The Ladies Man....

Will is many things---smart, affectionate, stubborn, independent, stubborn, witty, stubborn---and now apparently, quite the ladies man. Of course, he dotes over Maggie like she hung the moon, but how his attitude persisted outside of our home was somewhat a mystery to me. He adores his "girlfriend" Madi but I know after spending too much time together, he will say she "gets on my nerves" or "she is aggravating me." This probably has less to do with Madi and more with Will being stubborn as a mule.

His teacher told me yesterday that "all of the little girls" in Will's class love him. This infatuation is apparently more than just adoring Will from afar. In fact, their love for him is creating quite a stir in the classroom. Mr. Casanova is so popular that the girls are arguing over who gets to sit with him at snack, who gets to be in centers with him, stand next to him in line and play with him on the playground. I have had  several of the other moms tell me that their daughters "just love Will" and are always talking about him at home. When I was dropping him off the other day, a girl was literally wrapped around her mother's leg, begging not to go into class. In the midst of her meltdown, she saw Will walking into class and like a switch, she immediately stopped crying, let go of her mom and followed him. Wow.

I was curious about Will's reaction to this popularity. His teacher said that in some ways, he probably encouraged them because he is "so sweet and kind" to everyone. And yes, I did clarify that she was talking about my child. She reported that he helps the girls on the slide, talks with them and plays with them. But she said she can tell that he gets aggravated with their desire to spend so much time with him. He is, after all, a total boy's boy. I imagine his tolerance for tea parties, dress up and playing house is pretty limited.

This morning, on the way to school, I asked him about the girls in his class and if they liked him. Will: Yes they do. Me: Why do you think they like you so much? Will (looking at me with a very matter of fact face): Well...you know, I'm kind of a big deal. Me (Spitting Diet Coke into my windshield): WHAT? Will: I mean, I'm a good lookin' guy. And I'm fun. I know why they like me. Me: Well maybe its less about how you look and more because you are nice to them. Will: Yeah. I mean I'm nice. They're all pretty. It works for us.

WHAT? If this is 3, I can't imagine what happens when he hits puberty--probably a big heaping pile of trouble.

I guess the bright side is that he is making friends and his teacher thinks he is a really sweet kid. It's good to know he is capable of acting like he is supposed to act--even if that never happens at home. But it is an adjustment living in the house with such a popular child. I guess when he eats ice cream out of the container without permission I have to think twice about reprimanding him. After all, he is "kind of a big deal." Geez....

Gun Slinging City Boys...

Dull isn't a word that I would use to describe my life. While it certainly isn't overly adventurous--I mean we aren't jumping out of planes over here--we don't ever seem to lack for entertainment. Never.

All day yesterday, our house smelled like something died around it. While I was getting dressed to go to a performance at Converse, Josh was investigating the smell. Under the house. In the attic. But no critter. As I am applying my mascara, Ian goes running down the hallway. A minute later, he comes back down the hallway with his BB gun. "Momma--Daddy needs you to get his gun. He has a squirrel cornered in the back yard." Seriously? I look out the window of the bathroom and sure enough, Ian isn't making it up.

Now, if you follow me on Facebook, you may remember that not all that long ago, I woke up very early one morning to my husband stomping through the yard with gun in hand after a squirrel that had escaped the attic. Our house seems to be one part Griswold and another part Swamp People. Ian snaps me back to attention, "Momma, get the gun. We gotta 'choot 'em!"  Okay, maybe a lot Swamp People.

Even though I am semi-complaining now, I do get Josh's gun and take it outside. Ian is poised on the side of the fence, aiming his gun into the shrubs on the side of house. I look over his shoulder and realize he has the squirrel's head in his cross-hairs. I hand Josh his gun as Ian takes a shot. Dead ringer. But the BB at that distance wasn't enough to do more than stun him. The squirrel goes semi-nuts in the shrubs as Josh is trying to locate him to take a shot. Will heads off to the shed to get a net. This has become a family affair.

I am looking in the shrubs for the squirrel, in my dress, BB gun in hand. If I found it, I think I planned to hit it with the gun rather than try to shoot it. Josh, however, beat me to it and finished him off. "Way to 'choot 'em!" cheered Will. "Atta boy!" yelped Ian. These people obviously don't belong in the city. We have got to move them to country.

Squirrel crisis averted, I returned to house to finish getting ready while the boys and Josh did some target shooting with the BB gun. And I will be honest, Ian's gun handling impressed me. Not only was he safe--treating the BB gun as though it were a real gun--but he always used the safety without being reminded. He also was an excellent shot!

I went on to the play while Josh watched the kids. I had a nice time away and when I got home, it was clear that they had enjoyed me being gone. It was 10pm on a school night and they were all still awake, sitting on the kitchen counter, eating cold pizza and watching TV. The boys also had purple Mohawks. Never. a. dull. moment.

Cole, Will & Ian with purple Mohawks.

And that smell? Still here. But, no critter.

A Few Funnies...

Will and his friend Madi were jumping on the trampoline. He is doing flips, handstands, tumbles...you name it. His fearless attitude is almost admirable....if I could stop envisioning the ways in which his fearlessness is going to cost me a fortune in medical bills. Anyway, he is flipping, jumping, etc and says, "Hey mom, watch this..." Famous last words, right? He runs across the trampoline, jumps and does a BACK FLIP. I felt the air leave my body and my stomach jump to my throat. However, instead of seeing him crumpled in a heap with a broken neck, he lands on his feet and shouts, "Now that is what I call WINNING!"

This morning, I dressed in my Mommy uniform--black yoga pants and a tshirt. The tshirt selection was a blue ZTA Bid Day shirt from college. Ian: Mom, do you realize your shirt says "January 2001?" Me: Yes, Ian, I do. Ian: Do you know that means your shirt is over 10 years old? Me: Yes. This is a shirt from college. Ian: Do you realize that you are no longer in college and too old to be wearing shirts from that decade? Me: I realize that this shirt is in excellent condition so I don't care if it's from another decade. Ian: Well I guess its a good thing you are embracing your old age. It will match your hair nicely.

Maggie is learning a lot of new words and animal sounds. Her new favorite word is "sit." Except, it doesn't sound like "Sit" but rather sounds a lot more like "shit." All day, she has been saying "shit, shit, shit." She looked at Will and said, "Shit Wiwie, shit." Will responded, "No Mags, it's S-I-T not shit. Shit is what you do on the potty." I imagine now she has learned TWO new words. Thanks, Will!

Being a "Crazy Crab"

I wish I could say I was one of those moms who was peppy and cheerful and sweet to her children all of the time. I wish I was one of those women who woke up before my family every morning and had a hot, steaming breakfast on the table for everyone when they got up. I wish I was a little more June Cleaver and a little less Peg Bundy.

Dressed as Peg Bundy
Halloween 2009

Seriously. I wish my house were cleaner. I wish I had endless patience. But despite my best efforts, I am not June. Some days, I probably make Peg look desirable as a Mom. I get tired. I get grumpy. And when that happens, my kids see a little a lot of Cruella Deville.

It has been a busy week for me. Add major sinus issues and I feel like I've been run over by a truck a couple of times. This morning, all I really wanted to do was put my pillow over my face and stay in bed. But alas, at 6:30am, Mags whispered "Momma" right into my ear. I pretended I couldn't hear her. She turned up her volume. I still didn't move. She laid there a minute so I thought maybe she was going back to sleep. Instead, she pinched my nose as hard as she could and said, "Beep, Beep!" I was awake.

As soon as my feet touched the floor, I heard Ian bolt out of bed. He had probably been awake for an hour and was patiently waiting for me to get up. He always wakes up early. And he is always peppy. He was ready for breakfast. Do I offer grits and eggs? Pancakes? Nope. Toaster Strudel or cereal? Yes. I know. I am awful. Ian chooses toaster strudel. I open the freezer in the house and realize we are all out. So I have to trudge to the freezer outside to get a new box. I feel my grumpy meter rising to my skull.

After I get the toaster going, I start getting ready for church. While I am always happy about being at church, I am never thrilled about the process it is to actually get to church. I have to pick out clothes for 5 people, dress 5 people, brush the hair and teeth of 4 people. I seem to always be searching for a matching sock or shoe, yelling at kids to keep still so their freshly ironed clothes don't wrinkle before we walk out of the house. It is total chaos and I am anything but a loving, doting mother throughout this process. By the time I get to church, I am literally exhausted and feel like I spend the first 10 minutes repenting for all of the mean, evil, awful, unmotherly ways I acted before I got there. It is me at my very worst.

School mornings are stressful---Josh isn't even here on school mornings---but getting ready for church always seems so much more stressful. I have no idea why. Maybe because he is here? :) In the car this morning driving over, I thought, how on Earth did my grandmother ever get 5 children out the door to church without losing her mind? I can barely manage with 3! But we made it--on time. I took a little power nap this afternoon so getting to church tonight wasn't so painful for everyone. I even cooked dinner before we left. Ian told me as we were walking to the car after church tonight, "Mom, I know you have been a lot grumpy today. Just know that Jesus loves you all the time. Even when you are a crazy crab." And it is that knowledge that helps me get through the day.

Date with Will

I wish there were more hours in the day so that I could spend more time with each of my children individually.

A while back, Ian asked if he and I could start having a date once a month where we do something together, just the two of us. Because we both love books, we typically go to dinner and then to the library. We check out tons of books and then go to the ice cream shop, eat our goodies and read together. We have a chance to talk about stuff that is on his mind. So far, he isn't too old or too cool for this special time and I treasure it!

Each time that Ian and I go on one of our little dates, Will feels left out. I understand that. And although Will and I spend a lot of time together when he gets home from preschool, its rarely that we get time that we don't have to share with Maggie too. I decided it was time for Will to have a date with Mommy too.

Today Will's class was going to the Apple Farm. Blah! I have been to the apple farm every year, at least twice a year since Ian started 4K. I am over it. So I decided that instead of going on the field trip, Will and I would take Maggie to school and then spend a little time together.

He was so excited about our date. There were no arguments over his clothes this morning. I told him he could choose to go anywhere he wanted to go for our date. He said, "First off, I want to take you to breakfast. I am starving. I'll buy but we have to get some grub!" Sounded like a plan to me. I asked him where he would like me to take him. "Mom, let's go to your favorite place to eat breakfast." I really couldn't pinpoint where he was thinking because I don't typically eat breakfast. I said, "Well what is my favorite place?" He looked at me and rolled his eyes, "Well duuuuhhhh. Only the place that serves the best Diet Coke EVER..." McDonald's. I must admit, the child knows me well.

Will ordered. "We will have 2 sausage biscuits, a chocolate milk and the biggest Diet Coke you've got." Not bad. The cashier tells him it will be $4.16. To my astonishment, he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and opens it. He had 1 dollar, which he pulled out to pay for our meal. My heart melted. I am doing a good job raising a gentleman. I told him that I was so grateful he would offer to use his money to buy me breakfast but that it was my treat. "Mom, girls aren't supposed to pay on a date. Just like they aren't supposed to open doors. That is what the boy is for." His Daddy has taught him well. :)

I insisted that I pay, we went outside and enjoyed the spectacular weather. We talked about his friend Zachary, who spent the night for the first time last night. We talked about motorcycles, punchbugs (and of course that he was the KING), Barack Obama, and whether cows really make chocolate milk. Toward the end of our meal, I asked him again what he wanted to do. I thought he might suggest the park or Monkey Joe's. But to my surprise, he asked if we could go to the Library.

And we did. He would read to me (which consists of him looking at the pictures in a book and making up totally ridiculous story lines based on the illustrations), I read to him. In fact, I was doing such a good job animating my stories that by the time we got ready to leave, I had somehow inherited 5 other children, who quietly huddled around my little circle,and listened to me read. For Will, that practically made me famous. He kept saying, "Mom, did you see all those kids listening to you read? You were awesome!" It's amazing how important your children's approval can be sometimes.

Maggie fell asleep on the way home from school so Will and I were able to play with Lego's, read the books we checked out, and snuggle for a while on the couch. Later this afternoon, we jumped on the trampoline together and he laughed hysterically when I peed my pants (All of you who have given birth to children understand my plight. Darn kids ruined my bladder!). We had a fantastic day---AND did not have one argument! It was amazing!

Despite all of his strong personality and stubborn ways, he is a pretty incredible kid. I am so glad he belongs to me. It doesn't hurt that he is pretty darn handsome too!

Are They Really Listening?

My greatest wish as a mother, beyond my kids being extremely educated, financially stable (and not living with me when their 30), happy and healthy, is that they grow up to be good people. I want them to be compassionate and kind, I want them to be the kind of person that volunteers their time and energy to good causes, I want them to grow up to love every person they meet, to be free of bias and full of tolerance. Of course, hoping they grow up that way isn't enough. (Sometimes I wish it were!)

I try really hard to teach them important values. Not just in conversation but by example. However, most of the time, I feel like it all just goes in one ear and out the other. I mean, no matter how much I try to teach Will to be nice, most of the time he isn't. At least not to me. Yesterday,  he said, "Mom, you are a fatty." A little shocked, I said, "Who taught you that?" He said, "I am not telling." So I responded, "Will that isn't nice to say to people. It could hurt their feelings." He responded, "Well Mom. I am just being honest." "Well yes, Will, you are but sometimes, it's best to just say nothing because you don't want to hurt people's feelings." (He needs to watch Bambi) Not skipping a beat he said, "Maggie is a fatty too. Look at her belly." (Long sigh from me). At least he got the honesty lesson, right?

I get discouraged but I keep teaching them in hopes that they get it. And sometimes, they surprise me.

As we were driving home from school day before yesterday, we were nearly hit head-on by a drunk driver. We were all a little shaken afterward. As we are pulling in the driveway, Ian says, "Mom I am glad that we didn't get killed." I responded, "Me too, honey. We are lucky that we have some guardian angels." He said, "Yes we do. And I am glad because I have so much I want to do with my life. I want to start company that gives toys to kids that don't have any money to buy their own." My heart swelled with pride. I told him he could start that project right away by going through some of his own toys he didn't play with anymore and take them to the Children's Shelter. He thought it was a marvelous idea!

And then to my ultimate shock, a nice moment from William this morning. Ian asked me if he could have a dollar to take to school to buy ice cream. I told him I would look in the car but I was pretty sure I didn't have a dollar. I suggested that if I couldn't find one, he could take one from his piggy bank and I would pay him back this afternoon. "I am not taking money from my bank." "OK, go without ice cream." While this is taking place, Will doesn't say a word but gets up from his breakfast and disappears into the play room. When he comes back, he is holding his wallet and hands Ian the only dollar bill he had in it. "Will this be enough money, Ian?" I felt tears sting my eyes. Not just because Will was being so uncharacteristically nice, but because he was being so giving without an expectation for anything in return.

 I am glad that at least some of the time, they really are listening.

Never Forget

10 years. 10 years is a long time. Long enough for me to graduate college and earn a Master's Degree. Long enough for me to build a career as a college administrator. Long enough for me to marry and become a mother to three children. But yet, it still seems like yesterday.

September 11, 2001.

I was in my second year of college. On Tuesday mornings, I was a peer leader to an 8am section of Freshman Year Experience. I was leading class that day but I can't at all remember the topic of discussion. About 8:55, the Administrative Assistant for the Learning Center came to let me know a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. She said they thought it was an accident. In my mind, I envisioned a small prop plane. I dismissed class at 9am and walked down the hall to the main lobby where there was a large TV. The room wasn't crowded but there were several people watching the events unfold. At 9:03 when the second plane hit, the entire room gasped in unison, very aware that this was not an accident. As the minutes passed, the room continued to fill with people. No one was going to class. No one talked. Silence enveloped us.

The news coverage seemed so chaotic. And I think the nature of the live coverage made it all that much more traumatic. When it became apparent that a plane had hit the Pentagon, I turned to one of my history professors sitting next to me and whispered "Islamic terrorists." She shook her head in agreement. I remember feeling afraid. What would happen next? Where was my family? Was I watching Armageddon? In a room full of people, I felt painfully alone.

As the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapsed, I looked to my right. to see my Chemistry professor. He had tears streaming down his face. I put my hand to my face and realized that I did too. A University official came to notify us that class was cancelled for the rest of the day. No one moved. It wasn't until the news reported that a plane had crashed in Pennsylvania that I felt compelled to move. I needed to call my Mom. I needed to do something to help.

As I talked to my mom from my cell phone, I drove through town. I ended up at the blood center. Surely they would need blood for the victims. So I went there, hoping that giving some of my life might help save others. People were wrapped around the building. Apparently, a lot of other people felt compelled to something to help too. I gave blood that day, hours after I arrived. Instead of just waiting in line, I went to the door and asked the woman there how I could help them. She said I could answer the phone. So I did. Others wanted to pitch in too. We handed out drinks, took information cards, gave away snacks. We needed to experience order, to create it, in a moment that was completely shrouded in chaos.

September 11, 2011

I can't help but think about that ill-fated morning. The morning that America lost her innocence. The morning we realized that oceans could no longer protect us from the evil that brewed beyond our borders. I can't help but think about the people that went to work or boarded planes that morning and never saw their loved ones again. So much evil witnessed.

But as I was talking to the boys about 9/11, they wanted to know what I remembered most. I can recall every detail, every move I made that day. I told them the basic story. But I also told them the story about how terrorists, no matter how much they wanted to destroy America, could not succeed. Yes they could hijack airplanes and they could destroy our buildings, but they could not destroy all that was good and noble about us. They couldn't destroy the selfless nature that is ingrained in the American spirit.

When it was ordered for people to run away, there were fire, EMS and police personnel that ran toward the danger to save lives. There were every day people that lent a helping hand to perfect strangers to get them to safety. There were workers that went up the stairs at the WTC to search for survivors instead of going down. There were F-16 pilots prepared to use their planes as kamikazes to ram unresponsive planes out of the air because there had been no time to arm them with weapons. And there were the passengers of Flight 93. Knowing that their plane was on a suicide mission, they accepted their fate. But rather than go down as a victim, they chose to do everything they could to ensure that terrorism would not win. They used the defiant resolve so common in America to bring the plane down over Pennsylvania before it could strike the Capitol. I told the boys about how our pain and our grief gave way to unity. Unity led to resolve. America would not rest until justice was done. Our military has carried that burden and made that sacrifice for the last 10 years.

As we go forward, we have to find a way to recapture that unity. Victory over terrorism comes not just from military superiority, but in the ability of Americans to enjoy economic prosperity and social equality. We have to find a way to have differences without being divisive. We have to remember that what divides us isn't nearly as great as what unifies us. After all, 10 years ago, we proved that in the face of terror, every day Americans---of all different races, ethnicity's and genders---were heroes. That, we should never forget.