Memorial Day Weekend 2014


The boys are on a baseball kick lately. Even Roman, Mr. Anti-Sport, is excited about it. Whenever they can, they get together with their athletic neighbors and play ball with ghost runners (which I’m pretty sure they don’t fully understand). When their friends are not available, they ask me and Rick to play. We’ve had some pretty fun backyard games. It reminds me of when I was little and our parents would play “baseball” with us in the yard. We didn’t have a bat or a baseball, but we improvised. We played by batting at a tennis ball with our hands.

Today we do have bats and baseballs. When we play, I’m ridiculous: Every time I miraculously make contact with the ball, I run screaming to first base.

Julian is nothing if not competitive. He’s been known to throw the ball at a player a few times to get them out. It hurts!

Lucy is annoying. We don’t need a big 14-year-old dog in the way of our game, but she just wants to be with us, so she lumbers over and stands right in front of people. We send her to go lay down, but she says, “If I can’t be right in the way, then I’m leaving.” She exits the yard and acts like she’s going to run away. But we know better. She knows we’re the only ones who would want her, so she’s not going anywhere.


The Mall

On Saturday, the boys were at Mom and Dad’s house with their cousins, so I went to the mall. I had one specific thing I needed. I found it right away, but was unable to “shop like a man.” I had to circle the whole mall looking in every store, trying on every pair of black sandals (none of them compared to my old ones that broke where we had already glued them together once, so I bought no shoes).

On my way out, I passed a kiosk of Dead Sea beauty products. The salesman held a little sample packet out to me and said something I didn’t hear. I said, “No thank you.” Then, when he very quietly said, “Can I ask you something?” I uncharacteristically approached him, and before I knew it, I was using a salt scrub while he rinsed my hands into a bowl. It made my hands soft and silky. Then he pulled out this clarifying gel and put some on one of my forearms. As he scrubbed, these dead, gray skin cells came off. He said, “See? You actually have very fair skin.” (So that’s why my children are so fair-skinned! I’m not really dark; I’m just dirty!) Hours later I asked Rick if he saw any difference between my right and left forearms, and he said, “Definitely. This one’s lighter.” Great. OK. Maybe I’d like the Dead Sea products, but I’m not buying them. But the salesman would not let me go. Three times I had to say, “I’m not buying anything today,” and after the third time, he quickly said, “Have a good day.”


Sunday was my turn with the toddlers at church. The story was about Jonah. The lesson idea was that God protected Jonah while he was in the big fish, and God will protect you too. I wondered if anyone would ask about all the times when God did not protect good people who trusted in Him, but allowed them to suffer and die. I thought about addressing that, but decided that my kiddos are very young and that assuring them that God takes care of them would do. I would say more if someone asked. That felt right. And nobody asked.

Sick Day

Sunday evening we had a fun get-together with my family. Roman developed a fever and spent the whole afternoon on the couch. Julian was bored, constantly wanting someone to entertain him, and complaining when we didn’t. When I announced that we were going to where he could play with his cousins, he jumped right up and was in his seatbelt before I could finish the sentence. Maybe I should use the cousin line every time I want him in the car. Anyway, Roman and Rick had to stay home and miss the party. We were a little worried about Roman, because he had a fever of 102 in spite of Tylenol, and he had recently had a tick that he had only partially removed. He was coughing and had a headache. We were going to take him to Urgent Care in the morning (because these things never happen when his pediatrician is in the office), but the next morning he woke up feeling fine, no fever, and in a fabulous mood. He was happy and cooperative all day. He was so grateful to be feeling well, and so are we. By the way, Julian served himself Ginger Ale in this huge cup. I took it away from him.IMG_2378


We’ve always taught the kids that you don’t spend all your money; you save some and you give some away. They each have three money jars, each labeled with where the money will go. I found a piece of making tape covering the money slot in Julian’s “Give” jar. Someone is going through a little stingy phase.


Misbehaving Boys

Two little things have annoyed me recently. See what you think:

The other day I had plans for what to make for dinner, but I was gardening, Rick was working out, and the boys were playing, so it got late on us and I hadn’t started dinner when the boys got hungry. But instead of asking me if I had supper-making plans, they helped themselves to white bread and Nutella. So basically they had sugar sandwiches for dinner. I wasn’t happy, because I had gone through the trouble of stopping at the grocery store after work, and I had a plan for what needed to be eaten before it went bad. Plus I wanted them to get nutrition from our meal. And I like us to sit down to eat together. So I made each of the boys peel carrots, and asked them to eat some. As they peeled, they munched on the carrots and also nibbled on dinner with the family later. Everyone ended up happy. Hopefully next time they won’t raid the kitchen for snacks without checking with me first. I try not to be a kitchen Nazi, but it’s hard when your plans get thrown out the window.

Every day when I ask Roman, “Do you have homework?” he says, “No.” But the other day we got an e-mail from his teacher saying that only a few kids had turned in a writing assignment she had given them. Apparently you can’t trust fourth-graders to do what they’re supposed to do without teacher or parental prodding. Roman was not one of the kids who had turned in his assignment, so we made him do it. He was supposed to interview a person over age 50 about technology and then write a report on it. He asked Rick if he could interview him, but Rick said, “I’m not over 50.” Roman said, “Oh. You know.” A little later he said, “The teacher really shouldn’t do this when we only have a week of school left.” Boy, that was the wrong thing to say to his teacher father! He got the lecture, the one about working hard and doing your best until it’s actually time to play.

So how often do your kids do what they’re supposed to do without being told? At what age do they become independent enough that we don’t have to manage them so much? Does it ever happen before they’re grown?Image

May fun and the Minecraft birthday party

The month of May is my favorite month of the year. After a snowy winter during which the toilet pipe busted under the house, my brain forgot how to sleep, we all got the flu, we nearly emptied our savings fixing things that broke in the house, and I got stir crazy, it’s so nice to be able to open the doors and let the outside in. That is, when I’m not outside myself. I plant a garden, one of my favorite things to do. I hang the laundry on the line to dry and fold it on the patio table. Even when I’m playing Monopoly with the boys, sometimes I insist on playing it outside. It’s a pain having to pin all that money down so the breeze doesn’t take it away, but it’s worth it. It’s so much easier to hide your crazy when the sun is shining.

Marrying Rick was the best spring break ever; Roman’s birth was the best Halloween treat I’ve ever received; and Julian was the best Mother’s Day gift I’ve ever gotten. You can’t beat a sleepy little redhead perched on your shoulder all day, for a Mother’s Day present. He was so gentle and quiet at first, then when he became a toddler, his fiery, spirited side came out. I found him: climbing the attic ladder alone, dumping my carefully planted seedlings on the living room floor, sitting in the dresser drawer with the clothes all over the floor, and so much more. He misbehaved early and surely. And he is so much fun. He turned eight years old yesterday. And he certainly had a happy birthday. Video games at 6 a.m., more video games after school with his neighborhood friends, dinner at ReRico with his family, a long bubble bath, and some new Pokemon cards from his brother. Spoiled little boy! And that was after his birthday party with kids, which Rick and I have said is the last one we’ll do 🙂

I made a Ghast pinata for Julian's birthday party.

I made a Ghast pinata for Julian’s birthday party.


Julian's turn to hit the pinata

Julian’s turn to hit the pinata






Rick is a talented artist, and that side of him comes out when we throw a kid’s birthday party. This year I joined him in making decorations, though mine don’t even compare. I took the ideas from Pinterest.


Creeper, made by Rick

Creeper, made by Rick

Enderman, made by Rick

Enderman, made by Rick

Creeper, made by Adrianna

Creeper, made by Adrianna

Julian loves soccer and basketball, and plays with all his being. He’s always been at the zero percentile for height, so maybe that’s why he pushes himself. He keeps up pretty well, too! It’s kind of surprising that we have an athlete in the family. None of the rest of us like sports much. The only reason I ever put on sparring gear and hit people, or exerted myself to make a basket or kick in a goal, was because of Julian. He stretches me and makes me jump out of my comfort zone, and I guess that’s good.