Awesome in a bucket

First, I must point out that Kaes and Duncan have an insatiable need to correct/contradict each other. That being said, here is the conversation overheard from the backseat Saturday night.

Duncan (having asked something and getting the answer he wanted): Awesome in a bucket!

Kaes: You can't put awesome in a bucket.

Duncan: *mumble mumble* awesome in a bucket *mumble mumble* You can put me in a bucket, Kaes.

Star Students

At Duncan's school they give out Noble Knights to kids (ahem, scholars) who are being particularly good. Earlier this week Duncan almost got one. One of his teachers noticed that he was trying very hard not to laugh (apparently something very funny-but-inappropriate had just happened). Just as she was complimenting him on his self control, he let it all out in a huge guffaw. To which his teacher said, "Well, I guess you're not going to get one after all."

On the exact same day, Kaes came home with a note for me, that she had written herself. Unfortunately, I had to sign it and return it to her teacher, so I can't give you an exact transcription, but here's the gist of it (inventive spelling not included):

Dear Mom

I missed rotations today because I came in from recess fifteen minutes late. I was very sad. I am still very sad. I promise I will never do it again.

Love
Your dotr (Okay, I remember that particular spelling very well and I just love it)

I asked her why she was so late coming in and didn't she notice that everyone else had gone inside. Well, the kindergartners were outside playing, so it wasn't like she was all alone. Didn't she notice that nobody from her class was still outside? Yes, she did. That's when she went inside (FIFTEEN minutes late). Then she told me about four boys in her class who were going to have to write notes to the other teachers because they were being obnoxious. I asked her if she was being obnoxious too (I recognized some of these boys as kids she plays with and it made me a bit nervous). No, she hadn't been obnoxious. Was she sure about that? Yes. "I wasn't in rotations today, was I?"

I believe that's what they call an alibi. She was innocent of being obnoxious. Thank heaven.

I know how I rank...

Me: Duncan, get ready for school.

Duncan: Why?

Me: Because I am your mother and it is the joy of your life to do what I say.

Duncan: No, the joy of my life is marshmallows covered with melted chocolate.


Who knew?

She has a future in the U.N.

Kaes: (Wishing it was recess so she could chase people.) He used to hate me, but now he's afraid of me.

curses

I've heard there is a Chinese curse that goes "May you live in interesting times." Well, here's one for you: May you have intelligent children.

Duncan: I got my math homework done at school today.
Me: Really? That's awesome. Did you remember to bring home your lunchbox?
Duncan: . . .
Me: Duncan!
Duncan: Mom, remember to focus on the positive.
(Duncan can sometimes have a negative outlook on things, so we are constantly telling him to focus on the positive. I believe I called him a turd after that little exchange.)


Jonathon (running out to the car as I'm leaving to pick up his brother from school): Mom, I have to tell you something. You starting the car reminded me.
Me (sitting in the middle of the road): What do you have to tell me?
Jonathon: This time next year I'll have my learner's permit.
(I believe I also called him a turd at this point.)

Somebody missed the point...

Kaes: Why did the chicken cross the road really fast?

Me: I don't know. Why did the chicken cross the road really fast?

Kaes: Mom! I've told you this a million times!

battle of the sexes

A few days ago I was babysitting for a friend whose youngest happens to be exactly four months younger than my youngest. Needless to say, they've grown up together and fluctuate between a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship and a brother/sister relationship. I'm not certain which is more volatile.

We went to the park, but it was too crazy hot to stay for long, so we came home after only a short time. On the way back, they found a a dead worm on the sidewalk. The two of them, not realizing the worm was already dead, discussed its fate until I told them to hurry up and keep walking.

Kaes (to Ben): You killed the worm?! Don't you care about the entire planet?

Ben mutters incoherently until Kaes catches up to me: Mom, are worms helpful?

Me: Yes, they are.

Kaes: Told you, Ben.

A few moments of complete silence while Ben looks like he wants to stick his tongue out at Kaes, but I'm watching, then:

Ben: When I grow up I'm going to be able to baptize, but you won't.

I think Ben may have won that round.

Future boyfriends beware

Kaes (very cheerful): Duncan, did you just tell me to shut-up? Oh no you don't!

Kaes (now singing) Old Macdonald had a farm...

A good lesson to learn young

My niece and nephew have been hanging out with us this week (well, Sam left us for greener pastures--her friend's house--but she was with us for a few days).

Tuesday night Jonathon, Sam and Jake (Duncan was gone with Anne to get his late-but-much-loved birthday present) played the Lego board game. There was much swiping of blocks, and laughing, and "Hey, what'd you do that for!" coming from the living room. When the game was over Jonathon came into the kitchen and said to me, in a very quiet voice, "I have learned something while Sam has been here. It is very easy to offend teenage girls. Even when you don't mean to."

There is so much truth revealed in that one statement. For one, not only is my son right, but he is not stupid, and he can learn very obvious things. This is good. It's great to be able to learn the less-obvious things, but not being able to learn the really obvious things can be detrimental to your health. I'm glad he picked up on this one.

Second, it implies that there were times when he didn't actually intend to offend his cousin. This gives me hope, and faith that I am in fact raising a gentleman. I am so proud.

The third thing didn't really become clear until I was talking to Matthew about it later, but having Sam with us for those few days was a very valuable experience for Jonathon, one that he probably doesn't even realize he should be grateful for. Although Kaes has done a great job of training her brothers in the proper way to compliment a girl and notice her new clothes and things like that, she will not be a teenager until after Jonathon has gone on his mission and off to college (assuming he follows the life plan we have laid out for him--which he had better). It is extremely important to understand that there is a huge difference between little girls (even when they are going on thirty) and girls with actual hormones running amock. Even if Jonathon forgets this most valuable lesson, he will recall it with increasing clarity as he goes through the next several years of school, especially as the girls get more settled into being teenagers. Though he did learn a truth, he still does not appreciate how big a truth it really is.

Lynne's blog

This week I have been attending the writer's conference at BYU. Lynne Snyder has been our wonderful, lovely assistant each morning while we workshop. Not only is she a great writer, but she also is very nice and she feeds us. I am like a lost puppy (or my daughter): if you feed me, I will love you for life. So I told Lynne today I would accost her until she gave me the recipe for her breakfast bars (I'm not completely certain what that means, but it sounded menacing). She referred me to her blog. Here it is, for any of those pitiful few who read my blog, and for me, so I won't lose it.

http://snyderfamilycookbook.blogspot.com

Yes, I know there's a way to make the link right here, and I even know I've done it before. What I don't know is how to do it again, and I am amazingly too tired to try to figure it out now. I just don't want to lose the recipe for the breakfast bars (that not-yet-link only takes you to her cooking blog, you still have to do a search for breakfast bars).

Happy Anniversary to Us!

I fell in love with Matthew in Camelot. This is true. There used to be a park just off the Springville exit called Camelot. It is no longer there, which is sad, but that is where I fell in love with Matthew for good and certain. If you've already heard the story, well, I happen to think it's a rather nice romance, and if you haven't, then we should talk, because there's LOTS more than just this. Like the conversation in front of Bridal Veil Falls where he told me he didn't feel right about dating me. But this post is about how I fell in love with him, not how I wanted to strangle him.

We went to Camelot one Saturday (NOT on a date) and wandered around enjoying the shade under the trees and just talking. There was an irrigation ditch/canal that went through the park, and on the other side of it was this beautiful meadow. We wanted to go walk in the meadow, but to get there we had to walk across a log over the ditch. Now, it was a good-sized log, and if it had been on the ground I could have walked on it till the cows came home. But it wasn't on the ground, it was over some truly nasty-looking water, and there was just no way I was going to risk falling into that muck. There was also a four-year-old little boy wearing shorts and cowboy boots that was just zipping back and forth across that thing. He made me feel very foolish. But not foolish enough to walk across that log. And I really wanted to go walk in that meadow. So Matthew sat down on the log facing me, his long legs almost dipping in the water below, and told me to sit down facing him. Then he scooted backwards across the log, telling me to look at him and not down at the water, until we reached the other side. The little boy stood on the bank and laughed and teased Matthew about being too scared to stand up and walk across the log. Matthew never even said a word to him, he just kept talking to me, calmly, until we made it across. The meadow, by the way, was a mosquito breeding ground like I've never seen before. You actually couldn't breath because they would fly in your mouth or up your nose. It was nasty, so in only a few moments, we were back on the log again, Matthew scooting backwards until we were back on the other side. He never did say anything to the kid. And I fell in love with him.

A week later I went back to Camelot by myself and walked across the log several times. I didn't fall, and I didn't scoot, and I didn't tell anybody I was going to do it. Matthew had already made it impossible for me to fail. It was already okay if I was too afraid to walk across, but that time, I wasn't.

The rest of the story is that less than a year later we were married (it still took some time after that for us to actually date, but I said I wouldn't go into that here). Today makes it a whopping, wonderful fifteen years, and Matthew is still scooting across logs for me, telling me to look at him, not the scary stuff around me, and making it impossible for me to fail.

How absolutely fitting that I fell in love with him in Camelot.

Moab

Last weekend we took our third-annual, second-to-Moab camping trip with my sister and her family. It was tons of fun. I am a born-in-Oregon, give-me-trees-and-water kind of girl, but I have to say that Moab is growing on me. It could be that the weather both times we've been there has been PERFECT. Sun, but enough of a breeze to keep you from wanting to crawl under a rock and die. Not too hot and downright gorgeous. Absolutely wonderful weather.

We got to our KOA campsite about 10:30 Friday night because that's what we do. We have yet to pitch a tent by anything other than lantern/flashlight. If there were places closer to Utah valley that were as much fun to visit, we might stand a better chance of getting there while the sun is still up, but I don't see that happening. Also, as a follow-up to the business with Kaia, on the way down Matthew and I were talking and Kaes said, "Mama, if Daddy annoys you, roll your eyes at him." I am now getting communication pointers from my six-year-old. I'm so looking forward to her teenage years.

Saturday we went to Arches. Last visit we got going much earlier and spent the whole day going from arch to arch and hiking around. Kaes was most anxious to do this again. In fact, instead of "Are we there yet?" the undying refrain in the car was, "When are we going to climb rocks." Remember, the last time we were there she was only four years old. What the crap was I thinking? In any case, we really only stopped at three places this time (well, three and a half. There was a potty break where Kaes and I went off on an explore by ourselves and wound up in this gorgeous little canyon. I could hear the silence--behind Kaes' constant chatter and movement. It was amazing.)

The first place was one we had visited before, and we probably wouldn't have stopped this time if Kaes hadn't been making me crazy wanting to get out and climb rocks. So we stopped and climbed rocks for half an hour or so. That gave us just enough leeway to make it to the end of the road (I didn't even know there was an end of the road, but it loops back on itself and heads you back out again). That one was a bit of a hike, but by then it was late-ish afternoon and the sun wasn't right overhead so it was very enjoyable. Then we headed back and stopped at the sandbox to end all sandboxes.

The sandbox arch is a very short walk from the road and it's a very small arch. I was right in front of it before I realized it was there. Most paths take you to some kind of viewpoint, or even right under the arch, but this one, the arch was kind of off to the side. The fact that it's so small and the cliff behind it is so much larger helps to disguise the fact that there is an arch right in front of (well, beside) you. But the sand. That was the fun part. They don't call it sanbox arch for nothing. We dug holes, we buried kids, kids crawled through it, rolled down it, made angels in it (including my 'kid' sister). I swear the sandbox as a whole dropped a foot with all the sand we took home with us in our clothes and hair and shoes... But it was crazy fun. Even though we got there while the sun was still up, it was full dark by the time we made it back to the cars. And I was paid a most wonderful compliment. Duncan and Tessa were digging holes in the sand together. I went off a little bit away from them and started digging my own hole (I didn't want to interfere). Then I heard Duncan say, "My mom is playing in the sand." Tessa said, "I didn't know moms play in the sand." And Duncan said, "My mom does." It warmed the cockles of my heart. Of course, this is also the child who was stunned to find out last year that I can skip, so I'm beginning to wonder exactly what kind of alien these kids think parents (or at least moms) are.

Sunday (Mother's Day) was somehow even better than the day before, at least for me. Kaes remembered all on her own that it was Mother's Day and was the first to wish me happiness and give me a hug for the occasion. We had breakfast and packed up and then spent most of the day in town at some parks CarrieAnne had found online. The first park was utterly amazing, with a whole group of xylophones and drums and other such percussiony instruments right there in the park. Non of them were broken and they actually made music (at least when people who know how to make music played with them. I was particularly impressed that my very own Jonathon was playing songs on them). The kids had a wonderful time playing with those and could have stayed and done that for hours, except I heard a father with his young son wading in the stream that ran through the park and the father pointing out crayfish (or crawdads, what we called them) to his son. I ran and called my kids (and Matthew) over to the stream, took off my shoes and socks and went in to catch a crawdad. This was something from my childhood (though I admit that as a child if I was told a stream had crawdads in it, I would forever after stay out of the stream) that I wanted to share with my kids. It wasn't quite as easy as I thought it would be, but I persevered, and in the end was able to show my kids a real live crawdad (and then set it free, of course). It was an absurdly satisfying thing to do on Mother's Day and made me a little misty-eyed, I admit. As their mother, I am responsible for their education, and I taught them a little something they are not going to get on their own, growing up in Utah valley. It was pretty dang cool.

The next park we went to had a duck pond, though it was fenced off, so we had to throw the bread over the fence. Whatever. However, I also spotted a bullfrog about the size of a salad plate and was able to point that out to my kids too (hey, I got the animals, and that's all I've got. Matthew has EVERYTHING ELSE when it comes to "who knows the most about..."(a game my kids love to play) so I've got to do what I can when I can. The animal kingdom itself may be fairly large, but it's only ONE THING. Everything else they go to Matthew.)

Then we went letterboxing. Again, last trip we did several, this time only one, but it was pretty dang cool. It was a four mile hike round trip, but it was mostly level ground (nothing for Kaes to fall off of to her death--what were we thinking last time?!?) and it turned out to be totally worth it, though I must admit I was nervous for a bit there. The letterbox was hidden next to some dinosaur tracks, and when we saw our first 'dinosaur tracks' I was most unhappy. They could have been anything and I realized way too late in the game that maybe I shouldn't have taken at face value the clue: "at the first dinosaur track." Maybe there were supposed to be "quotes" around the "dinosaur track." I was quite miffed. But as we went a little farther, we found dinosaur tracks that were actually dinosaur tracks, and that was incredibly cool. Super cool. Then I was very happy that the only letterbox we did was the one with the dinosaur tracks.

That was pretty much our trip. We got back home at 2:00 Monday morning and I spent all of Monday and Tuesday in bed. No, wait, that's not true. I went on Duncan's fieldtrip with him to This Is the Place state park on Monday, which is why nothing got done all day and I still spent Tuesday in bed. Anyway, I really wanted to post a blog when I got back and this is the first chance I've had to do it. Sorry it's such a long blog, but if I didn't do it now, it wouldn't get done at all. I love Moab, and I love going on vacations with CarrieAnne and her family. And I had a great Mother's Day.

That Anthony

They had a walk-a-thon at Kaes's school this morning. Though Kaes is in the afternoon kindergarten class, I took her over for the walk-a-thon because first, the girl loves to run (more on that later) and second, anything to siphon off some of her energy is a good thing.

On our way over to the school (yes, we drove one block to the walk-a-thon--we were late, as usual) Kaes was telling me about Anthony. Remember Anthony? A few months back the girl informed him it was his turn to chase her, since she had been chasing him the whole time. Well, Anthony is in the morning class, so Kaes doesn't get to see him often I guess (I'm not really certain how they see each other at all, but I've got bigger things to worry about at the moment). She was very 'distraught' that she was going to be seeing Anthony at the walk-a-thon, because she doesn't like him.

I said, "But Kaes, I thought you chased him."

"Mom," she said (in a tone of voice I wasn't expecting to hear until she was a teenager) "I chase him because I don't like him."

Oh. Well, things are certainly different than they were when I was in school. I thought the whole point of chasing was because you DID like somebody. Whatever.

She also mentioned a boy named Kaia (I have no idea how to spell his name) and that she doesn't like him either.

So, we got to school and started walking (a total of two miles when all was said and done, and the girl was ready to do more). After a couple of laps I finally got to meet Anthony, a boy sporting long brown curls, cowboy boots and an attitude. And the girl? The emotion in her voice when she called out "Hi, Anthony!" was not "I hate you."

I am in so much trouble.

But then, so are her future boyfriends, if she continues to have this confusion about 'like' and 'hate.'

Now for Kaia. Or maybe walking.

After walking a lap or two she asked if we could run. I said no. She said, "But Mom, I heard you like running." Really? Where on earth did you hear that? I still told her no. She said, "But we're here to exercise." I told her walking was exercise. Eventually she wore me down and we would run in thirty-second spurts (I like running--NOT!). Eventually she just got tired of me and went running on her own. My Jonathon has these freaking gazelle legs and when he runs it's just crazy to watch him go. However, his little sister has a passion for it that he doesn't quite possess. The girl can run. Forever. She just goes. Weaves in and out of people and trees (may she grow out of that before she ever gets behind the wheel of a car), her hair flying all over the place. The girl loves to run.

So she spent the last several laps way off in front of me, and at one point I saw her walking with a boy (long blond hair). They did not look like they were fighting or wishing imminent, painful death on each other. When we finally hooked up again (to go home so I could write this blog...uh, pack for our camping trip tonight) I asked her who the blond boy was. Kaia, of course. As we were leaving the playground she said, "Because I don't like him, I rolled my eyes at him."

Have I mentioned I'm in trouble?

Why I shop at Macey's

Today Duncan went to the store with me. While we were over in the dairy section, he found a box cutter lying in one of those open chest refrigerator things (yes, I am very articulate, thank you). He picked it up and asked me if he could take it to the front of the store and hand it in. An employee just happened to be stocking stuff down the aisle in front of us, so I told Duncan to go give it to him. Duncan went over and gave it to the guy, I put some yogurt in my cart, and we moved on. A few minutes later, when we were at the other end of the meat section, the employee came up to us with a handful of Smarties and asked me if it was okay if he gave them to Duncan (of course I said yes). He praised Duncan for bringing the box cutter to him and said it could have been really dangerous if a younger kid had found it instead.

Now, this wasn't some earth-shattering thing. Duncan didn't stop a bomb from going off, or hand in a wallet with a million dollars in it, and a handful of Smarties isn't going to pay his way through college (though if they lived up to their name, I would totally force-feed them to my kids every day). However, I really, really appreciate that Duncan did get recognition for doing the right thing, especially when it came from a source other than his mom. Parents are the bottom line when it comes to raising kids, but that doesn't mean the village shouldn't pitch in too. Quite frankly, when Duncan found the box cutter and wanted to hand it in, I didn't think much of it. I certainly thought he should, don't get me wrong, but after that employee came over and talked to him, there was definitely a glow about my boy. He was still glowing when he had me tell his dad about it later. I think there's a good chance he'll remember this for a long time. Definitely longer than me saying, "Go give it to that guy."

This isn't the only time something like this has happened at Macey's either. Several years ago there was a woman in the check out line in front of us who didn't speak English. She was having a hard time getting the cashier to understand what she needed, so Matthew stepped up and translated for her. Again, we didn't think much of it, but as we were leaving the store, one of the managers came up to us and gave us a thing of ice cream. It wasn't anything super fancy, but it was nice. Without getting too over the top serious, I think the world could use a little more recognition for the good things people do, not because people do the good things to get the recognition, but...why not? Who knows when a handful of Smarties is going to put somebody on the path of doing good deeds all the time? We could have an epidemic, all fueled by Smarties.

One last thing, in case you missed it earlier. I am so proud of my Duncan. Actually, maybe this is another one of those possitive side effects of a handful of Smarties. I said before that I didn't think too much about Duncan handing in the box cutter. I knew it was sharp, I knew it could be dangerous, and I was happy Duncan found it and wanted to hand it in (I can only too easily imagine finding out about it when I emptied out his pockets later). But when that employee came up with the handful of Smarties, Duncan wasn't the only one glowing. That's my boy, and he is wonderful, and sometimes it takes a complete stranger to point it out to me and remind me again that I am a lucky, lucky mom.

A few random thoughts

Do not sneeze in your sleep. Though you may have a muddled half-second warning about what's to come, you're husband won't, and it's very disconcerting for everyone when he wakes up suddenly thinking you're under attack. "Protect wife and kids" mode can become dangerous for said wife when there's nothing else there to protect against.

Do not take a mildly-trained dog, a hyper puppy and a spastic six-year-old on a walk together (alone). Especially if you only have ten minutes to get to the school only five minutes away.

Harry talks. I am not kidding, exaggerating or making this up. He is possibly the most vocal dog I have ever met, and I'm not talking yappy, barking-all-the-time dogs. He talks. It's not English, so I can't really relay it to you here, but it is decidedly not barking, and he does it when he wants my attention. It is a cross between a wolf's howl and a hound's bay. Again, I am not kidding.

I was teasing Kaes the other day. I said, "I love you." She said, "I love you too." Trying to see if she would catch on and play the game, I said, "I love you three." She did not. This morning in bed I muddled my way through this conversation (yes, I am generally muddled when I'm still in bed)-
Kaes: I love you.
Me: I love you too.
Kaes: (Some six-year-old explanation of love, ending with) Because 'I love you three' doesn't last forever.

Now you know.

More stories out of school...

Duncan told us that his beloved teacher, Miss Klauzar, was cranky today. Apparently the class was very rowdy. We asked Duncan if he was part of the rowdiness too (remember those three Think Times in the last two weeks...). His answer? "Actually, I was surprisingly well-behaved. For me."

What exactly does that mean? I'm thinking it's bad news for Miss Klauzar.

Jonathon doesn't often get mentioned in these blogs, not because he doesn't say witty things, but because his wit is so dry it's hard for me to express it on paper (as it were). Or maybe I'm just afraid that he's old enough that if he were ever to read my blog (or be approached by somebody else who had read it) he would be embarrassed. I don't usually try to embarrass my children, but tonight the boy is not sleeping under my protective benevolence.

Tonight as the kids were getting ready for bed an hour later than they should have been (one of their parents is a sucker for letting them watch Star Wars cartoons) Jonathon came in to get his reading log signed (due tomorrow--he hadn't filled it out yet because he lost track of time after five hours. His teacher only requires 2 1/2 hours, and doesn't give extra credit if they read more--that last bit added with a definite tone of annoyance in Jonathon's voice). He was also holding a math paper. We asked him what it was and he said it was homework that was due tomorrow. We looked at each other then looked at him and asked him why it wasn't already done. "I was bored, so I got distracted, and I forgot. I'll do it now." He finished it in less than three minutes.

The observation that I'm dying to make to him, but I know he won't undestand, is that this afternoon, when the boredom was at its height (Jonathon and Duncan were watching TV from the couch in the living room upstairs, while the TV is against the opposite side of the house in the family room downstairs) he might not have been so bored if he had actually been doing his homework. (I have to say here that if it was Duncan and math homework, the child would have been bored to tears. But this is Jonathon, and he loves math, and really only gets bored with it when it's too easy. Show off.)

In the good old days, you didn't get to be bored until AFTER all your work was done.

Time out

They have a thing at Duncan's school called Think Time. When one of the kids gets into (enough) trouble, they have to go to another classroom and, apparently, fill out a form about why they are in trouble and what they need to do to fix it. Duncan had two trips to Think Time last week for talking. I knew about these, though I never saw the forms. This morning as I was putting his lunch in his backpack I found a form from yesterday. This makes three Think Times in two weeks, when he's never had a Think Time the entire rest of the year (as far as I know). I think spring is having a detrimental influence on my son. We'll be talking about resisting that influence later today. However, this form is quite interesting. He had to write down what he had done wrong and which school rule it broke (respectful, responsible or ready), then how he plans to solve the problem.

The 'problem' he had was running. The 'rule' he broke was 'ready', as in "I was not READY to sit down."

I find that both hilarious and fascinating, and I can't help but wonder if most, if not all, rules we break fall under 'ready.'

"I was not ready to drive the speed limit." "I was not ready to pay for the car." "I was not ready to tell the truth." "I was not ready not to punch him in the face."

The possibilities are endless.

I have a theory...

I started reading Junie B. Jones to Jonathon and Duncan while I was pregnant with Kaes. Jonathon was going to be starting kindergarten and the books were about a little girl starting kindergarten and I thought they might be good books to help him know what to expect once he started school. I could not have been more wrong. Those books are not written for children at all. They are written for the parents. Matthew and I laughed our fool heads off, while the boys just listened with blank faces.

Then I had Kaes, and everything changed (in so many ways). Kaes is now in kindergarten and I am reading Junie B. Jones to her. Kaes loves them, though she still doesn't laugh nearly as much as I do. However, she is not as oblivious as her brothers were, either. Yesterday during our reading we came across this paragraph.

(Junie B. has gotten up while it is still dark outside because she is so excited to go to an Easter egg hunt later that day. She goes into her parents' room and her mom tells her to go back to bed.) "Yeah, only I don't think that's actually possible," I said."On account of my brain is already activated."

Kaes laughed heartily, thinking it was hilarious that Junie B. said her brain was activated. I realized that 'activated' is the perfect term for my daughter. Once she is activated (i.e. opens her eyes in the morning) there is no shutting her down.

Later, Junie B. is consulting with her elephant what she should wear that day. She tells her elephant, "Plus, good egg-hunting clothes should not be a dress, either. On account of sometimes-when I am beating people to an egg-I will have to tackle them and get in a scuffle."

Kaes, who was sitting on my lap, looked at me and said, "You can tackle in a dress."

She was not joking.

So here's my theory. I think Kaes was listening and taking notes while I was reading Junie B. Jones to her brothers seven years ago. I think she has channeled the essence of Junie B. Jones. And then I think she took it up a notch, where Barbara Park (the author) with all of her incredible imagination, never expected a six-year-old little girl to go.

Loving my girl

Today I spent about fifteen minutes in Lowe's with my daughter. I swear I grew at least one gray hair a minute. The girl cannot have both feet on the ground at the same time. She cannot not touch things. Even when things are out of reach, she's reaching for them. She alternately flits off like a hummingbird and disappears, or sweetly holds my hand and jerks me all over the place as she proceeds to chase after everything she would be going after if she wasn't holding my hand. She often doesn't have either foot on the ground, and every automatic door we came to (there are many inside Lowe's) she karate-chopped open. As we were leaving through another karate-chopped door with my arm once again almost yanked out of its socket, I commented on the fact that I wish she could just calm down. She looked at me, and with complete sincerity said, "But Mama, you want me to be who I am."

Yes, my girl, I do.

PS This morning I found her in the garage in nothing but her shirt and panties, holding the puppy. The door to the backyard was open and it was snowing outside.

Between drinking out of the dog's water bowl (she did that last fall before I started blogging) and toying with hypothermia (neither of which seemed to have any affect on her at all), she's going to have a seriously beefed-up immune system.

spring?

Driving Duncan to school this morning (in the snow).

"That's not snow. That's little fluffy rain balls."

Whatever you gotta believe to get you through the day.

Mama's helper

A couple of weeks ago the girl decided to help with the housework. When I say help, I mean vacuum. When I say vacuum, I mean if you are standing in her way, you had better hope your toes don't get sucked up.

When she finished with her voluntary helping she said, "Mama, those boys did not help me at all." How to explain that her volunteering did not make volunteers of her brothers? I'm thinking when they get married their wives will worship their sister-in-law. I expect by that time they will understand that when they see a woman doing work, they had better get up off their butts and do work too.

That was a couple of weeks ago. Nobody has vacuumed since. When I say nobody has vacuumed, I mean nobody has been able to vacuum.

Matthew and I just spent an hour replacing the vacuum belt, which broke while she was vacuuming the living room. After that we removed the bag and I had to cut it open and dig through the contents because her brothers were certain she had vacuumed up some of their legos (we all heard the terrible sound as she was vacuuming the family room). The only plastic I found belonged to some kind of toy, though not a lego, and not something that registered immediately. I also found a ballerina slipper. At least we know she isn't just targeting legos. As we were getting ready to replace the bag, the head of an orange and blue dinosaur fell out the bottom of the vacuum. That is what the mysterious piece of plastic belonged to, and probably what broke the belt. We put it all back together and I started to finally vacuum the family room, but the vacuum didn't sound right. We took it apart and checked the hose, but couldn't detect any blockage. Put it back together and tried again. Again it didn't quite work right. This time Matthew removed the hose completely and stuck a hanger down it. At last. The body of the orange dinosaur. But wait, that wasn't all. There was also a 1"x3" piece of wood in there. That must have been the horrible sound in the family room. Not a lego after all.

I think I'm going to ask the girl to give us a good thirty minute warning when she wants to help the next time. The boys might actually be motivated to pick up their stuff, since I am NOT sifting through a vacuum cleaner bag again. And I will be investing in lots of vacuum belts.

Samurai princess

Over the weekend a bunch of families got together to play games. (The adults played games, the kids just played.) At one point I found out that my pink-wearing princess (age six) kicked our hosts' eight-year-old son in the...well, she kicked him. This was witnessed by our hostess, who then saw her son push my daughter to the floor. The boy got in trouble for pushing a girl, and the girl was mildly advised not to kick boys. Especially there. I was going to go reprimand my daughter less mildly, and I probably should have, but I must admit there was a part of me that was rather proud of her. And then there's the fact that in this day and age it kind of sticks in my throat to tell my daughter to 'be nice to boys.' I am perfectly fine with her feeling capable of kicking a boy...anywhere, if he deserves it. The problem with this weekend is that they were fighting over which of the many rooms available to them they were going to play in. He didn't deserve it, and she needs to know that, but I don't want to quash at the age of six her reflex to fight back when she feels threatened. I also don't wish to go into detail on the various ways she could wind up feeling threatened some day. So I left her with the mild reproach she got from my friend and hoped that the instinct would remain intact, tempered by an understanding of when it's okay to kick and when it's better to just go play in another room.

I am happy to report that the fighting instinct hasn't gone anywhere in the last forty-eight hours. This evening we met with the same family at the track of the junior high by their house. The idea was to walk around the track and get exercise. That idea was lost on the children. They were too busy playing in sand for the long jump, sitting in the grass, and, towards the end, jumping on the pads for the high jump. There were two other boys at the pads, apparently brothers, who were giving the kids a hard time. The older of the two told them he was going to call 911 because they were not supposed to play on the pads and they were trespassing (despite the fact that his brother was actually lying under the top pad and making it impossible for our kids to jump without landing on him). We told the two boys to leave the kids alone, that no one was going to call the police and basically told everyone to leave everyone else alone. By the time we were down at the other end of the track, though, it was obvious they were back at it. Our kids were jumping on the pads, the two brothers were on their bikes, apparently telling them to get off. And then, from down the field, I see my six-year-old hop down off the pads and march up to the twelve/thirteen-year-old. She stopped right in front of him, and even from that distance, it was clear she was having an in-your-face moment. She wasn't yelling or anything, but her stance said nothing of compliance or backing down.

Later, I found out from my son that her comment at that moment was, "I'll take care of him."

He's lucky he was sitting on a bike.

sarcasm

Matthew and I are perpetually late. Anyone who knows us knows this. I apologize to everyone I have been late to in the past, and all those I will still be late to in the future, because trust me, it will happen again. Having said that, I have a thirteen-year-old who hates to be late. He really is a mellow young man, but there are a few things that set him off, and being late (especially to things that are important to him) is one of those things. I think it is further proof that God has a sense of humor. He sent a punctual child (not that he had ANY inclination to be punctual on his way down thirteen years ago) to chronically tardy parents. We have the car keys and the power to MAKE him late all the time. It really is amusing.

Tonight at dinner we were doing highlights and lowlights. First off, let me say that we live less than a block away from our church and my son goes early on his own (he doesn't need us with the car keys to get there). When it was my turn for hightlights I said that one of my highlights was getting to church before the opening prayer. The so-n-so of a teenager said, "You did?" then clapped and gave me a thumbs up. I blame this on his father, who is often sarcastic on top of being late, and who was also laughing his fool head off.

Pay It Forward

The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade (or possibly store-bought) gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. It won't be free though . . . in order to qualify you need to post this same thing on your own blog and then come back and leave a comment telling me you've done it. Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift!

What's good for the goose...

Me: Kaes, are you going to wear your tennis shoes to school today?
Kaes: Yes, the boys are going to be chasing me so I need to run.
Me: How do you know the boys are going to be chasing you?
Kaes: I asked them to.
Me: You did? What did they say?
Kaes: Yes.
Me: Why did you ask them to chase you?
Kaes: Anthony is in the other class and I've been chasing him. I decided it was his turn to chase me now.

the reason for this blog

My kids.

The other day the princess was sitting under her bed in her pink nightgown, propped up on her pink pillows, wrapped in a pink blanket, watching Cinderella. Oh, and wearing blue sunglasses. The blue sunglasses were the kicker, especially since it was all done so naturally, without expectation of an audience. I tried covertly to get a picture of her, but she saw me, hunched up one shoulder, and grinned a cheesy grin. Also a natural state for her, but not quite as sincere as watching Cinderella through blue sunglasses.

Later that day she changed out of the pink nightgown into a beautiful blue and white blouse with ruffles down the front and around the hem and cuffs. She had a play date with her best friend that afternoon and was dressed to kill. This was the first time she had worn this shirt and she was so excited. Couldn't keep her eyes off any reflective surface she passed in front of. When her daddy got home that evening, she prepared for her grand entrance. From the other room she called out, "Get ready to be amazed!" Then she came in, ruffles flounced, dimple dimpling, and simply the cutest thing this side of heaven. After her daddy had given the appropriate response and adored her as was her due, he left to change out of his work clothes and she said, "I knew that would pop your eyes." I have said it before, and I don't see any chance of not being able to say it in the future, the girl is a princess.

A few days later I was on my way to the car with my curly-topped, intensely dimpled boy. It was warmish, there was no snow or ice on the sidewalk, and I could see actual patches of grass through the snow on the front yard. Practically balmy. Definite false-promises of spring to come. I couldn't help it. I skipped. The boy stopped in the act of opening the car door, looked at me, and said, "You were skipping." "Yes," I said, "I do that sometimes. I know how, you know." "But," my lovely, angelic boy said, "you're old." Need I add that he was not teasing me?

And then there's my oldest, who has plans to do experiments on me. Yesterday I woke up with a migraine. The medicine I take for migraines knocks me out for several hours (it thankfully also knocks out the migraine). Matthew had to go pick up some business associates from the airport and took Duncan with him, which left Jonathon to take care of Kaes while I spent the rest of the day in a post-migraine, drug-induced coma. I also have a cold that is just not going away, so occasionally I would have these coughing fits that wouldn't quite wake me up enough to do anything about them. Jonathon came in during one of these coughing fits and asked if he could make me some tea to help me feel better. I told him yes. That is all I remember. Apparently, shortly after that, he came back in with the tea and asked me if I wanted it. I mumbled incoherently at him, then rolled over into more coma time. He took the tea and left. When I woke up a few hours later, he told me about our little interchange and I told him about the totally wacky dreams I had (I have VERY strange dreams when I am sleeping because of medicine). Then a little bit after that my boy comes in and says, "Mom, the next time you have a migraine and sleep all day like that, I'm going to come in and if you mumble at me and don't really wake up like you did this time, I'm going to say something really weird to you and see if appears in your dreams." Thank you, son. I'm glad I haven't become old and boring yet.