summer

I was mixing batter for scones while my girl was up playing in her room while her brothers were chasing around the living room (two on legs and one in a walker) while my husband was out working in the garage.

And all was right in the world. 

Thankful for the little things. 

Know what?

My oldest boy is six and a half.  Which makes me lame and three quarters.  

Mothering boys does not come naturally to me.  I grew up with sisters.  Boys were always a great mystery.  All that energy.  Natural boy energy seemed like naughtiness before I had boys of my own.  Now I know better.  A boy without energy enough to climb the walls, tear them down and then build them back up should have his thyroid levels checked. 

Many times a day I am reminding my boys to talk in a quieter voice, simmer down, walk nicely, slow down, talk politely etc.  And many times a day I am reminding myself that I am raising boys.  Boys need to talk in a loud voice, simmer up, walk crazy, kick into high gear and talk about bodily functions.  They must do all of these things or they will explode.  We do a daily dance of reigning in and channeling energy.  Finding appropriate outlets for natural tendencies.

Yesterday was a day full of correction and redirection.  It started to show on my boy's face.  The 'I can't do anything fun' look.  So I skunked him in a game of marbles.  Then he beat me twice...and practiced some smack talk.  So I body slammed him.  Then I beat him in a foot race.  He smiled at me like I wasn't quite as lame as he thought.  Then to seal the deal I asked him, "Know what?"

"What?"

"Chicken butt."  I said.  And his eyes got wide.

"Know why?" I asked.

"Why?"  he grinned.

"Cow pie." I said. His eyes got wider.

"Know where?"

"Where?" he asked on pins and needles.

"In  your underwear."  I whispered.  And his eyes fell onto the floor.

And I am now the coolest person he knows.  For now. 

7.12.11

"Do you mind if I take a quick nap?"  I asked my husband, home from a morning of summer school, after lunch. 

"Not at all."

I snuck away to our bedroom and closed the door.  One minute later, the door opened.

"I can snuggle you, mom?" 

"Of course you can snuggle me.  I love to snuggle." 

Then a thought...soon it is this little one's naptime.  "Do you want to take a nap on Mommy's bed?"

He did.

So I quickly grabbed his blankie and snuggled him in next to me.  We closed our eyes.  He started to snicker.  I thought to myself.  If I'm going to get him to sleep, I'm going to need to keep my composure.  I peeked one eye open and reminded him to close his.  After a very short moment of silence, a car drove across my face and parked on my forehead.  More snickering from him. Nothing from me.  The car disappeared.  And then returned.  And then disappeared.  Then two legs flew up into the air and plopped back down.  The bed wiggled.  He giggled.  I kept as still as a statue. 

Two fingers walked up my arm and poked me in the nostril.  He could barely contain his laughter.  I opened my eyes and looked directly into his.  He's waiting for my response.  And in that moment I thought I can do one of two things:  I can dial up my tone and tell him firmly that it is time to sleep - and this day will be like any other OR  I can enter in to this silliness and make today a day to remember.

I raised my hand all the way above him, still locked in his gaze.  The corner of my mouth started a smile that gave my intentions away.  He tried in vain to escape the tickle monster.  For fifteen minutes we giggled together.  It was the most fun we've had  in awhile - and it almost didn't happen.

I'm glad it did.

Grandma Bernice

When I married my husband I inherited his Grandma Bernice.  She is one of my most favorite people in the whole world. 

She gave me this mug for my birthday, and I drink my morning coffee from it everyday.  It makes me so glad.  Who doesn't love Holly Hobbie?!  It says, "Start each day in a happy way."  So I do.

Yesterday was a VERY special day. 

Our mail lady delivered our mail to us seven hours early because she had a package for us that was marked "perishable" and it was a million degrees outside.  The package was from Grandma Bernice.  It contained donuts.  Donuts!!!  Old fashioned cake donuts. 

I don't have a picture to show of them, because we ate them all. 

And now, a little story about Grandma Bernice's donuts:

Yesterday, my two and a half year old brought me the donut he had taken several bites out of and said, "here, mom." 

I took it, thinking "Hmm.  Maybe he doesn't like donuts?  More for me!" then asked him, "Is this for me? Are you done?  Can mommy finish this donut?"  (Because it would be a shame to waste any!)

He said, "Sure, mom."

So I ate it.

And then he said, "Can I have a fresh donut, mom?"

He had dropped the one I ate on the ground. 

Classy.