Wordful Wednesday: Halloween

Has Nacho Libre gone to the dark side?

NO!!! It's Nacho Cheese!!

Nacho Cheese practicing his awesome ninja moves....

lest some unsuspecting fool try to sabotage his trick-or-treat bag.

Ghoulish Vampiress

Here's my ghoul....standing still long enough for her

silly mother to snap a picture or two. "Oh Mom!"

Hope your Halloween was a blast, too!

Linking up with Wordful Wednesday

Skid Marks, a Sharpie, and Other Ramblings

Lately I feel uninteresting, overwhelmed by motherhood, and seems to have a mild case of writer's block. Therefore, rather than force myself to write something that I am not behind 100%, I thought I would share some random conversations between my children and I.

Enjoy!

~~~

Sunday we were driving with just the boys in the car, and we were talking about clothes that we needed to get/replace before long.

Me: Lucas, we are going to have to go through and weed out some of your underwear, dude. You've got a bunch of drawers with some nasty skids and some holes in 'em.

Lucas: (without missing a beat) Well, it's cuz I fart!

....can't argue with that logic.

~~~

This afternoon when she came home from school:

Abby: Momma, guess what?!

Me: What?

Abby: *BEAMING* Today my teacher gave me a brand new Sharpie to keep in my school box!!

Me: Really? What color is it?

Abby: It's baby blue and it's brand new! I brought it home in my backpack so that I could use it a little bit. YAY!! I love new Sharpies!!!

Yep, she's mine all right. The only thing that could have made her day any better would've been if the teacher had given her a pink spiral notebook to go along with it. I'm so proud!

~~~

Last weekend Lucas had a falling out with one of the boys on our block, When he came in crying to tell Richard about it, this is how it went down:

Lucas: *emotionally tells his dad about the incident between he and a friend*

Richard: Well did you hit him back?

Lucas: NO.

Richard: You are going to have to start learning to stand up for yourself rather than running inside and fussing about it everytime. He shouldn't have ****ed you, but next time you need to punch him back, and make it count!

Lucas dries his tears up and goes back outside to play. As a protective mother bear precautionary measure, I decided to follow him out and read a book while keeping an eye on things. After about 10min I could see that Lucas is still pretty worked up and agitated, so I ask him what was up.

Lucas: I'm waiting for **** to come back outside so that I can beat him up!

Me: WHAT?!?

Lucas: Well dad said to hit him back next time, so that's what I'm gonna do!

Me: Well, I don't think your dad meant for you to come out and settle the score after the fact, he means for you not to take crap WHEN someone hurts you.

Lucas: Well that's what I'm gonna do! I'm not taking crap!

I marched back into the house and let Richard know that he needed to get himself outside PROMPTLY, and clarify the "ass kicking policy" before we had an even bigger problem on our hands... Nice.

~~~

The oldest can't seem to understand why I am not "on board" with letting him roaming aimlessly around his girlfriend's neighborhood on Halloween night. I mean really, they're "just going for a walk in the woods".

Now that I think about it, I'm starting to seem a little uptight to myself, too! I mean, it would make total sense to just let my hormonal-almost-driving-age teenager walk in the woods with boobies and groping hands, right? And surely letting them go unattended (unless you consider the other COUPLE of teenagers as chaperons) makes even more sense. They are teenagers, after all, and know more than we (the parents) do. Right!? Or do I just have it bass-ackwards again? I don't know. I might need a little help on this one.

Can I use my life line, Meredith?

~~~

Hunting For Wabbits!

"We're hunting for wabbits!"

I love the uninhibited look of seriousness and

determination on their faces. You can almost sense the crazy

testosterone of little boys with the power of a pellet gun in their hands.

And here they are examining the target for accuracy.

This was Lucas' first time to handle a pellet gun, and merely stating that "he was excited"doesn't even begin to describe his exhuberance. His buddy had all the right gear - protective eyewear, targets, and a huge sheet of solid wood to mount the targets on. The wooden target mount particularly struck me as genius since little pellets are quite prone to finding their passageway to freedom in between fence pickets. :)

Not that we've learned this firsthand or anything... I've just heard.

Artistic Interpretation At It's Finest

Lucas BURST through the door when he got home from school, one sunny afternoon. He was so full of purpose and determination that he could only manage to grunt or exclaim, "I need to find those glasses!" In his hands he held an art project, and it was imperative that he find the stash of 3-D glasses ASAP. Drawers were getting turned inside out, books strewn about, and miscellaneous odds and ends were getting jumbled and rearranged. The entertainment center was ransacked! After another minute or two of relentless digging, he finally found the 3-D glasses and put them on.

He intently looked at his project for a split second (or two) before yelling, "My teacher is a LIAR!"

I was SHOCKED at what I heard, and replied, "WHAT?"

"My TEACHER is a LIIIAAARRR!", he yelled again. Much louder than before. In case I didn't hear him the first time. Duh.

"Why would you say something like that?" I asked.

Lucas said, "Because she told us that this was 3-D art, BUT IT ISN'T!"

Exhibit A (front view)

Exhibit B (rear view)

His teacher's definition of 3-D art obviously didn't acheive the same expectations as the "Spy Kids: Shark Boy and Lava Girl" 3-D movie. Once I talked him down from the edge of insanity and explained to him what she REALLY meant by "3-D art", things were much better. It didn't remove the sting of disappointment, but it sure was awesome to watch my boy throw a complete hissy fit with those those nerdy glasses on. *giggle*

A week or two later, I had the distinct pleasure of running into Luc's art teacher in the school parking lot and sharing this story with her. She got quite a kick out of it, and was amused (rather than insulted) at being called a liar.

Prompt#2 - But teachers know everything!!

Write about a time when a teacher disappointed you.

I Hear Him Crying

Friday, July 19, 2003

The baby has been throwing up for days now. It started out not so bad, but now he throws up every time he eats. He eats like he's starving...then he throws EVERYTHING up....and cries again because he's famished. I don't know what's going on, but I know that he's sick and needs to go to the doctor. Richard will have to take him because I can't....too many germs.

Lastnight I started getting chills. Chills shouldn't be a big deal, but I also started running a low-grade fever. I took some meds before bed, but by 3AM this morning the fever is 101.7*, my chest and back are assaulting me with pain and it looks like I'm going to have to go to the doctor now, too. DAMN IT!! This fever changes everything. Why does this have to happen NOW - the baby is soooo sick and I just don't have the strength.

We just got ahold of both the pediatrician AND the oncologist and have formulated a game plan. My mom is going to take me to see the oncologist while Richard takes the sprout to the pediatrician. As we scramble out the door, I grab the thermometer because I can feel myself getting warmer with every minute that passes. My fever was 101.7* and now it's up to 102*...what is going on!? By the time we make our way down to the oncologist's office I have managed to drink almost half a gallon of water right out of a jug that my mom had in her back seat. I am burning up! The thermometer is telling me that we better drive fast...it's going higher, and higher. PANIC. Is. Setting. In.

Once we get to the doctor's office, Edith, my chemo nurse, gets me right into a room to start my central line. She checks my vitals and immediately calls an ambulance. I am starting to lose consciousness and crash. She is talking calmly, but TELLING me to stay awake. "Stay with me Lesley. You aren't going anywhere Lesley. We've come too far Lesley. Girl, you hang on! Don't go to sleep Lesley. They'll be here soon. You're a fighter Lesley." By the time the ambulance gets me to the hospital my fever has hit 104.5*.

At the same time I am rolling into the ER, I find out that Richard and Lucas have received orders from the pediatrician to get down to the emergency ASAP and are one their way as well. Lucas is more sickly than we had thought, but they need to run tests to find out what's going on with him. I can hear the ER staff talking to eachother about how the baby coming in belongs to the breast cancer patient in Room #--.

As I am laying there in excruciating pain and feeling like a science experiment, Richard finally arrives at the hospital and rushes into the room to check and see how I'm doing. A flood of emotions washes over me when I see him....and as I glance to the doorway, I see them wheel Lucas by on a gurney.

I can hear my baby crying, but they won't let me see him.

Lucas has been put into the room right next to mine. Since they don't know what's wrong with either of us, we can't get near eachother.

We are so close, yet worlds away.

He's crying so hard!

All I can do is TRY to talk loud enough so that he can hear me - but I don't know if he can even hear me at all. It's a mother's job to soothe their babies when they're hurting and scared, but I can't even hold his little hand. Lucas is only five weeks old.

As the morning has progressed into afternoon, I've had a CT scan, MRI, and who knows how many fluids drained from my body for testing. When I came out of one of my scans, Richard let me know that he and Lucas would be leaving soon to be taken by ambulance to Texas Childrens for more testing. All I can do is lay here on my bed and pray. Pray, pray, and pray harder.

What if I don't make it? What if Lucas doesn't make it? What happens if we're both gone and just Richard, Abby and Conner are left....

Prompt #2 - Tell us about a day you were sure you wouldn't get through.

Obviously I made it and so did Luc. Lucas was diagnosed and underwent surgery for pyloric stenosis the following day. The doctors at Texas Children's are rock stars, and I have nothing but love and admiration for the work that they do on those tiny little growing bodies.

I was diagnosed with a staph infection in my bloodstream, and stayed in ICU for six days. The source of the infection was my port-o-cath which was removed post haste. Subsequently a PICC line was installed into my arm so that I could finish the remaining treatments of Taxol on my treatment plan.

Richard spent countless hours driving back and forth between hospitals to check on Lucas and I. My mother stayed with me and Richard's grandmother, Alice, stayed with Lucas.

On a particularly low day in ICU, I vividly remember praying and asking the Lord, "I cannot continue this battle in my own strength, You are going to have to cover the gap. But if this is how I am supposed to die, I accept it."

He carried me.

Life's Just Not The Same After Kids

Prompt #1 - A list of things you no longer have in common with your single/childless friends...and why you love them anyways.

1. I buy my clothes for function rather than fashion.
2. Catching projectile vomit in your hands isn't gross, it's a skill that accomplishes two things at once - reduces the amount of clean-up required, and increases eye/hand coordination.
3. Air freshener in the bathroom isn't just to cover the smell of a stinky poo...it also helps to mask the odor created by boys that have problems AIMING.
4. Sanity is relative.
5. iCarley is a little more entertaining as time passes. Sad, I know.
6. My kitchen table isn't set with a centerpiece, placemats, chargers, and napkin rings anymore. It has paint, scratches, dried syrup, and marker stains on it...and I like it that way.
7. My DVD drawer has more kid DVD's than adult movies. And by "adult" I mean PG-13 and R....not porn.
8. Baby wipes are like a happy package of magic no matter how old my kids get...not just for baby shower gifts.
9. My idea of a clean car was flushed down the toilet when Conner started drinking from a sippy cup and there was enough food under the seat to feed a third world country.
10. Cooking dinner is rarely an option, it's a requirement.
11. This weekend I washed 2 loads of darks, 1 load of neutrals, 1 load of whites, 1 load of reds, 1 load of towels only, 1 load of green/blues, and 2 loads of sheets. Beat THAT, Single Sally!
12. My ass. The kids did this to me. Honestly, they did.
13. Saving money is usually short term rather than long term. What I save inevitably goes towards Christmas gifts, upcoming plans, or for the kid's birthdays.
14. Richard says that I have "mom hair", but I really don't give a rip. I can put it in a ponytail, up in a clip, or blow it out. FUNCTION is the name of my game, and I need something easy.
15. My carpet stains tell a story of our life with growing children...spilled syrup, sippy cups, markers, playing with make-up, etc.

Some days I envy the quiet, solitude, cleanliness, leisure, and uninterrupted lifestyle that others have. But then my redhead barges into the room crying because he fell off of his bike. Or Abby adds ANOTHER item to the list of things that she wants to have at her birthday party (that she's been planning for 9 months so far). Or Conner tells me that he has a project due tomorrow for a major grade...and everything is how it should be.

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CORN-a-MOPE-ia....Not Cornucopia

Our youngest is a food snob to the most severe degree.

• Chocolate or vanilla ice cream only, and it should never have syrup, sprinkles, or anything "extra" on/in it.
• Negative on the potatoes, unless they come in the form of french fries sans any trace of potato skin. Potato Skin = No Go
• NEVER chicken on the bone. EVER.
• He won't eat jelly because "on Spongebob they make jelly from jellyfish". Thanks Mr. A-hole Squarepants, I owe you one!
• Waffles can only be the Lego's Cinnamon Toast variety....with syrup on the side...never touching.
• Peanut butter....can't stand it.
• Won't eat bread of ANY kind if it has butter on it. Period. Even pancakes.
• Grannella (granola) bars are the enemy.
• Most vegetables should be taken completely off the menu.
• ...and the list goes on, and on, and on, AND ON!

Sometimes this "hang up" of his is amusing, but mostly it's just completely maddening.

Like tonight. I decided that tonight would be "leftovers night", so I let Luc know UP FRONT (before he even left for school) that his options for dinner would be BBQ sandwiches, pot roast sandwiches, or Italian sausage and peppers....no other options. Immediately the wheels began to turn, and the look of disgust started to cloud his face, so I reiterated that ultimately he only has TWO choices - EAT, or STARVE. It makes no difference, to me, at this point.

So after we hash out his disappointment with the dinner selections (and my inability to be flexible and make something different), he hops on his bike and rides off to school. He has better things to do with his day, meanwhile, I am still stewing with frustration. While I am stewing, I happened to recall an evening several weeks ago when I decided to serve corn on the cob with dinner instead of canned corn. Everyone in my family (including the food snob) LOVES CORN, so I thought this would be a nice change to go along with our grilled pork chops, etc. ....That's what I thought.

Dinner was served, and this was the look that I got.

After listening to him moan and groan about how he has "always hated" corn on the cob, Richard explained that corn on the cob is just the same as corn out of a can. The only major difference, one is still on the cob, and the other isn't. This is the look he gave Richard. :) I can only imagine what he was thinking.

No dice on trying to convince him otherwise. So Richard, being the good father that he is, decided just to cut Luc's corn off of the cob since the cob seemed to be such a big issue.

In the end, he only ate two bites and ditched the rest. He still maintains that corn on the cob is gross. *forced, sarcastic smile*

Dear Lord,

When he is grown, 30ish, and married to a wonderful girl that we all adore, please consider sending Mr. Picky a grandbaby for me to spoil, that will be a picky eater just like himself!? Just one, fussy, hard to please offspring would be great. Pretty please? With sugar on top? (Mr. Picky does like sugar.)

Yours truly.

*****

The Definition of Quiet

quiet \qui"et\ verb

1. the quality or state of being quiet, or in repose; as an hour or a time of quiet.

2. freedom from disturbance, noise, or alarm; stillness; tranquillity; peace; security. and join with thee, calm peace and quiet.

3. silent, noiseless; peaceful, tranquil; still, lacking activity; speaking very little

This is what I am listening to right now....quiet. No one is talking. The TV is off. No action figures have come alive and are seeking to take over the universe this afternoon. Rock Band is on hiatus. The chitter chatter of little voices is missing. Ahhhh..... Silence IS golden. Anyone who says otherwise is a LIAR!

Abby was so excited to see all of her friends and walk to school with them this morning. She practically BOUNCED down the stairs, fully dressed, and ready to have her hair done. This happy girl is the one I love to see in the mornings, instead of the snarling, moody diva who just can't find the right clothes to wear.

Lucas, on the other hand, said, "I don't think this is going to be a very good year" as we were almost to the front doors of the school. One of the boys in his class whines a lot, apparently. As far as he is concerned, the jury is still out on whether 2nd grade will even be worth waking up for....his teacher will have her hands full with Mr. Cynical.

And then there's Conner...oh, Conner. I thought that this was going to be a piece of cake - no big deal sending him off to high school. I think that watching him get into his dad's car to go to school may have been equally as difficult for me to watch as his first day of Kindergarten, if that's even possible. I maintained my composure all morning, but when I took Abby to her class (her teacher was also Conner's 3rd grade teacher) it happened....I. Broke. Down. I was "that mom". You know, the one who becomes a boo-hooing puddle of snot and mascara? Yep, that one. It was a horrible display of raw, my-baby-has-grown-up, and where-did-the-years-go emotion. If the classroom cameras were rolling, someone will get a good laugh later!

Oh, the roller coaster of emotion that parents ride. Good grief!

*****

What do get when you combine GAS and SLUSHES?

On Tuesday we stopped to get gas on our way back home from dropping Conner off in Missouri. (We didn't do a local summer camp this year.) Anyway, we decided to stop and address several issues at the same time...a bathroom break, fill up on gas, stretch our legs for a minute, AND to get a Sonic slush. As we were pulling into the station (a combo Shell/Sonic) the back seat conversation went down like this:

Lucas: "Hey Abb, what kind of slush are you gonna get?"

Abby: "I don't know. Prob'ly watermelon. What are you gonna get?"

Lucas: "Hey Abb, we're gonna get gas AND slushes." (he forgot to answer what flavor as soon as the crude, silly humor was triggered in his brain)

Abby: "Slushes and GAS?" *snicker*

Lucas: "GASSY SLUSHES!!!" *giggle*

Abby: "Slushes that GIVE US GAS!!!" *roaring laughter*

The chuckling and silly comments continued until we were separated by the Men's and Women's restrooms, respectively. I could even hear Lucas lauging to himself while he was taking care of business and I was outside the door! HAHAHAHA!!

Random kid humor is goooood stuff!


*****

Card Shark

Growing up, my family spent a lot of evenings playing games together. We enjoyed games like Go Fish, Old Maid, UNO, Battle, as well as a multitude of various other board games. One of the stand out favorites was Memory. Just the mention of this game probably makes my Dad cringe and start to twitch. *chuckle* The most enjoyable part of playing Memory, was when my brother Nathan would step up to the table and face off with my dad. Two words - brutal and beatings. *outburst of laughter* Of all the kids, Nathan was the Memory Master, and he owned almost every game that he played with us. Over time, and numerous beatings, my dad (figuratively speaking) took his toys and went home. He would not play Memory with Nathan....period. *laughing too hard - must catch breath*

This smattering of memories kept popping up in my mind tonight as I was getting SLAUGHTERED at Memory by my youngest. *grimace* Every time Luc would get a match he would giggle and gloat....not too surprising, since he's almost seven with a competitive streak a mile wide. But when I would get a match, WOW, what a fuss! Anyway, he beat me twice (horribly), before I finally turned him loose on his sister for the next game. :)

Lesson learned: Growing up, it feels A-MAZ-ING to beat the snot out of your parents at games. As a parent, you reflect back on those cocky little displays of sweet, sweet victory when you were a child, and smile humbly as your child stands up from the coffee table to do the John Travolta moves from Saturday Night Fever. Rock it Lucas, and enjoy the victory lap!

"Awesome" Season

Supporting the theory that Lucas lives out of the box, consider this:

When we got our first correspondence from Lucas' t-ball coach, it included basic information, upcoming events, and a request for info about skill level, which side the boy throws & hits from, etc. Pretty self explanatory stuff. One of the crucial tidbits included on the list was, "What name does your son want monogrammed onto his hat?" After excitedly typing out all of my responses, I started to second guess one of my answers and decided to ask the "baller" himself. This is how it went down:

Me: "Hey Luc, what name do you want on your ball cap?"

Luc: "Whaaaaat?"

Me: "Your BASEball cap!? What name do you want on it?"

Luc: "Oh. Just 'Awesome'".

Me: "Seriously. What name do you want on your cap? Luc? Lucas? What do you want?"

Luc: "I told you, I want it to say 'Awesome'"

In the end, I just laughed the conversation off as a silly six-year-old moment, kept the response email in my "drafts" folder, and decided to let some time pass so that he could think it over and decide what he really wanted on his hat. A few hours later, we revisited the topic and this is what he chose...



Apparently it wasn't just a fleeting fancy, but a literal label of his self worth and confidence. He never waivered in his decision, or seriously considered other options. :) While all of the other kids had their first names proudly displayed on their ball caps....Lucas had a label, an attitude, a description, an EXPECTATION.

Richard contributed by being the Dugout Coach for the team. The dugout coach in t-ball is the the coaching equivalent of throwing 12 golf balls into a tile shower and attempting to maintain order and decorum. NOT EASY, but extremely amusing to those of us who were not doing the job.




The A's finished the season by ranking 2nd in the T-Ball American League Championships! WAY TO GO A's!!!

Side Note: Props to this kids' parents for raising a confident, well adjusted individual!

(Why, thank you!)


*****

Unloading the dishwasher should be easy, right?

This afternoon I asked Lucas to clean out the dishwasher, which seems like it would be an easy enough task, right? Not so fast! At the same time Luc was unloading, I was in "busy mode" - working on dinner, playing on the computer, signing homework folders, etc. When I finally glanced up to check on his progress, boy was I surprised! He had stacks of plates, glasses stacked by size and color, baking dishes, the whole nine yards on the counters and still not put in the cabinets. Not only were the dishes still out on display, but apparently he had decided that it's necessary to take the bottom rack of the dishwasher completely out of the unit, in order to properly unload the top rack. ....WHAT?!?

~~~~~~~~~

Dear Lucas,

Please take a bow, young man. Seeing my kitchen methodically torn apart and cleaned at the same time was AMAZING! Your approach to unloading the dishwasher has been an enlightening experience. It also makes me wonder if, one day, I will send you to scrub bathrooms only to find that you have removed the toilet lids and disassembled the faucet hardware.

Signed,

Your Loving Mother


*****