A call for helmets and oven mitts

The following post is told in flashbacks, so if you have sustained any brain injuries or have trouble with the space-time continuum, then discontinue reading now.

The Latest Incident
I got the call yesterday at work.
"Sedona hit her head and it is like swelling faster than like...it is swelling really fast. What should I do?"
This call does not surprise me. Why? Because head injuries are what we do best in the Nulik house.

The Previous Incident
Just ten days previous to this Sedona and I were at the park having a nice time on the swings.
"I'm going to do a new trick, Daddy," she says.
"No...no tricks today," I say.
However, this warning was too late. She had already released the chains and commenced her attempt to fly. This attempt culminated in a dive that would have made Olympic judges proud.
Several hours and a few puking bathroom visits later, we had found ourselves in the warm confines of the Lake Saint Louis Emergency Room. CAT scans proved what we already knew...no concussions...just mild stupidity.

The Walking Through Doors Incident
However...not even this episode surprised me...why? Because only several weeks previous on a trip to Chicago, Jana thought she would try to be like Patrick Swayze in Ghost and go through a glass backdoor.
After failing to shape shift around the door, we ended up in exotic Central DuPage Hospital. No brain scan necessary here. After an ER fee, they told us to "Be careful." Apparently, I listen to doctors like I listened to my parents in high school.

The Original Incident?
Since the phone call yesterday, I have done some serious soul-searching..."Gully, Jeremy...that is 3 head injuries in 1 month. What is going on here?" Then, the memory of my childhood came to mind. Wow, I hit my head a lot. If my fallible memory serves me incorrectly, then I come up with at least 3 good sized concussions. This does not count the time I fell out of the tree house or when I jumped off my friend Steve's bike pegs. I can't imagine the worry that this caused my parents.
I am reminded of this phrase, "The sins of the father are visited upon the son." Apparently this applies to daughters and wives as well. God is not gender specific with the whole son thing.

Update On the Most Recent Head Injury
Sedona is fine. After another set of brain scans we have found the same thing. She has a mild case of being related to her parents.


Watch for more updates and, if possible, please send some helmets and oven mits. As head of the household, I would like to protect the other heads in the household by instituting a "Helmets must be worn at all times" policy. The oven mits are just a precaution. I wouldn't want anyone's eyes to get poked out. All helmets are welcomed, but ones that include a face mask are preferred.

- Jeremy

Lonely Goats Tour 2008

It is a funny thing to find your children so very much unlike the other 30 running around screaming and chasing goats. Both of mine, separately, took up an adoption and compassion cause. After visitng with and brushing every goat she could find sitting alone near the fence, Sedona took to one particular goat, and there she sat for more than 30 minutes. Talk about dedication.

Jordan in the meantime traveled around looking for the loneliest, smallest goats and offered them additional milk (yes, we are crazy city folk feeding fenced goats from bottles for sport).

While the other children scrambled amidst the frenzied goats all fighting each other for the bottles of milk, mine were repeatedly found as far from the action as you could get. While somehow sweetly satisfying and encouraging it was also, I'm afraid, exhausting. I simply wasn't as taken with the goats as they were and, not wanting to leave their bleeding hearts alone, had to kind of loiter around the goat pen for a great deal longer than I'd ever intended or desired.

So I'm having all these swell thoughts about the kids kind hearts, and great compassion, their slow and steady approach to serving these underling goats, right? Ah yes, we've recently applied for 501c3 status, don't worry. . . .
And then Jordan, sweet Jordan, helped me snap out of it.

He'd been fending off other goats and humans in service of a particular goat (you'll see him below in the slides) for quite some time. Any other kids who tried to feed him were quickly turned away. Afterall, "this is MY goat." He looked at me and introduced me to his goat, was silent for a minute then peered deep into the goat's eyes and announced, "This goat doesn't like me anymore I need to find a new goat."

I still laugh good and hard when I replay it in my head (or on my screen as the case may be). I might be alone in seeing the irony here. Just as I'm thinking how devoted to this goat he is, how seemingly unselfish, he reveals that it had little to do with that particular goat. Rather, he wanted to be needed, to be adored. Ahh yes, human afterall.

Other highlights from our trip to Grant's Farm:

-A kangaroo that didn't do so much as flutter an eyelash (do they have eyelashes?) in the hour we were near its pen. Very creepy.

- Jordan got to feed an apple to an elephant!! I thought his face would cracked he was smiling so hard for what seemed like hours afterward.

- Displeased that the brochure showed a young horse alongside one of the full grown Clydesdale Budweiser horses when there wasn't a baby to found anywhere in the stables. . .Sedona announced that the babies were all hiding under the hay. I can't tell you how put out she was though. She's not down with false advertising.

- Ducks mating just a few feet away from the crowd. Always a good conversation piece for both 4 year olds and 9 year olds alike.

- Camels. Really, there isn't much about camels that isn't bizarre and interesting and somehow a little bit gross. They seem just great in movies and on safari home decor but up close and personal . . . yeah, I dunno.

Of humidity and gas prices.. . .

I realized just this week that we are down to 2 little weeks of long and winding summer days. 10 days to be exact. But as tends to happen in Saint Louis this time of year, the humidity has steadily climbed through the roof, sending my fibromyalgia into a little temper tantrum and slowing our outdoor adventures. And while Saint Louis has gobs of free attractions, they are all 20-35 miles away from home sweet home, which in my sad, old Blazer translates roughly into at least $20 in gas alone per trip. Not exactly free.

And so. . . .this past week found us at the pool, a mere mile from our home and at $10 admission I figure we saved $10 and we bargain away. We swam, we sunned. Tuesday was a good day.

Wednesday brought more rain (and its subsequent sticky, slimy air) and we made our way to the front yard to bask in it. It was a delicious summer rain, no lightening, no thunder, just a warm, steady rain.

Thursday, I don't care to mention as it was . . . well one of those days. Only a small percentage of residents made their way out of pajamas, movies were watched, boys were driven to silly gestures of boredom, snacks were scattered, imaginations were put to work (see Professor Jordan below, complete with costumes). And we move on . . . .

By Friday morning, the humidity reached such absurd heights that the toilet paper began to sag off the roll, paperback book covers rolled and curled up, edges of papers waffled in the moisture. Ahh yes. let's settle here near all the rivers and swamps. Delightful.

And then I found myself in Dallas!! I got to travel, on my very own, to Dallas for the My Shopping Genie Launch and it was terrif. Time spent with my mom, time spent without whining of incessant requests (besides my own), and the new technology was amazing. I'm really excited about this business as it might just be the way I get to stay home with the kids this school year. In fact, I'm sure that it is the way.

Shameless plug ----->www.myshoppinggenie.com/nulikjana It is a free download, totally free software. When the newest version goes public later this week I truly believe it will be the greatest shopping tool on the internet. It helps you compare prices and shop smart. Try it out and let me know what you think. I hope you love it.

End of shameless plug.

And now for the proof.

So that's what's been happening here. Stay tuned. . .next week we go to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and to the City Museum. I'm looking forward to it.

I did it!

I painted my hair!!

Okay that part was really an unfortunate, though amusing, side effect of the long time coming painting of the kitchen.

Celery green went cerulean and cream tile went Jalepeno while cabinets turned chalkboards. Big fun.

Sedona, for one, had a blast squeezing her roller with her hands. She went to wash off the paint and returned with carefully remaining blue finger nails - had scrubbed the rest off, strategically leaving behind those little fingernails. It is a lovely color.

A rather warm, but magic nevertheless, house

Monday we found ourselves at The Magic House with friends. It is a children's museum of sorts, full of simply fabulous exhibits, experiments, tunnels and most famously - Children's Town, complete with victorian house, grocery store, pizzaria, library and more. It is fabulous - if somewhat of a mad house. There aren't any pictures of the hour we spent in a mock grocery store because I was employed restocking plastic produce while Jordan manned the register and deligated, ever so diplomatically, other (lesser, he might say) duties to pretty much every other kid in the joint.

I overheard Sedona asking for a turn at the register and Jordan, very much in store manager character, replied with, " I actually have an even more important job that needs to be done. But its big. Do you think you can do it? It will make you second in command and that is really important. Can you handle it? Okay, I need you to be in charge of arranging all these detergent bottles and other things behind me."

Notice he didn't simply say no. Nope, he's a smooth one. And she was thrilled to be second in command.

Other highlights included the giant bubble, electromagnetic orbs and of course. . .climbing.

Back to the beach!

What else is there to do on a 95 degree day Saturday but swim (and build sand castles with your dad)? You'll notice no pictures of Jordan as I wasn't able to shoot fast enough in the split seconds he'd emerge from the murky depths.

How old are you?

Somewhere along the way, the kids have moved out of diapers and out of strollers, past the need for binkies and sippy cups. . . and somewhere along the way, become actual people. But have I managed to move out of thinking that they NEED me for every little thing? This part of the equation is much tougher.

Every one of the last 4 summers here has held with it various reasons why we couldn't simply live at the pool. Most often it was because my two little hands simply were no match for 3 kids under 3 plus Jordan near large bodies of water. I thought it foolish and unrealistic to imagine hauling all the kids I babysat plus my two to the pool. So we never did. We became sprinkler experts, cheap inflatable pool proficient but never did we dare venture into the wonderful community pool just down the street from our house.

We'd even watch from the playground next to the pool as what seemed like billions of people sweat and burned and yelled and played and, presumably, had a blast. But as I watched I could only think "Ugh, what a nightmare. Chasing children, using pool bathrooms, sooo crowded. No thanks."

I couldn't have been more wrong!! And boy were we missing out.

Friday I shocked Jordan and myself when I granted a request to take him and a friend(Natalie) to Alligator's Creek (the pool down the street). We were there almost 4 hours and couldn't have had a better time.

Granted, there was some confusion at the outset. We approached the window to pay our admission fee and I said, "Two kids and myself". (Natalie has a season's pass).
But then I didn't understand what the woman behind the glass was asking me. And so I repeat. . .

"Just two children and myself."

And she said, "And how old are you?"

"I'm sorry?" I was already confused and we weren't even inside the pool yet!!

"How old are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. How old are you?"

"27."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!!! Well, i guess you can be flattered . . . i wasn't sure. . . " and so on as she attempted to recover from her mistake.

And then I realized that she hadn't thought that I was 18 and a valid guardian for the minors I had in tow.

Oh man.

So here is the moral of my long and winding story -
Jordan is not 4 and Sedona is not 2 (well, and I'm not 16). I learned a valuable lesson Friday as I sat on the edge of the splash pool watching Sedona befriend any number of kids, help a girl smaller than herself reach the fountain and team up with 2 older boys in a silly game. Meanwhile, Jordan swam to his heart's content in the big pool, making new friends, running into old ones and learning all kinds of new tricks. He didn't need me to micromanage his swimming adventure and neither did she.

The sign outside the entrance said that kids under 9 need to have an adult with them. Is that to suggest that by next summer. . . I won't even need to be there with Jordan?! The reality of how much they've grown is slow to set in. 9 is 9, not 15 and 4 is still very much 4. . . but seeing them as people I get to hang out with instead of little ones to manage has changed the way we interact so much and I gotta tell ya . . . we're having a blast.

Seeing Red?

So the slideshows have gone berserk, simultaneously turning red!

I don't know why. But bear with me. . . I promise to fix it somehow.

Any suggestions as to what the problem might be? Temporary? Photobucket? My computer?

Oh me oh my.

Burn, baby, burn

I'm like the What-Not-To-Do poster girl for the American Cancer Association. Where there is sun. . . there is pink Jana despite any and all efforts at sunscreen. I am going to have to get a gargantuan hat, one that promises to cover me and 6 neighboring sun-seekers, err, sun-hiders.

I'm demanding a common sense warning label on all spray-on sunscreens. Just as coffee now says "CAUTION - HOT!" and cigarettes promise cancer, and alcohol warns trouble for pregnant women . . . I want spray-on sunscreen to warn idiots like me that the effectiveness of the spray may be related to the velocity and direction of the wind when applied.

In other words. . . don't spray it on outside!!! I'm a lobster!!! Listen to me, people!!

Yes, this is common sense and yes, I am a relatively intelligent adult and yes, I am burned to a crisp. So take heed. CAUTION- DO NOT APPLY UNDER WINDY CONDITIONS

Burning aside, we had a fabulous day at the "beach" Tuesday. I use scare quotes because I wonder what really constitutes a beach. Is it the presence of sand? The combination of sand and water? Must there be waves? I really don't know.

Nevertheless, we went to Cuivre River State Park and found a lovely little "beach" complete with sand and sun, oh and plenty of water.

To the Zoo!

Back in St Louis again, we made our way to the zoo Monday after the food pantry. Sedona has been desperate to see th snakes and lizards but the last 2 times we were there, the reptile house was closed. So we tried again and this time met with great success.

Sedona's favorite was the pig-nosed turtle, while Jordan opted for a shedding lizard. We even saw what we think must have been lunch trying to stay as far away from the dining snake as possible - about 8 feet up on the glass! We came out just in time to see the sea lions being fed. Jordan did a rousing imitation, startling nearby adults and children alike.

The Dinoroarus exhibit was nice but for the dino expert we have here it was a little bit old hat. But again, great pleasure was found in over- acting and posing for pictures.

Morton Arboretum - Lisle, IL

We were able to make a trip up to Naperville last weekend and managed a little bit of time for exploring the Arboretum on Saturday.

Sedona slept through the first half of the trip but once she was awake she was going full speed. There were giant bugs (which Jordan loved shrieking and posing with), gardens and tree houses, rivers to walk through and even a souvenir watering can and bug goggles (Thank you, Grandma Marianne!).

A wonderful time was had by all but Sedona's flip flops. While climbing we left her shoes down on a bench, in the time it took us to navigate the tree house, someone took the shoes to the lost and found. Oops. The only bad thing was that it took us another 20 minutes to find out that they were in the lost and found and hadn't just been misplaced by us.

Monday, Monday, Monday (Yes, I know that it is Wednesday!)

So Monday means Food Pantry. We volunteer at OASIS Food Pantry every week to help unload, sort and stock all of the perishable items that are donated by local grocery stores. This means lots and lots of icky gooey slimy things piled into a single box that might, if we're lucky, have some stellar produce in it somewhere. Not a job for the squeamish. Fortunately, we are not. Sedona, in particular, is an excellant sport and works hard to help break down boxes and fill the refrigerators with fruits and veggies. Jordan excels in the bread and bakery departments.

We pack lunches and set out to see what kind of trouble we can find once the work is done. Sometimes we find ourselves in the city, others, just downt the road near the riverwalk/old town Saint Charles. This week, though, we decided to try out a new park we stumbled across. It was a bit short-lived as injury and an incurable case of I'm-sweaty-whining set in, but we had fun while we were there.

See?

Desperately Seeking Sunflowers

We went in search of sunflowers today. There is rumored a field full of sunflowers, stretching across a valley near the Missouri River. We saw them. But they were held too far off for us to touch them and flop down and play in them. The stood there, waving, I imagine, at those of us bound by gates and silly orange signs.

Nevermind those silly sunflowers.

Today we found the mud. The streaked and dried, river just receded, still dripping just below surface, riverbank mud. We wallowed. Well, they wallowed. Each making a mark in the sand before sending sticks to challenge river's edge currents. We watched as wood of different sizes and shapes fared so oddly in the currents and whirlpools of the Missouri River.

I can see the moon from bed tonight. Only as the wind blows heavy branches aside and there it sits. And I'm thinking . . . somewhere, everywhere, the river flows in the darkness, sticks still struggling in its course. Rocks, thrown by excited little hands, heavy, still the bottom. Such insignificant changes for a mighty river, it seems.

But somehow, the grit in the bathroom sink, and the shoes not yet reclaimed signal greater change. The passing of 9 year old summer days, crawling in bed with mud still behind his ears.

Pink Bats and Independance Day Fun

The boy is fighting with the neighbor kid in the front yard. I am slow to intervene. While I've never allowed fighting or weapons, something is different today.

Both boys are smiling. They are in character - last time I was out there it was dragons, though it could just as easily now be Wolverine and Magneto. Regardless, my favorite part is the weapons they have chosen for their battle. One has a large pink wiffle ball bat, the other, a single red boxing glove (thank you Aunt Michelle). Neither, I might add, has any detectable skill in this field.

Meanwhile, Sedona fevers on the couch and I clean the office. I may have finally decided on a color for the kitchen, my short attention span and painting whimsy forcing a potentially radical change. We'll see. Swatches are taped up and I think I'm narrowing in on a plan. I am also plotting bright obnoxious flowers for the bathroom, maybe a few in the corner trailing up to the ceiling, maybe the whole of the ceiling above the tub. You never can tell what I'll do when I get my hands on a bucket of paint.

So that's our 4th. Hope yours is lovely.

You, the people . . .

will hereby receive the slideshow format you desire.

So, umm, vote.

Which is easiest and/or most enjoyabe to view? I am ever so indecisive.

Frontier Park and Foundry Art Center

Last Tuesday we ventured out to the Missouri River in Old Towne Saint Charles for some picnicking, reading, running and exploring.

My favorite moments:

1. blowing bubbles that float and bounce across our blanket, coming to rest atop sweet clover blooms without popping.

2. kids playing what looks like slow-motion tag. skipping and flopping across the empty grandstand stage. Each issuing so many time-outs, they are both barely moving, time-outs only to stop and strategize as it seems the other might be gaining an advantage.

3. the sound of flip-flops mixed with too long, untied shoelaces slapping on the cement.

4. cottonwood floating thick in the air. reminding me of home so long ago.

5. laying, faces to the sky, reading The Phantom Tollbooth, nibbling Cheez-its.

Once finished at the park, storm clouds looming, we made our way to the Foundry Art Center. A fascinating old, well, foundry, that made tanks in WW2 and later railroad cars. The building preserved, now hold artists' studios (who are happy to share what they are working on with curious little eyes) and traveling exhibits. It also features an exhibit of local school kids' work. Very cool. Mine loved it all.

What would you do for a Klondike Park?

So here's the plan. . . .in the interest of not falling even further behind, we'll jump in where we're at and then go back to fill in the gaps.

Today has been a rather lovely day. We went to see the Free Summer Kids Movie at the local theater like we do every Wednesday morning but with the addition of 3, yes 3, buses of preschoolers out to see the Veggie Tales feature today, there were no seats.
We were nonplussed. Ever the innovators though, we took our packed lunch and headed out to Defiance where an old glass quarry serves as one of our nations fine parks.

Our finest moments include, but are not limited to:
1. Jordan determines that it is just so beautiful and relaxing that he wants to live out here when he grows up, just in the country, build his own house etc. And Sedona adds that "we should better come here every single day". I think it was a hit.

2. A long since drowned tree reaches, algae covered, out of the water near a bridge we were crossing and Jordan sees "a mythical creature being eaten by an alligator." Also note that the fish near this particular bridge followed us back and forth from one end to another, disappointed I imagine, that we weren't offering them any food.

3. Purple flowers set lovingly in sweaty hair.

4. Headed towards the Phoenix Composting Toilet (a marvel, I might add) surrounded by silica sparkling sand, Sedona yells "Wait! The bathroom is in the snow!". The sand was very white.

5. Sedona hopping and stalking a small yellow butterfly.

6. Sedona singin, "C'mon strong legs! Take me to the water fountain!" A variation on our usual tune that remedies the hiking & whining blues.

7. Unbearable gratitude as our time there came to an end. Both kids and mom saying thank you thank you thank you. Such beauty.

And now a few photos.

Adventurin'

Stay tuned for an obscenely detailed chronicling of our summer adventures thus far. We're determined not to let the summer slip by while we sleep and couch and laze about. We're out and about and journaling and photographing and well, basically annoying everyone who doesn't join in on the adventure with our incessant recapturing. Audiences here are tiring of us, I'm afraid. So you're next. I'll get some of the highlights up in the next few days (I think. I hope. I dare not promise.)

A Recent Explosion

Yesterday was a long day. Just one of those really long days.

And if that wasn't enough. Then there was an explosion.

The kids were parked and pizza-ed at tiny tables in the living room while I readied my own plate in the kitchen. And then something exploded. It sounded like a gun went off in the living room.

I ran around the corner and screamed, because I'm calm and super-mom like that, "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!!!!!" (remember that part about it being a really long day?). But staring back at me were not the guilty eyes of my usually guilty children. They were terror stricken and I knew immediately that they had had nothing to do with whatever the mystery bomb was.

And then I saw the slime. Dripping down the living room wall. And as my eyes scanned the dripping, they came to rest on what can only be likened to brain matter and more slime on the floor (hey, I watch Grey's Anatomy, I might know what brain matter looks like).

Panic.

Confusion.

Drive-by?

South Central?

Aliens falling through the ceilings and bursting through the walls?

WHERE DID THIS STUFF COME FROM?!

I won't tell you how many baffled moments passed before I thought to look in a bin of donated items that was sitting in the living room. I should mention here that we've become a clearing house of sorts for items intended for those less fortunate. Which is really, a fabulous thing. People generously giving. Sadly, they are all giving to me to give to someone else who, without fail, disappears or is in transition or yet to be disclosed, and the stuff piles innocently around our house until it finds its way to those in need.

And so, I finally look inside the bin of donated household items, a few books, a pie plate, picture frames etc. . . . . .and discover the alien gang members who'd recently assaulted both living room and unsuspecting children. . . . . refrigerator cinnamon rolls.. . . .with frosting.


It was a lovely thought to donate such a yummy treat. I will, however, need to be informed in the future if there are any perishable or otherwise unstable items in the boxes, bags and bins that I collect seeing as they've been in my living room for 3 weeks.

So the slime turned frosting was scrubbed from carpet and walls and the children don't seem to be suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome just yet, but we'll be sure to keep an eye on it.

Did I mention that it was a really long day?

Drive-thru Challenged

Anyone familiar with my eating habits knows that I am no stranger to the drive-thru. However, in recent months drive-thrus have become more challenging than I ever dreamed they could be.

Not since the days of 2-3 year old Bayley (who would ever so insistently request, loudly, a biscuit. Her little mouth however did not form the word biScuit but rather BigTi - well you can figure the rest)have I suffered such confusion at the drive-thru window.

We discuss the order to placed as we wait to speak into the frustrating little speaker box and we are all agreed on the plan, confident that each will be provided for. But somehow the minute I start talking Sedona panics and is sure that her order will be forgotten! So she chimes in, loudly, repeating things I've already listed. The poor soul on the other end of the speaker box doesn't stand a chance at accurately entering the orders. So we add and subtract and clarify and subtract an item again and then put on back on with no pickles and around and around we go.

Only to then realize after we've pulled to the window and handed over our money that in all the hubbub we removed one too many child-sized drinks. Arg.

Now, I have experience in this field. Not only is my own order often obnoxious in its specifity, but I also deal with it much more frequently than Jeremy, who is already drive-thru averse. If it can't be ordered entirely with numbers, ("I'll take a #2, #4 and 2 #5's please. All with Dr. Pepper. Yes that's all.") then it is already more trouble than it is worth to him. But this recent added confusion might just be enough to send him over the edge. Stay tuned.

**** A special note: This post was actually written umm, yeah close to a year ago, and somehow never posted. But I am happy to report that all have survived and grown more accustomed to the ways of the drive-thru window. Little ones have calmed and learned to trust that they probably won't starve and probably won't be served sheep's head. Plus, in an effort to become better people we don't see the drive-thru nearly as often as some of us might like to. ******

Imagining Invisible Friends

While the boy always had an affinity for tiny invisible friends, ones that would sit on the tip of your finger or be inadvertently (however routinely) squished by unsuspectig family members, Sedona's invisible world is not so invisible.

Sedona's imaginary friend looks remarkably like Sedona. Her name is "Sedona-seeka-lolla" which I imagine has some significance in Sedona-ese. A little blond girl wanders in and asks "Have you seen Sedona? I am her friend from school, Sedona-seeka-lolla." And I, of course, play along. Sedona-seeka-lolla and I talk for awhile about what kind of girl Sedona is, about tiny pink cats (a favorite in these parts of imaginaryland) and eventually she excuses herself to some other more important engagement. Moments later Sedona comes back into the room and says something like, "Hey, Mama. Have there been any girls here looking for me? What did they say? Where did they go?". There are also many many phone calls from long since disconnected and repurposed cellphones in which I am left to sort out whether it is Sedona calling me, her mother, or Sedona-seeka-lolla calling for Sedona. It is ever so confusing.

It is great fun and fortunately for me, not to the complete exclusion of tiny invisible creatures (with which I have some experience). She still carries a tiny pink cat in her hand every now and then. Not to mention the adventures of Sedona-ese.

She loves to draw and at the just-now 4 year mark, doesn't always capture the world in an easily recognizable fashion. So I say something encouraging and very nurturing like "That is lovely, Sedona (assuming it is, in fact, Sedona I am speaking with at that moment). I like all the different colors you used. What is it?"

The answer?
"smicka googa lolla seeka loo".

Ahh yes. How could I not have known?
Maybe we've been reading too much Dr. Suess. She always has enjoyed "On Beyond Zebra" which explores a few dozen invented letters and sounds that are used to describe much more interesting things than our sorry ol' 26 ever could.

Coolest kids ever?

The sketch solicited for Mother's Day. . . .
I can't not share. . .

Mama-mania

On the eve of Mother's Day I am presented with THE perfect Mother's Day present. Well, presents. Jeremy and the kids ventured to U City today and did some walking and some shopping and some eating of giant burritos. What their little adventure yielded though is a greater inspiration than they might have guessed.

In addition to an incredible caricature sketch of the kids, some rockin cds, and a lovely new windchime (for the wind took my earlier chimes away, tearing the strings, leaving silver tubes scattered across the yard), I got a book. Mamaphonic.

It is a collection of essays that insist that creativity does not die with the onset of mothering, but rather can truly begin. They are essays (the 4 I've already devoured anyway) that tell tales of creativity and perseverance with little ones. Scatter brained toddler years that put some artistic pursuits on hold while often birthing new ones. All the while the mind and heart of a writer, poet, artist, critic, dancer, lives on and grows into a newer, usually better, writer, poet, artist, critic, dancer.

Anyone who has spent time caring for young children knows how quickly the mind seems to go soft. How quickly the possibility of intelligent, coherent conversations with adults become impossible. How quickly the ability to form witty, or even intelligible, sentences seems to leave you.

I know this place. I know the lurking, stinking suspicion that the artist/writer/dreamer/thinker that once filled this skin has been replaced by a somewhat poorly kept, slightly larger, slightly sleepier, slightly stupider version of her former self.

I know the silly girl dreaming of greatness, sure that she was marked for something grand - just never sure quite what. And sometimes too sure that it wasn't this.

And then I stumble on moments that fall into places I didn't know had been left empty, gaping and without purpose or sweetness. I find wonderment again. I find an imagination again. I find out that this greatness is so much more.

I find the time somehow just before bed to go rambling on here. I find that my scattered brain may have just straightened itself out a bit - or at least scattered itself into something more adventuresome. I find a beginning.

And with this one silly book, I find a dream I had long since abandonned. A dream I had threatened to loose. A dream of being a mom who thinks, a mom who is still a whole person and not the barren rind of a cantalope, all its juicy sweetness sucked out, a shriveled empty remnant of what was, for a moment, something wonderful. A dream of being a mom who creates or at least basks in, if nothing else, wonder and excitement.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms who do just that in their very own ways. happy Mother's Day to one mom who believed I could too.

I CAN be taught!

So I went back into the previous post and with patient guidance from dearest husband, I learned to embed links.

Here, have another one:

Our other blog, (while sporadically tended), can be found at Sentralized Nuliks.

It chronicles a bit of our spiritual adventures and the details of our work with/on SENTralized this past year. There will also be a new SENTralized blog up shortly that is a public forum for all those interested in or involved with SENTralized, giving equal voice to any who can find their way to the keyboard as opposed to my voice telling the stories all the time. Should be welcome addition to our bloghappy bunch.

Help yourself, too, to the SENTralized site.

Enjoy!

Is my insanity showing?

For those of you who might have followed the afore mentioned directive from Mr. CEO* . . Here is a short list of favorite posts to keep you busy and give just a brief glimpse of what kinds of shenanigans we are typically up to around here. And yes, I am buying time to write something new. And no, I do not know how to embed links so you'll have to kick it old school on these.

Huge Butt

It isn't funny . . .

Who knew?

"Just kinda makes me, like, . ."

Ummm, well you see, I . . .

"I'll just, you know, protect the world from bad people."



Read on, brave ones!
More soon,
Jana

Busted. . .

I've fallen away.
Terribly, embarassingly, away. . . .
from this blog anyway. Though life here has hurried on.

While I figured you all (careful there - not ya'll) had long since abandonned hope. Then just this morning I notice on Jeremy's new blog a directive sending folks here!

You can imagine not only my surprise but certainly the frenzied writing that must ensue.

Rather than substance though you are left here with me talking about talking. Ah such beautiful meta-narratives.

So what has been happening here?
In bullets with promises to elaborate in the near (yes NEAR) future:
-The boy scouts.
-The girl lip synchs and dares us to consider submission to America's Funniest Videos
-Jana sunburns then blisters then sunburns then blisters. . . .
-Jeremy writes and sends Jana into a frenzy.

But really, things are good - in that "goooood" with a sigh kind of way. Life marches on and the kids are bigger and the days seem busier but really, we are having fun.

At a wedding recently, we commented to the Father of the Bride that he looked like he was a really good dad after seeing the slieshows showing him being, well, what looked like a really good dad (attentive, silly, thrilled with said daughter. present. . .)to which he smiled and replied, "I had a lot of fun."

And we just keep thinking today and tomorrow - don't miss the fun. This is the fun stuff. Slow down or run faster - doesn't matter. Enjoy one another.

And so we do.

The bathroom to date. . .

now, I don't mean you go a courtin' or anything. I mean here is a glimpse of the bathroom to this point. "This point" being a bit further from the finish line than I'd like.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/10827830@N03/sets/72157601941494591/

Did that work? Does it let you see the pictures? Yell at me if it didn't.

Except for this -

"Have you done anything particularly hilarious recently?" I dared to ask Jordan earlier this morning.

"No not really. . . . . .except for this."

Are you inside or outside?

Someone, I won't say who, had the brilliant idea that Labor Day weekend would be the perfect time to completely gut and redo our main bathroom. So we started on Friday ripping out everything that was there, down to the studs, only to find that the studs in the outside wall left oh so much to be desired. So out came the window, out came the carpenter ants, and in went new studs and a new window frame and eventually, after much sweating and cursing, a new window.

While we were sans window, Sedona was standing outside while Jeremy and I were just inside the gaping hole. She just stared at us for a minute, very concerned. Then threw up her hands and yelled, "Are you inside or outside?!" "We both replied that we reallly weren't sure.

Here are a few pictures of our ongoing bathroom saga. I'd like to pretend that I will have a picture of the "after" in the near future, however, sadly I'm afraid that it might never happen. So hang in there.

My can't love you anymore, Mommy.

Man, this girl was just full of em today. ..
We had to drop off some Tupperware and make a few other quick stops this morning, after the huge butt incident. So we're in the car enjoying the day, Sedona is singing and laughing at funny looking trucks. Your basic pleasant car ride.

Well, before I go any further you should probably know about her obsession with poopy diapers. Somewhere along the way "poop" became frigging hilarious. She throws it into the lyrics of timeless classics like Twinkle Little Star (poop), she uses it as a joke, an insult, dinner conversation - you name it. Now don't get me wrong . . she has been reprimanded, reminded of the niceties of polite society versus bathroom humor (something a staggering number of adults are yet to master) and she'll back off of the poop talk for awhile but to no avail. It always comes back in the least likely of places.

So we're driving, talking, doing our thing and I asked what other songs she knows. "Ummm.... how bout . . . . . (she allows the suspense to build). . . . poopy diapers?" and giggles.
I expalined that I really didn't think we needed to talk about poopy diapers while we were driving in the car since there was obviously no baby within range who might actually have a poopy diaper in need of attention.
"Nope. My want talk about poop."
"Sedona, no. We are not talking about poop."

and so on. . you can imagine the ridiculously of this conversation without me going into graphic detail. And if you cannot, I'd be happy to loan you my child for an afternoon.

She is quiet for a couple of minutes. I assume the poop obsession has waned once again when suddenly I hear, "My can't love you anymore, Mommy."

Interesting.
"Really? That's sad but I still love you."

"Sometimes my love you and sometimes my have to hate you. but right now, my can't love you anymore."

Again with the quietness.

Until -
"My can't love you because you won't talk poop to me. So maybe my love you another time but I want to talk about poop and you won't do it."

Really?
Again, much like this morning, this scene played out over the next 5 or so minutes but much of it was even more repetitive than what I've already shared with you.

It has been a long day. An entertaining if very exhausting day and now I will call it done and try to rest up for the hatred tomorrow promises to bring. Oh - have I mentioned that she has also caught on to some of Jordan's particularly choice phrases?
Things he only likes to pull out in the middle of a full blown frustration/rage fit. Things like "YOU"VE RUINED MY LIFE" "I WISH I WAS NEVER EVEN BORN" "YOU DON"T EVEN LOVE ME ANYWAY!" "I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"

How old is he again? Because I really thought I had at least a few more years on some of those.

The thing is - Sedona hasn't quite mastered the timing and correct emotional fuel behind these statements. So when I put jelly on her bread when she really only wanted butter I get "You've ruined my life, Mom" with tears. Or when her shoes don't match quite as exactly as maybe she had hoped "You don't love me!" with a giggle. I'm sure it won't take her long to get good and furious and when she does, boy, you'll find me in the nearest scaredy-hole (<--a gem of a term, new to us and introduced by a much beloved grandfather when discussing options of tornado-proofing our slab home. He thought maybe we could "dig us a scaredy-hole right in the backyard").
must sleep. no more babbling tonight.

Huge Butt

We got Jordan on the bus this morning and, after a particularly crazy last 5 days without showers and toilets and sanity (ask me if i love home improvement and I will gladly discuss Tim Allen's illustrious career, I will not however have pleasant things to say about out bathroom project just now).

Sedona and I flopped onto the couch and set into a game of kicking monsters, singing silly songs and alternating baby and mommy roles. About 15 minutes into this precious time Sedona grabbed the drawstrings of my pj pants (yes i am the mom at the bus stop in pjs today) and said "You better tie this up tight so your huge butt doesn't fall out."

Wow.

I said, "Excuse me? My huge butt?"
She calmly responded with, "Yeah see? Says huge butt" pointing carefully at a freckle on my stomach as if she was translating an ancient foreign text.

There was more after that but frankly, I was too amused to make careful notes beyond what I've shared already. I'll have to leave you wondering how our little scenario played out, resolved and eventually decided on the and comparative hugeness of my butt.

Enjoy what appears to be a sticky, cloudy end of summer day.

Oh feminism where is your sting?!

Calling Betty Friedan. . . . ..

look what I found in the kitchen a few weeks ago. Those of you even the least bit familiar with my gender politics might imagine my dismay. For those of you unfamiliar - I'm completely dismayed. Though she does look rather darling. . . . .



(sorry so big. I'll get the hang of this blogging thing yet)

THE gardening find of the year

I am completely taken with this here plant. Yes, I know that plants, unless being sniffed by children (see ancient post of Sedona, nose in mums) have very little to do with children. However, as this is my blog, I hereby hijack all child and cuteness related posts to bring you this incredible feat of nature.
I got a little pot of this oxalis at a master gardener sale early this year for a measely $10. It is perennial, a real treat, and I was able to divide it into 5 pots and still, this fabulous. It even closes up at night and in extreme sun. What's not to love?



Again with the bigness!

In the interim-

While I was away, doing all kinds of things except blogging, the girl turned 3. Now, ask her and she'll tell you time and time again that she is, in fact, 5. Liar, she may be, but consistency is the thing and that she is. Consistent.

Here is the princess on her birthday. You might have to REALLY crank that volume to catch it, though, oh and you might have to speak a bit of Sedona-ese.

"My eye wants to watch a movie"

Quickly as Jordan and friend seem to be making popcorn and without supervision, there is likely to be not only an excess of salt but popcorn kernels galore on my living room floor.
So. I'll make this quick.

Sedona has taken to personifying her body parts as they have very specific needs and requests. She came to me the other day and said calmy and in a regular voice, "Mommy, my eye want watch movie." I said, "Oh really?"

And she replied, with small squeaky comedic voice and fingers plucking and pinching eyelid, "my want watch movie"
regular voice - "see?"
Here apparent eye's voice - "my want watch movie"

This happened again the following day when her knee wasn't sleepy. She couldn't possibly take a nap when her knee wouldn't stop shouting things like (again in the weird squeking, not Sedona talking voice), "MY NOT TIRED! MY NOT SLEEP RIGHT NOW!"
regular voice - "See? My can't go sleep. My knee not tired. My just sleep all day smorning"

Remind to follow up on the "all day smorning" trend in my next post.


Is anyone still reading? If so - please leave a comment or a threat or something. I fear I've let you all down taking absurd leaves of absence here. Months without a post makes for restless and eventually absent readers.

Says ABC POOP!

We've always tried to encourage our children to read. We keep books by beds, in kitchen, and always in the car, hoping that if easily accessible, books will be a first choice of leisurely activity. Sedona has a particular affection for books with flaps that she can open and close to discover all kind of things beneath. On such book is Little People Farm book that she enjoys reading in the car.

A few weeks ago (yes I am a bit delayed in this posting) you were carefully examining the pig on a page about opposites. The pig is standing near the clothesline where freshly washed white sheets are hanging. The pig is very clean. You open the flap and suddenly the pig has made a mess of himself and the laundry by wallowing happily in a mud puddle. The pig is dirty.

Well, Sedona insisted that the pig had pooped. "Oh, Mommy! Look! That pig poop."

I gently corrected, with a smile, "That isn't poop, Sedona. That is mud. The pig is dirty playing in the mud. See? Clean and dirty."

She wouldn't hear of it.
Arguing persistently for close to 2 minutes (which, as some of you may know is a VERY long time in 3yr old land) she kept laughing and saying "Noooo . . . him poop. poopy pig" and the like.

Finally, exasperated by unwillingness to agree, she pointed one little finger close to the page, and moved her face in close to examine it all more closely.

I thought, perhaps, you about to concede.
Wrong.

"See? Says A-B-C-POOP(and this last little bit was yelled)"
and again.
"My read it to you Mommy. Says A-B-C- POOP!" and again, emphasizing the "POOP" as if to make certain I understood once and for all. I mean, who can argue with what is committed to print? If the book says it is poop, clearly, it is.

Drive-Thru Challenged

Anyone familiar with my eating habits knows that I am no stranger to the drive-thru. However, in recent months drive-thrus have become more challenging than I ever dreamed they could be.

Not since the days of 2-3 year old Bayley (who would ever so insistently request, loudly, a biscuit. Her little mouth however did not form the word biScuit but rather BigTi - well you can figure the rest)have I suffered such confusion at the drive-thru window.

We discuss the order to placed as we wait to speak into the frustrating little speaker box and we are all agreed on the plan, confident that each will be provided for. But somehow the minute I start talking Sedona panics and is sure that her order will be forgotten! So she chimes in, loudly, repeating things I've already listed. The poor soul on the other end of the speaker box doesn't stand a chance at accurately entering the orders. So we add and subtract and clarify and subtract an item again and then put on back on with no pickles and around and around we go.

Only to then realize after we've pulled to the window and handed over our money that in all the hubbub we removed one too many child-sized drinks. Arg.

Now, I have experience in this field. Not only is my own order often obnoxious in its specifity, but I also deal with it much more frequently than Jeremy, who is already drive-thru averse. If it can't be ordered entirely with numbers, ("I'll take a #2, #4 and 2 #5's please. All with Dr. Pepper. Yes that's all.") then it is already more trouble than it is worth to him. But this recent added confusion might just be enough to send him over the edge. Stay tuned.

**** A special note: This post was actually written umm, yeah months ago, and somehow never posted. But I am happy to report that all have survived and grown more accustomed to the ways of the drive-thru window. Little ones have calmed and learned to trust that they probably won't starve and probably won't be served sheep's head. Plus, in an effort to become better people we don't see the drive-thru nearly as often as some of us might like to. ******

"C'mon, pal"

There is this moment that I keep finding myself in when my darling little child is suddenly an actual person. An actual kid. An actual 8 year old with a personality entirely his own and friends who find him darling. Sure, I have always found him darling, he's my baby, but it is decidely different when you see the way your child, your baby, interacts with his peers.

Jordan has a friend over this afternoon. A friend he introduces to others as his "like practically brother we're such best friends". And while I finished my lunch in the silence of naptime the boys were playing dragons and dinos in the living room. I overheard them discussing how long they had to play (3.5 hours) and then Jordan says, "We better get to it. Because - - well time sure passes fast when you're playing with a good friend."
Somebody get the crackers! Cheesy!! But darling, of course.
His counterpart responded with an unsuprsied "yeah, you're right" and they went about their dragon pretending ways.

Then they came to ask for a snack just a minute ago and Jordan was making some fairly obnoxious noise with his cheeks full of air and his friend says "Jordan could you please quit?" and Jordan responds "Sure. Sorry. pal" then nudges him with outstretched arm on elbow. Think - ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' chap nudge.

and they left the room with a quiet and smiling "C'mon, pal".

I can hardly contain myself just about now. Not sure if I'll laugh at the cheesiness or cry at the aging of my baby.

A brief expose on the status of Jordan's hair

This was totally unsolicited. That is what makes it all the funnier. I said maybe we should take one picture before we chopped it off and instead he asks if I could turn the video on because "I think I'd like to make a short video". So here you have it.

Stylist at heart?

Sedona takes a stab at headbands.

Day-Tripping. .. .

Last Wednesday we ventured up to the great Illinois capital of Springfield to meet Dad and Pam and Joey who were camping not far from there. We spent the afternoon at the Lincoln Museum and later at a fabulous establishment called Kicks 66.
Allow me to provide you with what I consider the 3 true successes of the day. One per child, mind you.

At the museum there is an area where kids can play with old-timey types of toys (things made out of this bizarre material they call "wood") and dress up in Lincoln era garb. Sedona enjoyed the dresses as much as the next little girl but it wasn't until she tried on the soldier's coat that it became worth mentioning. She puts on the coat, gets help buttoning it up and just as I step back to take her picture she turns and check out her butt in the mirror. No joke. Does the over the shoulder butt check in the enormous soldier's uniform. Atta girl.

Here she is just after the butt-check. All was well.




Next up - Jordan. The curious lad wonders if maybe Grandpa is lying when he says that he isn't actually ticklish. So Jordan digs those little fingers deep into grandpa-pits and gets, sadly, no reaction other than "Most people wouldn't want to put their hands in my armpits". So when he finially gives up we catch him slowly and very intently smelling his fingers. Yes. small sniffs, scrunched face.


A bit later we're at Kicks 66 enjoying the buffet and Joey comes back to the table with a mystery desert in a small bowl. We ask him what it is, he doesn't know but "it was on the desert pile" so he figured it couldn't be all bad. He takes a bite and then sets into the most dramatic display of spitting out food and wiping off tongue. We laugh, a bit suprised, and say "What is it, Joey?" and he responds in a voice reminiscent of Forrest Gump, "Something stick-ay!"

It was glorious.
A lovely day trip. Lovely children.
I'll get pictures up to accompany the story here in just a bit. Back to the Easter costume construction for awhile.

Impressionable youth

I had Sedona in the tub this morning when she stood on her head, butt up and dipped only the front of her hair in the water. When she stood up, she looked like this and announced "Look, Mommy, my look like those mans" and pointed to the Misfits poster that adorns our bathroom wall. For those unfamiliar with the signature Misfit hair-do. This is pretty much it. The lock down in front of their face. She loved it. Repeated the act four or five times, demanding her picture be taken each time and with each picture adding commentary that I can't possibly do justice to here. Things like "My like it my BIG hair" and "Those mans funny. My funny too!"



and just as a point of reference. . . this is The Misfits . . . .

It isn't funny.

Really. it isn't.
And yet, somehow, I just can't not laugh. I'm a horrible mother. Laughing in the suffering face of my child.
But let me provide you with a bit of much needed background info, allow me to set the stage for you. . . .

We are trying, in vain, to get just a few errands done after church one sunny Sunday afternoon. Jordan, in a delightfully foul mood, has not even paused in the whining and petitioning department. When he finally does, he laughs and says "Fine, then, I'll just live inside this bug bag." And a smile creeps across his face, the foul mood evaporating and Jordan is restored to his usual silly self.

I smile and say something to the effect of "Well that just sounds super. You do that."

And so he did.
But that isn't where the picture comes in. It isn't until he's rambled on, jokingly, about how his family doesn't want him and he's actually happier in the bug bag that he decides, maybe he'll take the bag off his head now. Let me also mention that his head was completely inside the bag. I saw only neck and body with a blue insect collecting bag for a head.
He starts to pull the bag off when he discovers . . dum dum dummmmm. . . .he's stuck.
Yes stuck.
Which wouldn't be such a momentous event if it weren't for the panic that ensued. Jordan gets stuck all sorts of places and is usually able to calmly extricate himself. Not this time. And I'm in the front seat, trying to calmly address the situation, asking him to stop yanking on it and stop, certainly, the frenzied screaming. But he won't listen. I reach back to try and help - am pushed away.
So I told him that if he was unwilling to accept help, that he would just have to wait until we got home to deal with it but that the screaming must certainly stop immdiately.

And now, I become the jerk, after having conducted myself very well, I think anyway, I got out the camera phone. He sat there, in the bag, scowling at me for the next 15 minuts. When I say "in the bag" I mean really completely inside. The pciture I happened to capture one of the times he lifted it up to see if he still hated his family. The rest of te drive he sat there, arms crossed across his chest with a blue bag atop his neck. I offered to help him again but he harumphed and turned his attention out his window. (Remember here that he can't actually see anything from inside the bag - making his turned neck even funnier)

Am I the only one that see the comedy in this? Scowling with a little toy bag on your head. The scowl really loses its effect and you somehow become simply hilarious. Especially if no one can see that you are, in fact, still scowling from inside the blue vinyl that has swallowed your head.

So I laughed, mostly to myself, but he just kept scowling until he finally says, "Well I'm glad SOMEBODY thinks it is funny that I have a freaking BAG stuck on my head."
That's when I lost all restraint and it is at that point in the story that I sit here, alone in the office, and laugh outloud.

I love this kid.

Weirdness Wisdom

So Jordan says to me:
"Mom, I think I'm the weirdest person even IN this family. No, actually, you are. I was born from you so before I was born you had all my weirdness and I had all your weirdness. But I do have my own actions and you have yours. I have to make my own choices about those. . . But the weirdness - " and he trails off leaving what I can only assume is an accusation or maybe a resignation to the facts. I'll never know. I'm just too weird.


In other news:
Sedona has been having a hard time getting to sleep the past few days and when she tip-toes out of her room she immediately reports "My tummy not go sleep right now. My tummy can't go sleep 2 minutes." What does this mean? Such an elaborate placement of blame for one so young. It isn't her fault at all that she is wandering the house after bedtime - its her tummy's. She does, however, consistently come to me to report this so I don't worry too much about her roaming unattended unbeknowst to us but then yesterday I thought I heard something as I was sitting here in the office but she never appeared from around the corner so I was sure I had imagined the squeak of her bedroom door. So a few minutes later I went into the kitchen to refill my drink (yes, vodka tonic. ok no - water but how much cooler would it have been to say -'went to freshen up my drink'? and i don't really know that you "freshen" water. eh well) when what do I find?

Sedona tip-toeing in circles in the middle of the kitchen with exaggerated arm be-quiet- gestures and an expression words can't possibly describe but imagine, again, EXAGGERATED quietness - big eyes, almost surprised mouth, slight smile, definite deviance.
But there she was. tip-toeing literally in circles for no apparent reason.
Too bad Jordan missed seeing that before he made his weirdness diagnosis.

It's a snow day.

Ah. Truly a rite of passage that we thought our children would miss out on in this Deep South climate of St. Louis. After a 1/2 inch of ice and a couple inches of snow, the entire State of Missouri closed down for at least 4 days. This gave us plenty of time to play in the snow. Jordan and Jeremy constructed an igloo in the front yard - Sedona discovered a newfound joy in licking the ground and Jana laughed and looked pretty. Oh, the kid in the elf costume. That is Jordan's alterego "Dingle." That's right, Dingle. Jordan got that part in an upcoming school play in which he helps Mrs. Claus save Christmas. The beautiful costume was handmade by Dingle's mom. He will go down in the annals of history as Dingle-boy. (Click the thumbnails for full-size versions).

Roboto Who

Some good old fashioned family fun on the way back from Arkansas. Some necessary footnotes: 1) we think that the boy is saying "Get off my stage." This is up for debate. Please feel free to comment with your best guesses. 2) Pay close attention to the straightening of the sunglasses on Miss Thang. 3) Notice the boy's abrupt stopping of the growl upon receiving the look of I-will-pull-this-car-over-and-probably-do-nothing-because-you-don't-get-spanked-but-believe-you-me-it-won't-be-pleasant from Jana. 4) Oh yeah...the uh...beginning beeps...well, I didn't know that Jana was filming. They add a new dimension of enjoyment, though.

Eating Awful

So, here she is. Lovely and amazing. Click to watch her in action.

"Look Mom! Karate!"

Arriving at 1am anywhere in the continental US can be tiresome. Arriving somewhere deep in the Ozarks of Arkansas is downright exhausting. Nevertheless, we arrived safely at our hotel late Tuesday night in preparation for our Thanksgiving event. Are you wiht me? 1am Arkansas time. 8 hours in the car with the kids. Both kids awake and eating cereal thinking surely it must be morning and responding to this thought with energy and hilarity. So imagine this:

The grandparents and great grandparents waited up. Watched some tv. Flipped through some channels but at our arrival moved to the dining area of the condo/hotel room/resort accomodations leaving the television both unattended and unnoticed. I barely notice that it is on in the other room.

I barely notice. Jordan, on the other hand, is watching it from a distance little beknowst to us when suddenly he exclaims, "Look mom! Karate. They're doing karate!" I look. I gasp. I run, covering his sight path with my sweater and yell for Jeremy to DO SOMETHING TO THAT TELEVISION!

Now let's remember that it is 1am and maybe I overreacted a bit. But maybe, just maybe, you'd be equally alarmed to find your 7 yr old son watching the male stripper/dancer scene in Bachelor Party (an otherwise lovely film starring the ever-popular Tom Hanks). But karate? Hardly. Especially considering his recent enrollment in a karate class. We wouldn't want the little dear to get in his head that that "karate" was what he was to be trained for. Heavens no.

But funny for sure.

Chinese delivery and oh so much funny

So not only does Sedona entertain us with her darting eyes and quiet commentary during meals, but tonight, over Chinese delivery she delivered a real treat.

She had eaten all of her rice and was flirting with the idea of actually eating her veggies and chicken and beef when she gasps"!!What's that on my leg?!" Reaches under the table and returns with 3 little grains of sticky white rice on the very tip of her finger and announces ever so loudly "MY FOUND MORE!!!" and pops it delicately into her mouth.

Another noteworthy clip from this evening:

Jordan ties an oversized dog around his neck by the ears (this dog is larger than Sedona and of the Hush Puppy logo breed). He then stands near the sink and instructs Sedona to attack him. Try to get him. Bring it on baby. Gimme the heater. So she throws this giant orange bouncy ball (the really hard weird squeaky plastic kind) directly at him and what does he do? Take a minute to imagine the scene. Gigantic stuffed dog piggybacking skinny little Jordan and bruiser Sedona without hesitation firing one into that end of the kitchen. What do you think he did? Was it his plan all along?
Yeah. He swung his body weight around and hit the ball with the dog attached to his back. Talk about perversions of a sport. Maybe it was the World Series energy all around that led him to improvise on the time honored sport. Maybe my kids are a stinkin riot.
Well, it went incredibly well. I can't say I know just how the scoring works in this dogball but I do know that he averaged somewhere around 2 out of 3 hits and that's saying a lot considering he's using a dog to bat and the "pitcher" is less than accurate.

My boy now?

So we redid Sedona's room complete with Ikea bed and new quilts, paint etc last spring. Since then, however, she has slept on top of the quilt/covers with just a blanket over her. Last week as the temperatures started to drop I decided "eh, maybe i should put the kid under the covers and increase her chances of actually staying covered through the night".

Bedtime arrives and we go in for the usual routine but I pulled back the covers and said "Sedona, tonight you get to sleep UNDER the covers. In your bed like a big kid. Like Jordan." Or something to that effect. . .

"My boy now, mommy?" confused. slightly concerned but still pretty happy about the prospect.

"No dearest. You are not a boy now. You are just big, like Jordan. Big. Sleeping under covers."

"No. My boy now Mommy."

This continued and was retold to various relatives and friends later that night, thinking it was all in the past. Well come morning, I go in and she jumps up and yells "UNDER MY COVERS MOMMY! MY BOY!!!!"

Oh man.

I prayed with a monkey last night.

Sedona has adopted one of Jordan's old stuffed animals. A purple faced monkey is now an active member in our daily activities. We buckle the monkey's seatbelt. We save a seat for the monkey at the table. You can imagine how this goes on and on.

But the best part of the ritual caring for the monkey is just before we say goodnight. I tuck Sedona in, kiss her, hug her, make sure she has everything necessary for a good night's sleep (3 favorite blankets, a babydoll, her quilt to cover up, her binkie, some water, her music) but then I have to put pants on the monkey.

Pajama pants. Jordan's old pajama shorts. Now, the monkey doesn't wear clothes the rest of the time but come bedtime - put some pants on for goodness sake. (? is this really the rationale? is there even a rationale here when we are dealing in monkey pants?) S/he has been spotted wearing Air Jordan's though but again, without pants. So why the pjs? I haven't the foggiest idea. I made the mistake of throwing the monkey's pajamas in the wash one night and had to go fish them out before anyone was going to get any rest.

So last night I kiss her, hug her, say a short prayer and turn to leave when she shouts "PRAY MY MONKEY MOMMY!"

So yes, I knelt, held the monkey's hands and said a short prayer.

How did it come to this? Talk about those moments that freeze in your mind and you wonder
"is this a defining moment in my life?"
"is this a testament to my love of my child?"
"is this maybe the dumbest thing I've done in the last 5 years?"
"wow i feel like a dork."

Who knew . . .

Who would ever imagine that a conversation about genetics, maternal grandfathers' hair patterns, and the eventual creation of the next generation could lead to this insanity:

"And when you get married and have kids, they will have your wife's father's hair pattern."

---"I'll be what I am until I find her." deadpan. straight faced. calm delivery. very matter of fact.

To which Jordan earned responses such as:
"well, you'll be what you are until aren't." Aren't we a couple of stinkers? Toying with semantics and existentialism with a 7 yr old?

"and when you find her, you'll still be you."

"and she'll love you anyway."

------"No, but I'll be what I am"

"Until you aren't."

And so on.

-------"No. I'll be what I am. A solitary man."

oh.

der.

gasp and chuckle all around as we launch (as a terribly mistuned family) into our favorite and yours - Johnny Cash: the solitary man.

Educate your children in the ways of musical icons and you too can enjoy confusion and repetitiveness disguised as youthful candor around the dinner table.

Swimming socks

Darling, isn't she? Ready for anything. Granted we had just pulled out of the dock. The glasses were a cause of great anxiety all day, Jordan's socks ( in the background) really were not the best boating choice, Sedona's suit was peed through about 3 mintues later and left dangling to dry the better part of the afternoon and Jeremy's shoes (also in the background) were violated 10 ways from Tuesday as he sunk into the clay helping to shore the boat for lunch. Not a good day for footwear. But a stinkin cute picture nonetheless.

Spidey fishing

 

A little bit of fishing

While Jordan was on worm clean-up, Sedona took a go at Spiderman fishing (do notice the Spiderman pole in the next picture). Sadly, the concept of keeping the pole in your posession was lost on her and without Dad's firm grip - Spidey would've been a goner. She kept trying to throw the reel and rod and whole deal AT the fish. To each his own, I suppose. . . .everyone has their own particular style and approach, right?

Tubing

Aunt Michelle was kind enough to allow Jordan a co-captain seat in the tube. What we didn't account for though was his complete and utter lack of body fat. He returned from the water a tiny bluish purple shivering mass. "But it was worth it" he'll tell you.

Captain Jordan

Did I mention the shouting of "ALL ABOARD!!!!!" He sure wore that out. But here he is. 

Pontooning

On Mark Twain Lake enjoying Labor Day weekend. No funny story this time. Not unless you count the skinny little boxer/briefs he is wearing as swimming trunks as funny. Or if you might enjoy an incessant shouting of "ALL ABOARD!" for 6 hours. He tried to free the minnows assigned to bait duty, then when denied that PETA inspired act, he went back to fishing . . .but never could quite keep that minnow from getting loose. Funny, huh?

the getaway

There she goes.