disco and gerno

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".

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.

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!

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.)
4. I don't have anyone other than God and my husband to answer to.
5. 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).
6. 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.
7. I get to be at home with my children, which means I have the privilege of spending the most time with them.
8. 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.
9. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.