This evening, after Anderson and I put a homemade pizza into the oven, he started dancing in the kitchen (this time, knowing I was watching) and singing "Burn, baby, burn...disco and gerno..." I started laughing. I asked him, "Anderson, did you think that song was about two people, one named Disco and the other named Gerno?" He started to giggle, knowing he probably wasn't singing the song correctly. I explained to him that this song was actually called "Disco Inferno".
This incident reminded me of being a little girl singing along with my mother's Bee Gee's album to the song "Tragedy", only I didn't think they were singing about something tragic. I thought they were singing about an "allergy". I didn't just make these mistakes as a child. When I was in college, there was a country song to which the words were, "No need to psychoanalyze or have a stiff drink, all she's got to do is just give me that wink." When I first heard it, I thought that this was a typically cheesy country song and that the guy was singing, "no need to suck a lemon or have a stiff drink." My sister, Anna, set me straight on that one before I sang it in front of anyone else, thank goodness. But she couldn't tease me too much because she used to sing the song, "I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, I'm your desire", like this: "I'm your Venus, I'm your fire, I'm joking sire." When I tried to tell her she was singing it wrong, she argued with me, but at that age, it wasn't unusual for us to disagree.
To me there is something so funny about people mispronouncing or misunderstanding a word or phrase. I love when my kids or nephews and nieces do it, but it is especially funny when an adult does it. Anna and I were laughing the other day because she still has two friends who say that they are "flustrated". In case you are one of those friends and happen to be reading this blog, there is no such word as "flustrated". You can be flustered, and you can be frustrated, but if you are both, you are still not flustrated.
If you watch American Idol, did you see one of the first episodes when there was this Egyptian guy trying out for the show who did not speak English very well? Anderson and I were watching it together, and we laughed as this sweet young man said that he was saving himself for a nice girl (which was refreshing to hear, honestly) and that he wanted to love a woman "from her.....hairs (as he grabs the hair on his head with a noticeable hesitation) all the way down to her (and he pauses, trying to find the right word, so he reaches for his toes, but he says....) nipples. OK, I'm sorry, but that was funny. I'm still laughing out loud right now just thinking about it.
I will close by sharing one of my most-embarrassing-misuse-of-a-word stories with you. As many of you know, we grew up in a very tight-laced (which is a polite word for overly religious and uptight) church. We had a youth group that, for some reason, was compromised mostly of adults, meaning we had more leaders than actual youth. Anyway, that's beside the point. We took an annual beach trip, and on one of those trips, I was thrown by two of our youth leaders into deep water where I was accosted by a gigantic jelly fish. My friend, Sarah, knocked the jelly fish away from me when I started screaming, and I managed to quickly make my way to shore. Once there, my youth leader, Kenny (who--surprise--had a very dry, conservative demeanor) asked me what happened. I replied, "I was thrown on a jelly fish, and he started wrapping his testicles around my leg." I will never forget the semi-horrified, semi-amused look on his fair yet sunburned face. And then I realized my mistake. "I mean, his tentacles." I've never been good at concealing laughter, so I laughed hysterically right along with my friend, Sarah. I don't remember Kenny laughing, though. But you know, I guess he wouldn't have thought it was funny that I also sang "let angels prostate fall" in the hymn, "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name". I still have to remind myself to say "prostrate".
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
entrance into motherhood
(Here is our first ultrasound of Bennett. He is the tiny miniature "beanie" baby in the right inside the sac that is shaped like a light bulb.)Elizabeth Stone once said, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."
Tonight, I am thinking of my friends who are entering motherhood for the first time. I am so incredibly excited for them because I know all of the wondrous things that are in store. And I am prayerful because I know the challenges that they will face, too. I'm not just referring to the challenges of discipline. For me, I think one of the greatest challenges of motherhood is this: vulnerability.
I was talking with a friend today, and I shared with her the first time I saw Bennett via ultrasound, which was at 7 weeks gestation (I didn't have an ultrasound with Anderson until 16 weeks). As I stared at this beautiful, tiny bean with a heartbeat pounding away, I thought, "That's my baby." The mothering instincts of protectiveness and care emerged full-force and the love....oh the love that settled even more deeply into my heart for that little baby.
It was maybe a week or so later that I started having some symptoms which I had experienced during two previous miscarriages. It was early in the morning, and I awoke to absolute fear. I believe I woke Paul up because I was in desperate need of comfort, and he said something like, "It's okay. God is going to give us a child, don't worry." I started crying at that point, so I struggled to get out my response. "But I want this baby." Thankfully, that is exactly what we got. That baby is now seventeen months old. God is good.
To love someone is to be vulnerable to them, and vulnerability can bring fear. But God has provided an antidote to fear. It's called faith. The day that I thought I might be miscarrying, Paul and I stood on faith. We may not have fully believed that I wouldn't miscarry for the third time in a row, but we believed that whatever happened, we were in good hands, and God would fulfill His promises to us.
So to my new mommy friends, congratulations. I pray that you are filled with faith throughout your pregnancies and especially as you mother your children. You'll need LOTS of it. Just keep in mind that your entrance into parenthood involves a trade: you're gaining a baby and losing your heart. But it is a fair trade, I assure you.
Tonight, I am thinking of my friends who are entering motherhood for the first time. I am so incredibly excited for them because I know all of the wondrous things that are in store. And I am prayerful because I know the challenges that they will face, too. I'm not just referring to the challenges of discipline. For me, I think one of the greatest challenges of motherhood is this: vulnerability.
I was talking with a friend today, and I shared with her the first time I saw Bennett via ultrasound, which was at 7 weeks gestation (I didn't have an ultrasound with Anderson until 16 weeks). As I stared at this beautiful, tiny bean with a heartbeat pounding away, I thought, "That's my baby." The mothering instincts of protectiveness and care emerged full-force and the love....oh the love that settled even more deeply into my heart for that little baby.
It was maybe a week or so later that I started having some symptoms which I had experienced during two previous miscarriages. It was early in the morning, and I awoke to absolute fear. I believe I woke Paul up because I was in desperate need of comfort, and he said something like, "It's okay. God is going to give us a child, don't worry." I started crying at that point, so I struggled to get out my response. "But I want this baby." Thankfully, that is exactly what we got. That baby is now seventeen months old. God is good.
To love someone is to be vulnerable to them, and vulnerability can bring fear. But God has provided an antidote to fear. It's called faith. The day that I thought I might be miscarrying, Paul and I stood on faith. We may not have fully believed that I wouldn't miscarry for the third time in a row, but we believed that whatever happened, we were in good hands, and God would fulfill His promises to us.
So to my new mommy friends, congratulations. I pray that you are filled with faith throughout your pregnancies and especially as you mother your children. You'll need LOTS of it. Just keep in mind that your entrance into parenthood involves a trade: you're gaining a baby and losing your heart. But it is a fair trade, I assure you.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
evening giggles
My boys truly bring a steady stream of laughter to our home. This evening, as we sat down to eat dinner, I looked out the window from the kitchen into the screened-in porch to see Anderson standing on the settee, disco dancing like John Travolta and singing "Stayin' Alive". He honestly was dancing and singing like no one was watching! Only, someone was watching--his mama!
Then, tonight Bennett learned a new word! He carried Anderson's toy truck around saying, "Tuck! Tuck!" He was grinning from ear to ear, proud of his new accomplishment. Now, as I type, he is sliding down the sofa cushions in the playroom. Anderson pulled them off the sofa to dive on while his dad threw the football to him. But Bennett is taking over--climbing, sliding, and jumping on them. Thank the Lord Anderson is a patient big bro!
Then, tonight Bennett learned a new word! He carried Anderson's toy truck around saying, "Tuck! Tuck!" He was grinning from ear to ear, proud of his new accomplishment. Now, as I type, he is sliding down the sofa cushions in the playroom. Anderson pulled them off the sofa to dive on while his dad threw the football to him. But Bennett is taking over--climbing, sliding, and jumping on them. Thank the Lord Anderson is a patient big bro!
Monday, January 28, 2008
a mother's work
"A man's work is from sun to sun, but a mother's work is never done." ~Author Unknown
I am not sure if there is a statement that I have personally found to be more true than this. An eight hour work day is non-existent in the world of motherhood. You are at the very least "on-call" twenty-four hours a day. Shoot, my most productive hours have sometimes been after midnight.
I wouldn't say that my job as a mother is more difficult than my husband's job as a financial provider for our family. I don't think the two can fairly be compared--it is one of those apples to oranges comparisons. They are both roles which serve our family, and both have its advantages and disadvantages, but that is basically where the similarity ends. I can't adequately comment on the perks and drawbacks of Paul's role as provider (he will have to do that), but from my perspective, here are the positives and negatives of my role as a stay-at-home mom:
I am not sure if there is a statement that I have personally found to be more true than this. An eight hour work day is non-existent in the world of motherhood. You are at the very least "on-call" twenty-four hours a day. Shoot, my most productive hours have sometimes been after midnight.
I wouldn't say that my job as a mother is more difficult than my husband's job as a financial provider for our family. I don't think the two can fairly be compared--it is one of those apples to oranges comparisons. They are both roles which serve our family, and both have its advantages and disadvantages, but that is basically where the similarity ends. I can't adequately comment on the perks and drawbacks of Paul's role as provider (he will have to do that), but from my perspective, here are the positives and negatives of my role as a stay-at-home mom:
- My tasks are revolving. I finish one task (say, cleaning the kitchen), then move on to the next (say, the laundry), and when the laundry is finished, the kitchen needs to be cleaned all over again.
- I live at my office. I can't leave my "work" behind and forget about it until the next day. It is always there, staring me in the face, taunting me with the phrase, "I'm waiting...". I have found a potential remedy to this, though. It's called CLOSING THE DOOR! Now, even though I may close the door to the laundry room, for example, I may still faintly hear the call of the laundry. But one of the abilities I have gained as a mother is the ability to tune things out. This is a time when that ability comes in handy.
- I usually don't have to leave the house first thing in the morning if I don't want to, unless it is my week to drive carpool. (I do like to get out of the house, however, and it is never as simple as just going to get in the car and driving to my destination. No, no. It requires fully dressing more than myself, filling a diaper bag with diapers, wipes, sippy cups, and snacks, and packing a stroller.)
- I don't have anyone other than God and my husband to answer to.
- My work is not rewarded monetarily. I still have the same allotment each week for our household expenses whether I am underproducing (getting behind on laundry) or doing more than my share (cleaning out the entire garage all by myself).
- My husband and children do try to compliment my hard work, but they are the only ones who might notice that I scrubbed the toilet, and they--being males--usually don't. Let's face it--some days it feels like a thankless job no matter how grateful my family may be.
- I get to be at home with my children, which means I have the privilege of spending the most time with them.
- While Paul's headaches are usually nasty people or the planning board at the Town of Cary, my headaches are generally caused by a lack of sleep and the intense volume of children talking and laughing in the backseat on the way home from school.
- If one of the boys is sick or scared in the middle of the night, they want no one but Mom to comfort them.
The truth is that being a working man and a stay-at-home-mom both have their joys and their hardships. I will say that I never had a job that is as tiring as being a mother. And never, ever, ever have I had a job that brought me more fulfillment, more joy, more happiness, and more tears. I wouldn't trade jobs with Paul anyday, and he says he'd never trade with me. We're thankful for where God has placed us. I love Ecclesiastes 3:12-13 which says, "I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil--this is the gift of God." To be happy in your role--not that it is always fun or easy but to know that you are fulfilling one of your purposes in life--what more can you ask for? Ok, maybe I could ask for a maid....
So maybe a mother's work is never done, but I think that when my children are grown, I'm gonna miss the heck out of it. I'll miss having a little boy standing over me in the middle of the night, waiting for me to let him crawl into bed. I'll miss cooking dinner for three hungry boys. I'll miss washing their laundry and holding that tiny sweater next to my cheek and marveling at how quickly my baby is growing. I'll miss driving them to school, practices, and games because that is the time when they seem to want to talk with you most. I'll miss dusting because it gives me the chance to admire their treasures in their rooms. I'll miss homework (believe it or not) because it provides a moment to see my son learn new things. And I'll miss making a bed where there is an imprint where my growing child's body was sleeping.
Now that I think about it, thank God my work as a mother is never done. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
my nutty buddies
We have a little problem in our house. It seems that Paul went to the grocery store yesterday to return a DVD which we had rented for $1 from one of those automated DVD vending machines. Have you seen those? They are really quick and easy to use, and very inexpensive! Paul is already brainstorming about how to buy them and put them in various stores--forever the entrepreneur. Anyway, while at the store, he bought two boxes of Nutty Buddies, not because they were on sale (because they were not) but because he loves them and probably had the premonition that one box just wouldn't last through the weekend.
To get to the point, today is Sunday, and there is ONE Nutty Buddy left. Just one. Out of two boxes of six each, which--do the math--is 12 total Nutty Buddies, there is just one remaining. Anderson had three, and Bennett had his very first one yesterday (and LOVED it) and a part of one today. (Okay, so our dessert rules sometimes relax on the weekends.) I had several bites of one Paul was eating, but that is it. That means that Paul has had 7 Nutty Buddies in just two days (well, maybe 6 if you count the fact that Bennett and I nibbled on two of his).
I am so glad my husband is so trim because if he wasn't, I would not be blogging about this. Instead, we would have called an intervention by now. But since Paul rarely binges on anything, this recent binge has brought a lot of laughter to us today. After dinner tonight, Anderson was begging Paul to just resist the temptation to eat yet another Nutty Buddy so he wouldn't "get fat". It didn't work. Anderson and I have contemplated sending him to NBOA (Nutty Buddy Overeaters Anonymous), but we aren't sure where they have their meetings. I guess there are far worse things he could be addicted to.
The thing that irks me about this binge--I bet he gets on the scale tomorrow morning and has lost two pounds. Oh, the injustice of his metabolism. If I had seven Nutty Buddies this weekend, my jeans would not fit me tomorrow.
I am going to post a video of Bennett eating his first Nutty Buddy. Frankly, we were going to let him have a few bites and then I was going to eat his cone (the only part I really like), but he ate the entire thing!! He likes those Nutty Buddies, just like his dad and brother.
To get to the point, today is Sunday, and there is ONE Nutty Buddy left. Just one. Out of two boxes of six each, which--do the math--is 12 total Nutty Buddies, there is just one remaining. Anderson had three, and Bennett had his very first one yesterday (and LOVED it) and a part of one today. (Okay, so our dessert rules sometimes relax on the weekends.) I had several bites of one Paul was eating, but that is it. That means that Paul has had 7 Nutty Buddies in just two days (well, maybe 6 if you count the fact that Bennett and I nibbled on two of his).
I am so glad my husband is so trim because if he wasn't, I would not be blogging about this. Instead, we would have called an intervention by now. But since Paul rarely binges on anything, this recent binge has brought a lot of laughter to us today. After dinner tonight, Anderson was begging Paul to just resist the temptation to eat yet another Nutty Buddy so he wouldn't "get fat". It didn't work. Anderson and I have contemplated sending him to NBOA (Nutty Buddy Overeaters Anonymous), but we aren't sure where they have their meetings. I guess there are far worse things he could be addicted to.
The thing that irks me about this binge--I bet he gets on the scale tomorrow morning and has lost two pounds. Oh, the injustice of his metabolism. If I had seven Nutty Buddies this weekend, my jeans would not fit me tomorrow.
I am going to post a video of Bennett eating his first Nutty Buddy. Frankly, we were going to let him have a few bites and then I was going to eat his cone (the only part I really like), but he ate the entire thing!! He likes those Nutty Buddies, just like his dad and brother.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
touché
As your children age, there are always transitions you encounter in the dynamics of the parent-child relationship. One that I have noticed more and more with Anderson is the transition from us always keeping him in line to him keeping us in line. Don't get me wrong--he may occasionally walk a fine line of disrespect which isn't okay and which requires correction, but typically he is just being honest with you. And he steps all over our toes.
Last night, as we were going out to dinner, he made a few comments in the car that were on the verge of being inappropriate for a child to say to an adult. (His remarks are generally funny, but Paul and I have mastered the art of holding our breaths to refrain from laughing.) I can't remember exactly what he said, I just remember thinking it was funny but a bit sassy. I told him, "Anderson, being sassy is in your genes, son. You come by it honestly. You are going to have to be very careful with your mouth because there are some things that children should just never say to adults. Did you know that when I was a little girl, my mouth was the one thing that always seemed to get me in trouble?" With barely a pause he replied, "Your mouth still gets you in trouble, Mom."
Touché.
Last night, as we were going out to dinner, he made a few comments in the car that were on the verge of being inappropriate for a child to say to an adult. (His remarks are generally funny, but Paul and I have mastered the art of holding our breaths to refrain from laughing.) I can't remember exactly what he said, I just remember thinking it was funny but a bit sassy. I told him, "Anderson, being sassy is in your genes, son. You come by it honestly. You are going to have to be very careful with your mouth because there are some things that children should just never say to adults. Did you know that when I was a little girl, my mouth was the one thing that always seemed to get me in trouble?" With barely a pause he replied, "Your mouth still gets you in trouble, Mom."
Touché.
Friday, January 25, 2008
a dream fulfilled
Monday was the day that our country commemorates the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Due to the holiday, there has recently been a lot of coverage about his life and his famous "I have a dream" speech. As I was preparing dinner one night this week, I was alternating between listening to the television and talking with Anderson who was sitting at the counter and checking over some homework. I didn't even realize he was paying any attention to what was on the television until I heard him say, "That's Martin Luther King!" I looked at the television and acknowledged that he had correctly identified him when he said something that brought all of my food preparation to a halt and left me momentarily speechless with tears in my eyes. "I love him," he said, in the most sincere and reverent tone. "What he did for black people....", his voice trailed off. Be still, my heart.
Gratitude and pride simultaneously flooded my soul. I was so thankful that he knew about and could appreciate the enormous contribution Dr. King made to this country, not just on behalf of black Americans but for all of us. I was proud of the boy that he is who can understand that contribution without really ever witnessing the injustice that blacks have had to overcome. Since Anderson loves history, particularly war history, we have had many talks about slavery and racism. I remember having a conversation about this when he was younger, and he was appalled as we explained that black people were mistreated, even killed, simply because of the color of their skin. The idea that this could happen in America was so foreign to him, almost unbelievable except for the fact that he trusts that what we tell him is true.
As we sat there, listening to Dr. King's speech, I realized that so much of what he longed for came to pass before his generation passed away. Have we completely eradicated racism? No, and we should keep fighting until we do. But, to quote an old cigarette commercial, "We've come a long way, baby." When my son saw Dr. King on television, Anderson didn't think about the color of his skin. Instead, he truly thought about the content of his character, based on the fruit of his life. And he admired and respected him. In his words--he loved him. And wasn't this what Dr. King was dreaming of?
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. "
Well, Dr. King, today I am thankful that this dream has been fulfilled and for my little boy who showed me just how far we've come.
Gratitude and pride simultaneously flooded my soul. I was so thankful that he knew about and could appreciate the enormous contribution Dr. King made to this country, not just on behalf of black Americans but for all of us. I was proud of the boy that he is who can understand that contribution without really ever witnessing the injustice that blacks have had to overcome. Since Anderson loves history, particularly war history, we have had many talks about slavery and racism. I remember having a conversation about this when he was younger, and he was appalled as we explained that black people were mistreated, even killed, simply because of the color of their skin. The idea that this could happen in America was so foreign to him, almost unbelievable except for the fact that he trusts that what we tell him is true.
As we sat there, listening to Dr. King's speech, I realized that so much of what he longed for came to pass before his generation passed away. Have we completely eradicated racism? No, and we should keep fighting until we do. But, to quote an old cigarette commercial, "We've come a long way, baby." When my son saw Dr. King on television, Anderson didn't think about the color of his skin. Instead, he truly thought about the content of his character, based on the fruit of his life. And he admired and respected him. In his words--he loved him. And wasn't this what Dr. King was dreaming of?
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. "
Well, Dr. King, today I am thankful that this dream has been fulfilled and for my little boy who showed me just how far we've come.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
beware of toddler
I think the manufacturers of "Beware of Dog" signs should also make one for toddlers. Parents could then post the signs on their front doors so that people are forewarned about what they will be subjected to should they enter. I don't mean that (most) toddlers cause bodily harm, except for the occasional bite or flying object that gets inadvertantly tossed into your skull. I mean that when there is a toddler in the house, all of your possessions which are feasibly within reach of a toddler are at risk of being damaged, misplaced, or worse--destroyed.
When Anderson was a toddler, he was a cautious boy. As a result, he wasn't one to touch something that he wasn't given permission to touch. Yes, that made parenting so much easier. However, I do remember one incident when Paul was taking a shower, so he took off his watch and unknowingly put it within Anderson's grasp. Within a matter of seconds, Anderson grabbed the watch, and before Paul could rescue it, it was flushed down the toilet, never to be retrieved.
Bennett, unlike Anderson, is a little more bold in his approach to new things. Today, for example, he found Anderson's pencils which he used for homework last night, and he immediately grabbed Anderson's Peyton Manning football card (which Anderson treasures), and started to scribble on it, even though a pad of paper was right next to it. This all happened within a matter of seconds. Fortunately, I was able to snatch the card before marks were apparent. Then, as I was putting on make-up in my bathroom, he took my running shoes and threw them in my bathtub and quickly turned on the water. He ran out of the room after doing this, so I'm pretty sure he realized he has just done a no-no. In our bedroom, he then managed to try to stick something into the electrical socket that did not belong there. He told me it was "hot", so he may have felt a little electric current run through his tiny body. I don't know. It really didn't phase him if it did.
Fortunately, we have had more near-misses than actual disasters. By fourteen months, Bennett already knew how to unscrew any cap from a bottle. Even the so-called "childproof" ones. I can't tell you how many bottles of nailpolish, medicine or cleaning fluid was almost poured out of the bottle. I did call poison control once because he tried to drink a bottle of dishwashing liquid. I think he only tasted it, and we never saw any ill-effects, thank God. A few weeks ago he tried tasting soap or shampoo while Paul was watching him. My friend, Lori, has a son three months older than Bennett who actually ate the rocks from her fireplace not too long ago. This also resulted in a phone call to poison control. Needless to say I don't think she lit a match near him for a couple of days, but he was fine.
My baby sister, Laura, wins the prize for being the most destructive toddler I've ever known. At the age of three, she had already wrecked my mother's car (yes. really.), swallowed a bottle of baby aspirin (that's what happens when medicine tastes like candy), poked holes with a ballpoint pen in the back of my mother's recliner, broke bricks on the driveway on which I stepped barefooted and had to have lots of stitches, and jumped off a bed upstairs which caused a light downstairs to fall on my mother's head and break into a hundred pieces. In Laura's case, we needed more than a "Beware of Toddler" sign on the front door. She needed to wear it on her chest! But, now that I think about it, she wouldn't have worn it because she always found a way to be naked (or at least down to her underwear) by noon, even though my mother made sure she was fully dressed each morning.
All joking aside, while toddlers can occasionally present a hazard to themselves and to others, the truth is--they are so much fun! I love that Bennett laughs hysterically at the smallest of things--like a silly face, a "zerbert" on his tummy, when we play peek-a-boo, when his brother or cousins act silly, or as he is being chased around a room. I love that he crawls up in my lap and snuggles me when he is ready to take a nap. I love that he dances whenever he hears music. I love that he gets so excited about simple things--like going outside, seeing a ball, reading a book, when his dad or brother walks in the door after being gone most of the day, or when I let him drink tea out of my cup. (Don't worry--it's decaf.) I love that he smiles at strangers, just to get their attention.
Maybe parenting can be tiring, particuarly at this age, with all of the repetitive "no's", picking up after them, and chasing them down. But the rewards outweigh the costs for me...
...at least that is what I am thinking while he naps soundly in his bed.
When Anderson was a toddler, he was a cautious boy. As a result, he wasn't one to touch something that he wasn't given permission to touch. Yes, that made parenting so much easier. However, I do remember one incident when Paul was taking a shower, so he took off his watch and unknowingly put it within Anderson's grasp. Within a matter of seconds, Anderson grabbed the watch, and before Paul could rescue it, it was flushed down the toilet, never to be retrieved.
Bennett, unlike Anderson, is a little more bold in his approach to new things. Today, for example, he found Anderson's pencils which he used for homework last night, and he immediately grabbed Anderson's Peyton Manning football card (which Anderson treasures), and started to scribble on it, even though a pad of paper was right next to it. This all happened within a matter of seconds. Fortunately, I was able to snatch the card before marks were apparent. Then, as I was putting on make-up in my bathroom, he took my running shoes and threw them in my bathtub and quickly turned on the water. He ran out of the room after doing this, so I'm pretty sure he realized he has just done a no-no. In our bedroom, he then managed to try to stick something into the electrical socket that did not belong there. He told me it was "hot", so he may have felt a little electric current run through his tiny body. I don't know. It really didn't phase him if it did.
Fortunately, we have had more near-misses than actual disasters. By fourteen months, Bennett already knew how to unscrew any cap from a bottle. Even the so-called "childproof" ones. I can't tell you how many bottles of nailpolish, medicine or cleaning fluid was almost poured out of the bottle. I did call poison control once because he tried to drink a bottle of dishwashing liquid. I think he only tasted it, and we never saw any ill-effects, thank God. A few weeks ago he tried tasting soap or shampoo while Paul was watching him. My friend, Lori, has a son three months older than Bennett who actually ate the rocks from her fireplace not too long ago. This also resulted in a phone call to poison control. Needless to say I don't think she lit a match near him for a couple of days, but he was fine.
My baby sister, Laura, wins the prize for being the most destructive toddler I've ever known. At the age of three, she had already wrecked my mother's car (yes. really.), swallowed a bottle of baby aspirin (that's what happens when medicine tastes like candy), poked holes with a ballpoint pen in the back of my mother's recliner, broke bricks on the driveway on which I stepped barefooted and had to have lots of stitches, and jumped off a bed upstairs which caused a light downstairs to fall on my mother's head and break into a hundred pieces. In Laura's case, we needed more than a "Beware of Toddler" sign on the front door. She needed to wear it on her chest! But, now that I think about it, she wouldn't have worn it because she always found a way to be naked (or at least down to her underwear) by noon, even though my mother made sure she was fully dressed each morning.
All joking aside, while toddlers can occasionally present a hazard to themselves and to others, the truth is--they are so much fun! I love that Bennett laughs hysterically at the smallest of things--like a silly face, a "zerbert" on his tummy, when we play peek-a-boo, when his brother or cousins act silly, or as he is being chased around a room. I love that he crawls up in my lap and snuggles me when he is ready to take a nap. I love that he dances whenever he hears music. I love that he gets so excited about simple things--like going outside, seeing a ball, reading a book, when his dad or brother walks in the door after being gone most of the day, or when I let him drink tea out of my cup. (Don't worry--it's decaf.) I love that he smiles at strangers, just to get their attention.
Maybe parenting can be tiring, particuarly at this age, with all of the repetitive "no's", picking up after them, and chasing them down. But the rewards outweigh the costs for me...
...at least that is what I am thinking while he naps soundly in his bed.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Bennett Boo
Today I thought I would write about Bennett. I want to have some sort of documentation as to what he is doing at this age, and I have yet to formally start a baby book for him. I also thought I would write it for our out-of-town family members (especially those grandparents) who are curious as to what he is doing these days.
Bennett Boo, in case you didn't know, is Bennett's nickname. I am not sure of its origin. I just know that it seems that we started calling him this the day he was born. Our three year-old nephew, Andrew, never calls him Bennett--he is always "Bennett Boo". Sometimes, this nickname gets shortened, thus forming a second nickname--"Boo Boo". (Why we want to call people we love something other than their given names, I do not know. Sometimes I shorten Anderson's name to "Ander". He hates it. Last week he said to me, "My name is Anderson. You gave me that name, so why don't you use it?" He had a point. Never call him "Andy", by the way. He will wonder who in the world you are talking to.)
Anyway, about Bennett--he is a sweetheart. He loves to snuggle and sit in your lap. If you ask him to snuggle, he will usually lay his head on your chest. So precious! In the evenings, before bedtime, he will lay with me in Anderson's bean bag and watch Wheel of Fortune for an entire thirty minutes. I think the spinning wheel, the flashing letters, and of course the audience applause keeps him entertained.
While he is one of the sweetest children I've ever been around, he has some of his mother's determination. I prefer to say that he is more "assertive" than Anderson was at this age, but the sweetness seems to balance him out a bit. So, even though he doesn't like for me to correct him, he has a teachable spirit. My latest ordeal with Bennett is the fact that he bit me on the leg while playing yesterday, and I, of course, exclaimed, "Ouch!" He just thought that was hysterical and thought he should do it again. No matter how much I tried to communicate in a very firm tone, "No!", he laughed. I finally determined that the best way to relay my displeasure with his behavior is to simply put him in his crib and walk out of the room. He doesn't like this at all.
Today, for the first time, he fell asleep in his high chair while eating a graham cracker. He was still chewing, but his eyes were closed and his head was starting to fall forward. Finally, when his chin came close to hitting his chest, he opened his eyes up briefly, only to have them roll back in his head again. It was quite pitiful--it made me sleepy just watching him, so I took him upstairs and put him in the bed for his nap.
Bennett is learning to talk. He jabbers a lot, knowing exactly what he means but puzzling the rest of us. It is adorable. Words that we do understand is the typical Mama, Dada, Bubba (brother), Boo Boo (himself), wawa (water), ball, ba-ball (basketball), ow-tie (outside), peep-eye (a peek-a-boo game we play), hot, wack-wack (quack-quack), etc.
Bennett can whistle. Crazy, huh? But he can do it, sometimes even on cue. He doesn't change his tune. It is the same note being blown in and out, but it is a definite whistle. Our nephew, Jackson, doesn't believe that this is true, so I am going to have to videotape it one day as proof.
I think Bennett may possibly be musically inclined. Maybe it is wishful thinking on my part, but he loves to hear music, and generally stops to dance when he does hear it, but he hums a whole lot. He usually hums himself to sleep. And it isn't just a one-note hum. One night I would have sworn he was humming "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". He wasn't, I'm sure, but it did sound like it.
My dad says that Bennett is creative. He will stare at a picture for a long time. He climbs on the backs of sofas in the house so that he can look directly at a photograph or painting. He seems a bit mesmerized by them. It will be interesting to see if he inherits any of his Aunt Anna and Aunt Penelope's artistic abilities. He sure won't get them from his parents!
Bennett likes to watch Anderson play sports, and he certainly likes to join in. He is already trying to reach the rim on the Fisher Price basketball goal. It will be awhile before he can do that. He loves to run around the room with a football and to hit golf balls with any kind of stick, whether it is a golf club or not. I'm not sure if he is really playing golf or some form of hockey.
Obviously, Bennett is a typical 17 month old little boy. We are so thankful that God sent Him to us. Before he was born, it was hard to imagine what life would be like with a baby in the house again. Now, we can't imagine life without him.
Bennett Boo, in case you didn't know, is Bennett's nickname. I am not sure of its origin. I just know that it seems that we started calling him this the day he was born. Our three year-old nephew, Andrew, never calls him Bennett--he is always "Bennett Boo". Sometimes, this nickname gets shortened, thus forming a second nickname--"Boo Boo". (Why we want to call people we love something other than their given names, I do not know. Sometimes I shorten Anderson's name to "Ander". He hates it. Last week he said to me, "My name is Anderson. You gave me that name, so why don't you use it?" He had a point. Never call him "Andy", by the way. He will wonder who in the world you are talking to.)
Anyway, about Bennett--he is a sweetheart. He loves to snuggle and sit in your lap. If you ask him to snuggle, he will usually lay his head on your chest. So precious! In the evenings, before bedtime, he will lay with me in Anderson's bean bag and watch Wheel of Fortune for an entire thirty minutes. I think the spinning wheel, the flashing letters, and of course the audience applause keeps him entertained.
While he is one of the sweetest children I've ever been around, he has some of his mother's determination. I prefer to say that he is more "assertive" than Anderson was at this age, but the sweetness seems to balance him out a bit. So, even though he doesn't like for me to correct him, he has a teachable spirit. My latest ordeal with Bennett is the fact that he bit me on the leg while playing yesterday, and I, of course, exclaimed, "Ouch!" He just thought that was hysterical and thought he should do it again. No matter how much I tried to communicate in a very firm tone, "No!", he laughed. I finally determined that the best way to relay my displeasure with his behavior is to simply put him in his crib and walk out of the room. He doesn't like this at all.
Today, for the first time, he fell asleep in his high chair while eating a graham cracker. He was still chewing, but his eyes were closed and his head was starting to fall forward. Finally, when his chin came close to hitting his chest, he opened his eyes up briefly, only to have them roll back in his head again. It was quite pitiful--it made me sleepy just watching him, so I took him upstairs and put him in the bed for his nap.
Bennett is learning to talk. He jabbers a lot, knowing exactly what he means but puzzling the rest of us. It is adorable. Words that we do understand is the typical Mama, Dada, Bubba (brother), Boo Boo (himself), wawa (water), ball, ba-ball (basketball), ow-tie (outside), peep-eye (a peek-a-boo game we play), hot, wack-wack (quack-quack), etc.
Bennett can whistle. Crazy, huh? But he can do it, sometimes even on cue. He doesn't change his tune. It is the same note being blown in and out, but it is a definite whistle. Our nephew, Jackson, doesn't believe that this is true, so I am going to have to videotape it one day as proof.
I think Bennett may possibly be musically inclined. Maybe it is wishful thinking on my part, but he loves to hear music, and generally stops to dance when he does hear it, but he hums a whole lot. He usually hums himself to sleep. And it isn't just a one-note hum. One night I would have sworn he was humming "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". He wasn't, I'm sure, but it did sound like it.
My dad says that Bennett is creative. He will stare at a picture for a long time. He climbs on the backs of sofas in the house so that he can look directly at a photograph or painting. He seems a bit mesmerized by them. It will be interesting to see if he inherits any of his Aunt Anna and Aunt Penelope's artistic abilities. He sure won't get them from his parents!
Bennett likes to watch Anderson play sports, and he certainly likes to join in. He is already trying to reach the rim on the Fisher Price basketball goal. It will be awhile before he can do that. He loves to run around the room with a football and to hit golf balls with any kind of stick, whether it is a golf club or not. I'm not sure if he is really playing golf or some form of hockey.
Obviously, Bennett is a typical 17 month old little boy. We are so thankful that God sent Him to us. Before he was born, it was hard to imagine what life would be like with a baby in the house again. Now, we can't imagine life without him.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
please pray...
I just learned about a tragic car accident involving an entire family--a husband and wife (who was pregnant with a baby boy), and a nine-month old. The nine-month old survived uninjured, but the pregnant wife died (also leaving behind a teenage son) and the husband is in a coma with a broken neck, hip, and jaw, a punctured spleen, and a collapsed lung. Not only was this family excited about welcoming their baby boy, but they were supposed to move into a new home on Friday. Their story is unforgettable, so I thought I would pass the story along to anyone who would be willing to pray with me for this family. I just can't get it off my mind.
This family is very close with our friends, Chad and Melissa. Josh, the husband, was Chad's best man in their wedding. Again, please pray for this family and for our friends who are waiting and praying that Josh will come out of the coma and that he will heal--not just physically but in all the ways he will have to heal after this loss. This whole event is just unimaginable.
This family is very close with our friends, Chad and Melissa. Josh, the husband, was Chad's best man in their wedding. Again, please pray for this family and for our friends who are waiting and praying that Josh will come out of the coma and that he will heal--not just physically but in all the ways he will have to heal after this loss. This whole event is just unimaginable.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
sad day for the chargers
Well, it is official. The San Diego Chargers are NOT going to the Super Bowl, and instead of being the AFC Champs, they are only the runner-ups. Yes, the Patriots did it again for the second year in a row. They kept the Chargers from the division title and the big game. I am so sad that our Philip (yes, that is what we call the quarterback...."our" Philip) lost and was playing injured as well. But I am far more saddened by the tears that streamed down my child's face after the loss. Anderson came in my bedroom in his Philip Rivers jersey (which he just bought, along with the matching helmet with his Christmas money), where I was getting ready for a rare night out with friends. He had a red, splotchy face, just like the kind I get when I cry, and tears rolling from those gleaming, blue eyes, which are even more luminous when he cries. I asked him what was wrong, and he of course told me, "The Chargers lost." I told him, in my most positive, upbeat voice, "It's okay! There's always next year. They'll get to that Super Bowl, don't you worry. Next year, our players will be healthy, and we'll make a run for it again." Then he said, "Mom, I just don't want to talk about it." That was my clue to just give him some time to let it go. I turned on a television program I thought he would enjoy, and that seemed to help him take his mind off of the loss. But as I've mentioned before, ballgames are a big deal in our family, particularly for the males in the house. Wins are usually accompanied by a loud, raucous celebration and losses are generally followed by a solemn face, if not a pout, and occasionally--tears.
On a much happier note, Paul generously looked after our boys today so that I could have coffee with my friends, Heidi and Dawn. We spent two hours at Starbucks, sipping our coffees and chatting it up. It was a relaxing, soul-blessing time among friends whose company I truly enjoy. I need to take more time out for moments such as these. Later this evening, Paul again graciously held down our fort while I went to dinner with these ladies, along with our other friends, Kim and Andrea. The food was delicious, and the company was delightful, in the truest sense of the word. I left our dinner longing to do it again as soon as possible. That is clearly a good sign that they were well worth the time away from my family today. Girls, if you are reading this blog, I love you all. Thanks for your company, your laughter, your honesty, your love, and your devotion to the Lord. I cherish it all.
On a much happier note, Paul generously looked after our boys today so that I could have coffee with my friends, Heidi and Dawn. We spent two hours at Starbucks, sipping our coffees and chatting it up. It was a relaxing, soul-blessing time among friends whose company I truly enjoy. I need to take more time out for moments such as these. Later this evening, Paul again graciously held down our fort while I went to dinner with these ladies, along with our other friends, Kim and Andrea. The food was delicious, and the company was delightful, in the truest sense of the word. I left our dinner longing to do it again as soon as possible. That is clearly a good sign that they were well worth the time away from my family today. Girls, if you are reading this blog, I love you all. Thanks for your company, your laughter, your honesty, your love, and your devotion to the Lord. I cherish it all.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
snow disappointing
The snow is falling outside tonight, and it is absolutely beautiful. It would be more so if there were about 6 inches of it covering the ground. I can just picture it, with an almost full moon tonight--that stillness and silence and the brilliance of a bright moon upon the snow that brings you a certain peace that is hard to describe. The meteorologists had predicted that we could have that much snow accumulate, but do you know how much they are now saying we could have by the time this whole "winter weather event" has ceased tonight? ONE inch! One measley inch. Obviously, I am disappointed.
My disappointment is eased, however, because my friend, Heidi, is in town from Michigan, by way of Maryland where her husband is finishing up his officer's training with the Army. She and her oldest daughter, Emma, are visiting, and I couldn't be happier about it. Thanks to free long distance, we talk on the phone so often that it doesn't feel like I rarely see her. But tonight, when she pulled into the driveway, it warmed my heart to see her smiling (and always beautiful) face. We will certainly have fun having some girl-time this weekend! Paul and Anderson are at the NC State basketball game (they are playing Miami) with Paul's sister, Penelope, and her husband and three boys, so I know they are all having fun just being together as well.
I know my sister, Anna, is especially disappointed about the snowfall (or lack thereof), too. She is a Peter Pan like me (you have to read the previous post to understand). Well, Anna...we'll keep praying, and I believe that before this winter ends, we'll have some snow to play in! And if not, there is always a ski resort not too far away!
**Added later tonight: I received a phone call not too long ago from Anderson. "Hey Mom. Did you see the end of the game?" I could hear the shear excitement in his voice. "No, what happened?" The one time I checked the score on the television was when Emma's movie ejected from the DVD player and the game appeared on the screen automatically. State was down by at least two points with less than two minutes to play, so I turned it off because I've learned that it is better for me to avoid the anxiety I feel during a 'nailbiter'. "Gavin Grant stole the ball with five seconds left and scored! State won!" We celebrated together for a moment when he interjected, "Dad about had a heart attack." We laughed, and I added, "That's why they call them the 'Cardiac Pack', honey." Fifteen minutes later they walked in the door, grinning from ear to ear. Paul was still a bit intoxicated with all of the excitement, so he sat down to take a breath and retell the story to Heidi and me once again. He and Anderson sat with our three nephews--Travis, Spencer, and Daniel--and Paul said they were all WILD with excitement at the end of the game, screaming, jumping, and cheering together. What fun.
My boys had a great night. Their joy, and the delight it brought my soul just sitting, talking, and laughing with my friend, ensured that I had a great night, too. I realize now that if we had significant snow accumulation, Paul and Anderson would have missed being at this game. Not only that, but they would have missed Anderson's basketball game which his team WON and in which he played very, very well (and after last week's fiasco, we are more than pleased about that). On top of that, Heidi may not have made the trip here, either. So, I thank the Lord tonight that He has shown me, yet again, that there are blessings behind disappointments--something better is always on the other side of them. We just have to get past them to find it.
My disappointment is eased, however, because my friend, Heidi, is in town from Michigan, by way of Maryland where her husband is finishing up his officer's training with the Army. She and her oldest daughter, Emma, are visiting, and I couldn't be happier about it. Thanks to free long distance, we talk on the phone so often that it doesn't feel like I rarely see her. But tonight, when she pulled into the driveway, it warmed my heart to see her smiling (and always beautiful) face. We will certainly have fun having some girl-time this weekend! Paul and Anderson are at the NC State basketball game (they are playing Miami) with Paul's sister, Penelope, and her husband and three boys, so I know they are all having fun just being together as well.
I know my sister, Anna, is especially disappointed about the snowfall (or lack thereof), too. She is a Peter Pan like me (you have to read the previous post to understand). Well, Anna...we'll keep praying, and I believe that before this winter ends, we'll have some snow to play in! And if not, there is always a ski resort not too far away!
**Added later tonight: I received a phone call not too long ago from Anderson. "Hey Mom. Did you see the end of the game?" I could hear the shear excitement in his voice. "No, what happened?" The one time I checked the score on the television was when Emma's movie ejected from the DVD player and the game appeared on the screen automatically. State was down by at least two points with less than two minutes to play, so I turned it off because I've learned that it is better for me to avoid the anxiety I feel during a 'nailbiter'. "Gavin Grant stole the ball with five seconds left and scored! State won!" We celebrated together for a moment when he interjected, "Dad about had a heart attack." We laughed, and I added, "That's why they call them the 'Cardiac Pack', honey." Fifteen minutes later they walked in the door, grinning from ear to ear. Paul was still a bit intoxicated with all of the excitement, so he sat down to take a breath and retell the story to Heidi and me once again. He and Anderson sat with our three nephews--Travis, Spencer, and Daniel--and Paul said they were all WILD with excitement at the end of the game, screaming, jumping, and cheering together. What fun.
My boys had a great night. Their joy, and the delight it brought my soul just sitting, talking, and laughing with my friend, ensured that I had a great night, too. I realize now that if we had significant snow accumulation, Paul and Anderson would have missed being at this game. Not only that, but they would have missed Anderson's basketball game which his team WON and in which he played very, very well (and after last week's fiasco, we are more than pleased about that). On top of that, Heidi may not have made the trip here, either. So, I thank the Lord tonight that He has shown me, yet again, that there are blessings behind disappointments--something better is always on the other side of them. We just have to get past them to find it.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
just call me peter pan
I'm growing up way too fast. Most people say that about their children. I definitely say that about mine, too, but the reality is this: if they are growing quickly, I am, too. While days seem to linger for my children just as they did for me when I was little, life seems to be passing so quickly for me now. I have sincerely prayed that God would slow time down for me or show me ways to savour it all. I find myself trying to hold on to moments that so quickly escape my grasp.
I am thinking about this topic because of a conversation Paul and I had last night. Lately, he has made the comment, "We are old". It has bothered me more than he realized. Don't get me wrong--it isn't vanity that is causing these statements to "get under my skin". I just don't want to start thinking like I'm old. Last night, I said I hoped that it snowed so Anderson could miss school. Paul said he hoped it didn't because it is more of a headache for him and his business. He chuckled as he sat there watching me stare at the television, hoping that they would announce at least a delay for school today. He said, "You're still such a kid. You get so excited about snow days and Christmas and Disney World..." I interrupted him, "And you are not." He smiled, "Well, we just balance each other out." I quipped, "No, we are not supposed to balance each other in this area. I'm supposed to influence you to always be young at heart." We both laughed about it, but the truth is--I think we should all stay young at heart and in our minds because it is inevitable that our bodies won't. Jesus said, ""I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." There's something about our childhood that God wants to protect and preserve in all of us. And think about it. What other time in life is your ability to trust and believe the greatest?
So, I've purposed in my heart to never fully leave childhood behind. Just call me Peter Pan. But unlike Peter, I'm going to grow in wisdom and my body, unfortunately, will continue to age. I will, however, be clinging to my childlikeness with all of my strength. I'm still going to stare with wide-eyed wonder at Christmas lights, I'm going to start counting down the days until Christmas the day after Halloween, and I'll always be waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve. I vow to get crocodile tears in my eyes each time I walk in Cinderella's castle, to ride Splash Mountain at least three times in a row while screaming my lungs out during the big drop, and I will most assuredly sing, "When You Wish Upon A Star" right along with the Disney Characters after a day at the Magic Kingdom. I promise to continue to love snow days no matter how much they inconvenience us, to go sledding even on a thin layer of snow, and to make a big batch of snow cream every time we have a decent snowfall. And most of importantly, I promise to remember to see God through my children's eyes--knowing and truly believing He can do anything, just 'cause He's God.
(Notice: The opening lines to Peter Pan must now be altered to read, "All children, except two, grow up.)
I am thinking about this topic because of a conversation Paul and I had last night. Lately, he has made the comment, "We are old". It has bothered me more than he realized. Don't get me wrong--it isn't vanity that is causing these statements to "get under my skin". I just don't want to start thinking like I'm old. Last night, I said I hoped that it snowed so Anderson could miss school. Paul said he hoped it didn't because it is more of a headache for him and his business. He chuckled as he sat there watching me stare at the television, hoping that they would announce at least a delay for school today. He said, "You're still such a kid. You get so excited about snow days and Christmas and Disney World..." I interrupted him, "And you are not." He smiled, "Well, we just balance each other out." I quipped, "No, we are not supposed to balance each other in this area. I'm supposed to influence you to always be young at heart." We both laughed about it, but the truth is--I think we should all stay young at heart and in our minds because it is inevitable that our bodies won't. Jesus said, ""I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." There's something about our childhood that God wants to protect and preserve in all of us. And think about it. What other time in life is your ability to trust and believe the greatest?
So, I've purposed in my heart to never fully leave childhood behind. Just call me Peter Pan. But unlike Peter, I'm going to grow in wisdom and my body, unfortunately, will continue to age. I will, however, be clinging to my childlikeness with all of my strength. I'm still going to stare with wide-eyed wonder at Christmas lights, I'm going to start counting down the days until Christmas the day after Halloween, and I'll always be waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve. I vow to get crocodile tears in my eyes each time I walk in Cinderella's castle, to ride Splash Mountain at least three times in a row while screaming my lungs out during the big drop, and I will most assuredly sing, "When You Wish Upon A Star" right along with the Disney Characters after a day at the Magic Kingdom. I promise to continue to love snow days no matter how much they inconvenience us, to go sledding even on a thin layer of snow, and to make a big batch of snow cream every time we have a decent snowfall. And most of importantly, I promise to remember to see God through my children's eyes--knowing and truly believing He can do anything, just 'cause He's God.
(Notice: The opening lines to Peter Pan must now be altered to read, "All children, except two, grow up.)
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
there's no place like home
Tonight, as we were preparing to eat dinner, Anderson asked, "Mom, do you remember any outhouses when you were a little girl?" I immediately thought, "You don't think I'm that old, do you?", but I have to remind myself that anything that happened before 1998 is old to him. I said, "Yeah, I think I do remember one, as a little girl." He asked, "Did it stink?" I told him it didn't, that I could remember. "Why don't we see outhouses anymore?" he asked, to which I replied, "Well, whenever we go to Zimbabwe, maybe we'll see some." He quickly responded, "I don't want to go to Zimbabwe." It's not that he doesn't want to travel. He is just concerned with how he is going to get there. You see, he is going through this "fear of flying" phase, even though he's been flying in airplanes and traveling with us his whole life. So, I replied, "Well, your dad and I want you to be exposed to the way other people live so you always understand how blessed you are." He quickly replied, "Then let's go to downtown Raleigh." I had to laugh. He just doesn't want to be pushed outside his comfort zone, which for him is anywhere close to home or within driving distance. And frankly, he's not alone. As the old adage goes, "He comes by it honestly."
My mom is like a homing pigeon--not because of her directional capabilities, although they are pretty good. But I say that because I am convinced she has an inherent magnet that always pulls her home. I don't care where she is or how much fun she is having or how long she has been there, I can guarantee you there is at least a large part of her thinking the entire time she is gone, "I'm ready to go home." It goes without saying that she and Dorothy have a common mantra: "There's no place like home." In fact, I bet if a magical pair of ruby slippers actually existed, she'd pay top dollar for them.
Obviously, she doesn't travel a lot. I am absolutely certain that I got my love of traveling and seeing new places from my dad, although we don't travel the same way. Dad is one of those guys who would love to just get in the car and drive wherever the car leads. He'd have no agenda, and he'd certainly not book a hotel room in advance. I will never forget looking for a hotel and pulling up at a Shoney's Inn (yes, the same Shoney's as the restaurant) in Richmond, Virginia, where we were attending a wedding, and telling my father, "Dad, you do not sleep at a Shoney's, you eat at a Shoney's." I could only imagine that the room smelled like old syrup, just like the restaurant. I told him that if he stayed there, I'd be sleeping in the car, so my sister, "The Peacemaker", said she'd go look at the room and see if it was clean for me before we booked a room. As it turns out, it didn't smell like syrup. It smelled like vomit. Thank the Lord we stayed at a Hampton Inn, or something like that. Whatever it was, I think it was clean and free of any distinguishable stenches.
I'm thankful that Paul and I share a love of traveling. And Anderson shares it with us, but he's just wary of the planes right now. As for Bennett, he seems to like it and adjusts well wherever we go, which is a blessing. We are trying to plan a trip during Anderson's Spring break. We've looked into going to Bermuda, or skiing out west, but we may just decide to go somewhere that we can drive to easily. I'm sure that is Anderson's preference.
Regardless of where we go, I know we will have so much fun, I know that we will stay in a nice, clean hotel (as I am fairly high maintenance when it comes to where I sleep at night), and I know that after a week away, we'll all be ready to come home. So, I guess in some ways, when it comes to traveling, I am like my dad--I love to visit other places. But at the end of a vacation, there is one thing Mom and I agree on...
There's no place like home.
My mom is like a homing pigeon--not because of her directional capabilities, although they are pretty good. But I say that because I am convinced she has an inherent magnet that always pulls her home. I don't care where she is or how much fun she is having or how long she has been there, I can guarantee you there is at least a large part of her thinking the entire time she is gone, "I'm ready to go home." It goes without saying that she and Dorothy have a common mantra: "There's no place like home." In fact, I bet if a magical pair of ruby slippers actually existed, she'd pay top dollar for them.
Obviously, she doesn't travel a lot. I am absolutely certain that I got my love of traveling and seeing new places from my dad, although we don't travel the same way. Dad is one of those guys who would love to just get in the car and drive wherever the car leads. He'd have no agenda, and he'd certainly not book a hotel room in advance. I will never forget looking for a hotel and pulling up at a Shoney's Inn (yes, the same Shoney's as the restaurant) in Richmond, Virginia, where we were attending a wedding, and telling my father, "Dad, you do not sleep at a Shoney's, you eat at a Shoney's." I could only imagine that the room smelled like old syrup, just like the restaurant. I told him that if he stayed there, I'd be sleeping in the car, so my sister, "The Peacemaker", said she'd go look at the room and see if it was clean for me before we booked a room. As it turns out, it didn't smell like syrup. It smelled like vomit. Thank the Lord we stayed at a Hampton Inn, or something like that. Whatever it was, I think it was clean and free of any distinguishable stenches.
I'm thankful that Paul and I share a love of traveling. And Anderson shares it with us, but he's just wary of the planes right now. As for Bennett, he seems to like it and adjusts well wherever we go, which is a blessing. We are trying to plan a trip during Anderson's Spring break. We've looked into going to Bermuda, or skiing out west, but we may just decide to go somewhere that we can drive to easily. I'm sure that is Anderson's preference.
Regardless of where we go, I know we will have so much fun, I know that we will stay in a nice, clean hotel (as I am fairly high maintenance when it comes to where I sleep at night), and I know that after a week away, we'll all be ready to come home. So, I guess in some ways, when it comes to traveling, I am like my dad--I love to visit other places. But at the end of a vacation, there is one thing Mom and I agree on...
There's no place like home.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
a daisy has bloomed
You might think it odd that I am writing about a daisy blooming on a January evening when a "wintry" mix is forecasted to appear in just a day and a half. Can you believe it? There is a possibility that some typical North Carolina ice will fall from the sky on Thursday. As long as the meteorologists keep "poo-pooing" the idea of snow, then I am thrilled, because that means we might actually see some!! I have to admit, I miss "snow days"--the kids are out of school, most parents are at home, the sleds are out (along with the four-wheelers), and, if you actually have snow instead of ice, a fresh batch of snow cream is usually prepared by midday. I haven't told Anderson about the "ice" possibility yet because I don't want him to get his hopes up about not having to go to school. I remember those nights as a kid where my sisters and I would pray that it would snow so we wouldn't have to go to school. And I remember the disappointment when you would wake up and run to the window to find that there was absolutely nothing covering the ground. The temptation to lie and say to your mom, "I don't feel good. I think I have a 'temperature'..." was never so great than at those moments when you realize you will be going to school after all. (Yes, we said we had a 'temperature', not a fever.)
Anyway, onto the actual point of this blog. Today a Daisy did bloom. Our niece, Daisy, was born this morning at 5:42 a.m. She's quite a beauty. She has so much hair I think we could put hot rollers in it. Paul's sister, Stephanie, along with her husband, Richard, and two sons, Samuel and Luke, are thrilled that she finally made her appearance, as are we. We can't wait to meet the newest member of our great big family. And for those who don't know, she is the 13th grandchild and 27th member of the Brewer family. Needless to say, we have long surpassed the need for a wide lens for family pictures.
So welcome to the world, little Daisy. We've been waiting for you.
Anyway, onto the actual point of this blog. Today a Daisy did bloom. Our niece, Daisy, was born this morning at 5:42 a.m. She's quite a beauty. She has so much hair I think we could put hot rollers in it. Paul's sister, Stephanie, along with her husband, Richard, and two sons, Samuel and Luke, are thrilled that she finally made her appearance, as are we. We can't wait to meet the newest member of our great big family. And for those who don't know, she is the 13th grandchild and 27th member of the Brewer family. Needless to say, we have long surpassed the need for a wide lens for family pictures.
So welcome to the world, little Daisy. We've been waiting for you.
Monday, January 14, 2008
"...and dear God, please help the chargers win this sunday."
Those were the words which concluded the blessing around our dinner table tonight, followed by a hearty "Amen" by all three of us. And those words were not prayed by Anderson. No, no. Those words belong to Paul. We did all giggle as he said them, but the truth is, he meant what he prayed. We are thrilled that they beat Peyton Manning and the Colts yesterday, and we are praying that Philip Rivers (the reason we are Chargers fans to begin with) and Ladanian Tomlinson recover from their injuries and can play this weekend. They will be taking on the Patriots who are undefeated this season, and the Chargers will have their hands' full, I'm sure, trying to get a win from them. But if any team can do it, I believe the Chargers can.
Before we sat down for dinner, Bennett kept pointing at Paul's shoes, which means he wanted for his dad to take him outside. Their evening ritual generally includes Paul taking Bennett outside or to the car, where Bennett pretends that he can drive the car--steering the wheel, fidgeting with the gadgets, and honking the horn. So, after dinner tonight, Paul took Bennett up to the playroom, and within a few minutes they were back downstairs, heading to the garage. Evidently, when they reached the playroom, Bennett took the pacifier out of his mouth just long enough to say "ow-tie", which is his word for "outside". That easily convinced Paul he should comply with Bennett's request.
Now, we are all back in the playroom, where Anderson is throwing the football with his dad, and every few minutes Bennett gets the ball and runs around the room like a running back with a huge grin on his face, trying to escape his big brother's grasp. He gets so excited, running in circles, falling down, and scrambling to get back up as fast as he can. Too cute. He has now quit playing with the ball and is smacking the roof of his mouth with his tongue, grinning from ear to ear, bobbing his head, and turning circles while swinging his arms. We think he might be dancing. Whatever it is, it is hilarious.
Tonight, we should all sleep well as the boys seem to be wearing themselves out right now, and Paul and I are always tired! Soon, we'll all be off to dreamland.
But not before we pray for the Chargers. :)
Before we sat down for dinner, Bennett kept pointing at Paul's shoes, which means he wanted for his dad to take him outside. Their evening ritual generally includes Paul taking Bennett outside or to the car, where Bennett pretends that he can drive the car--steering the wheel, fidgeting with the gadgets, and honking the horn. So, after dinner tonight, Paul took Bennett up to the playroom, and within a few minutes they were back downstairs, heading to the garage. Evidently, when they reached the playroom, Bennett took the pacifier out of his mouth just long enough to say "ow-tie", which is his word for "outside". That easily convinced Paul he should comply with Bennett's request.
Now, we are all back in the playroom, where Anderson is throwing the football with his dad, and every few minutes Bennett gets the ball and runs around the room like a running back with a huge grin on his face, trying to escape his big brother's grasp. He gets so excited, running in circles, falling down, and scrambling to get back up as fast as he can. Too cute. He has now quit playing with the ball and is smacking the roof of his mouth with his tongue, grinning from ear to ear, bobbing his head, and turning circles while swinging his arms. We think he might be dancing. Whatever it is, it is hilarious.
Tonight, we should all sleep well as the boys seem to be wearing themselves out right now, and Paul and I are always tired! Soon, we'll all be off to dreamland.
But not before we pray for the Chargers. :)
Sunday, January 13, 2008
"eileen"
Today we went to Troy, NC--home to the Thompson family for generations. I think our family history can be traced back to this region since before the Revolutionary War. I'm not sure, but put it this way--my roots run deep there. We had a wonderful time seeing my aunts and their children and grandchildren. It is always a peaceful, happy place full of the sweetest childhood memories. But that is a blog for a different day.
Of all the fun that we had today, the thing that I most want to write about tonight is a conversation Anderson and I had on the way home. We were about 45 minutes outside of Raleigh when we stopped to pick up a quick meal, and since Bennett woke up at that point, I sat in the back seat to feed him a little chicken and watch Shrek 2 with Anderson. I'm sitting there, thinking about how blessed I am to have been given these two wonderfully delightful sons. I then tell Anderson that I think he is so handsome, and I ask him, "So which girls like you at school?" He replies, "Mom, I've told you this a bunch of times." (I probably ask him every so often because I want to monitor these kinds of situations. Kids are wanting to grow up way too fast, particularly when it comes to their interest in the opposite sex.) And I said, "I know, but I wanted to see if anything has changed." So then, to keep the conversation going because I could tell he was very uninterested and wanted me to be quiet so he could watch the movie, I asked, "How do you know they like you?" And he said, "Remember, Mom?" Then he leaned his upper body slightly into mine to demonstrate something that he had told me about a few weeks ago but that I had forgotten. This caused both of us a great deal of laughter.
I'll digress a moment to give you a little background information so you understand why this is funny. Anderson goes to a Christian school, so they have hymnals in their classroom to sing from every morning. (It's actually quite a sweet experience to hear these children singing to the Lord. It brings tears to my eyes every time.) There are only half as many hymnals as there are children, so each boy holds the hymnal for the girl that sits beside him. Anderson has to hold the hymnal for a very sweet girl that sits next to him, but he isn't all that thrilled about it for several reasons. One, he says she has morning breath. I know that may sound a bit mean, but kids can be brutally honest, and my child happens to have a freakishly strong sense of smell. When I was in his classroom a few weeks ago, they were singing their hymn and he kept looking at me with his hands holding the book in front of her and his head turned towards me in the absolute opposite direction, making faces at me as if he was saying, "See, I told you she had bad breath." I gave him that "stop it" look because I was afraid someone else would notice. On that day, I did notice that the little girl likes to stand a little closer than necessary to see the hymnal that Anderson is basically holding directly in front of her, but I thought that was actually sweet. I felt there was a definite innocence to what she was doing, though, if that makes sense. But Anderson has been complaining to me that she is now leaning into him, semi-resting her head on him while they sing a hymn.
So tonight, when Anderson did the "leaning" demonstration, he then told me this: "Mom, and now she does the back-touching thing, too." "WHAT?" I exclaimed. He noticed my reaction was a little threatening, so he said, "Nevermind." Softening my voice I asked, "Um, no, Anderson, what are you talking about when you say 'the back-touching thing'?" He smiled, and he said, "You know", and he touched my lower back lightly, demonstrating how her hand is gently going behind him when they sing. I said, "She's putting her arm around you?" And he says, "Yes, sort of. I keep feeling something lightly touching my back when we sing." At this point you are probably wondering why the teacher has not interrupted this little girl's "advances", but the teacher is singing and reading the hymnal, too, so I can see why there has been no intervention.
I have to be honest. Anderson and I got the greatest giggle out of him telling me this, even though a part of me didn't want him to think it was funny. He knows that the girl really shouldn't be doing it, and he does tell me he tries to gently scoot away from her. He even asked me, "Mom. I don't like her at all, but what if she asks me if I think she is pretty?" And I said, "You just say that you are really glad she is your friend and that you do not look at her that way."
Now, to the point of the title of this blog...this conversation reminded me of when I started dating. I was dating a boy who was a basketball player and he was quite tall. And when he would sit on the sofa next to me, he had a tendency to lean the upper part of his body towards me. My dad quickly noticed this, and being the kind of dad who LOVED to keep young boys in check and to embarass me whenever possible, he would walk in the room and say to the boy, "Well, hey Eileen!!" (Get it? "I Lean".) The poor boy took awhile to catch on, but I of course caught on right away, so I'd give my dad that "please stop it" look. He ignored me. For years, this particular boy was called "Eileen" by my dad.
So last night, I instantly remembered this story, and I said to Anderson, "Maybe if she doesn't stop leaning on you, you should just start calling her Eileen." He looked at me for a second, then his confusion broke out in laughter. We giggled together, and the joy that filled my heart was beyond description. What a great boy he is, I thought, knowing he would never call her Eileen because he really is kind.
And for the remainder of our trip, as we snuggled close to watch the rest of the movie, I was Eileen.
Of all the fun that we had today, the thing that I most want to write about tonight is a conversation Anderson and I had on the way home. We were about 45 minutes outside of Raleigh when we stopped to pick up a quick meal, and since Bennett woke up at that point, I sat in the back seat to feed him a little chicken and watch Shrek 2 with Anderson. I'm sitting there, thinking about how blessed I am to have been given these two wonderfully delightful sons. I then tell Anderson that I think he is so handsome, and I ask him, "So which girls like you at school?" He replies, "Mom, I've told you this a bunch of times." (I probably ask him every so often because I want to monitor these kinds of situations. Kids are wanting to grow up way too fast, particularly when it comes to their interest in the opposite sex.) And I said, "I know, but I wanted to see if anything has changed." So then, to keep the conversation going because I could tell he was very uninterested and wanted me to be quiet so he could watch the movie, I asked, "How do you know they like you?" And he said, "Remember, Mom?" Then he leaned his upper body slightly into mine to demonstrate something that he had told me about a few weeks ago but that I had forgotten. This caused both of us a great deal of laughter.
I'll digress a moment to give you a little background information so you understand why this is funny. Anderson goes to a Christian school, so they have hymnals in their classroom to sing from every morning. (It's actually quite a sweet experience to hear these children singing to the Lord. It brings tears to my eyes every time.) There are only half as many hymnals as there are children, so each boy holds the hymnal for the girl that sits beside him. Anderson has to hold the hymnal for a very sweet girl that sits next to him, but he isn't all that thrilled about it for several reasons. One, he says she has morning breath. I know that may sound a bit mean, but kids can be brutally honest, and my child happens to have a freakishly strong sense of smell. When I was in his classroom a few weeks ago, they were singing their hymn and he kept looking at me with his hands holding the book in front of her and his head turned towards me in the absolute opposite direction, making faces at me as if he was saying, "See, I told you she had bad breath." I gave him that "stop it" look because I was afraid someone else would notice. On that day, I did notice that the little girl likes to stand a little closer than necessary to see the hymnal that Anderson is basically holding directly in front of her, but I thought that was actually sweet. I felt there was a definite innocence to what she was doing, though, if that makes sense. But Anderson has been complaining to me that she is now leaning into him, semi-resting her head on him while they sing a hymn.
So tonight, when Anderson did the "leaning" demonstration, he then told me this: "Mom, and now she does the back-touching thing, too." "WHAT?" I exclaimed. He noticed my reaction was a little threatening, so he said, "Nevermind." Softening my voice I asked, "Um, no, Anderson, what are you talking about when you say 'the back-touching thing'?" He smiled, and he said, "You know", and he touched my lower back lightly, demonstrating how her hand is gently going behind him when they sing. I said, "She's putting her arm around you?" And he says, "Yes, sort of. I keep feeling something lightly touching my back when we sing." At this point you are probably wondering why the teacher has not interrupted this little girl's "advances", but the teacher is singing and reading the hymnal, too, so I can see why there has been no intervention.
I have to be honest. Anderson and I got the greatest giggle out of him telling me this, even though a part of me didn't want him to think it was funny. He knows that the girl really shouldn't be doing it, and he does tell me he tries to gently scoot away from her. He even asked me, "Mom. I don't like her at all, but what if she asks me if I think she is pretty?" And I said, "You just say that you are really glad she is your friend and that you do not look at her that way."
Now, to the point of the title of this blog...this conversation reminded me of when I started dating. I was dating a boy who was a basketball player and he was quite tall. And when he would sit on the sofa next to me, he had a tendency to lean the upper part of his body towards me. My dad quickly noticed this, and being the kind of dad who LOVED to keep young boys in check and to embarass me whenever possible, he would walk in the room and say to the boy, "Well, hey Eileen!!" (Get it? "I Lean".) The poor boy took awhile to catch on, but I of course caught on right away, so I'd give my dad that "please stop it" look. He ignored me. For years, this particular boy was called "Eileen" by my dad.
So last night, I instantly remembered this story, and I said to Anderson, "Maybe if she doesn't stop leaning on you, you should just start calling her Eileen." He looked at me for a second, then his confusion broke out in laughter. We giggled together, and the joy that filled my heart was beyond description. What a great boy he is, I thought, knowing he would never call her Eileen because he really is kind.
And for the remainder of our trip, as we snuggled close to watch the rest of the movie, I was Eileen.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
a bad day for basketball
Today our Wolfpack and Anderson's basketball team both lost their games. Badly. And to make matters worse, the Wolfpack lost to the Tarheels. I don't even know the final score. In situations like these, ignorance really is bliss. Once we started getting our "heinies" handed to us, I stopped watching.
Anderson and Paul, fortunately, didn't watch the entire State game because Anderson had his first basketball game of the season. And if Anderson's team had won, the Wolfpack loss would have been assuaged. But alas, that did not happen. Not even close. Anderson's team ended up losing 25-12. Yep, it was a low-scoring (particularly for Anderson's team), ugly, frequently chaotic game. Overall, it just wasn't a fun game to watch, for several reasons.
First of all, Anderson had to defend and be defended by the other team's best player, who was a very athletic, "brown" (as we say in our home) fourth grader who was a good three or four inches taller than Anderson. It was difficult for Anderson to try to shoot over him, but he did manage to score 4 points. Anyway, at the end of the game, the "brown" guy fouled out, and Anderson has a good scrape on his arm as evidence of one of those fouls. Actually, by the end of the game, Anderson just kinda ended up tackling the boy. They were fighting for the ball, so Anderson seized the opportunity to vent a little frustration.
Second, some of our players really seemed like they had never held a basketball in their hands before. One kid, who is actually a decent shooter, was dribbling the ball toward his basket when he saw the defense closing in on him. So, he just decided to take off for the opponent's goal instead (where there was no defensive coverage) and was almost at their basket before he heard the coach and Paul shouting at him. I should add that at this age, most kids know the game well and have fairly good ball-handling skills. Today, that didn't appear to be the case.
Third, one of the referees was an older gentleman with a bad knee (so he limped up and down the court with a grimmace on his face), and he gave the boys a mini-sermon every time he blew his whistle. I know he was probably just trying to teach the boys, but the clock didn't stop, and when you are down 10 points or more, you want him to stop talking and let the kids play! Okay, so maybe I am a little too competitive. You think?
Fourth, Paul is the assistant coach. He has been blessed with really great guys to coach with, and this year is no exception. However, the challenge for him can be that he doesn't want to step on the toes of the head coach, but that is hard to avoid when you see the kids lost on the court with very little direction. You just want to give them some, so Paul did. But by the end of the game, both Paul and Anderson were just.....frustrated, to say the least.
If there was any question about Anderson's feelings, I'd say that tackling his opponent and a good foot stomp and scowl on his face at the end of the game let me know our little boy was NOT happy. After a glare from his mom from across the court, he masked his frustrations a little better. We talked it out, and he was over it. But as for Paul, he was not.
So, we spent the second half of our day out of the house, trying to forget about the first half. We went bowling and to Goodberry's for ice cream. Of course, of all days, Anderson was struggling to bowl well (and he beat both of us last time we bowled), so he was ready to quit after the fifth frame. He said he'd just had "a bad day". We were merciful with him, telling him that he needed to be thankful for the good things in his life but inwardly knowing we would probably feel the same way in his shoes. After all, when you are a nine year old boy, losing ballgames feels like one of the worst things that could happen. As you grow older, you realize, it really is JUST a game.
Well, that is, unless the Wolfpack is playing the Tarheels...
Anderson and Paul, fortunately, didn't watch the entire State game because Anderson had his first basketball game of the season. And if Anderson's team had won, the Wolfpack loss would have been assuaged. But alas, that did not happen. Not even close. Anderson's team ended up losing 25-12. Yep, it was a low-scoring (particularly for Anderson's team), ugly, frequently chaotic game. Overall, it just wasn't a fun game to watch, for several reasons.
First of all, Anderson had to defend and be defended by the other team's best player, who was a very athletic, "brown" (as we say in our home) fourth grader who was a good three or four inches taller than Anderson. It was difficult for Anderson to try to shoot over him, but he did manage to score 4 points. Anyway, at the end of the game, the "brown" guy fouled out, and Anderson has a good scrape on his arm as evidence of one of those fouls. Actually, by the end of the game, Anderson just kinda ended up tackling the boy. They were fighting for the ball, so Anderson seized the opportunity to vent a little frustration.
Second, some of our players really seemed like they had never held a basketball in their hands before. One kid, who is actually a decent shooter, was dribbling the ball toward his basket when he saw the defense closing in on him. So, he just decided to take off for the opponent's goal instead (where there was no defensive coverage) and was almost at their basket before he heard the coach and Paul shouting at him. I should add that at this age, most kids know the game well and have fairly good ball-handling skills. Today, that didn't appear to be the case.
Third, one of the referees was an older gentleman with a bad knee (so he limped up and down the court with a grimmace on his face), and he gave the boys a mini-sermon every time he blew his whistle. I know he was probably just trying to teach the boys, but the clock didn't stop, and when you are down 10 points or more, you want him to stop talking and let the kids play! Okay, so maybe I am a little too competitive. You think?
Fourth, Paul is the assistant coach. He has been blessed with really great guys to coach with, and this year is no exception. However, the challenge for him can be that he doesn't want to step on the toes of the head coach, but that is hard to avoid when you see the kids lost on the court with very little direction. You just want to give them some, so Paul did. But by the end of the game, both Paul and Anderson were just.....frustrated, to say the least.
If there was any question about Anderson's feelings, I'd say that tackling his opponent and a good foot stomp and scowl on his face at the end of the game let me know our little boy was NOT happy. After a glare from his mom from across the court, he masked his frustrations a little better. We talked it out, and he was over it. But as for Paul, he was not.
So, we spent the second half of our day out of the house, trying to forget about the first half. We went bowling and to Goodberry's for ice cream. Of course, of all days, Anderson was struggling to bowl well (and he beat both of us last time we bowled), so he was ready to quit after the fifth frame. He said he'd just had "a bad day". We were merciful with him, telling him that he needed to be thankful for the good things in his life but inwardly knowing we would probably feel the same way in his shoes. After all, when you are a nine year old boy, losing ballgames feels like one of the worst things that could happen. As you grow older, you realize, it really is JUST a game.
Well, that is, unless the Wolfpack is playing the Tarheels...
Friday, January 11, 2008
paul shoots a 66
That's right. I am recording it for posterity. Paul shot a 66 on the golf course on Wednesday, which is five shots under par and a personal best (I think). He was, of course very happy, but I'm not sure if he was happier about the score or about the money he won. He proudly came home and handed the $66 cash over to me because he knows that I am much more likely to want him to play golf if I get paid for it. Smart man. This is the second time that I have "gotten paid" for being supportive of a golf match in the last month, and needless to say, I'm happy with the trend.
But, tonight, the trend took a turn. He came home from the golf course without the win and without the cash. Yep, folks, he lost a close one shooting two over par. So, I guess the third time isn't always a charm. I did offer to give him his winnings back from Wednesday's win. And being the smart man he is........he took me up on it.
But, tonight, the trend took a turn. He came home from the golf course without the win and without the cash. Yep, folks, he lost a close one shooting two over par. So, I guess the third time isn't always a charm. I did offer to give him his winnings back from Wednesday's win. And being the smart man he is........he took me up on it.
the brewers enter cyberspace...
Well, it is official. The Brewers have finally joined the vast majority of computer-savvy Americans in the world of blogging. I have actually made a few futile attempts at doing this since Bennett was born, but my good intentions never developed into commitment. And now that I think about it, we'll see how committed I am to this whole "blogging" thing in a few weeks. After all, it is the new year, which means new year's resolutions and that naieve ambition that accompanies them which makes you think you can start something new and stay committed to it. And we all know that 98% of the time, reality strikes by February. I'm sure that time (and boys) won't permit me to blog as often as I would like, but I will do my best to take a moment from time to time to write about what is going on in the Brewer household and to post a few pictures, for anyone who is interested.
So, until next time, America....
So, until next time, America....
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