Language (noun) a system of words used for communicating
There are few things cuter on this earth than two, three and four year old children. As they are learning to master the complicated English language they come out with the most priceless version of common words.
One night at four am, my son bounded out of bed, tore down the steps and exploded into our bedroom leaving a trail of turned on lights and didn't leave our room any less darkened. When he arrived he was soaked with sweat, panting and petrified.
"Mom, Dad" he managed to squeak out, "I had a night-mirror!"
Bill and I sat up, looked at each other and thankfully managed not to burst out laughing. What does one say to that? Bill, having gained his composure much faster than me, asked what his night-mirror was about? I had to cough a couple times to stifle a giggle and Bill elbowed me under the covers.
I don't recall at this point what the bad dream was about, but the "night-mirror" has passed down to his two little sisters. Now they have "night-mirrors" as well. We still haven't corrected them, we just can't.
A few weeks back I was making a salad and my littlest one saw me cutting up veggies and asked if she could have some king-cumbers. Next came the cough to stifle the giggle, Bill wasn't there to elbow me but I still haven't corrected her, I just can't.
One day last week I came out of the bedroom and the two girls jumped out at me and yelled "KER-PRIZE!!" Again the cough, again I haven't corrected them, again I just can't.
At what point do I steal that cuteness away? With my oldest daughter about to be a senior in college, I want the little ones to stay little as long as possible, stay cute as long as possible and stay innocent as long as possible. I guess at some point, someone will not be able to stifle a giggle and it will all end abruptly. In the mean time though, I am going to enjoy every cute minute that God lets me have. I won't correct them yet, I just can't.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Superheroes
Super: (adjective) cool, sensational, groovy, marvelous
Hero: (noun) a person revered especially for noble courage; brave person; champion
For about a week now, my children have been asking me to draw pictures of superheroes that they would like to be. We've had earth boy who, dressed in camaflouge (of course) has all the powers of earth...he can make volcanoes erupt, cause tidal waves and tornadoes etc...My daughter was pincher girl who carried around scissors and destroyed bad guys with her pink, jewel covered princess scissors. My youngest, God bless her, was super hero girl who could run fast, jump high and shake her booty to rid the world of villains.
There were several others because they wanted to change who they were every day as their imaginations went into overdrive. During this time I noticed that no one wanted to be "supermom". I consider myself super. I've got some great powers, I can yell really loud. I can talk on the phone AND empty the dishwasher AND make breakfast all at the same time. I can leap over toys in a single bound. I can sort laundry really fast, whip up a whirlwind lunch, and oh man, you should see me zoom around with the vacuum.
The next time they came to ask me to change their super hero, I ask if any of them wanted to be supermom. Three pairs of big blue eyes looked up at me and there was silence. I could see the wheels turning in their little heads and then they started laughing. I must say I was not amused. As they were giggling they wanted to know what supermom was. So I asked them what powers they thought I had.
After some serious thought, my precocious four year old said, "You read us stories"
"You kiss my boo boos" said my littlest ray of sunshine.
"You help us brush our teeth, you make us take baths and showers, you break up our fights, you pick me up from the bus stop and, ummmmm, you get us good babysitters" my serious son explained while counting on his fingers. "Can you draw our new superheroes now mom, and boys can't be supermoms because boys are boys and moms are girls!"
"Of course I can sweetie" I answered, surprised and fighting back tears. It occurred to me that my kids didn't really notice if the living room was vacuumed, or the laundry was folded or the dishwasher emptied. The furniture can be dusty, the beds unmade and they would still adore me. I have been so worried about trying to be MY version of supermom that I didn't notice the REAL super power I possess, and that is just being mom.
Hero: (noun) a person revered especially for noble courage; brave person; champion
For about a week now, my children have been asking me to draw pictures of superheroes that they would like to be. We've had earth boy who, dressed in camaflouge (of course) has all the powers of earth...he can make volcanoes erupt, cause tidal waves and tornadoes etc...My daughter was pincher girl who carried around scissors and destroyed bad guys with her pink, jewel covered princess scissors. My youngest, God bless her, was super hero girl who could run fast, jump high and shake her booty to rid the world of villains.
There were several others because they wanted to change who they were every day as their imaginations went into overdrive. During this time I noticed that no one wanted to be "supermom". I consider myself super. I've got some great powers, I can yell really loud. I can talk on the phone AND empty the dishwasher AND make breakfast all at the same time. I can leap over toys in a single bound. I can sort laundry really fast, whip up a whirlwind lunch, and oh man, you should see me zoom around with the vacuum.
The next time they came to ask me to change their super hero, I ask if any of them wanted to be supermom. Three pairs of big blue eyes looked up at me and there was silence. I could see the wheels turning in their little heads and then they started laughing. I must say I was not amused. As they were giggling they wanted to know what supermom was. So I asked them what powers they thought I had.
After some serious thought, my precocious four year old said, "You read us stories"
"You kiss my boo boos" said my littlest ray of sunshine.
"You help us brush our teeth, you make us take baths and showers, you break up our fights, you pick me up from the bus stop and, ummmmm, you get us good babysitters" my serious son explained while counting on his fingers. "Can you draw our new superheroes now mom, and boys can't be supermoms because boys are boys and moms are girls!"
"Of course I can sweetie" I answered, surprised and fighting back tears. It occurred to me that my kids didn't really notice if the living room was vacuumed, or the laundry was folded or the dishwasher emptied. The furniture can be dusty, the beds unmade and they would still adore me. I have been so worried about trying to be MY version of supermom that I didn't notice the REAL super power I possess, and that is just being mom.
Friday, June 5, 2009
The Pits
Pit: (noun) hollow, trench, abyss, chasm
Last week, on one of the rare warm days we've had, I was working in the yard wearing a tank top and shorts. Our neighbor came over to talk for a few minutes and at some point during our conversation I somehow noticed, to my horror, that I had not shaved my pits. EEWWWW!?! Here's the crazy part, I KNOW I had shaved them that morning. I knew it. As it turns out, I shaved one side and not the other. I pray to God I am not the only one who has done silly stuff like that. My mind is so cluttered that I feel like an idiot when I forget something so habitual.
A few months ago I piled all the little ones in the van, buckled them up and started to back out of the garage. All of a sudden there was screaming and yelling. I stopped the vehicle and asked what the heck was going on. My son, the most serious seven year old on the face of the earth, said calmly, "Um, mom? You may want to close the doors before we drive away." Oh yeah, the doors, I thought to my idiot self.
Now, kids being kids, will never forget things like this and they need to share the adventure. They will tell daddy, they will tell grandparents, they will tell the grocery store clerk, the bank teller, the dog and anyone who will listen. AND, they will NEVER forget to remind mommy about the "van door" incident. One time, just one time I spaced out and now every time we get in the van they have to remind me to close the doors lest I forget and commit such a blunder a second time.
Yes I have a cluttered mind and forget to do some things, but, thankfully (I think) my kids are there watching my back. Again and again. So, maybe I should tell them about my pits. Then every time I go take a shower they'll remind me, again and again, to shave BOTH sides. Of course I would have to endure the entire community knowing about my faux pas but would that be so bad? Or would it be the pits?
Last week, on one of the rare warm days we've had, I was working in the yard wearing a tank top and shorts. Our neighbor came over to talk for a few minutes and at some point during our conversation I somehow noticed, to my horror, that I had not shaved my pits. EEWWWW!?! Here's the crazy part, I KNOW I had shaved them that morning. I knew it. As it turns out, I shaved one side and not the other. I pray to God I am not the only one who has done silly stuff like that. My mind is so cluttered that I feel like an idiot when I forget something so habitual.
A few months ago I piled all the little ones in the van, buckled them up and started to back out of the garage. All of a sudden there was screaming and yelling. I stopped the vehicle and asked what the heck was going on. My son, the most serious seven year old on the face of the earth, said calmly, "Um, mom? You may want to close the doors before we drive away." Oh yeah, the doors, I thought to my idiot self.
Now, kids being kids, will never forget things like this and they need to share the adventure. They will tell daddy, they will tell grandparents, they will tell the grocery store clerk, the bank teller, the dog and anyone who will listen. AND, they will NEVER forget to remind mommy about the "van door" incident. One time, just one time I spaced out and now every time we get in the van they have to remind me to close the doors lest I forget and commit such a blunder a second time.
Yes I have a cluttered mind and forget to do some things, but, thankfully (I think) my kids are there watching my back. Again and again. So, maybe I should tell them about my pits. Then every time I go take a shower they'll remind me, again and again, to shave BOTH sides. Of course I would have to endure the entire community knowing about my faux pas but would that be so bad? Or would it be the pits?
Saturday, May 30, 2009
School Bus Stop Adventure
Adventure (noun) An exciting, often hazardous undertaking
Now that the weather has warmed, the little ones and I walk to the bus stop to get big brother. It's not far, about three houses down the street, but who knew there were so many exciting things that could happen in that short distance.
Just going from the front door to the street can take quite awhile because there are birds in our yard that need sneaking up on. There are ants that need to be watched. There are cracks in the sidewalk that only big people are allowed to step on. There's the jungle down by the mailbox that needs to get explored.
Then we hit the street and another whole world opens up. There are rocks to pick up and move, branches to step on, curbs to walk on, more ants, more birds and more cracks to avoid. There are "flowers" (dandelions) to pick for mommy because I am loved so much. The pine cones are treasures that bring such delight they can hardly contain themselves.
We finally make it to bus stop and the stop sign becomes home base for a game of tag. The pebbles in the street become gems and currency in a world that only three and four year olds are part of.
Oh how I wish I could I could see things the way they do. At what point in our lives do we stop? I believe the day we give birth, our views change. The birds in the yard could carry disease, the ants could bite, the jungle could have poison ivy, the dandelions are back already?, they could trip on a crack and the pine cones are REALLY sticky. The stop sign means cars are near by, they could slip on the pebbles and they could fall off the curb and twist their ankles.
I so enjoy watching them have their adventures and I try not to sound too much like a mother... "be careful, don't touch that, watch where you're walking, don't run..." But of all the hats I wear, teacher and protector are two of the biggest. I've also found I learn so much from them as well, like how a short, simple walk to the bus stop can be the best part of the day.
Now that the weather has warmed, the little ones and I walk to the bus stop to get big brother. It's not far, about three houses down the street, but who knew there were so many exciting things that could happen in that short distance.
Just going from the front door to the street can take quite awhile because there are birds in our yard that need sneaking up on. There are ants that need to be watched. There are cracks in the sidewalk that only big people are allowed to step on. There's the jungle down by the mailbox that needs to get explored.
Then we hit the street and another whole world opens up. There are rocks to pick up and move, branches to step on, curbs to walk on, more ants, more birds and more cracks to avoid. There are "flowers" (dandelions) to pick for mommy because I am loved so much. The pine cones are treasures that bring such delight they can hardly contain themselves.
We finally make it to bus stop and the stop sign becomes home base for a game of tag. The pebbles in the street become gems and currency in a world that only three and four year olds are part of.
Oh how I wish I could I could see things the way they do. At what point in our lives do we stop? I believe the day we give birth, our views change. The birds in the yard could carry disease, the ants could bite, the jungle could have poison ivy, the dandelions are back already?, they could trip on a crack and the pine cones are REALLY sticky. The stop sign means cars are near by, they could slip on the pebbles and they could fall off the curb and twist their ankles.
I so enjoy watching them have their adventures and I try not to sound too much like a mother... "be careful, don't touch that, watch where you're walking, don't run..." But of all the hats I wear, teacher and protector are two of the biggest. I've also found I learn so much from them as well, like how a short, simple walk to the bus stop can be the best part of the day.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Graduation Day
Graduate (verb) to receive a degree or diploma on completing a course of study (dictionary.com)
Life is full of graduations although we don't always receive diplomas for the achievements. Getting potty trained, tying shoes, riding a bike, catching a fast ball, reading, writing, math, learning to drive, growing a plant from a seed...all these things are completions and stepping stones that lead to a healthy independence later in life.
Just because we don't always receive a piece of paper signifying the importance of these things doesn't mean they're not to be celebrated. Singing, dancing and a graduation cap made of paper can evoke enough pride in a parent to reduce one to a blubbering mess!
Today my graduate's diploma was covered with abc's and 123's and smiley faces and stars. The ceremony consisted of several dozen four and five year old boys and girls singing about moving on to kindergarten. This is my third child entering kindergarten and you would think that by now I'd be used to it.
As hard as I tried not to, the tears escaped the clutches of my watery eyes. My husband smiled at me, took my hand and although not crying himself, I knew he was feeling the same emotions I was. Our little girl, so small but mighty, was taking one more step away from us. Sad? No. Happy? No. Simply amazed at the beauty of life as it unfolds one graduation at a time.
Life is full of graduations although we don't always receive diplomas for the achievements. Getting potty trained, tying shoes, riding a bike, catching a fast ball, reading, writing, math, learning to drive, growing a plant from a seed...all these things are completions and stepping stones that lead to a healthy independence later in life.
Just because we don't always receive a piece of paper signifying the importance of these things doesn't mean they're not to be celebrated. Singing, dancing and a graduation cap made of paper can evoke enough pride in a parent to reduce one to a blubbering mess!
Today my graduate's diploma was covered with abc's and 123's and smiley faces and stars. The ceremony consisted of several dozen four and five year old boys and girls singing about moving on to kindergarten. This is my third child entering kindergarten and you would think that by now I'd be used to it.
As hard as I tried not to, the tears escaped the clutches of my watery eyes. My husband smiled at me, took my hand and although not crying himself, I knew he was feeling the same emotions I was. Our little girl, so small but mighty, was taking one more step away from us. Sad? No. Happy? No. Simply amazed at the beauty of life as it unfolds one graduation at a time.
Welcome, come in, come in!
Mommy, noun: informal, a female parent
Mommy! She poked me, Mommy! She won't give that back to me, Mommy! He yelled at me!
Mommie, mommey, mommee! No matter how you spell it, it still sounds the same, still means the same and still feels the same.
The journey of a mother is heartwarming, scary, funny, rewarding, trying, frustrating and expensive. It elicits pride and humility; gray hairs spew forth and wrinkles appear overnight. It can stop your heart with a scream or thud or the ring of the phone late at night. Tears, fears, headaches, chuckles, sleepless nights and very long days. It is all of these and more, but the one thing it is not, is boring.
You never know what path you'll take each day as your children influence the navigational systems of your life...join me as I take you on the crazy ride of my life with four children!
Mommy! She poked me, Mommy! She won't give that back to me, Mommy! He yelled at me!
Mommie, mommey, mommee! No matter how you spell it, it still sounds the same, still means the same and still feels the same.
The journey of a mother is heartwarming, scary, funny, rewarding, trying, frustrating and expensive. It elicits pride and humility; gray hairs spew forth and wrinkles appear overnight. It can stop your heart with a scream or thud or the ring of the phone late at night. Tears, fears, headaches, chuckles, sleepless nights and very long days. It is all of these and more, but the one thing it is not, is boring.
You never know what path you'll take each day as your children influence the navigational systems of your life...join me as I take you on the crazy ride of my life with four children!
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