If My House is Robbed, It Was The Cable Man

The cable guy was here for hours today.  Literally, multiple hours passed with him hanging out here in my house.  Holes were drilled and he made many a trip up into my attic. Personally, I think he was scoping out the place with plans to come back sometime later in the future and rob us.  I think the plethora of faux food scattered out in the playroom was his first clue that this was definitely a house laden with “the good stuff”. And if the array of Batman memorabilia and variety of crayons, markers, colored pencils and tiny bits of paper scattered about wasn’t enough to seal the deal, then I think his scouting out our attic, full of christmas decor and Psychology textbooks probably illuminated like a treasure chest full of bounty.  This is definitely the house to burglarize.  With that being said, that’s exactly why I didn’t blog and tell you all about our fun little get away to Arkansas this weekend.  I didn’t want to advertise that we weren’t home and risk many people attempting to rob us of our plastic riches and boring reading material.

We left Thursday evening and arrived late, late Thursday night in the land of the running, red Razorback.  It may have made more sense to just leave Friday morning and drive during normal, daylight hours – but you see, I have special business to attend to when I make my journeys to Arkansas.  The first matter of business, my piggy bank.  I like to keep my change and save it up until the bank is good and heavy and then have my change turned to bills.  Around here though, all the banks either want a percentage of the money or request that it is rolled up in little money sleeves before they will accept it, and neither of those options do I prefer.  So every 3 months or so, I take my banking needs to Liberty Bank in Siloam Springs, AR where they happily take the unrolled pig and don’t expect any percentage of the treasure that was inside.  I know, I have really high expectations in my wealth management.

The second order of business that I must tend to is the taking of the clothes to the consignment store.  I have been taking my clothes to the same consignment store since I started buying my own clothes.  I have a lovely little rapport with the couple that own the store and they treat me fairly.  They also act very excited to see me and my clothing and even if they throw half of it out once I walk back to my car, I appreciate that act they put on for me.  I have attempted to take some of our things to the popular consignment chains of Plato’s Closet and Once Upon a Child.  I realize that I am a rather sensitive person who sometimes puts more value on things than what they may really be worth, but it takes a really tough skin to have someone look through a large bin of the clothes that you were either dressing your child in or putting on your own self and tell you that they do not feel they can accept them for whatever silly reasons they often give.  And the items that they are willing to buy, they will only be offering you 10% of their original value.  There is something really degrading to me about taking in a new, still in the box pair of children converse sneakers and they offer you 4.00 for them.  I can’t respect myself after that.  About a week ago, I took several of Brandon’s shorts, pants and a few shirts to Plato’s Closet just to see what would happen. I had a pretty good haul to drop off and was fairly confident that I would pocket at least $20.  Two dollars and ten cents.  That is all that came home with me.  They wanted one pair of khakis for $2.10.  I didn’t even bother to tell him that I went and took his things because I knew he would be all excited about the money and $2.10 just seemed insulting.  My old faithful store, Persnickety might feel the exact same way about the clothing I bring in.  Fact is, they might even wish that I wouldn’t bother with making the journey, but at least I don’t have to hear them say to my face that my items are too “mature” for their demographic or are a few too many seasons old.

So you can clearly see why it was of such importance that I be there in time to handle my business on Friday.

Saturday, I decided that if we did nothing else that day, I was bound and determined to take a cute picture of my parents and the kids in their church clothes.  We have intended to do this the past 6 or 12 times that we have been with them and it never fails, you get home and before you know it, someone has wriggled out of their panty hose or bow tie and then everything just goes to pot.  I stated my intentions to everyone before we even left for church so they would know ahead of time not to even think about taking anything off.  Fact is, they should probably just plan to get out of the car and assemble right away on the front porch for their photo.

I should have taken what happened to my leg directly following my family announcement that things would not go according to plan.

Directly following, I headed to the showers and went to combat with a cheapy, disposable razor.  My legs came out looking like it was quite possibly the first time I had ever attempted to shave my legs and maybe I had used a pair of rusty scissors.  The children were frightened by the bloody toilet paper hanging like zombie skin and there was one point when Reese started crying a little, asking if I could still walk.

And this was my attempt to get a sweet, grandparents and their grandkids picture.  Reese really makes it doesn’t he? I have big plans for the types of faces and expressions I’m going to make in his wedding photos to thank him for really lighting up so many of our family portraits:

There were these pictures though that I thought were pretty sweet:

 

And I have to say, I have some pretty cute parents:

We had some tasty lunch (we did not feed Lila just plastic bread)

Reese did a whole lot of this:

It started here, but he ran out of room

So his work space was later moved to the entire table

I have to take a minute and say how precious this is to me.  These might just look like Legos to you, but these were my brother Matt’s Legos.  As most people do, when they move out from the nest, they take many of their belonging with them, even some of those things from childhood.  I’m not sure if mom intentionally kept them or if he just kept forgetting them, but the Legos never left the nest.  There is Matt Reese DNA all over those silly little blocks.  And watching my own little Reese carefully building according to the blueprints in his head, the same way his uncle used to for hours, weekends at a time, it just made my heart happy.

Lila did some dancing:

And then we closed out our day with a little trip to the park.

There was swinging

 

And whatever you want to call this:

Sliding:

 

Posing:

 

And being tacky:

Lounging:

Climbing and Jumping:

 

And having Reese run the jumps at the skate park.  He could have a future as one of those people who goes into cities and just jumps off of things.

 

And this seems like as good a spot as any to stop for now.  Sunday brought with it the wild……….stay tuned.

Garage Discoveries

There have been some strange happenings going on in my garage regarding the bodily functions of my family.  The first came when I asked Reese is he wouldn’t mind taking a particularly smelly diaper of Lila’s out to the garage.  He quickly scampered off with it and I heard the door open and close, which lead me to believe he had actually taken it outside.  But later in the day when I finally had time to go out to the garage and properly dispose of the diaper, it was nowhere to be found.  We lose lots of things around our house, one rather major thing right now is Lila’s left church shoe, but that little issue seemed silly compared to the thought of a missing poopy diaper floating around the garage.  especially with a nice hot summer ahead of us, this smelly diaper could make the bodies rotting in the attic seem like flowers.  Finding that diaper suddenly became priority number 1 in my life.  Unfortunately, the little people who live with me and are demanding summer vacation fun, didn’t really want to play “Find the missing Diaper”.

The 2nd strange garage happening was that after 3 solid days of rain, and Crosby the dog refusing to go outside, I finally witnessed what was happening that kept him from having an accident in the house.  I walked into the kitchen the other morning, unbeknownst to either the dog or the children and saw Crosby sitting patiently by the back door (that goes into the garage).  One of my children, the children who never seem to notice the dog on any other occasion, jumped right up from the table and immediately let him out into the garage.  Keep in mind that this was the garage with the door closed.

I then saw Crosby just stand there in the middle of the cement floor and relieve himself.  Suddenly, the mysterious nasty, urine-y smell that had hit me every time I walked out there (even before the diaper went missing) made sense.  Crosby was using the garage as his own little outhouse, with the aid of my children.  I love how they all work together to tear up our house.

So naptime Thursday afternoon became Operation Garage De-urine.  And while spraying out the place, I found that long, lost diaper sat ever so carefully between two flower pots with a tiny box of matches perched on top of it,  on a shelf.  I have no idea what Reese was thinking when he walked outside with that dirty diaper, with instructions to just toss it out there so that I could throw it in the big outside garbage can later.  Why the matches?  Does this count as him playing with matches? Or just accessorizing? He never, NEVER puts anything away the first time I ask him.  Usually not even the second or third times, but there must have been some sort of be in his little bonnet that inspired him to do something extra special with this diaper. I guess it has to start somewhere.

Another thing that I came across while hosing out and brushing my garage floor with Dawn dish soap, was this:

This bumper sticker proudly adorns my children’s Radio Flyer wagon. The lady that pulls it and 2/3 of those that ride in it are Okie grown

This is the bumper sticker that my dear friend Jessica, a fellow Okie-grown girl gave to me right before we moved from Tulsa to Memphis.

My family tree has roots that have taken hold in Arkansas, and that is where I usually call home.  It is, after all, also where mama is. But this little acorn first sprouted in Oklahoma, and I am proudly “Okie-Grown” second generation.

My heart and prayers are with you Oklahoma

Beware Of The Commercials and Just Say No To Kool-Aid

As I mentioned last time, our internet and cable are having marital problems and can’t be run at the same time. I would say that it is a blessing that there aren’t any children caught in the middle of all their squabbling, but there actually are.  They have this little baby called Hulu, which allows me to watch tv once in a while after my own kiddoes have gone to bed, and poor Hulu just doesn’t know what to do.  We, on the other hand, are surviving just fine.  Not at out best, but we are okay.  As long as we can still get the Hallmark channel (the kids are huge fans of The Brady Bunch and Little House on the Prairie) and Speed ( I like to stay up on the latest happenings in NASCAR, don’t you?), we are okay.  Though let me just say, we have also been watching Animal Planet these last few days because school is out and there is torrential rain, but I am a little shocked at the ‘ol AP.  So I realize that there are going to be some shows that have animal-like content but aren’t very naturey.  I get that and usually you can tell by the title that this might be a show that isn’t really kid friendly, even though it’s on the animal channel.  Shows like, “My Cat From Hell” might be one that we want to avoid.  Or another fine example might be, “Fatal Attractions” a show about people who keep pets that really aren’t people friendly and they end up getting eaten by their pets.  Again, probably one that we would skip.  But when you are watching a show titled “Puppies 101” and it appears to be an hour of puppy-fact goodness showcasing 5 different breeds of adorable little puppies, everything seems like it would be fine, right?  Wrong.  Reese and I were cuddled up the other day on the couch, learning about  Labradoodles and the show went to commercial.  The first commercial was for Cabela’s, the outdoor store, and then the next one was for The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  I’m not really sure who at Animal Planet is in charge of commercial placement, but I don’t really think that was the wisest placement for that particular one.  Anyone, ANYONE who is going to find Puppies 101 of any sort of entertainment, probably isn’t going to have a whole lot of interest in anything in the same realm of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

My child causally mentioned this particular movie to a little friend over potluck at church and I was absolutely mortified.  We are not those people who put Dr. Pepper in a baby bottle and feed it to our 6 month old and then load them all up and take them to the movies. And not a matinée Disney film, but obviously the movie mom and dad wanted to watch and at the 10:30 showing.  Those irresponsible parents.  * I am sure that those parents still love their children very much* Anyway, I cringe hearing my little one even say the name of that movie, I haven’t even watched that movie.  Even Brandon who seems to watch absolutely everything hasn’t even seen it.  But here Reese is just causally tossing it out like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, so have you heard which Disney classics they’re pulling out of the vault this year?”

” I love The Fox and the Hound”

“Have you ever heard of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre?”

Animal Planet, I am ashamed of you

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In other news, it is summer vacation around here.  Monday morning, the biggest kid awoke with a start, a gleam in her eye and this expectant, hopefully look about her.  I served all three of them breakfast and there she sat, just staring at me as though she was waiting for me to at any second, pull out this magical suitcase full of fun and wonder….much like that carpet-bag of Mary Poppins.  That or she just knew that as soon as they finished eating, I was going to take them outside where the Summer Vacation Extravaganza was all set up.  Finally, she actually spoke and just said, “What is our adventure going to be? What are we doing today?!!!!!!” Well chickie, I hate to disappoint you, but it was Monday so that meant a revetting morning of laundry.  Then cleaning up their breakfast mess, followed by naptime for Lila.

I could tell that what I had thrown out there wasn’t quite what she had in mind for her summer.

To be fair though, I think we kind of ruined her when last year, we picked her up from school and jaunted off to Mumsey;s for the weekend then headed out west for a two-week trip across America.  I can kind of see where she may have been getting these high expectations from.

I tried to quickly think of something that might sound even halfway entertaining to an 8-year-old who was expecting magic to filter through the house the moment she woke up on her first day of summer break.

“Do you guys want to go to Target? We can get the popcorn and drink combo?”

(As an aside, I hadn’t been to Target for over 2 weeks.  Also, we were getting dangerously close to the end of the toilet paper supply and Lila was down to her last half sleeve of diapers. This trip was very necessary and I have found that if you say something in a pumped up, excited voice and promise snacks, they get into the car without grumbling nearly as much.)

They must have been very bored with their current situation, because there was actual high-fiving that took place at this suggestion.

We got all the needed paper products, some kool-aid to make popsicles ( because I am saying yes to things this summer) and candles because all this rain makes our house (and our dog) smell musty and headed home.  It was probably one of the best trips to Target we have ever made.  I figure that was my one and only like that for the next 3 months.

Today, we have Mattie’s piano lessons and I am entertaining the thought of getting them the ingredients to make homemade ice cream.  Let me just say that our kool-aid popsicles were a complete disaster.  Oh, the actual freezing of the kool-aid went just fine.  But wow, somehow my children are extremely inept at eating them.  The instructions were simple, stay at the table.  Do not get up, do not walk around, do not go into any other part of the house.  As long as your seat is in the seat and your back is against the back, there should be no problems.

The problems began when Reese got up to tell me something, that caused him to tilt his pop and poor a steady stream of red-dye across the floor.  I reseated him and pulled out the Swiffer.  Moments after the Swiffer was put away, we noticed that Mattie (who was now sitting on all fours in the bench that is at out table) was also creating a small pool of staining, this time on the bench.  I instructed her to go and get some Clorox wipes from under the sink to clean her mess up.

This is the part where I say that A) I feel like by mentioning these brands and as often as I purchase them, I should get a surprise package filled with a summer supply of them…at least and 2) I shouldn’t place all of the blame on what was about to happen on Mattie because as the adult, I should have insisted that she hand over the popsicle before leaving the table.

She obeyed right away, but took her popsicle with her and while she bent down to open to cabinet and pull out the wipes, her popsicle poured all over our new kitchen rug.  If you are a child of the 80’s, you know that red kool-aid is permanent.  I say a child of the 80’s because I don’t think parents feed their children kool-aid anymore but back then, it wasn’t a party until the big thermos or little clear plastic cups filled with diluted red-dye happiness made an appearance.  I think almost all of my friends homes had a somewhat hidden, pink splotchy stain somewhere on a rug in their house.  Or in the church fellowship halls or multipurpose rooms…..go look this week, I bet you’ll find it.

You can see why I am treading lightly on the idea of homemade ice cream today.

I am sorry that there are no pictures to go with these stories.  They would have been ugly though if there were.  I don’t think my mood at the time of the popsicle incidents was anything that any of us wants to capture forever by way of photograph.  And that read stain across the new rug, kind of felt like my attempts at fun parenting bleeding across a perfectly lovely rug.  It wasn’t pretty.

The Promised Mud

Our internet is not working.  Well, that’s not true, it is working but it just can’t work at the same time that the cable works.  So we have had the constant dilemma of do we watch tv or do things that involve the internet since Thursday.  We have also canceled our Comcast cable service because weird things like this have happened far too many times over the span of a year and we are taking a stand.  I’m not sure what that means right now for the future of all things internet and cable television related, but for now, it means that we are being choosy.  I hope that also offers a little explanation as to why there have been no recent posts since my last, featuring the nudity.  Also, I think I have been slightly ashamed of that said nudity and am hoping that I didn’t offend anyone.  Not ashamed enough to remove it, but  still slightly concerned because my readership had 49 views on that particular day and then about 15 the next.  I think maybe the people didn’t like what they saw. Again though, notice that I didn’t take it down.

So big news here on the blog, this weekend marks our one year anniversary.  I started this little adventure 366 days ago, and here it was only supposed to chronicle the events of our trip to California and back.  I have to admit, I kinda like being able to look back eight pages and read exactly what happened on that first day. And I hope that you 5 readers have enjoyed spending this year with me, learning a few more things that you may have known before at we Baughmans.  You have learned probably way more than you ever want to know about Reese.

Anyway, I’m just a little bit proud of myself for keeping this up.  And even more proud that it seems like more than one person has also enjoyed it for a whole year.  Let us all keep up the good work!

Now, I have been promising mud stories for days and it is time that I deliver.  Last Thursday, after that single parenting weekend that involved peanut butter on walls and other such awfulness, the kids and I were enjoying the back yard.  The big ones were playing around by the swings and Lila was in a swing getting the occasional push from Mattie, keeping her occupied.  I was even living large and reading a magazine.  I know, who do I think I am being all leisurely-like? Like I don’t have a million and two things that I should probably be doing, but I decided hey, we were going to look like magazine people and I was going to lay in my hammock while my children played happily.  And that is when I saw Reese go walking past me with a small metal bucket filled with water.

I took a large, deep breath in

This was a deciding moment.  I knew exactly where this boy and his bucket were headed even if the idea hadn’t fully formed in his head yet.  I have seen it before in my own childhood and more recently in his sister.

It starts with the tummy…and maybe the legs

It’s addicting that mud

Since nobody seems interested in helping, she’ll just make the mud herself

Thanks dad!

This water was not going to produce roads and a small little puddle that they could make the monster trucks jump over.  No, not even for a minute.  This bucket, with water sloshing over the sides was going to require that I throw away the khaki shorts the sister was wearing.  There would be no turning back if this bucket made it over to the grass-barren swatch of earth under the swings where it was headed.

That breath was moment to calculate whether it was all going to be worth it or not.  School was almost out and those shorts weren’t going to fit next fall anyway, let her ruin them.  Her shirt was navy, it ought to be fine. None of Brandon’s precious grass seedlings ought to be ruined so we were good there.  And Reese, he loves to be naked so lets just get rid of the clothes before it even starts.

Breath exhaled and choice made.  Bring on the mud.

This looks like something out of National Geographis doesn’t it?

Working together to make more mud

See, there’s no way he could have reached that spot without the sister

It get’s a little cold that mud

It’s important to take a moment to admire your handiwork

You haven’t fully mudded until its up in every crevice of your body…and I’m pretty sure it is now.

Nice Reesie, just smear it really good

Thank you Mattie, your willingness to help does not go unnoticed

Reason number #48 why having a sister is good – She can teach you the proper way to mud yourself

Mudding with siblings is the opposite of riding on a plane, it is VERY important that you first apply the mud to someone else before yourself to see how mom reacts

I hope my children remember this moment.  I hope they remember that mom isn’t always uptight and anxious.  I hope when they are up late years from now, gathered back here at home for Lila’s graduation or something, that they will look back at that backyard and remember the day that mom let them create a mud pit under the swings and even encouraged them to wrestle.  Actually, I hope they don’t remember this particular day, because I hope that there are many more to come.  I hope as I am looking ahead at a long summer of 3 kids at home and no exciting trips planned, that I will allow myself to say yes more.  That I will keep in mind that human skin is extremely washable and backyards are  meant to be enjoyed and played in.  If they were to be little outdoor art exhibits, we wouldn’t keep a fence around them.  And that they only get one childhood and it is my job to make sure it’s a good one.

So bring on the mud!

* Though as a side note, let me encourage anyone reading this who is feeling inspired to also let their kids take a mud bath, maybe wait until its a touch warmer because when it came time to hose the kids off.  WOW! I corralled them in our little front yard courtyard where the hose was and you would have thought I was slaughtering animals in there.  The wailing and screaming, that banging of the gate as Reese tried to escape.  Let me tell you, the water outside is still very icy in early May and does not feel cool and refreshing as it is sprayed very directly on your skin in an attempt to de-mud. I think that may have been one of those moments when I almost had the police called on me and I really don’t know what I would have said when they arrived to find two children in their underwear covered in mud , with me just standing there spraying them with cold water.  I’m not sure how to spin that into a more positive picture.*

Farmers Market

* Please be advised, there will be some male frontal nudity in the following pictures.  I could not for the life of me “censor” it.  Please shield any sensitive eyes.  Thank you*

 

I have promised you all mud, and mud you shall have, but first I have to share a little funny that Reese said last night during worship.  It has come to our attention that maybe the boy isn’t receiving as much “bible teaching” as his older sister.  She gets a hearty dose of bible doctrine at school 5 days a week and at church, so to change things up a bit, we have just been reading bedtime stories with a Jesusy theme for worship here at home.  anyway, we have decided to start from the very beginning of the story and pulled out the good ol’ Bible Story books volume 1 to get Reese good and religified.  These past two weeks, we have been reading the stories of creation and Adam and Eve. And then this is where things get a little funny.  We have some friends, married friends, named Adam and Neely. they have been in our lives pretty much since Reese was talking and really aware of things around him.  And this Mr. Adam, has been Reese’s first and primary association with the name Adam ever since then.  So now that we have really hit on the first man and woman and have been reading stories about them, he is growing more and more familiar with these well-known people, as well. However, I think that because he first met our Adam and Neely, that might explain why he frequently refers to the first man and woman and Adam and Evely.  I personally love it and think it’s rather precious.  I also think I should focus on bible stories waaaaay more than Batman.

So last Wednesday marked the first of this years weekly trips to the Farmer’s Market.  We here in the Baughman house love some visits to the FArmer’s Market.  And it doesn’t hurt that the market is held at the Botanical Gardens, which usually require that you pay to get in, but on market days you don’t really have to do that. One of the reasons that the kids enjoy the Gardens so much are the small dog-sized koi fish.

Here is Mattie offering the fish some of her italian ice

They are huge and mean serious business when it comes to eating

This guy could have easily fit a burger in that big mouth of his

The Gardens also are home to several duck and geese and a swan or several.  Mattie also thought it would be nice to entice the large goose with her italian ice.  Here she is extending her offering:

And here she is as she started to get a little excited when the goose decided to take her up on the offer:

Before the attack….if only pictures could have sound….the shrieking you would hear!

We will no longer be fraternizing with the geese on Farmer’s Market days.  They do not have the same views on sharing, biting or bullying that our family exercises.

Reese is really into bugs and such right now and he and Mattie probably spent a good 45 minutes to and hour playing in a little dried creek bed looking for rolly pollies.

Peeking at brother and sister

So…maybe I wasn’t paying the closest of attention to Lila….maybe

And what outing with Reese doesn’t include this at some point or another:

He has got to where he doesn’t even tell me he needs to go anymore.  I will just notice that he is missing and spot him a ways away from the group, taking care of business.  I don’t even know what to say anymore.

It was really nice that for just a few hours, they could put their differences behind them, and be the best of friends that deep, way down in the recesses of their hearts, I know they are.

Examining a dead turtle

And here is proof that Lila and I were there, too:

Lila posing on the same bench her brother hammed in up on about 4 years ago

Oh, and yes, we do actually buy produce from the kind farmers at the Farmer’s Market

Keep in mind that those are potatoes

Mattie does all of our purchasing

I guess we’ve run out of time to talk mud today…..stay tuned for tomorrow……I love a good teaser!

 

Judge Not

I have fed my children pie for breakfast two days in a row.  Before you judge me, I would like to make it perfectly clear that they were two different types of pie.  There, that ought to take care of the judgemental thoughts that were surely going to be tossed out at me.

The people nearest and dearest to me know that pie is one of my love languages.  I learned to speak it very early in life, especially since my grandmother is fluent in crust making.  So to show how much he has appreciated my bearing him 3 lovely children, Brandon brought home my favorite chocolate pie on Friday afternoon.  I ate one piece of this little favorite for dinner (you read that correctly, I didn’t say with dinner or after dinner, it was my dinner.) and then I really was over it.  TRuth be told, about 10 days ago, I went on a daily pie eating binge.  It was my only way to make it through the day.  It didn’t take the ladies at Muddy’s long at all to figure out it was a pie-needing kind of week and for my last two visits, I would just send Mattie in the shop with a $5 and they knew what to do.

So though I greatly appreciated the thought, I didn’t really have the stomach for it.

And then because I had mentioned that I would love one, my dear Shannie whipped me up an apple pie and presented it to me on Sunday.  It was delicious, and wow was it lovely!  The girl has a wonderful way with apple pie! But I just didn’t have it in me to eat half of it by myself….sometimes in one sitting…..the way I usually can.  So the only logical thing to do was share it, and that is how breakfast pie was born.

Also, I think it made me seem suddenly so much cooler to Mattie that I would even consider giving her pie for breakfast and on a school day!  What an awesome mom! It’s also my little way of getting back at Ms. Nkana just a tad for leaving us to get her doctorate.  Fine, you want to leave and pursue higher learning, go right ahead. I will send my 8-year-old to school with a breakfast of chocolate pie.  You’re welcome.

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Reese and I (and Lila, too) had his big pediatric ortho appointment today to find out what was going on with his legs.  Our adventure began in the waiting lounge at Campbell Clinic.  They have a very lovely setup there and even have a special children’s waiting area, which unfortunately we didn’t discover until we were walking back to have our actual appointment.  I’m sure it’s for the best though because I really think that the elderly people sitting near us enjoyed listening to me read all about the different parts of the blue-tongued skink and why tarantulas need a good screened lid on their cages from Reese’s new “Strange Pets” book.  I could tell they hated to see us leave.

Our first stop was in a little exam room where Reese was instructed to strip down.  I think the exact instructions were, “Take off the shoes, socks and pants.” Poor little guy just had to hang out in his t-shirt and underoos, not even with a pity paper sheet or anything like they at least give us ladies at our “annual” appointments.  GRanted, he didn’t seem to care in the least about not having any pants on and rather warmed up to the idea and was bounding around freely.  More than anything, he seemed concerned about not wearing shoes in a public place.  After properly disrobing the boy, we were greeted by a friendly ortho resident who bore such a close resemblance to a NASCAR driver that we are very familiar with, it was a little eery.  Unfortunately, it was not one of our (my) favorite drivers, but rather the one that beat him out of the championship last fall.  That is neither here nor there, but I think I probably spent the entire exam giving him a really odd look.  I wanted to make sure that he knew, should this be one of those hidden-camera-we dress-celebrities-up-to-look-different-and-put-them-in-obscure-places-to-see-if-they-will-be-recognized-shows, that I was on to him.  And turns out that Brad Keselowski is not only a pretty impressive race car driver (though I am not a fan), but appears to also be a very kind, intuitive and learned ortho resident as well.  Who knew?

Next up….x-rays.  I have never seen anyone bound down a dark hall way in their red skivvies with such excitement as did my boy.  You would have thought that Ms. Lacy, our new ortho wonder nurse friend, had just said “To the Batcave!” He seemed almost proud as he stood all tall, with the little piece of “man part” protective tape over his well, “man-parts” mugging for his pictures.  He all but struck a pose, even smiling.  I think he had actually been looking forward to this.  I guess when you think about it, what man wouldn’t enjoy a morning meeting pretty girls, having a famous race car driver massage your feet, being offered lollipops after every little station, and all this while running around in your underwear. If they had offered him actual snacks, we would probably still be there.  That, or he and Mattie would have spent the afternoon trying to break one another’s arms so that they could go back.  Thank goodness for no snacks.

And last but not least, we were given the verdict.  Turns out, my kid is just a habitual toe walker.  It is a habit he has had since birth, even when he first started pulling up to things.  He always stood on his toes, which can explain why learning to walk was a little difficult for him.  The doctor (this time it was the real doctor, not just the “resident”  – I am so on to you hidden camera celebrity acting like a normal person show) informed us that though there are all sorts of methods that could be used to try to break Reese of his habit, none of them will be effective.  NONE.  The only thing that works 99.9% of the time, and that is when there are no other problems like in Reese’s case, is some sort of magic that seems to happen between kindergarten and 3rd grade.  He said there is no certain variable that seems to cause it, but children that are in school during those years just seem to let go of their old ways and start to walk normal.  Kiddos can go to preschool before that age and be around other kids, but the toe walking persists.  It doesn;t seem to be that it happens because they are made fun of or bullied and so they change, they just sort of evolve.  So for now, we just sit and wait for the evolution of Reese.

At least now I will have a witty response when people feel the need to inform me that children with autism often walk on their tippy toes.  Yes, maybe they do.  And if my tippy-toe walking child happened to also be autistic I would love him just as much as I already do.  But, he is not and if you would like to judge my parenting or my children, look instead at what I have been feeding them for breakfast.

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One last little thing, last week while looking at Mother’s Day cards I deiced that it might be super fun to have the kids make some for their grandmothers.  I thought that A) this owuld be waaaay cheaper than buying all of them (cards are pricey these days, especially when you have 3 moms and then 4 grandmas and several other special “Aunties” in your life!) and 2) I would just take a pciture of the kids and how hard would that be. So I had the bigger kids drag a chair out to the front yard, because isn’t that what everyone does when its time to take a group picture? Am I the only one who takes furniture out into the yard?  I am the only one that I have seen so far in my own neighborhood, but I am pretty sure that I am not alone in this. So we took the chair outside, mainly because the lighting is best out there and I needed a corral for the kids.  I instructed them to “Look Happy” because expereince has taught me that saying “smile” doesn’t necessarily guarantee a happy-looking child.  Some of my kids’ “smiling” photos could cause bad dreams.

Here the 3 are “looking happy”

The card front winner – Happy Happy Happy

And after that was done, She Who Only Walks and Stands Independantly When She Wants To, decided to do a little modeling.

This picture makes me laugh. It seems like the perfect illustration for a girl who’s only word is her own name. Well, that and “Mama”.

Tomorrow, we’ll talk about mud.

Another Sappy Post, I Apologize Ahead of Time

My day didn’t start out as most Fridays typically do.  The main reason for this was that I was wearing pants that weren’t made of flannel before 7:00.  Days that require real clothing before 7:00 usually mean business.  Our business of the day was Pancakes with Parents at Mattie’s school.  Brandon would already be dressed for work and I hated to look like his homeless friend with her two other homeless children, so it was real clothes for everyone.

And wouldn’t you know it, Mattie ditched us.  Brandon and I sat with the two younger children, who seemed more than a little confused by the whole situation, and a table full of other parents and their children, while Mattie picked another family that she deemed more suitable.

Our breakfast transitioned into weekly chapel.  There was singing, inspiring words from Mr. Chris and of course announcements.  about 3 minutes after the announcements, the bottom of the world fell out for the ladies of the 1st-3rd grade. The three teachers that won’t be returning next year for various reasons, retirement, doctorates, and that sort of thing, were asked to come up as our school board chairman presented them each with a little token of appreciation. Mattie’s teacher is one of the 3 that will not be returning, and though she has been aware of this for a while, I don’t know that it had really hit her little class while they were together as a whole before now.  Notes had been sent out months ago informing us of her decision to continue her education and work on her PhD.  The news had been broken to kiddos over ice cream and bed time hugs and we as their parents had tried to help them process and work through it.  But I don’t think any of that entered their heads while they were at school and still had her around.  At school, it was business as usual.  I think Mattie’s teacher freely answered any questions the kids might have, but as with so many other things, her leaving was out of sight and out of mind.  Why should they worry when here she was right in front of them?

That is until today…..

This is not the first teacher for Mattie.  She had an absolutely lovely kindergarten teacher, who we also adored.  But when kindergarten was over, Mattie just moved across the hall.  She still sees Ms. Sannes all the time and the change was gradual. It was kind of like hanging on the monkey bars on a playground, she was able to still hold on to one teacher while reaching out to the next and even briefly, got to hang on to both of them. But this was going to be different.

I stood there after chapel as little girls with tears streaming down their faces reached out to me for that embrace that seems to come with being a mom….or a teacher.  I kissed tops of heads and did my best to cover up my own tears while reminding them that they still had today with their beloved teacher.  “She’s not gone yet,” I tried my best to sound upbeat and hopeful…..and to not make eye contact with the face that belonged to my own little girl.

Mattie comes by this sensitivity to change naturally.  I know that I am completely responsible for this trait that I have passed on to her.  I realized very early on that change affects me in a rather emotional way.  Big moments in life have a way of tugging at my heart, and spring time in particular, seems to be full of them.  I cannot attend a graduation of any sort, without shedding some tears.  High School ones are usually the worst, but they are each guaranteed to bring out the water works at some point. Even today, while gathered as an assembly, we sang Happy Birthday to two little girls, a set of twins that I have known now for most of their lives got me choked up a little.  I can’t believe how big they are getting!  Standing there in their little school uniforms, on thr brink of 2nd grade where two little preschoolers were two seconds ago.

While trying to “mother” all these sad little girls, the lyrics to a song came to my mind:

“Mama whispered softly, time will ease your pain

Life’s about changin’, nothing ever stays the same

And she said, How can I help you to say goodbye?

It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay to cry

Come, let me hold you and I will try

How can I help you to say goodbye?”

I wish I knew a way, the key to letting go, to pass on to Mattie.  An answer of why these things have to hurt and what we can do to make them not hurt so much.  I wish that I could tell her that this was the worst of it, that she won’t feel like this again.  But the truth is, if she’s anything like her mama (and boy is she!) then this is the first of many heartaches to come. Even today, as much as her little heart was breaking, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it hurt her mother.  I too am having to let go of someone.  This someone who has been trusted with the care of my child for two years now.  Someone who knows our family secrets and loves us anyway.  Someone who I have formed a  friendship with and who I will miss terribly.  I will grieve this saying good-bye thing, too.  But more than that, I have to watch Mattie grieve.  Its one thing to suffer your own broken heart, but it’s another to watch your little one suffering, too.

I know Mattie is going to fall in love with her new teacher in the fall.  And inside, I’m sure that she knows it,too.  But it’s awfully hard to let someone go when you aren’t yet holding on to the hand of someone else. It’s also awfully hard when it wasn’t your choice to let go in the first place.

I think the worst part, was when Mattie whispered into my ear, “Mama, she’s not going to see how I grew up.” It was time to go then. Time to go out in the car and have a big ugly cry.  Time when I wish I had those magic words, but all I could do was squeeze her.

She will see you grow up Mattie Belle.  She will be a part of our family story, of your story forever.  Years from now, when you have your own sensitive little soul, you will tell her stories of the beautiful Ms. Enoh Nkana who was your 1st and 2nd grade teacher.  You will tell of how for the first month of your 1st grade year, you came home every day to report to me of what lovely outfit your teacher had worn that day.  How it was through Ms. Nkana that you learned that some ladies wear wigs and weaves and you vowed that from that point on, you would save all your money to buy your own gorgeous Ms. Nkana-type hair.  You will tell about how she taught you to read and gave you hugs.  You will tell about how she was fair to everyone and made the whole class feel special.  And you will tell about things that right now you don’t understand, like how she protected you the day that your principle was killed.  How she was brave and strong.

She will see you grow up Mattie Belle and she will be so proud of the girl and of the lady you will become.  If she can, I’m sure she will be there at your high school graduation (where I will be crying like a fool!).  And if she can, she will be there when you graduate from college.  And if she can, I’m sure she will come to wherever you are to see you get married.

And if nowhere else, she will see you in heaven.

Our goodbyes are never forever, though they usually feel that way at first.

To Ms. Nkana from the Baughman family, we love you and wish you all the best as you spread your wings.  We hope and pray that our story together is far from over and that we have several more memories to make.  But should this portion be finished, know that you have left a huge impression on our hearts.  You have been a blessing to us and to so many others and Memphis Junior Academy has been changed for good because you were here.

First day of school, 1st grade

Last day of School, 1st grade

First Day of School 2nd grade

* Give me a few hours to dry up these tears and I have some funny pictures to share from yesterday *

Last Friday Night

I need to be ironing.  I have exactly an hour and 20 minutes before I will have to go and pick up Matilda from school.  That would give me plenty of time to iron the 5 or 6 things that need ironed and watch last nights episode of Nashville, maybe even squeeze in Modern Family.  But even as much as I want to watch my “stories”, oh how I loathe ironing.  So instead, I will spend this hour or so with you.  I would really LOVE to go and curl up in my bed, but if I succumbed to that, Matilda might not get picked up at all.

So I will write

I have been teasing you all with these snippets of my crazy evening Friday night. I had just about decided to forget it all because as dramatic as it all was, it kind of left me feeling like I was complaining about my horrible children and how motherhood is just awful. I had just about decided to keep that one to myself and just share with you that it wasn’t my finest moment in parenting and move on to a sweet picture of kid number #3 cheesing by the front door . But while standing in Kroger on Tuesday, with a baby on my hip trying desperately to grab all the helium balloons that were just out of reach, and my preschooler having the best time pulling out cards and then playing his own version of Memory when it came to putting them back, I had a change of heart.  I was standing there trying to pick out Mother’s Day cards for my moms, on the verge of tears because nothing gets my quite like a well versed Mothers Day card and also right smack in the middle of my very own, happening right now motherhood moments.  Reading those cards that spoke of not always appreciating the sacrifices and wishing we could go back in time and tell our moms then what we know now, my heart felt like it might explode for the love I hold for my own mom and also a longing that I hope my kids will one day sit on the floor of Kroger with their own small children behaving like cave people as they try to pick out a Mother’s Day card.  That they too will feel like no one has ever loved them more and will still be loving them just as strong. There were some pretty deep thoughts and feelings going down at the Kroger for 10:00 in the morning, let me tell ya!

So then I thought back to my Friday night, when I strongly considered leaving a note for Nene and Papa informing them that I would be back sometime Sunday afternoon.  No, things were not picture perfect that night.  My home and what was going on inside would not have been used in an ad for furniture, laundry detergent, maybe Clorox wipes, but certainly not anything cozy and calm and that sort of thing.  I was trying to make dinner and the bigger kids were playing super heroes in the annex.  They were being loud, really loud and by the sounds of things there was some intense wrestling and super hero leaping and flying sort of activity going on.  I had spent a good amount of the morning making sure that the annex was all cleaned up and ready for Nene and Papa and now I was pretty sure that they were jumping on the bed and possibly even move the furniture around.  But they were also laughing and not arguing, and to have that happen in my house, I was willing to let the other slide. Something sounded like it broke at one point but Mattie quickly informed me that she was fine. Beds can be remade if that means having 20 minutes without fighting.

And then it happened. The all too familiar “Mommy” from Mattie which I know is going to be followed by “Reesie did……(fill in the blank)”.  My 20 minutes was up.  Turns out this time Reese had smeared peanut butter on the wall.  I had no idea what peanut butter was even doing in there and though he isn’t necessarily the brightest star in the sky, Reese isn’t completely stupid either to think even for a minute that peanut butter made a good art medium.  I thought to lay my knife down first before I walked in to see what was happening.  I have found that it really seems to frighten the children when mom walks into a stressful situation wagging a knife. Sure enough, there was a handful of peanut butter on the wall complete with handprints the size of my dear son.  When asked about who was responsible for all of this, it was sort of what I imagine it must have been like when God questioned Adam and Eve about the  fateful fruit-eating in the Garden of Eden.

“He brought the peanut butter in here!”

“She told me to go get it.”

“He smeared it on the wall!”

“She smeared it all across my face first and I was trying to block her!”

Hmmmm that was a key factor that Mattie had not shared when making the initial tattle.

I was so mad at them both.  The room looked like a disaster, there was stuff everywhere and the bed was just a crumbled heap.  Mattie knows that food isn’t allowed out of the kitchen and she also knows that if she suggests something to Reese, he’s going to think it’s okay.  Also that breaking sound I had heard earlier, though Mattie was okay, my plantation shutters were not.  Interesting how she had neglected to share that bit of information.

They both received a strong portion of the hand of discipline.  Mattie lost privileges to go to a birthday party on Sunday that was coincidently enough at one of those places that is just a room full of inflatable fun.  The ate dinner in silence, brushed teeth and were sent to bed without their usual Friday night snuggle.  And I walked downstairs and called Brandon and cried.  Because I had failed.  My children were crazy monkeys that if given the slightest bit of freedom, lost complete control of their minds.  And I was their mother so it must be because of me.  If they aren’t fighting, it seems that they are working together to wreck some sort of havoc.

It took a few days, but on Tuesday I had that epiphany.  I hadn’t failed them.  First, I didnt’ walk into the room the knife and demand what had happened.  That right there was a huge factor in retrospect. I didn’t yell at either one of them or tell them that they were bad people.  I had let them both know that I was very disappointed in their actions and reminded each of them what their individual sins had been in this whole debacle.  And before I sent Mattie up to bed, with tears running down her cheeks because she was going to miss her friends’ party, I reminded her that if I can’t trust that she will play safely on one inflatable toy (there may have been a blow up batmobile in the annex), there was no way I could feel okay about sending her to a room full of them.  With one toy and one other friend/ sibling, she had managed to break a shutter and make some pretty poor choices.  With a room full of excitement and friends and bouncing, who know what might happen. I reminded her that though it will be costly, a shutter if fixable.  But had that been Reese’s arm or her neck, those things are a lot more precious.  I hugged her and said that I would never forgive myself if I let her go somewhere when I knew she wasn’t ready for that responsibility.

There was no stomping, no door slamming and before she walked away, she hugged me back.  Maybe for the first time in our experience as mother and daughter, Mattie understood the consequences of her transgressions.  For the first time, it seemed like she really got that I didn’t like it anymore than she did and I was just as saddened by the whole thing.

The picture perfect evening was definitely a bust.  I was exhausted and there was still a whole weekend left ahead of me, but looking back now, I don’t think I failed.

I’m sharing this story because by the sentiments expressed in those Mother’s Day cards I was reading, my children aren’t the first to have given their mother fits.  I am not alone in this arena and by the reassuring words in those cards, a time will eventually come when they won’t jump off of my furniture quite so much and the yelling ought to die down.  I did not fail, I persevered.  I went to sleep in the same house as those naughty children and I woke up the next morning willing to start it all again. There is something comforting in knowing that you are not the only one who has fought wars with the little people living in your house just today.  And it’s perfectly normal.  It isn’t pretty, it’s not something we take a picture of and share on blogs or other social networks, but it happens.

On this Mother’s Day, make sure to thank the Mother who weathered your growing pains.  The woman whose walls felt the wrath of your childhood play and who’s car you probably spilled something really disgusting in at least twice.  Remember the lady who said not a word as she cleaned your poo and pee and vomit off of her favorite shirt, possibly even at the same time and not before cleaning you up first.  Make sure and thank the woman who loved you and prayed for you when you were at your moodiest and meanest.  Remember to say thank you to the woman who let you wear her body for a while and still has the scars to show for it.  And we won’t even get into what you owe her for your exit out of that body.  Some people say that they never knew love until they had children of their own.  I think that’s completely true, but I think that even more so, because I am now finally understanding the love that my mom has had for me this whole time.

Emergency Public Service Announcement

I still have lots of fun adventures to share with you from my weekend with Brandon away, but for now I had to hurry and inform everyone of the huge, HUGE sales going on at Gap.  I am slightly embarrassed and also equally proud to share that I know when they get their new shipments of things here in the Memphis area.  But let me tell you, when new merchandise comes in, the old stuff goes on crazy sale.  It also helps when you have a Gap card like myself and get coupons to use there during these great sales.

So I just wanted to share with you a few of my finds.  These are mainly from Gap Kids and Baby Gap, but the grown up store also had sweaters for $6.97 so there are treasures for everyone.

These are items that I found for Reese, 2 sweater/ pullover type shirts for $4.97 (plus another 30% off) and a button-up for $5.97

These are items I found for Lila, both of them were……..$2.97!

And then I found all of this lovely bounty, perfect for baby presents for the 65 people or so that are pregnant right now.  Nothing in this pile was over $2.97 and some of it was even $0.97!  Is that not crazy?

I also found this little bit of nautical wonderfulness that was not $2.97, but it was still on sale and with all the money I saved on everything else, I felt like it balanced out.  Plus, we all know how nothing makes me happy quite like navy and white stripes…absolutely nothing.

So if you have baby gifts to buy, little ones of your own or like to get new clothes yourself, run don’t walk to your neighborhood Gap before I get there and buy everything else!

* P.S – I also just realized that I unintentionally deleted the photos from some of the more recent posts and they are also deleted from my computer so I apologize if you can’t see the awesome photo that used to be there.  Let this be a lesson to read every day though rather than catching up once every two months because you might miss something.:)

Honey I’m Home!

Oh yes he is and I couldn’t be happier! I have been blessed to have the help of my parents, Nene and Papa, this weekend but boy am I glad to have my other half back home.

I have had what would probably be a very funny weekend if it was playing out of a movie or something, instead of my actual life.  It’s funny how things aren’t nearly as funny when they are happening to you.

I spent most of Friday morning cleaning up  my house for my parents.  I know that my family would insist that I didn’t need to do anything to get ready for them, but I have a certain amount of pride.  I don’t want them to think that I am raising their grandchildren in squalor. The Littlests and I picked up Mattie from school and had a few errands to run, and then I had promised them YOLO (which is probably the best frozen yogurt anywhere).  While we were enjoying our end of the week treat, I noticed a young lady also enjoying her frozen treat.  By the looks of what she was wearing, this young lady went to one of Memphis’s elite private schools.

*Though as a side, let me just say that for as hoity toity as this school is – their uniforms are HORRIBLE! Imagine that iconic jumper that Dorothy wears in The Wizard of Oz, only these are more of a solid rather than gingham checked.  They are also in pastels of green, yellow, pink and blue.  It cracks me up every time I see one of them driving their fancy BMW or whatever and wearing their childish easter egg jumper.*

So here is super wealthy girl, and then I noticed her shoes.  Also for this particular school, the girls all wear old-school saddle oxfords.  The dressy kind, not the more causal Keds version either.  This girl’s shoes looked like they had seen better days, and those days were days and days ago.  For a person who you know probably doesn’t have the cheap version of anything and probably drives a way better car now at 17 than I ever will, she sure had some busted up shoes.  Walking out of our friendly, neighborhood yogurt haunt, I felt a little twinge of self-pride.  I might drive a lemon of a car and buy the Kroger brand of most of my canned goods and the grocery store, but my kid would never wear shoes like that…..ever.

My mother once told me never say never when it comes to your kids.

Also, I should know by now that whenever I have that moment of pride, that I’m kinda important and maybe a little bit better than someone else…..I am right at the peak before a humbling fall.  And this time was no different.

As we were walking through the frozen food section of the grocery store, following our dessert run, Mattie called to me regarding toaster pastries.  I turned around and saw my daughter shoe gaping open, the sole completely unattached to the actual body of the sneaker.  “Mattie! What’s going on with your shoe?” I called in great alarm.  “I don’t know but the water from the outside has my sock all wet.” she said back to me.  At least Saddle-Oxford girl didn’t appear to have holes in the bottom of her beat up shoes.  Mattie was going to be able to tell her children one day that her mother made her wear her shoes until there were literally holes in the bottoms and then on rainy days, her socks would get soaked.  I was way worse than Saddle-Oxford Girl’s mother! And What must Mattie’s teacher have thought of me for letting her wear those awful things?  I was so embarrassed that I took a picture to share with you to even further humiliate myself.  As if letting her roam around in public wasn’t enough……

 

Isn’t that crazy? Thankfully, she only has 10 days left of school and we have one other pair of dress code approved shoes.  I think we will make it.  And as a note to self and any other person who is thinking about purchasing a pair of Puma Roma sneakers for their 2nd grader, thanks to Mattie’s “research” we can conclude that their average life span is about 8 months.  Pretty good, we give them a solid B+ if not an A-.

Another funny that happened that afternoon was when Mattie noticed a man wearing a yamaka for the first time.  It probably wasn’t the man’s first time wearing it, but it was her first time noticing one.  Anyway, she asked me about it and I explained to her that it was a Jewish thing and they wore them as a reminder that God is always above them.  That he is always there and also that no matter what good deeds they do or what they accomplish, God is always higher and above them.  She thought that was pretty cool and didn’t really say anything else about it, except asked if women could wear them, too.  I said that I wasn’t sure what the policy was on that, but I hadn’t ever noticed any girl yamaka wearers.  About 10 minutes later, I noticed that she was sporting a cupcake paper on top of her head.  I’m not sure how long it had been there, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass her.  Also, I thought it was terribly precious and funny and I kind of enjoyed it. I suppose she comes by this naturally, as I celebrated Hanukkah for about 3 years….even had my own menorah.  Some kids rebel by drinking, piercing things or acting out in other scandalous ways.  I had a thing for Judaism at 14.

Tomorrow, I will share with you the crazy that fell upon me soon after we got home.  There may have been a moment there that I thought about taking my children to the fire station (isn’t that one of the places that they say you can take and leave children with no questions asked?  I think they are meaning babies, but I haven’t heard the specifics so…….). Stay tuned!