Shark Week Obsession



What a beautiful animal!

 In the midst of all of the debate on whether or not to raise the debt ceiling, the second favorite Holiday of the Burgess Bunch arrived--and no I am not talking about the celebration of JK Rowling's birthday. IT'S SHARK WEEK BABY!!

Ever since Ian was a tiny tot, he has been interested in animals. Not just their names and the sounds they make but their species, genus, family, order, class, phylum, kingdom (that is all I remember from biology. Sorry Mr. Barton). And from an early age, he had a very incredible ability to remember large amounts of facts and data about all sorts of animals. Marine life are among his favorites; sharks and whales his most favorite. (He says he wants to be an FBI agent but I wouldn't be shocked if he was working as a biologist one day). Hence, our love of Shark Week was born and each year, we all veg out on the couch for hours taking in every show that Discovery has to offer about sharks; even ones we have seen many times before.

This morning at 6:30 am, Ian came to my bedside to ask me what channel he needed to punch on the remote to get to Discovery Channel. Seriously. Obsessed. So we got up and started watching it. I left for the office and they had it on when I got home. Poor Will was so exhausted from 'shark watching' that he fell asleep on the couch early tonight while we learned about Shark migration patterns. Which turned out to be a good thing because Rogue Sharks ended up being quite gruesome. I even had to reassure Ian that he had a better chance of being struck by lightening than being attacked by a shark. I think he believed me. If not, he might not be a biologist after all.

And honestly, I am not a huge advocate of my kids watching a ton of TV. I believe in hours of play in the back yard. But Shark Week is an exception. For one, it is hot as blue blazes outside and I don't feel like having to sit in the heat to watch them play. Two, we really are learning a lot about science, sharks, marine life, and conservation. Even though his stomach turned a little when we watched the man literally be carried ashore with the shark still attached to his leg, Ian understood that it really wasn't the shark's fault. Thanks to programs like this and steady guidance from my conservationist Dad, the boys really have a deep respect for the fact that animals share the planet with us. Just like they know not to kill a snake (even when poisonous) because he is just as afraid of you as you are of him, they know that if you swim into a shark's habitat (ocean), you can't blame him for taking a test bite hoping you are a seal. That is an amazing lesson of appreciation for our planet to learn at such an early age. They know their outdoor pleasures (hunting and fishing) aren't just for sport, but really are about conservation; keeping numbers in a healthy realm to protect from overpopulation, disease, food supply, etc.  It makes me very proud of them.

So as we celebrate Shark Week, we hope that you will take the time to do your part to be a leader in conservation on our planet. Recycle. Plant a Tree. Respect Wildlife and their Habitats. Educate. Preserve. Conserve. And most of all, watch Shark Week. Trust us, you will love it!

Checking out a Copperhead at the Farm with Poppa.
It turned out to have been run over by a car but if not,
 we would have let him be!  

Will: You Own My Heart

As you all know, Will lives life at full speed. Right now, I am kind of afraid to take him out in public for fear that DSS might show up at our house. He has a bruise on his left cheek. He was kneeling on a throw pillow from the couch while Ian was swinging him around by his arms. He flew off the pillow and landed cheek down on the hardwood floor. He has a bruise on his right jaw. I am not completely sure how he got that one but I think it he got kicked while on the trampoline. Yesterday, he and Ian were horsing around and Will took off to run. He tripped over his own feet and ran face first into the dining room table. Yep, black right eye. He looks so pitiful. However, it hasn't slowed him down a bit.

We did go shoe shopping today and people asked him several times about his bruises. He showed each off with pride. He probably will be in UFC or something when he grows up!

When we got home from shopping, Will, Maggie and I took a nap. Yay! When we got up, Josh and Ian were across the street at the neighbor's. I asked Will if he wanted to go over. He said not without Mags. We all headed across the street---Will taking the time to hold her hand and instruct her not to cross the street until they looked both ways. He didn't rush ahead of her when the coast was clear either. He helped her across the street and all the way down the driveway.

On our return home, I started walking with the boys while Josh was coming behind with Maggie. Halfway down the driveway, Will suddenly realized I wasn't carrying Maggie. Stopping dead in his tracks, he said, "Where is my Mags?" I told him that she was spending the night with our neighbor's. "Momma, you march right back there and get my baby sister. She is too little to stay by herself. She will miss me." Laughing, I let him know that she was really coming with their Dad. At home, as I am rocking her, he comes in to give me a kiss goodnight. He then leans in to Maggie, whispers "Love you Sissy" to her and kisses her on the cheek. He turns to walk out the room but instead turns back to Maggie, kisses her on the leg, looks her in the eyes and says, 'I love you, Mags. You own my heart." Maggie rubs his head and answers back with "Love." It was the first time she said that word. Such a special moment shared by two of the three loves that own my heart.

Rockstars, Politicians & Drug Addicts

It's been a long week for the Burgess Bunch. In case you didn't know, it is hot outside. Like sweat as soon as you walk outside and can't breathe hot. On top of that misery, we have been dealing with a close friend and a family member dealing with major health issues. As a result, I haven't slept well and have been pretty grumpy. The kids have been champs about it and spent a lot of time praying with me this week. For that, I am extremely proud and grateful. We have done our best to still have fun this week. Here are some of our stories!

Will has been doing a pretty good job lately cleaning up. Since this is a huge improvement from allowing Ian to do all the cleaning, I am trying to praise him as much as I can. Me: Will, great job cleaning up those Lego's. Will: I know. I am a ROCKSTAR! He then stands up, air guitars across the room and gives me a peace sign. Awesome.

I am a total politics junkie and have been as long as I can remember. Because of that, my kids are pretty well versed in the major political players and the issues up for debate. This week is all about the debt ceiling. Ian has proclaimed his desire to fire Congress if he were able to vote. He doesn't really understand the economics of the debt ceiling, but he was happy to volunteer his Dad to loan Congress some equipment to "raise the ceiling already." Like most other Americans, he has also been very frustrated by Congress's inability to compromise. He said tonight: It's called "Let's Make a Deal" people. These jokers need to get their act together. Why does everything have to come down to a crisis with them?" Me: Because, honey, they are too busy trying to win for their side and lack the political courage to do what is best for the country. Ian: Well then maybe they need to visit the Wizard of Oz to get some darn courage. Kansas anyone?

Maggie is still working on potty training. Yesterday, she had an accident. Will: Grow up, Sister. Grow up and be good." She looks at him, pretty hurt. He then gives her a kiss and says, "I am not mad a you, Priss. You just have to do better next time." Love it.

I was driving to the grocery store this week with my kids and Cole. As we are approaching a stop light, I clue in to the fact that Ian and Cole are whispering in the back seat. The only part of the conversation I hear is "you light it up and breathe in." Fabulous. So I turn down the radio and ask them what they are talking about. Silence. I ask again. Nothing. I finally say, "It's not a big deal what you were talking about. Let's just talk about it." So Ian pipes up and says, "We were talking about the 'S' word." I think about it very quickly and realize I think he means smoking but I don't want to guess so I say, "Which word?" He responds like I should know "cigarettes." He is only going to 2nd grade. Easy mistake. I am intrigued of course as to why they are discussing smoking cigarettes. So I ask. Ian tells me they are talking about how you smoke and that cigarettes are drugs. I then explain all about how cigarettes are made and why they are dangerous to smoke. Ian then brings up the fact that one of our friends smokes. "You know, he is going to DIE." I explain that yes, smoking cigarettes is dangerous and that they can cause diseases that you can die from. Somehow the issue of drugs leads to a discussion by Ian that beer is also a drug.That is what they taught him in school this year. Therefore, drinking beer makes you a drug addict. Ian: Does that make you and Daddy drug addicts?

Great. Josh and I are drug addicts. Way to go public school system. So then I have to explain about how alcohol can be dangerous but that moderation as an adult is the key. I am exhausted from the conversation and want to circle it back around to be sure we are clear about the dangers of smoking. I bring up how much smoking costs. Ian thinks that "wasting money on something that will kill you is a REALLY bad idea." I completely agree. Satisfied that he understands smoking is bad and that his Dad and I aren't drug addicts, I wrap up the conversation.

Now you see why I feel the need to pray so much!

Brush yo teef...

Have you ever been to the dentist as a patient with kids in tow? If you haven't, you should not start now. I put it in the same category as taking a road trip by yourself (Life is a Highway...)

Today, the boys and I had appointments for the dentist. Overall, we got good reports. No cavities! 29 years and counting for me! Ian has been referred to an orthodontist. We knew that was coming. His bottom teeth resemble those of a shark with multiple rows of permanent and baby teeth. I was referred to an oral surgeon for issues with my jaw (Josh says it's because I talk too much. Probably). That however, is not the story. It was the experience while at the dentist that warrants a story.

Luckily, I was able to leave Maggie at my neighbor's house for my appointment. On the way, I picked up Cole. I really didn't think taking all three boys with me was a big deal because usually when we go, they work on us at the same time so that we can all be finished together. That was not the case today. They didn't start my appointment until both boys were finished. Guess what that meant? I had all three boys in the room with me while Hillary was trying to clean my teeth. Joy.

I prefaced the moment with each of them before I even sat in the chair. No horsing around. There are thousands of dollars worth of equipment in there that could break. No touching me or trying to sit in my lap while I am in the chair. No talking loud. No fighting. No moving from their spot. Not even for the bathroom. Hillary turned on Phineas and Ferb. She gave them crayons and paper. We tried to be prepared. Basically, I expected them to sit like veggies until she was done with my teeth. Wishful thinking.

While I have always had super healthy teeth I don't really care to go the dentist. I haven't had any major dental work other than wisdom teeth extraction. No crowns. No root canals. Not even a filling. But I dread going. It is hard to sit there and have a "Conversation" with her while I can't actually do more than shake my head yes or no. I can't stand the way the gloves smell like raw venison. The tools look weird. And honestly, I think just the idea of people messing in my mouth grosses me out. But usually I am in and out. No biggie. Not today.

My gums have been giving me trouble ever since I was pregnant with Maggie. Apparently, she screwed up my hormones and as a result, I got eczema and weird gums. Awesome. So, the gums were going to get a little extra love today. Hillary takes out what seemed like a Drimmel tool (used to remove grout from tile) and went to work on my gums. My mouth is full of tools and water. I can't talk. I can't yell. I can't even really do anything but wince in pain. Will keeps coming over and looking in my mouth. He inspects Hillary's work and asks her a ton of questions. Maybe he wants to be a dentist when he grows up. He was THAT interested. A couple of times, he came up and shook my arm or belly when she had the shepard's hook in my mouth. I was certain that she was going to hook me in the mouth like a fish. My mouth was full of equipment and I can't say anything. So what do I do? I resort to snapping my fingers. Yep. Snapping them down. Real scary.

After the Drimmel was finally over and she finally felt compelled to put down the hook, she started pressure washing my teeth. Seriously that is what it feels like. She hands me safety glasses (Will got some too since he was all up in my mouth business) and she starts to polish my teeth with what felt like 80,000 PSI's of baking soda and water. Added bonus? My face gets all wet and the specks of baking soda are like an exfoliating facial. Complete with a handi-wipe.While all of this is going on, Ian and Cole are throwing a paper airplane around the room. Seriously. I start to snap. Maybe they can't hear me over the noise of the pressure washer so I start to kick my foot at them. Nothing. Hillary doesn't feel the need to draw their attention to me. I feel certain I will be writing a check for at least a computer when we leave. Fortunately, Cole needs a bathroom break from airplane tossing. Who cares if I told him not to go in the beginning. It stopped the air show.

Finally, she does my xrays so that we can see what the deal is with my jaw. The boys have to leave the room so they aren't showered with radiation. Will wandered into another patient's room and helped the Dr. inspect his teeth. They come in together to check out my xrays and examine my teeth. Will gets to put on gloves and count my teeth for me. He gives me an A-OK checkup and reminds me to "brush yo' teef." My dentist concurred....except for my jaw, of course. Will helped Hillary paint on the fluoride treatment for my teeth. He loved it! The kids got their little goody bags of treats and stickers. We made an appointment with the orthodontist for next week and managed to leave the building without breaking anything. And honestly, it didn't turn out all that bad. But, I promise, in 6 months, we won't be sharing appointments at the dentist. Not ever again.

Princess Maggie Moo

From the moment I found out I was pregnant with Maggie, I knew she was a girl. I can't explain it, but I did. I know a big part of it was just being hopeful. I had wanted Will to be a girl too. And he wasn't. And I cried. 

Now, of course, I wouldn't have it be any other way.

But with Mags, I knew it from the instant that the test was positive. And immediately, her name was Margaret and she was going to love bows and dresses and baby dolls and high heel shoes and be every bit of the girly princess that I wanted her to be. She was not going to be Chrissy---my camouflage wearing, shotgun slinging, thunderchicken murdering sister. NEVER. In fact, I never really entertained the thought that she would be anything other than the image I created. My only true worry beyond her health was whether Will would like her.

He has always been a Momma's boy and he is only 26 months older than her. I knew for sure that he was going to believe that this little, tiny, wrinkly princess had wrecked his entire world. But then she was born and from the moment that he first held her in the hospital, he loved her dearly. His love for her is visceral. You can see it in the way he looks at her. When we got home from the hospital, I worried not that he would leave her outside on the front door step but instead squeeze her to death from love. He nicknamed her immediately as his "precious Lil' Maggie Moo" and "Mags." They stuck. He never wanted her to cry, he always wanted her to have whatever she wanted. "Momma, give Mags some boobie. She is starving!" He rocked her, sang to her, and devoted every spare moment to her happiness.

Today, if you ask him her full name, he will say, Margaret Princess Burgess. He believes with all of his heart that she is a princess and that she gets whatever she wants. Spoiled doesn't even begin to cover it. She lays in the floor kicking her feet until Will gives in to her. She barely has to screech before he asks her what it is that she desires. If she cries, he will come running and he is almost always the first to comfort her. If he cries in pain or sadness, she cries too in sympathy.

Don't get me wrong, I think it is sweet and I am so grateful that he loves her so deeply. I hope he always feels this love for her. However, his deep bond has created an interesting shift in the "perfect little princess" image I created in pregnancy. She will wear dresses and loves shoes. She totally has the diva princess attitude. But her girlishness stops there. She won't play with dolls. She doesn't want anything that resembles a girl toy. Give her a monster truck, matchbox car, or dump truck and she is happy. Mud? Sand? Loves them! I am pretty sure if I dressed her in camo and gave her a shotgun, she'd be sitting in a turkey blind by morning. Because she and Will have the unbreakable bond, she wants to be just as tough and tumble as he is. She wants to play ball, jump on the trampoline, and climb on tall things just. like. him. My girly princess is quickly becoming quite the little tomboy.

And while I do at least wish she liked baby dolls, all I really want is for her to grow up to be a strong, self-reliant, independent woman---whether she fancies tiaras or camo is really up to her. And I know that no matter what, she is going to have a big brother who always watches her back. This morning, I woke up with he and Maggie laying in between Josh and me. Will was singing a little tune he made up. It goes like this:

Maggie Moo, Maggie Moo

My baby sister, My baby sister

You mess with her, You mess with her

And I will punch you in the nose, yep, punch you in the nose.



She looked up to him from the beginning!

Maggie is just a few days old here.
And I found him just hanging out in the crib with her!



And he was more than happy to show her monster trucks, even when sleeping!









Blowing off Marcus Lattimore and Other Funnies...

It was an interesting week of trying to reprogram the little people after their time at Hana/Poppa and Aunt Munkey's houses last week. Either there were no rules while I was out of town or because I was gone for a week, I gave up my position of authority. There were a lot of time-outs and quiet time in the bedroom because the boys (and even Maggie) didn't want to listen. I imagine I was more strict than usual this week in an attempt to reassert myself as Top Dog.

 On one occasion, I fussed at Ian and he responded by saying, "What is your problem?" Obviously, that didn't go over very well. At another point in the week, when I had enough of his smart mouth (I have no idea where he gets it), I sent him to his room for the night. He came back, on his knees, begging me for just "one more chance." He reminded me of George Bailey on the bridge asking the same of God in It's a Wonderful Life. I laughed. Out loud. I didn't mean to. I couldn't help myself. He was shocked that I laughed. After regaining my composure, I sent him back to his room.

Here are some other funny stories from the week:

Me: Will, why aren't you outside playing? Will: Because it is eleventy billion degress out there. Me: It's only 8:30 in the morning. It can't be that hot outside. Will: I don't care what Christy Henderson (our local meterologist) says.  It is HOT out there.

Because it is too hot to play outside, Will and I are playing restraunt. Will is the waiter and I am the guest. Will: What do you want for dinner? Me: I would like a steak. Will: I don't have steak. Me: What do you mean? The sign says that this is a steakhouse. Will: Well we don't serve steak. Me: Well what do you serve? Will: Ummm...we serve wine. Lots and lots of wine. Do you want some? You look like you could use one or 47 glasses. Me: Why yes, I probably need 47 but I will take just one. He hurries back and brings me chocolate milk. Me: I thought you were bringing me wine? Will: I think its a fallibility (liability) for me to serve you 47 glasses so I thought chocolate milk was a much better idea. Later: Will: I brought you some milk-wine. Me: What is milk wine? Will: It's when you mix wine with your milk. It goes great with pancakes. Me: That is interesting. How does it taste? Will: How am I supposed to know? I'm not 21. Me: Oh you have to be 21 to drink milk wine? Will: Yep. You have to be 21 to drink milk wine, bud Wight Wimes, and the hard stuff. Me: What is the hard stuff? Will: You know. Mike's Hard Wemonade. (We don't drink Bud Light Lime or Mike's Hard Lemonade so obviously, the TV advertisements are working on him).

Ian: Mom, you are awesome! Me: Why do you say that? Ian: Just because. It is true. You are the coolest Mom I know. Me: Oh really? Ian: Yes, you are so awesome that I know you won't say No when I ask you to take me to Chick Fil A for lunch. Me: I am not as awesome as you think I am.

Will: Momma, you and Mags are so pretty. Me: Awe, thanks Willie. Will: Well you are. I love you, even though Mags is prettier than you. Me: Oh yeah? What makes her prettier? Will: Geez Mom, she is just a baby. That's why. AND, she doesn't have wrinkles on her eyes like you do.

We went bowling tonight. A few lanes over, Marcus Lattimore (stand-out runningback for the USC Gamecocks) is bowling with some friends. Friends that were with us got his autograph and their son, Cole, had his picture made with him. Once the ice was broken, nearly the entire bowling alley started going up to him doing the same. At one point, he decided to go around to the kids to offer his picture and autograph. It was the really stand-up thing to do. He was very gracious and humble (especially considering that he will eventually be in the NFL making millions). As Marcus made his way toward us, I asked Ian if he wanted to have his picture made with him and get an autograph. Ian: Doesn't he play for the Gamecocks? Me: Yes, he does. Ian: No way. I can't stand the Gamecocks. I don't care if he's famous. I am not having my picture made with him.

My children were the only ones in the entire place that didn't get a picture or autograph. And yes, they do bleed Clemson Orange.

Drinking the ZTA Kool-Aid...

I apologize deeply for the delay in returning to the blog. I had NO IDEA, how much work was going to be involved in getting the Burgess Bunch back on schedule after my time in Indiana. Whew! I have been exhausted! My wonderful husband cleaned the house while I was away--which was a nice treat--but it would have been even better had he folded the 31 loads of laundry. Washing is great---folding is better. But I am grateful. He is far better at housework than I am. And no, saying that doesn't cause him to lose points on his Man Card. It is a relief that one of us possesses those skills. If not, think Hoarders.

The little people apparently missed me. That is what Will has told me every day, at least 30 times a day, since I got back. Maggie has been sleeping on top of me at night, I imagine for fear I might escape again. Ian doesn't seem to care that I was gone. He hugged me when I got off the plane and promptly said, "Glad you're home. Now let's go eat some Mexicans." (The food, not the people). Attitude noted, I was more than happy to oblige. I was in need of some calories. ZTA said they had me on a 1,200 calorie a day diet. I was counting. I think only the chocolate cake that one day made me get to 1,200. This time, I only lost 5 pounds.
nh
After treats were handed over (the REAL reason they were all so excited to see me), Will asked the question. "Mom, why did you have to go to that ZTA thing?" He isn't the first one to ask me that question. I get it a lot. Mostly from non-greeks but even from ZTA's too. He can't read but if he could, I would show him the line that reads, "Zeta is Forever." He would totally get it then. But since he can't read, I am left to explain. I thought about telling him that it was because I got to stay in a hotel all week (it ain't the Ritz but the bed is comfy) and sleep by myself. And, I get to shower without little people peeking around the curtain to ask me to get them something.

But I knew that answer wouldn't do. I thought about telling him how I got to learn about new technology that makes me feel young and hip. Tweet Walls, Mingle Sticks, Live Voting Polls that appear right on the screen during a presentation. I could tell him how I am now on Twitter and have people 'following' me. I certainly wouldn't know about any of that without ZTA. Or I could tell him all about the Risk Reduction information I learned from Dr. Lori Hart. She always has great stories...none of which are age appropriate for a 3 year old. I could tell him about Yoplait (he loves yogurt), or Race for the Cure, or a multitude of other Think Pink activities. Hard to explain so I better show him those this year through action.

I thought about telling him how they asked the question "Are you in ZTA for something to do or in ZTA to DO something?" I wanted to tell him how I fall in the latter part. That the reason I am always going to ZTA meetings is because I do believe in the mission to enrich the lives of young women, to help them grow in their potential, to help them be better leaders and be of service to those around them. I share in the purpose to create a more noble womanhood in the world. I wanted to tell him about all of the wonderful women that I have had the opportunity to mentor and advise in ZTA. The ones that have grown to be remarkably strong women who happen to be doctors, lawyers, artists, humanitarians, and mothers. Of course, I am not responsible for their success but I am happy that I had a window to watch them grow. I wanted to say that some of the values that I teach him are ones I learned in ZTA. The Creed is something I live, not just something I learned.

But that would be too much for him. So instead, I said the thing that I knew that even in his young years, he could understand. "Will, I went to see my friends." My sisters. Because, in the end, the reason I stay involved in Zeta Tau Alpha all of these years later are the friendships I have made. From college and long after, the women that I have had the privilege to know because of ZTA have truly enriched my life. Had it not been for my involvement in ZTA in college and especially afterward, I wouldn't have had an opportunity to meet them. They mean the world to me. Have been such a strong inspiration and support to me. When life was grand and when it wasn't all that great. Whether they are 18 or 80, I know I can count on them. Always. Forever.

On the plane from Indianapolis, I sat behind former ZTA National President, Alice Matthews. Mrs. Matthews was President when I was initiated into ZTA. Cool, right? She told me me that she was involved in ZTA as a Province President with 3 small children, just like me. She understood that spending time doing things with ZTA made her a better mother. She understood. She gave me a great deal of encouragement, whether it was her intention or not. On that plane in that moment, she wasn't just a former national president. She was my sister.

So for my children, I want them to know that ZTA is important to me because She helped shape who I am. She instilled values about service, leadership, and love that I am not sure I would live the way I do without Her enriching influence. I don't know that I would always Seek the Noblest without Her guiding principles. But most of all, I know I wouldn't have the endearing friendships that I do without Her sisterhood. So I will continue to drink the ZTA kool-aid for years to come, not because I have to, but because when I do, I am a better mother, wife, sister, and friend. In short, I am a better Kimberly.