Say What?!?!

When JP (aka Son #1) was little, he wouldn't talk. It wasn't that he COULDN'T talk, he just made the conscious decision not to. He was never disrespectful in his silence; he found other ways to communicate.

Once, we were headed to family party out of state. When we pulled into Jason's cousin's driveway, JP said simply, "I am not going to talk today." And he didn't. For hours upon hours, the child was silent. When we got into the car to leave, he was no sooner buckled into his booster seat, than the words came pouring out. He talked for the entire car ride home.

He was the same way in preschool, Kindergarten and First Grade. If he decided not to talk, there was no way he was going to make a sound.

It takes an inordinate amount of will power not to speak for an extended period of time...especially for a child. I have to give him credit for his tenacity. I know I sure couldn't go a full day without talking.

As JP got older, he did begin to talk in school. Of my four kids, though, he remains the most quiet to this day. He has never been one to make scenes yelling or carrying on. He uses his words sparingly, but I must admit, to great effect.

Last night, during what started off as a perfectly benign conversation among Jason, JP & I, JP swore. For those of you that know me well, you know that I have a mouth like a sailor...as does Jason. I was not shocked by what JP said (in fact, I was laughing), but what struck me was the fact that he was comfortable enough to say it in front of me. I pointed out to him that even now, at my advanced age, I don't swear in front of my parents. He then pointed out that he has heard my parents and Jason's parents swear...and he's right.

So after he went upstairs, he went onto Facebook, and posted his status as "JP is going to start a group called Things I Feel Entitled To Say To My Mother Now That I Am Eighteen Years Old." Now, I know he was just being silly, and I know he did it just to get a reaction out of me. Well, it worked. I blocked the kids from seeing my status quoting him, and my oh my did my friends chime in.

One of the best responses was that I should start a FB group named "things I can kick JP out of the house for saying now that he is 18." Naturally, I jumped all over that, and I made it my status. JP's response was simply, "well played."

Now that he is getting older, I love having conversations with him on an adult level. His humor is quick witted, his beliefs are passionate, and his words are used wisely.

Well, most of the time.

I'll Tumble for Ya

Yes, I just quoted a Culture Club song...wanna make something of it?

I hate wearing shoes and socks. I'd rather be barefoot. Since I can't be barefoot all the time (stores have those silly "no shirts, no shoes, no dice" rules), I wear flip flops as much as humanly possible. As long as it's not raining or snowing, I really try not to wear shoes.

Jason & I disagree on what constitutes appropriate footwear. He loathed my crocs. I am almost 100% positive he tossed them to JoJo for her to chew up. That's how much he hated them. I thought they were the most comfortable things on earth, and I said wearing them was like walking on marshmallows.

He's always saying that flip flops are only for the beach, they're not safe to wear all the time, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

So, yesterday, since it was above 40*, it was flip flop weather for me. I managed to do just fine in my lethal footwear until Youth Group. The front of my flip flop got caught in a crack in the sidewalk, and BOOM. I folded like a card table. I put out my left hand to break my fall (thankfully I didn't break my wrist), and my right knee hit the concrete. Luckily, I was wearing jeans, so I didn't break the skin.

Being on the stupid blood thinners, I have a new fear to add to my list of irrational fears (which includes falling and birds) - bleeding to death.

Now Russell's reaction was the best...he said, "well, if you were really hurt, I'd get to drive home" (Russell has driven with his learner's permit exactly once. In a parking lot). Yeah, so THAT was going to happen. Not.

I'm ok, bruised and a little sore, but I'll survive.

And I'll survive while continuing to wear flip flops.

So there.

Don't Blink

I was one of the first of my friends to have kids. When Jason & I were first married, we didn't live in a neighborhood full of kids. I felt very isolated until the day when Jason brought home a shiny AOL disc.

I was rather non-plussed at first, and then I found it...a message board full of other stay at home moms. Some had older kids, some had younger kids, but they were all just like me. I had someone to talk to when I was having a bad day...or the kids were having a bad day...and the moms with older kids assured me that I would survive the terrible twos...and potty training...and temper tantrums in public...and they were right. And even though they teased me because I was the "baby" of the group, they made me more confident of my choices, and they without a doubt, made me a better mom.

These women have been my friends and confidantes, and we have shared triumphs, hopes, dreams, and sorrows beyond imagination. They have been my lifeline over the years...even as we outgrew AOL...some of us lost touch...and reconnected through the magic of Facebook.

Today I learned that one of our group lost her 20 year old son last week. He was a young man full of promise, and I cannot even begin to comprehend the magnitude of his loss on the family. All I know is that my heart is breaking for her and her family, and no amount of words will change the fact that he is gone.

Please say a prayer for her...and her family...and the friends that all are mourning his passing.

And do me a favor and hug your kids an extra time tonight.

Knock, Knock

I am the first to admit I am not always the sharpest crayon in the box. I mean, I'm not Forest Gump, but I am definitely not Albert Einstein, either. Most days, I fall somewhere in the middle. Today was not one of those days.

I had my morning all mapped out. On paper, it was a perfect plan. It would have been a thing of beauty, actually, if only I hadn't locked my keys in the house. Yup. Now, let me say, I had unlocked the car before I left the house, so the keys were in.my.hand. Instead of putting them in my purse, I put them down on the table. Brilliant.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Since the car was unlocked, I could have used the garage door opener to get into the house. Except....I locked the door to the garage. Now, I never lock that door (just on the off chance I do something boneheaded like locking myself out of the house). However, Jason left last night for Atlanta, and I had the house locked down like Fort Knox. Including the door that I never lock. Awesome.

I think who has keys to my house. My mom & my sister have keys. Great! I call my sister...who is at work. Call my mom....who is at work. Mom says my house key is at her neighbor's house (umm, what?). OK, so I try to track down my stepfather to go to the neighbor's house and get the key. Now mind you, I have my one year old nephew strapped into his carseat in my car.

I grab my cell phone to call my stepfather, and....his number is not pre-programmed into my phone. Why, I don't know. I scroll through all of my contacts, and it is not there. I have his email address, but no cell number. So, I text Jason (in Atlanta), JP (in the middle of his college class), and Russell (in the middle of his High School Class). No answers. Perfect! I call the High School, explain the situation, and ask if Russell has his keys at school. The secretary tracks Russell down, and yes, he has his keys. Great. Only problem is...how am I going to get them?

My wonderful stepfather shows up with the spare key. It.doesn't.fit. Seriously. In my panic, it didn't occur to me that when Jason replaced the door knob, we got all new keys. I hadn't given anyone the new key. My stepfather volunteers to go up to the High School to grab Russell's keys. So, I finally get into the house, grab my keys and head off to do my errands.

And yes, one of the errands was going to the hardware store and getting spare house keys made.

I may wear the key around my neck...or as earrings.

Mother's Little Helper

My brother and I are under two years apart in age. He also had the good sense not to ruin my seventh birthday like another sibling of mine, so I harbored no ill will towards him at first. The angst wouldn't pop up until we were older.

As noted before, I am a baby junkie. This started at very young age. Now, I don't remember this incident, but my mother tells it with such...drama and flair....that it must have happened.

One day, my mom was in the kitchen, and I walked in "carrying" my brother in really what could only be described as an awesome WWF choke hold. Evidently, I heard him fussing in his crib, and I thought he needed to get up. The other possibility (given the choke hold and all) is that I was going to get him to stop crying, come hell or high water. I'm pretty sure though it was choice #1. Most likely.

So my mom turns around, and sees me basically strangling my brother. I have to give her props for keeping her cool. Me, I would have gone to DEFCON 10. Because, honestly, I don't do well in stressful situations. At all. Shocking, I know. If there is an emergency, call Jason, not me. I will be of no use to anyone (but don't tell Jason I said that about him. I'd hate him getting a big head. I'm still dealing with the "If it weren't for me you'd be dead" hubbub).

Mom said she very calmly spoke to me, and she managed to rescue my brother from my loving death grip. I'm sure I got a lecture on why it was very bad to drag the baby out of the crib, down a flight of stairs, through gator infested waters to the kitchen. You'll be relieved to know that he suffered no ill effects from this escapade, and he went on to give my mother even more freak out moments than I did.

Thank heaven for little boys....

Baby Love

My sister, Heather, claimed from a very early age that she hated kids. Me, I could spot any baby in a 50 mile radius and ask to hold her. I figured I would grow up to the be "Old Woman who lived in a shoe." My sister figured if she ever had kids, she would send them to my house, visit occasionally, and pick them up when they turned 18.

Then I had JP. Heather stayed with me towards the end of my pregnancy with him. I chose her as godmother. Three more babies came. She said she hated all kids but mine. Uh huh.

Between the births of Cameron & Paige, my sister in law (Jason's brother's wife) gave birth to a baby boy. Every time I would get near him or try to hold him, he would cry. I mean, the gut wrenching, she's going to sell me to the gypsies or boil me in a stew cry. Never in my life had a baby reacted that way to me. It just didn't happen. Ever.

Guess who he loved? Yup. My sister the baby hater. He looooooooooved her. Couldn't get enough of her. She, of course, thought this was hilarious. Me, not so much. Not that it made me bitter or anything. I tried everything in my power to win that baby's affection, and I failed miserably. He was having none of it.

So, I waited. And, as babies do, he turned into a toddler. I don't know what changed, but all of a sudden I was no longer Public Enemy #1. (Now of course, I'd love to say that Heather was, but she wasn't. He still loved her to bits. Dammit.) As he got older, his hair went from dirty blonde to platinum, and his eyes were the bluest blue (please note his father has strawberry blonde hair, and his mother has brown hair). He looked like he could be one of mine.

In fact, one day at Preschool, his Mom picked him up instead of me. One of the teachers walked up to her and asked, "and you are?" She said, "I'm his MOTHER." Ooops.

The Preschool had a "Grandparents and Special Friends Day," and he chose me to come because I was "fun."

Fast forward a few years, and Heather not only found a boy willing to marry her, but they had two beautiful boys of their own. They both look like me. When I am out with Heather & the boys, people assume they are mine. I tried to remind her what she said about me getting to have them until they are 18, but she is having none of it.

I guess even baby haters (I mean zebras) can change their stripes.

I enjoy being a girl...

When I was a child, I loved nothing more than playing with my Barbies and baby dolls. I loved doing their hair, dressing them up, etc.

After having three baby boys, when Paige came, I was ready to play with my real life baby doll. It worked out great when she was teeny. I could put her in pink dresses with bloomers and matching headband and socks to my heart's content. I couldn't do anything with her hair though, because she was bald until she was about 2. Once she did grow hair, I had visions of french braids and cute barrettes and pony tails.

Paige had other ideas. She hated her hair being done. I mean, she HATED it. A bunch. So, my dreams of her having Rapunzel like hair were shattered. If she wouldn't let me brush it, it would have to be cut short. Fine. I could still pick out cute frilly things for her to wear.

Yeah, that worked out well, too.

Paige loves dresses, but they have to be comfortable dresses. Nothing too fussy. No belts, itchy stuff, buttons or gee gaws. Plus, they would have to withstand her riding her bike in them, digging for worms, chalking up the sidewalk....you get the picture. Unlike me, Paige is not afraid to get dirty...even while wearing a dress.

As she has gotten older, she has been able to come with me to my salon appointments. It's a three hour proposition when I go, so it takes a lot of patience (and a few bribes on my part) to keep her occupied. She was particularly interested in my pedicures. She would sit and watch the process totally mesmerized. I can't remember what the occasion was when I made the appointment for her first pedi. It may have been her birthday.

Well, she was hooked. It helps that Carrie (the nail technician) is young, fun, and treats Paige like a grown-up. Over the past couple years, Paige has had four or five pedicures. It's fun to watch her enjoy herself. Earlier this month, Paige asked to get a pedi. I had to get her hair cut, so I made a double appointment. Paige was adamant about having green toes for St. Patrick's Day.

I snapped the picture while her feet were soaking. She had no idea I took it, and I love that out of the stack of magazines available to her, she chose this one.

It was serendipitous.