front, Nathan pulling the wagon next, Will resolutely following him, and me bringing up the rear. Nathan was amazed at how far Will was making it and I reminded him that when Carter was about this age he led me on foot, without any direction from me, from our house to the cookie counter at Kroger. So this kind of quest for independence is natural. Finally, we had to insist everyone into the wagon. But we marveled at his new found interest in walking it on his own and ability to keep up as much as his little 22 month old legs can.

Once we were home, we prepared a new recipe. It sounded like a pretty good dish; I figured with peaches, orange juice, brown sugar, and chicken involved how could I go wrong? Well, all to easily. Will ate about 4 bites before he balked and refused to take another bite. Carter just told me outright he didn't like it after the first bite but was a good sport to try a few more. Nathan and I were baffled since we found the taste sweet and mild. Will became supremely dissatisfied with the situation of being in his highchair, at this point. Since I knew he was still hungry, I let him down and figured I would get him something else to eat. Carter was satisfied to eat the chicken and couscous without the peach sauce.

I released him from his dining room mouse trap and placed him on my lap. He then ate my salad. And when I say he ate my salad, I mean my whole salad. He asked for more. Nathan and I looked at each other equally amazed. First walking on his own most of the way to the store and now eating salad? What would be next? Just wait. So, we gave him more salad and some of the chicken in it and he ate and ate and ate. That is when I knew he was a lot like his Doc. Nathan eats a lot of salad but not nearly as much as his dad. Will is just the next link in the chain of vegetable loving men.

So, after a bath, will emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a diaper, or what he calls an Elmo, because Elmo's smiling face graces each one of them. In fact, he will say, "Pee pee. Pee pee. Elmo." That means: "My diaper is wet and I need a new one." Anyway, little mostly naked boys are hard to catch. Their kind of slippery like fish. Though I tried to make the idea of pajama wearing appealing and fun, he was not buying it. Running around in an Elmo was clearly his idea of fun. That is about the time his Uncle Roger arrived with Silver. The sight of Silver sent him in to shrill squeals of ecstasy. These loud squeals were causing the poor dog to have visible nervous breakdown. She came and sat next to me upon request so I could pet her. Carter, who is normally very frightened of dogs, seemed enthusiastic for the first time to pet Silver, too. Will on the other hand would toddle over to Silver, lightly poke her with his index finger, squeal, laugh, and run back to the couch, climb up and flop down and laugh some more. He was thrilled with this routine. I noticed that each time he was becoming slightly braver. He progressed from poking to an actual petting motion over a few times. Of course, the squealing didn't get quieter or less thrilled. He may have actually become more thrilled with Silver. Meanwhile, Silver was quietly dying inside. When she actually whimpered - which I've never heard her do - I decided it was time to liberate her from her well-meaning human cousins. Poor Silver. I'm sure she's emotionally scarred from it all. Will's shriek hurt my ears, I can't imagine what it would do to dog ears.

So it was off to bed for Will where he was much too wound up to actually go to sleep. His adrenaline was likely coursing and as a result he cried five minutes longer than usual before falling asleep. So, that made it 5 minutes and 30 seconds. He was up there pitifully wailing "my daa-dee! my daa-dee!" Poor baby. He should have asked for his mama.

A Matter of Perspective

Carter will simply not do what I tell him. He flat out refuses. I say "Carter, please stop growing up." And he just giggles and says "Mama, I can't help it. I just do it." I ask "What am I going to do to stop you from growing?" He laughs and responds, "Nothing. I have to grow up." Well. His last day of Pre-School was last Thursday and I was maudlin the whole day. I cried and cried and thought I must be growing hysterical. I don't usually get very emotional but when his class sang "Use Me Lord," I had to resort to thinking of the other things to avoid becoming a blubbering idiot. It almost worked. Then, as if that emotional attack wasn't enough, his teachers made a scrap book of the year for each child. It listed how much they had grown and how much weight they'd gained. It had pictures they'd drawn and activities they participated in. It was an emotional Hiroshima. There on the last page was a picture of Carter, 2 3/4 inches taller, and 5 pounds heavier. What are they trying to do to me? I wasn't even hormonal. Thank goodness, because otherwise I would have eaten a pound of chocolate that night . At this rate, I can only imagine what sending him to Kindergarten is going to do to me. Five days a week for 7 hours a day.

Luckily, to counteract my sentimentality, we had his last soccer game of the season. I'm sure his coach is thrilled it's over. Carter was in a bad mood for every soccer game. He chose some tiny reason to get grumpy which in turn made me grumpy. This week, he got knocked down and got his hands dirty. Seriously. Last fall, that happened and he just got right back up and kept on playing. This time he barely recognized there was a game going on after it happened. I was disappointed because Mimi and Papa had come up to watch him and he wasn't really even trying - except my patience. His Papa said "Now, now. We all have bad days. But we get 365 more of them in a year. They won't all be bad." Okay, okay. His Nana Jo called and asked how his last game went. I told her and she said - not kiddng - "Well, now. We all have bad days. Patience." Yeah, yeah.

I'm writing this while Will is asleep. He has now been asleep for 3 hours. I would wake him up, but he spent the 5 hours he was awake in the morning whining and crying and acting sleepy. He must be growing. Great. Him, too.

He's an affectionate little fellow and really loves his daddy. He lights up, smiling and saying "Daddy! Daddy!" when Nathan comes home. Nathan said I used to do that, but I don't ever remember calling him Daddy. Hmmm. Anyway, Will is getting more physical in his play. He loves to run, play chase, kick and throw any ball and climb. His particular favorite place to climb is up my legs. Then he hangs up-side-down for a few seconds, then flips over to land on his feet. He could do that endlessly if I would let him. However, white pants are not conducive to tiny tennis shoe tread. But 22 month olds don't get that. His vocabulary continues to grow and impress. He uses a few words together but mostly "My" + _____. My Daddy. My Tarter (Carter). My Mama. But what I find the most striking development is his ability and desire to feed himself. He doesn't like for anyone to wield his fork but him. Even if the food drops on the way to his mouth, he will pick it up and stick it back on his fork before putting it in his mouth.

In direct opposition to this scene is Carter. Carter is the slowest eater on the planet. He can't stop talking long enough to eat. He often comes to the table professing profound hunger only to let the meal get cold while he jabbers away like a magpie. Will sits quietly stuffing his face as Carter chatters on. Nathan invariably becomes aggravated as everyone's plate is emptied and Carter's is still full. See, Carter loves the "enjoying the family" part of supper. He often says to Nathan, who has just scolded him for talking too much and not eating enough, "But Daddy, I was just enjoying the family." I'm laughing as I write this because I'm sure I could never do the scene justice. Carter has talked non-stop today. We ate a little picnic in the back yard and he never stopped talking about how he was going to build a restaurant. Maybe he sees "enjoying the family" as "captive audience for Carter time." Oh, I know. One day he'll be a teenager and won't ever want to say one word to us and then we'll be sorry we didn't enjoy this time. Sure. Just come over to our house at the end of supper as Carter rattles on about whatever is on his mind and the rest of us sit slumped at the table, glazed over, and slightly exhausted and explain to us how bad the silent future is. It's all about perspective.

So, Carter gave me a hug the other day because I mentioned a headache coming on. I asked him why his hugs were sooooo goooood. "Because they are made of a little bit of candy and a lot of love." I'll take one of those any time I can get one.

Happy Mothers Day!

I remember my first Mother's Day. The entire week before, I wondered what kind of corsage Nathan would get for me to sport to church. As Friday slipped into Saturday, I realized that he was not aware of this tradition and on further contemplation, I realized no mothers at our church wore corsages. I wasn't disappointed or sad, but just curious how that tradition fell from popularity. My father still gets my mother her "blossom" every year. I noticed yesterday a lone mother with a beautiful corsage and smiled. She has five kids.

Instead of a corsage, I was showered with affection and two fabulous meals. Which is so much better. Carter labored for some time with his dad on some coupons for me to cash in this year. Four hours of girl time. Hugs and kisses - more kisses because Carter thinks kisses are better. One coupon was for picking up all the toys from the floor. I beamed at Nathan and said "If I turn in this coupon, I get to pick up all the toys from the floor??!!" Note to self: A sense of humor is not allowed on Mother's Day. I tried my oddball humor all day with mixed reviews. The best part was capping off the day by watching "Star Wars" on tv with Carter and Will. Carter's been playing "stoom trooper" all morning with the exception when he was "Sky Luker." I could be whomever I wanted, even a boy, except that when I tried to be Obi Wan Kenobi, I was told I should be the Han Solo. Though I protested that I wanted to be a Jedi, I was firmly relegated to the role of "that rocket driver."

Saturday's soccer game was more eventful than usual. Our team has some good players and we normally win convincingly. But Saturday's opponent was a rematch versus the only team who has beaten us. The Omegas. It was the most competitive match we played this season. But that is not where the action lie. No, Carter, who is spotty in the attention he can give to soccer, said something to one of his female teammates. The next thing I know, she shoulder flips him to the ground in one smooth motion. She obviously had practice at this move. Carter was indignant, and if I were a better mother I wouldn't have laughed as hard as I did. Carter insisted that she hurt his arm, though he didn't act like his arm was injured. He was unable to speak of the event for the rest of the day without being overcome by the sting of the original insult. Finally, on Sunday, I was able to get him to calmly tell me what happened. Here's his version: "I just said to her 'I've wrestled before.' and her wrestled me right to the ground. She's stronger than you, Daddy!" Good move, because Nathan's masculinity was thusly challenged and he responded "We'll see about that!" We'll never know what really happened but here's a picture of the two of them before it happened.

Moving on to Will. What a sweet cutie he is. Okay, okay. He's not sweet and cute all the time. In fact, he drives me crazy at least once a day. But God made him so beautiful that I normally can't even remember that when he is sitting in my lap and cuddling. He wore his big brother's "Fastest Kid in Town" t-shirt and I was astounded at how old he looks now. I guess he's making his move out of the baby stage and into full toddlerhood. I have so much fun watching as he tries to figure out the world. And I'm fully enjoying his mohawk mullet.

Dogs and Cats

Nathan finally requested the web address for this electronic diary and read some. He looked up alpha male and came up with the word "domineering." That isn't my definition of an alpha male. I didn't want to throw words around carelessly, so I did some research of my own. What I found was more my take on the subject. So, I want to clarify that my three fellows are not domineering. Not at all. They all want to be the leader. They all are confident, assertive, and determined. Are they all this way all the time? No. Are they all this way at the same time? Well, sometimes. Do they like to wrestle on the floor like a pack of pups? Yes! So now that we are operating on my definition, let's move on.

Carter had some portraits made and he was not happy about it. I couldn't believe how uncooperative he was, especially considering he loves to have his picture taken. Well, the photographer wouldn't let him do what he wanted. She wanted him to pose her way. That is, she didn't want him to wear his sunglasses, hold an old gigantic cell phone to his ear, point at the camera and scrunch up the right side of his face like he's winking. See, Alpha 2 had his own agenda and it wasn't matching up with the professional's course of action. She tried to hold out his poses as a reward and probably, she should have just let him get it out of his system. I understand her strategy. Things can easily spiral out of control and the whole session turns into a 5 year old making funny faces. But honestly, giving him instructions like "tilt your head to the right" isn't that effective. It renders a boy who is touching his left ear to his left shoulder. So, then you are left with slowly tweaking it by saying "Not so much. A little higher. Little more. A little more." That is frustrating for any kid. But he rallied when she began playing games with him. Nathan and I went to look at the proofs yesterday and I was astonished. They were gorgeous! We told the manager that the photographer was amazing to get those pictures from such an unhappy and uncooperative guy like Carter was that day. Of course, the best one was the one with the sunglasses, cell phone, and finger-pointing.

Last night, Nathan took the boys off to the grocery to pick up some supper items. Kroger is two short blocks away, but I had no expectation that they would make it back in less than an hour. It seems that every trip they take together turns into some adventure or interesting discovery. I heard them roll into the driveway but no one darkened the doorstep for a while. I began to wonder. Then, Carter enters and hands me a ticket. A real ticket to "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." I looked at the expired ticket and asked "what should I do with this?" He instructed me "Take it outside and give it to Daddy. He'll show you." Okay. I turned to get my shoes on as Carter ran out the back door yelling "her's coming! Her's coming!" I went out the front door and walked around to the back. I had no idea where they were. As I cleared the side of the house, I saw Nathan up in the clubhouse, with Will, and a huge sign that said "CATS." I looked down at my ticket and back to the Cats on the green plastic roof and proceeded to laugh hysterically. I told them that only they could find a huge CATS sign and a ticket for that play on the same trip. Nathan said look what it says on the other side. He flipped it and there was another word completely appropriate for my Kentucky rooting, cat loving, God proclaiming son. I laughed some more and said "we'll have to show Mrs. Barlow. She says Carter will be the next Billy Graham." When we are not cheering the cats on, we can just flip the sign over and have a "REVIVAL."

The Rain in Spain

Talking has to be the most interesting developmental experience for me to witness. Unlike other skills, learning to speak involves years and years. While Will is beginning to put meaning to sounds and stringing some together, Carter, a few years down the road, is fine tuning pronunciation and most appropriate verb tenses. In all honesty, Carter had us worried. We've casually asked a couple speech therapists about him not saying S and some blends, like SL, were distorted.

Will's strides are exciting and fun. Just a couple of days ago, he actually said bear rather than making a growling roar. He said "bur", true to his Harlan County roots. Nathan and I loved how he said it so much that we asked him to repeat it about 15 times. Now, he thinks it's particularly entertaining to say "bur." After all, he says it and everyone laughs and claps. Last night, he recited his entire repertoire to his Mimi on the phone. She asked him to say some words that were kind of unrealistic, but he really tried to say them. Still, though, my favorite is when he's asked "Will, can you say cat?" He stretches his lips wide and says "Neeeeooooow."

Carter's recent strides are more bittersweet. We were driving down the road and he said "I'm kind of sleepy." The realization of what just happened smacked me in the face. I asked him to repeat what he said. Again, "I'm kind of sleepy." For at least two years, it was "squeepy." I began to wonder how long I had missed it. When had he suddenly turned into a little boy from my preschooler? Then, just this morning, he said "I also...." and a tear welled up in my eye. No longer is also - "auswee." At least we still have "skank you" for thank you. Every time he prays, Nathan and I bite our lips so we don't smile too big as Carter starts out, "God, skank you...."

Carter had his kindergarten check up this week. He did great and Dr. Mack declared him to be a delight. I was surprised that his weight was in the 50-75 percentile! I expressed this surprise to the doctor and instructed Carter to show him his muscles. Carter sucked in his belly as far as possible, revealing all his ribs and to the trained eye some internal organs, I'm sure. Dr. Mack said "Wow! Look at those muscles! It's frightening!" That was the perfect response to the sight we all beheld. Skank you, Dr Mack.

Fire Dog Week by Dickens

This week has been the best of times. It has been the worst of times. So, same as always.

Will, though he’s been sleeping well recently, woke up in the middle of the night. I don’t wake up easily, and Nathan is on automatic pilot at that time of night. He brought Will back to sleep with us for the last few hours of slumber. I vaguely remember Will arriving but it didn’t really wake me. As the morning light spread across the room, I awoke for a minute and saw Will begin to stir. Thinking quickly, I immediately played ‘possum; if he sees that he’s supposed to still be sleeping, maybe he’ll just turn over and go back to sleep. However, I saw him stretch his toes and that is the universal sign for “I”m waking up now.” I stuck to my plan and kept my eyes closed even as he sat up. I stole a peek through my lashes and hoped he didn’t catch me. Then, as I lay there, eyes closed and Will not making a noise, he silently leaned his head to mine and sweetly kissed my cheek. My eyes sprung open and he kissed me again. It was the best way to wake up ever. I still said nothing and he leaned over and gave his daddy a kiss on his cheek, too. It was the best of times.

On Saturday we walked up to the UK campus for Lemonade on the Lawn. It was a wonderful spring evening with some delightful music at the amphitheater. That is until Carter began to be moved by the music. It started out subtly with him sitting and tapping his knee to the beat. Then, he laid down and continued to keep time on his knee. However, without warning, Carter became so moved that he rose to his feet and began undulating his entire body to the beat - though it was to his parents embarrassment, the crowd seemed greatly entertained by his performance. Oh, that it had ended there. No, he decided to play his air guitar as our friend Chelsea sang down front. I told Nathan that Carter was distracting from the performers and he just laughed. He later mingled with others in the audience and entertained them as well. Where does he get it?

Today, however, has been tougher. Nathan discovered that Carter sneaked off with an entire roll of Rollos. He was therefore punished with no chocolate, no candy, nor any ice cream for a solid week. Whew. Then somehow this afternoon, he lost television privileges. He tried to sneak some chocolate chips again and even more punishment was levied. Yet, he turned it around when I said that I had asked if he could be helper to earn some one dessert a day. Dessert is Carter’s currency. He didn’t really miss the tv. He began to help me out as much as he could. I asked if he could bring the telephone to me and he did so with a bow and a “I’m at your service.” I had to laugh. He worked on his math book Papa gave him, and he did some counting and reading with his Leappad. He picked up toys. He was an angel. He told me, “Mama, I’m like a fire dog.” I didn’t really understand and kind of let him know I wasn’t following. “Well, you know how the fire dog only gets treats when he does something good? That’s like me. I do good things and I can earn treats.”’ I told him that was very astute. He let me know that he didn’t know what astute meant. The ability to accurately assess a situation (OED). Yep, Carter is astute.

Last night, Nathan took the family to see The Blue Man group. Carter loved it. Not because of the incredible visual artistry. Not because of the fantastic drumming. Not because of the acute humor. No, Carter wants to go again because they threw marshmallows out into the audience and he got to eat one. Oh, AND they shot streamers out over the crowd and he returned with a small hill of it.

Now that I think about it, it was probably mostly the best of times.

I never promised you a bed of roses

I vaguely remember a country song from when I was little that said "I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden." I also remember my mother quoting it to me from time to time when things didn't go my way or seemed harder than I felt was necessary. This phrase is kind of Biblical. God doesn't promise an easy life. Actually, I think he promises us just the opposite.

These past few weeks have been pretty wild and woolly for our family. Mimi checked into the hospital to have her pacemaker replaced. Papa and Aunt Eva moved into our house. Nathan flew off to Hong Kong and returned for 36 hours then flew back out to Trinidad. I figured the only way we were going to survive would be to adhere to a strict schedule. So, I began to plan out how these 10 days of upheaval would go. Strict meal times, bed times, and frequent activities. That lasted about 1 day. Maybe 1 day. Which actually wasn't so bad because the kids were doing great. Listening and obeying and being helpful. I thought "well, this is going to be a breeze." Just after this thought emanated from my brain, just like a house of cards, the order of our house began to collapse.

First, the boys would ransack a room and leave it. After twice, I began to lose my cool. I thought the weather warming up would be the solution but then they would go outside and drag their toys in trails out there. Of course, the nice weather was short-lived. I was left to pick up toys in the backyard, in the dark, before the rain began. After the rain, Carter figured out how to open the garage, so there was a trail of those toys leading into the yard. The weather became an official cold snap and Carter had his first soccer game which he refused to participate in. I have to admit it was too cold for me. We sat all huddled up trying to keep warm. I kept trying to encourage him to go in and run around and he'd warm up, but he refused. However, he loves his new uniform. His team is black and he happily announced "I makes me look like Dark Vader!" He, therefore, wants Will and me to wear white so that we can be "stoom troopers." Carter and I have been bonding during Star Wars Sundays on Spike tv. One would think that I would own the entire double trilogy, but I don't. Just the last three which were really the first three. Carter sits riveted to the tv as Luke and his friends battle the Evil Empire and free the galaxy.

As my patience was waned, Carter has shown great patience with me. He hasn't lost his temper or even seemed upset. Of course, when you're upset with someone and they stay calm it only makes you angrier. Especially when it's a 5 year old. I'll be happy when he grows out of his current phase. He is clearly testing the limits to see where he stands. God will have to show us, his parents, and extra portion of mercy as we figure out how to deal with his developing independence and confidence.

As we were driving down the road a few nights ago, Carter announced to me that he likes 3 things: Candy, Girls, and Cats. I kind of wanted to laugh but was pretty insulted that his family wasn't on the list. I questioned him "What about God" trying to prod him into more acceptable priorities. He said "I said like; I love God. God is number 1." Oh, okay. Still no mention of his family. "What about your family?" "Well, okay, I'll put you at 10." I was then feeling the insult and told him 10 seemed awfully low for family when candy, girls, and cats didn't feed, clothe, and take care of him. In a blantant effort to just get me to be quiet he said , "Alright, 16, I'll put you at 16." Then I had to laugh. I negotiated myself even lower.

Watching Will is a lot of fun. He loves it when Nathan rolls Will's car window up and down. He'll just die laughing and that makes us laugh and do it more. He'll climb up on my bed at night and snuggle right up next to me in the sweetest, most loving way that will make you want him to never grow up. He is beginning to like giving hugs and kisses. As we would leave Mimi's hospital room, I would ask him to give her a hug and kiss and sure enough, he'd trot right over to her and plant one on her. She was enamored every time. He's so charming. His vocabulary grows as we read and read. Yesterday he said orange. Orange. I love to hear him call our names and listen to him ramble on in his own language. Last Friday, he laid a sentence on me and I was so shocked to hear multiple words strung together I said "excuse me? What did you say?" I really thought he'd said something I should have recognized. He's still a climber, but he gets it out on the club house in the back yard. Except that he won't slide down unless I hold his hand. I can't blame him really; it shoots him out across the yard and he lands with a thud. So, he goes out back with Carter, he climbs up and plays for awhile. I'll hear "ma-ma! Ma-ma!" I walk out there, hold his hand and he slides down. They could play out there all day it seems.

Finally, Carter told me about something that happened to him at school that made him mad. He explained it with such passion. I asked him what he said to the kids or Mrs. Barlow and he replied "I got mad in my head. I didn't say anything. I was thinking it in my head." Impressive.