I should keep a tape recorder in my van

It's where the kids and I seem to have the best conversations.

While we were in the car yesterday I told the kids that they would each be allowed to pick out a new Christmas ornament when we go to Buffalo in a couple of weeks. I reminded them that each year we mark the ornaments that belong to each of them so when they grow up and move out someday, they will have a collection of ornaments.

Joshua: Do we have to use our own money?
Me: No, I buy you each an ornament every year.
J: So by the time I'm in my 20's and move out, I'll have that many ornaments?
Me: Yes, you should have more than 20 by then.
J: Alright! Then I'll never have to spend my own money on an ornament . . . until I have kids. I guess they'll want new ones.
Lauren: I don't want to have kids.
Me: You don't want to have a baby someday?
Lauren: I want a baby, just not a kid.
Me: Well, babies grow into kids. Look at you guys. I had three babies, and you all got so big.
Lauren: Do mommies have to change baby's diapers?
Me: Yes, mommies do change a lot of diapers.
Josh: I'm glad dads don't have to change diapers!
Me: Oh, yes they do. Your daddy changed a lot of your diapers.
J: I'm not changing diapers. I'll just stay at work all day.
Me: What about when the baby needs to be changed at night?
J: Well, some people work until like midnight, don't they?
Me: Yes, but then you wouldn't get to see your wife and baby very much. Wouldn't you miss them?
J: I'll just come home when the baby's three.

It's like Laurel and Hardy

Helping Ethan with his reading homework tonight:

Ethan: See the fan.
Me: No, it's a question. "See the fan?"
E: Yes.
M: You say, "See the fan?"
E: I see it.
M: No, I'm not asking if you see it. You're supposed to say it.
E: I did.
M: Say it like a question. "See the fan?"
E: Yes.
M: I know you see it, but there's a question mark, so you need to say it like this: "See the fan?"
E: I see the fan!
M: Turn the page.

PETA would be proud

Me: Lauren, put this shirt on; it's nice and warm.

Lauren: Not a turtlehead, Mommy, I don't like those.

M: You mean turtleneck. That's fine, I'll pick a different shirt for you.

L: And make sure it's not made with ANY animal necks.

This thing called love

Last night, like every night, I was giving the boys some hugs and kisses as I tucked them in. Sometimes, the need to tuck frustrates me when it's late or I'm busy or don't feel well, and I know they are perfectly capable of pulling their own covers up. They do it one or twelve times a night when they get up to go potty, but at bedtime they MUST have me to put their covers on. In fact, Ethan has been known to be fully under the covers (because, you know, it gets cold here, and they insist on sleeping in boxers), but as soon as I walk in the room he throws them off and says, "Mommy, I need you to tuck me!"

But, in my heart of hearts I know better than to wish it away. I know that all too soon, they won't want my hugs and kisses at night, and they will think they are too big to be tucked. I remind myself that these few short years of them wanting, needing, my affection will be memories before I know it.

So, last night I was tucking in Ethan, and I said, "I love you so much you don't even know." He replied, "I do, too, know how much you love me!"

As happy as it makes me that he feels so confident of my love, I know that it is untrue. He does not know because he cannot know. He has never been a parent. He has no idea what it is to love someone so much it hurts, to be willing to trade your own life in a heartbeat for another's, to feel not only his own hurts and fears and disappointments, but another's - three others' - as well. Though he loves, he can't yet comprehend the full measure of a parent's capacity for love.

As I thought about this, it occurred to me that I know as little about God's love for me as Ethan knows of my love for him. I know God loves me. I even thought when I became a parent that I understood His love completely now. "Aah," thought I, "I get it now. This is what truly, completely unconditional love feels like. Now I understand God's love." And, while I do understand it more than I did before, I suspect I am still as clueless as Ethan. What can I possibly understand of the love of the creator and framer of the world, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, He who is without beginning and without end? I know only of the human's - the created's - capacity for love and nothing truly of Almighty God's.

I know what He tells me, which is this: "The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing" (Zephaniah 3:17, emphasis mine.) And this: "Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins" (I John 4:10, emphasis mine.)

I would do well to remind myself that it is a love beyond my ability to comprehend. And I'm okay with that.

It's good to be the beloved.

At least she never lacks for something to cry about

Lauren: Mommy, did Josh name me Lauren or Baby Lauren?

Me: Well, Mommy and Daddy and Josh all picked the name Lauren and named you that, but Josh called you baby Lauren because you were a baby.

L: Did I name Josh "baby Josh" when he was a baby?

M: No, you weren't born yet when Josh was a baby.

L: I wasn't here with you and daddy and Josh and Ethan?

M: No, you weren't born until after Josh and Ethan.

L (starting to use panic-voice): Well, mommy, who was with me?!

M: No one, sweetie. God hadn't made you yet, so you weren't here at all.

L (crying now): Mommy, I would be scared all by myself!!

Profundity from a five year-old

Tonight one of our bedtime books was Inside Your Outside, one of many fun and educational Dr. Suess-type books we own. The book ends with this paragraph:

Your brain and your heart
will guide all that you do.
Someone special is
inside your outside -- it's you!

Without skipping a beat, Ethan said, "Uh-uh. It's God!"

Vignettes

Just a couple of recent conversations with my kids that I thought I'd share.

Lauren: Mommy, why is the coffee table like that?
Me: Because I was vacuuming, and I didn't put it back yet.
Lauren: I WUV it like that!!
Me: You know what I love? (asked with a grin)
L: Me!
Me: Yes:
L: Know what I love?
Me: Me?
L: No.

-------------

Joshua, in ultra-whine mode over having to drive to Olean to go to Walmart: I wish we could just go to all that (stores) here.
Me: Me, too, bud. If there was a Walmart here, I would definitely go there instead.
J: Why don't you tell them to build one?
Me: Tell who? Who would you suggest I tell to build a Walmart?
J: The guys that are always doing work on the roads.
Me: The road construction workers? That's who decides whether to build a Walmart?
J: Well, no.
Lauren: I know who decides to build a Walmart!
Me: Really? Who?
Lauren: God!

I did love the idea of going up to the construction workers and saying, "Hey, while you're at it, would you mind building a Walmart?"

Exercises in futility

It has occurred to me that I spend a large portion of my life engaging in utterly futile activities.

Like cleaning the bathroom when I live with three males. One of them (at least) apparently enjoys peeing on the bottom of the raised lid and letting (some of) it just splash into the bowl instead of peeing directly into the bowl. I guess the bowl itself just isn't challenging enough.

Like killing fruit flies. Ohmygod, the fruit flies. I kill dozens a day, yet they seem only to increase in number. I had a brilliant idea this morning, though. Last night I said to my mom that maybe I should just name them and consider them pets instead of killing them since killing them seems to be an exercise in futility. But then I remembered . . . all of our pets die! Seriously, we have the world's worst luck with pets ever. Among the pets that died under our care when I was growing up were several dogs, several cats, a bird, an iguana, a chameleon, numerous fish, and a peacock or two, I kid you not. So maybe I'm onto something here. I bet if I give them names and pretend to love them, they will quickly meet their demise.

Like talking to Lauren. This girl talks all. day. long, and often it leaves me completely bewildered. Here are a couple of conversations from this week:

Lauren: Mommy, I wish there was nobody in the world except princesses so I wouldn't have a tummy ache.
Me: Hmm, because princesses don't get tummy aches?
L: I wish we were just all princesses.
M: But what about the boys? Would they be princes?
L: Well, I wish there just weren't any people at all, actually.
M: But if there were no people, you wouldn't be here.
L: I wish I was a fish.

Conversation 2,387:
Me: We're going to a party at Evan's house.
L: Who's Evan?
M: Your cousin Evan. You know Evan.
L: Oh yeah, I thought you were talking about the other Evan.
M: What other Evan? We don't know another Evan.
L: You don't know him, but I do. He has white hair.
M: Oh, and where did you meet this Evan?
L: You took me to his house, but you didn't go in. I just went upstairs and played and you weren't there.

For the record, I have not and would not drop her off at some strange boy's house. Like many conversations with Lauren, I have NO idea what she is talking about. I recently suggested that maybe she had dreamed something she was describing to me because I knew it had not happened in real life. Now any time she's wrong about something she says she was just dreaming.

The list of futile activities is endless. Doing laundry, dusting this almost-entirely-wood-floor house, feeding my children. Seriously, they just get hungry again.

Weddings explained

Wow, it's been 10 days.  Sorry about that.  Our travels to Georgia and all the splendor that ensues has rather occupied me lately.  Don't worry, it'll make for some good stories when I have a chance to write more.

So, the reason we're in Georgia is that my cousin is getting married Saturday, and all of my kids are in the wedding.  The boys are the ring bearers, and Lauren and Lesey (my niece) are the flower girls.  Though Lauren keeps forgetting what they're called and referring to them as the flower princesses.  She's also pretty sure it involves getting IN a basket of flowers.

A few weeks ago I took the boys to get measured for their tuxes, and Lauren asked if she needed to get measured, too.

Me: Remember you have a pretty flower girl dress?

Lauren: But, I want to wear a bear costume, too!

Me after brief, confused pause:  No, no, sweetie.  The boys are going to be the ring bearERs, not bears.  They will be in fancy clothes, not bear costumes.

Joshua:  Mom, why's it called a ring bearer?

Me: Bear means to carry or bring something, and the ring bearer carries the wedding rings down the aisle . . . but you won't actually carry the rings.

Josh: What do we carry?

Me: A little pillow

Josh (I saw it coming): Why aren't we called pillow bearers?  Why do we carry pillows?

Me: Look, you're just there to look cute in your tuxedos, okay?

A few days later.

Me: Lauren, on Friday we're going to practice for the wedding.  You'll get to practice carrying your flower basket to the front of the church.

Lauren: And then I'll get in the flowers?

Me: No, for the thousandth time, the flower girl does not get in flowers; she just drops them on the ground.

Lauren: Then where do I go?

Me:  You'll stand in the front where Josh and Ethan will be because the ring bearers stand in the front, too.

Lauren: And then, do the ring bearers capture the flower princesses?

I don't know quite what she's picturing, but it sounds more exciting than any wedding I've ever been to.

Everyone needs a hobby

While driving in the van the other day I noticed Joshua reading his Picture Bible again. I mentioned that he was becoming a really good reader.

Me: Josh, you're gonna be a reader like me, aren't you? I love to sit and read a good book.

Lauren: Mommy, I love to sit and eat chocolate.

Apparently, I need to raise my expectations

Joshua: Mommy, what does a shoe mean?

Me: A shoe? Like you wear?

Joshua: No, it's one word. Ashoe.

Me: Ashoe is not a word.

Joshua: Yeah, it is. Like if you "ashoe chocolate."

Me: Eschew? Where did you hear that?

Joshua: On Larry Boy and the Bad Apple. Does it mean you don't want something?

Me: Yes, it sort of does. Sorry for doubting you.

From trials to toots

My unsolicited advice for the day: don't get too big for your britches. You never know where life will take you.

Tonight I found myself, as I do many nights, bathing two children while the third was sitting on the potty. As usual, all three events reached a crisis point at the same time.

Lauren screaming through sobs: "Mommy, I got pee-pee on my legs!!! Moooooooooommy!!"

Ethan crying in the fire engine wailing decibel that only he can reach: "Mommy, it's in my eyes! I got soap in my eyes!".

Josh: Mom, I need to toot. (our word for passing gas)

Me, dripping with sweat from trying to rinse out Ethan's eyes while wiping pee off Lauren's legs in our house that does not have air conditioning: So toot.

Josh: Not in my bath water; that's gross!

Me: If you have to toot, then toot in the bath. It's fine. Everyone does it.

Josh: You don't. You've never tooted in your bath.

Me: Yes, Josh, I've tooted in my bath.

See what my life has become? At some point, seemingly a lifetime ago, I wore power suits and studied case law and debated legal nuances. I imagined that when I was in my 30's I would be arguing to judges and juries about constitutional rights or perhaps persuading my fellow citizens to cast their votes for me and send me to Washington.

But, no. I'm confessing to my six year-old son that I toot in the bathtub.

Like I said, don't get too big for your britches.

7 Quick Takes Friday

1.

I tell Lauren that she's pretty a lot. I can't help it; she's my only girl. Of course, I also tell her that she's beautiful because of what's on the inside, how God made her special, and it's kindness and love that make a person truly beautiful.

I think now I need to start emphasizing humility a little more. Yesterday she came up to me and very seriously asked, "Mommy, why am I so much prettier than Ethan and Josh?"

2.

"Aw, shucks!"

This is Joshua's newest favorite phrase. He purposely asks me for things he knows I will so no to - like having ice cream for breakfast - just so that he can say, "Aw, shucks!" afterward.

It was cute at first, and I laughed about it, but now it's getting a little old. Yesterday I said, "Okay, Josh, enough with the 'aw, shucks.'" He said, "I thought you thought it was funny." I explained that I did, but that after awhile something that was funny can start to get annoying. "You know how sometimes something is funny but then you get tired of it?" I asked to my six year-old son who would watch Kung Fu Panda twenty times a day if I let him and who thinks underarm toots are the most hilarious sound in the world. No, he said, he does not know.

3.

Ethan is going to make me insane. Seriously insane. I know that all younger siblings like to copy their older counterparts. Copying is normal. It is natural. That does not make it any less freaking annoying. It's become as though he doesn't have a single thought in his head that is his own, and because I know that he is a smart kid, it is making me crazy.

Morning:
Me: Ethan, what would you like for breakfast?
Ethan: What is Josh having?
Me: He's having pickled pigs ears.
Ethan: I want pickled pigs ears.

Afternoon:
Josh: I have to go to the bathroom.
Ethan (a split-second later): I have to go to the bathroom.
Me: pee or poop?
Ethan: pee
Josh: poop
Ethan: I mean, poop

Seriously, you can make yourself poop just to copy your brother? What are you??!!

Evening:
Josh: Mom, I'm cold.
Ethan: And me.
Josh: You're just copying me
Ethan: Am not
Josh: Actually, I'm hot. May I take off my shirt?
Ethan: And me.

All. day. long.

4.

Am I the only one who doesn't understand the point of 2-ply toilet paper? Don't you use just as much paper whether you use a short length of 2-ply or a long length of 1-ply? I can't see why 2-ply paper was ever invented. If it was too thin, why not just make it thicker? Am I missing something here?

It's the important things in life that really bother me.

5.

Joshua loves to wash dishes. He begs me not to put them in the dishwasher because he wants to wash them. Far be it from me to discourage a child from doing something helpful and productive.



To my future daughter-in-law, whoever you may be: You're welcome.

6.

Tomorrow is Ethan's birthday party. I should be cleaning the house. Or working in the yard. Or making the cake. Or shopping for the rest of the food. Or wrapping his gifts.

But, I'm tired, and the list is so long. Instead I'll procrastinate and wait until I reach the Oh-my-God-the-birthday-party-is-in-a-few-hours-and-the-bathroom-smells-like-pee-and-I-have-to-make-food-so-could-everyone-please-shut-up-and-leave-me-the-heck-alone level of panic. That's when I work best.

7.

You know the best way to get your kids to play with their toys and share nicely? Put said toys in a giveaway box.

While cleaning the playroom a couple of weeks ago, I filled three huge boxes with toys to give away. Of course, those are instantly their favorite toys which they cherish more than anything in the whole world and that have been looooking for and without which they simply cannot live. So, this morning since I wanted to blog need to get the house cleaned for the party, I agreed to let them each take one thing from the giveaway boxes to play with. They have been playing upstairs with said toys for almost an hour.

Must remember this tactic.

Great expectations

Joshua got really excited when he saw the pumpkin seeds David bought for him yesterday. I thought it was just because he loves to plant things, but then he asked, "Mom, are they gonna grow like that?!"

7 Quick Takes Friday

1.

We had some nice weather this week. This morning it's 58 degrees again, but for a few afternoons this week, it was in the 70's. So what did everyone do? Headed to the pool, of course.

Well, everyone except us, that is. I decided to let the kids splash in the creek at the park, which is right down the street from our house. (It's actually the Allegheny River, but it's just a really big creek at this particular point.) They've been dying to get in it since they saw some kids in there a couple of weeks ago. Why not, I thought. They can splash around and get wet, but it will not be the big production of bathing suits, floaties, sunscreen, and everything else that accompanies going to the swimming pool . . . which I figured they'd stay in for about three minutes since it was only 72 degrees outside!

They did indeed have a great time. At one point Joshua mentioned that it smelled bad in one particular area, so I told him to stay in a different part. A little while later, he was wading past that spot again and said, "No wonder it stinks, mom . . . there's a dead possum in here!"

Maybe the pool wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.

2.

The neighborhood kids have taken up residence here. At any given point in an afternoon, I look out the window and see anywhere from 3-8 extra kids in our yard.

3.

When asked what kind of sandwich she wanted for lunch, Lauren said "Turkey with spicy cheese and mustard." A few minutes later, she saw me cutting up some banana for Josh's peanut butter sandwich and asked if she could have some banana on her sandwich, too. I told her that banana would probably not taste good on a turkey sandwich but that she could have peanut butter and banana instead of turkey if she wanted. Indignantly, she replied, "No, mommy, I'm just waiting for what I already ordered."

4.

David and Jason took the boys fishing last weekend, and apparently they stopped for some beef jerky on the way out of town. Today when I ran into a different grocery store than normal, Josh said, "This is where they sell beef jerky! Can we get some pleeeeeeeease?"

So, here are my boys enjoying some beef jerky and coke on the front steps. Aah, childhood.

5.

Of course, the coke has already been spilled on the kitchen floor. Why I ever let Ethan have anything other than water is beyond me. While I'm on my hands and knees wiping the floor with a wet rag (because it appears I would rather do anything than actually mop), he comes in and says, "Mom, I need you to wipe my nose."
"Um, why don't you wipe your own nose?"
"Because my hands are full." (of beef jerky and a cup that is now empty)
"Put your cup down and go wipe your nose."
"Why don't you want to wipe my nose?"

It's moments like these that remind me that I, too, once did not think of my parents as real, live human beings. They were, you know, parents. Why would they want to do anything besides wipe someone's nose?

6.

So, my bid for the position as Assistant Commonwealth Attorney has been considered and rejected. Yeah, rejected.

David's partner just got elected Commonwealth Attorney for the county we live in, and he and David had planned to make David his assistant. We got the idea a while back that it would be great for me to do it instead since it's a part-time position, I have experience in criminal law, and with two kids in school in the Fall, I wouldn't mind getting back to work part-time.

Apparently, however, he wants to "keep his promise" to the voters, having told some of them that he would be making David his assistant. That and David has prosecutorial experience. And he's actively licensed in Pennsylvania. You know, he's just full of silly trumped-up reasons like that.

Oh well, David says he'll make me his partner come fall when the kids are in school, and he'll have an empty office anyway when his current partner leaves. Given my apparent lack of credentials, I think people are going to suspect I just slept my way to the top. Because, you know, I don't have time to take a continuing legal ed class from time to time, but I have time to do that.

7.

David's uncles know how to work their way into a kid's heart. We have Hershey's chocolate bars and/or a watermelon delivered to our house on a regular basis by two of his uncles. The kids may not know many people in the family, but they are quite fond of those two!

Spiritual lessons from Optimus Prime

The kids are loving our new church. The children's church program is fantastic, awarding the kids tokens each week for a) being present, b) bringing their Bible, and c) memorizing a weekly Bible verse. (Every so often they are able to "shop" with their tokens.)

The boys are doing a great job with their memory verses, and they ask frequently to practice them. This week's verse is the first portion of Romans 12:2: "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind . . ."

I've started doing a short Bible lesson with them before bed some evenings, so tonight when they wanted to recite their verse I decided to use that verse for a Bible lesson. In an attempt to illustrate what "conformed" means, we used some containers in the kitchen to show how a substance conforms to the shape of a container and talked about how that can happen to people when we try to be like those around us. Then we got to the second part of the verse, and I asked them if they knew what "transform" meant.

What was I thinking? Of course they know what transform means. "It means a robot turns into a car!" Well, yes, Ethan, let's go with that. They totally got what transforming meant thanks to Mattel or whoever makes Transformers. It was an understandable illustration of how our hearts look ugly and selfish before Christ transforms them to look like His love.

Which would be a bigger miracle, I asked, to change a helicopter into a robot or to change a person's heart? They agreed Optimus Prime's got nothing on the Son of God.

Is this the promised land?

Our new hometown is lacking several things that I will miss: Target, Veteran's Parkway Burger King, a movie theater with stadium seating (and more than one screen). But, there are some things I will not miss. Taking more than three minutes to get anywhere, having to dial the area code every time one makes a phone call, and fire ants.

There are no fire ants here.

Ethan had an ant on him in the yard yesterday, and he started to panic. I explained to him that the ants here are not fire ants and that they do not bite. Joshua apparently overheard this because later in the day Lauren was running from a bee, and Joshua called out, "Lauren, don't worry . . . the bees don't sting here!"

It'll only feel like we died

Lauren has been asking about death a lot lately. Over the past few weeks, she has mentioned several times that she wished we weren't all going to die. I have, of course, assured her that I expect it to be a really long time before that happens and that it's nothing to be afraid of.

Well, on the way to church Sunday we were listening to some hymns, and I noticed that the last line to one of them was "living and dying to be Thine." As soon as that song ended, Lauren piped up again with, "I wish I wasn't going to die." I repeated my usual assurances but wasn't overly concerned since I knew that this question was clearly triggered by hearing the reference to dying in the song.

Then we had this conversation:

Lauren: Is Taco gonna die, too? (He's her Webkinz chihuahua.)
Me: No, Taco is not alive. Only things that are alive will die.
Lauren: Then I can't take him to Pennsylvania with me.
Me: Sure you can; you can take all of your animals to Pennsylvania.
Lauren: But, we're gonna die in Pennsylvania.
Me: WHAT?! No we're not, sweetie. Is that what you think?
Lauren: Yeah. I thought there was a dying place in Pennsylvania.

Of course, I assured her that we were going to live in our new house with Daddy and reminded her that she'd been to Pennsylvania before and survived.

In retrospect, I think what caused her to think this may have been her hearing me say things like, "This is the last time we will go to gymnastics." or "We only have two Sundays left here." I guess she read into them a level of finality I had not intended.

Poor kid. I feel so bad that she thought that. But, on the upside, she handled it remarkably well.

No, he's not an Iraq war vet

With Joshua gone to Kentucky for a few days, Lauren and Ethan have been sharing a room to keep each other company. These two being who they are, they don't tend to lie down and fall asleep like they are told. When Josh is home, he and Ethan don't cut up because Joshua does. not. break. rules. Ethan and Lauren, however, have no such compunction.

So, last night after sending them back upstairs twice, I told them, "Do not come downstairs again unless there is an emergency. If you come down again, you will get in big trouble." Five minutes later I see Ethan's head poking around the corner.

"Mommy?" he says as he rounds the corner with his hands bound together by a pair of Spiderman underwear that are cutting off his circulation like a pair of torturous handcuffs.

"Ethan, what did you do? Why were you twisting underwear on your arms?"
"I couldn't sleep because Lauren was talking."
"Well then, that makes perfect sense."

I was just thankful he had the sense to figure out that it was indeed an emergency and not be too frightened by my threat of trouble to come down and show me. It took me a full minute to get them off, and his hands were turning purple by the time I finally did.

Underwear. Seriously. I don't let them sleep with things that have strings on them because I worry about them cutting off circulation to their fingers in just such a fashion. But, I never thought to ban underwear.

I can just see us explaining that to people.

"How did your son lose his hands? Lawnmower accident? Shark attack? Iraqi insurgents?"

"Spiderman underwear."

Genetics for 4 year-olds

Me: Ethan, I love your freckles. Know what I love most about them? You got them from me.
Ethan: I didn't take them from you.
Me: No, you didn't take them from me, but kids inherit traits from their parents. That means certain things about you look like me or daddy or other people you're related to.
Ethan: Oh.
Me: You got my freckles and daddy's mouth and Pops' dimples.
Ethan: Why didn't I get daddy's mustache?