My Saintly Cherub

I asked my son to clean his room tonight before bed. I told him he could leave the wonderful mansion he built with his legos intact, but to just clean up the unused blocks. Although his room was cleaned as I asked, when I went into his room a little later, I almost tripped over his mansion because it was in the middle of the floor. I tried very earnestly to move the house without wrecking it. However, I was unsuccessful, toppling his marvelous masterpiece over.

Feeling terrible, I broke the news to him gently. He ran into his room and looked at it, and promptly burst into heartwrenching tears. And my heart broke. He had loved his house.

So, I told him that we would sit down right there and then and build a new one. His tears were instantly gone and were replaced with a brilliant smile.

As I sat there working with my son, I pondered the day I had with him. He really is a cheerful, charming little chap. There is not a time that I can recall when, after praising him or loving him that he doesn't reciprocate. For a busy, active, five-year-old boy, he is NEVER too busy to love me right back. If I say, "mommy is so thankful for the wonderful boy God gave her", he'll say, "and I'm so thankful for the wonderful mommy God gave me", usually with many kisses to go along with it. If I kiss him once, he'll kiss me twice. It's not that Hannah doesn't appreciate any of this (as any child would), she just does not always respond in like manner.

The moral of this little story? Even though I posted recently My Confession, expressing my frustration about my boy, I want it known here and now that it was all A LIE. That story was about somebody else's little boy. Not my perfectly precious, saintly little cherub.

My conscience is clear.

Morning Hike

We went on an adventure today, and the kids had a blast. We went hiking at Beaver Creek (or "Crik", as a very good friend of mine says, whose first name starts with an "M" who lives in Calgary.........hee, hee), as well as on a scavenger hunt that is organized by the staff of Beaver Crik. The above picture is the kids studying the objects that they had to locate.

Seth loves wooden bridges. Hannah hates them. Consequently, he ran out on all of the bridges on our expedition (there were at least four of them), while Hannah cautiously went across with me close beside her.


It was the perfect hiking weather. Very few bugs. A perfect morning to begin our day. The kids want to go back as soon as possible and take daddy with them. Perhaps Hannah can actually FIND all of the items on the list. It was difficult because Seth wanted to forge ahead, but Hannah, the private eye, wanted to inch her way so as not to miss a thing. When we go back, I think I'll take one trail with Seth and let Hannah go investigating with her dad on another.

My Confession

I have a confession to make.

My son is a rascal. A turkey. A monkey-face. A king-sized pest.

Okay, I'll just admit it. He's a BRAT.

I could go through the list of all the excuses, but I realize the bottom line is I just have let too much go. Again. I go through this cycle that most imperfect parents (who are honest) go through, pull my hair out and then pull my socks up - until the next go-around. The strive for consistency is turning my hair prematurely grey.

A couple of weeks ago, he was being particularly bad in church while I was trying to pray. He was determined to bug me the entire time. Normally when he's being that much of a pest, I take him downstairs into a private room for a particular mode of punishment. This time I decided that since it was attention he was so desperately seeking, I was going to give him no attention at all. This is supposed to work after all, right?

Wrong.

For 15 minutes he poked and tickled. And kissed my cheek. I ignored him. It would work with time, I was sure. He continued, finally ending his little game by climbing on my back and whispering a certain word in my ear over and over that's forbidden. I'll give you a clue what that word was. It begins and ends with the letter "p" and has two "o's" in between. It's a word I've forbidden because he only uses it as "trash" talk.

It's been over these last couple of weeks that things have escalated, period. In my exasperation, I asked him one day last week what in the world I was going to do with him. His reply?

"You're going to keep me and let me do whatever I want!"

Tonight in church he reached across Hannah to her book and, with a red crayon, made a straight line, as quick-as-you-please, on her page. He was quite amused with this as was demonstrated by his smug grin after the fact. He also poked, prodded and PUSHED my derriere. And pushed me over the edge because that is NEVER, NEVER, NEVER allowed to me or anyone.

It's not that none of this goes unpunished. It's just not as consistent as it should be. And truthfully, he seems to need so much physical attention that it seems that no amount of affection and attention given to him is enough. I get worn out and then fall into the trap of ignoring.

I blog these stories as memories to me and my kids when they're older. I blog these stories because sometimes writing them exorcises some frustration. I blog these stories because sometimes I hope that some kind soul will think to pray for me. I am the first to admit I'm not perfect and need to be more consistent, so I really don't need lectures. Just encouragement.

So, thanks everyone. For letting me blow off steam.

Uniquely Angie

It was while we were visiting the "antique boutique" owned by my pastor's wife that I first coined the phrase, Uniquely Angie. My best friend of at least 15 years was down to see me after a ten year hiatus, and one of her requests was to visit the little shop. My pastor's wife came out of the same church in the Seattle area and was someone whom Angie looked up to as a young teenager when my pastor's wife was a young adult. So, having the common interest of antiques, collectables and home decor, as well as wanting to see this wonderful, influential lady of her past, we went in to her store.

While I was circling the shop with interest, they were visiting and reminiscing. And talking shop. Angie has an avid interest in feathers, flowers or anything vintage - particularly old jewelry which she uses to make retro purses and sells for profit. Seeing her in her element, I told her after we left that she really needed to consider opening her own little boutique back home when the American economy improves. And name it Uniquely Angie.

I first met Angie 23 years ago when I went to some special services hosted by her church. I remember hearing her play the organ and thinking she was the best organist I had ever heard. She also has a great singing voice, although she claims she doesn't sing, but proved otherwise this weekend by good naturedly agreeing to sing along in a trio. Several years after I first met her, I was again down in the Seattle area to be in the wedding of another friend. After my friend got married, I needed a place to stay for a couple more days until I went home, and that is when I first got to know Angie and the unique, wonderful woman that she is. And that was the beginning of our friendship. Over the next five or six years, I visited often. She was married and had two small boys. I was single. It was her mission to get me married off, preferably to someone in her home church.

She was my matron of honor ten years ago and was finally able to come to see me for the first time. Having a husband and young children, it was much easier for me to go there. It was a whirlwind trip of which I remember very little - I was in my premarital wedding fog - but we did have a few days of late night, uninterrupted talks.

Ten years later, she returned for her second visit. Having older, independent sons made that much easier this time.

I guess we're all unique. Somewhat. But Angie is UNIQUE. Being half Italian, she is passionate about everything. She loves people, particularly youth. She is extremely gullible - you can pretty much get her to believe anything if you're a good enough liar. She is very creative. She is a wonderful cook and homemaker. She is the only woman I've ever met that can cook a wonderful meal, clean up, wash the floor under the table several times a day, keep her house neat as pin even when her two boys were little, and never stop talking while doing it. She is chronically late for everything. She is side splittingly funny and has no clue why - which is part of her charm. She is extremely clutsy - tripping going up the steps at my wedding rehearsal will always be one of my fondest memories. And, she is definitely opinionated.

She is the best, most loyal friend a person could ever have.

While she was here, my mom, dad and grandma spent time with Angie, at Angie's request. Angie lost her mom when she was just 13 years old to lung cancer. Her dad is an alcoholic; my dad is an alcoholic. She really connects to my family. She loves my mother, relates to my dad and thinks my grandma is the most classy senior she's ever met. She sat at the table, having a little "chat" with my dad with all of her Italian passion, letting him know how important family is and that he should not go to work out of the country (as my dad has been doing). My dad told my grandma the next day that Angie was right, he really shouldn't go, cementing the adoration my grandma has for Angie. Angie cried when she hugged my mom goodbye.

Angie has this down-to-earth quality about her that draws people in and that's....uniquely Angie. A person knows within a very short time that she is real and that she is genuinely interested in what you have to say.

My kids adored her, evidenced by the fact that they were picking dandelions for her the first morning she was here. In fact, Hannah loves her so much that on the last night of her sleeping on the floor in her brother's room, she commented on that fact. I replied back that she must be excited to get her bedroom back, to which she replied that, "No, actually, I would be happy to sleep here if only Angie didn't have to go home", and then promptly started crying.

And so, my wonderful, unique Angie, I really am going to miss having you here. You are a treasure of a friend. Someone who strives to see the good in people. Someone who loves passionately. Someone who has no idea of your worth and charm, which only adds to it. Someone who very few can't love, flaws and all. Because, dear friend, you are real, you are kind, and you are honest.

You are Uniquely Angie.

Sweetness Personified

'Tis the season. And, like all children do, mine spend a lot of time picking these beautiful......flowers......and delight themselves by giving them to me by the handfuls.

Fighting off the temptation to just throw them away when they weren't looking, I decided instead to reciprocate my children's intended kindness by making a bouquet of them. Of course, this made them supremely happy, and so our house has been continually recycled by these flowers, throwing out the dead ones and replacing them with fresh ones. It really is a very easy way to make my children feel pretty special.

So, one evening last week, with all of these warm fuzzies floating around our household brought about in part by the flower-giving episodes, my silver-tongued son outdid himself yet again in his flattery to his mama. While tucking him in to bed and giving him kisses and snuggles, he said to me:

"You know, I sure do like that brown-haired lady right there," he said, pointing to me.

I almost turned around, thinking surely there must be someone else in the bedroom. Sensing my hesitation, he said yet again:

"She has a shirt with stripes on. Yep. That lady."

What can I say about this boy-child of mine? I decided that I am going to enjoy this lovely personality of his while he's young, and let tomorrow (and the potential problems of his charm) take care of itself. With God's help.

For today, he's just my sweet, lovable boy.

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My poor girl has been sick for the last couple of days with a stomach flu. Feeling terrible this morning, her dad went in late to work and I went alone on my bus run today.

A couple of kindergarten girls, Tyarah and Jaycene, got on the bus and promptly asked where my kids were. I told them that Hannah was sick. They wanted to know if she had a cold, so I told them what kind of illness she had. They both seemed very compassionate to her plight and I was very touched by their concern.

When they got on the bus after school, Tyarah handed me a piece of artwork that she had made and asked me to give it to Hannah because she was sick. I told her how very sweet that was of her to think of Hannah and that I would be very happy to give it to her. Then Jaycene said to me:

"Remember when Hannah made me a card when I was sick?"

Of course I remember. Jaycene had broken her arm a couple of months ago and, compassionate girl that Hannah is, she decided to make Jaycene a card telling her that she hoped that she felt better soon. She gave the card to Tyarah to give to her. We had never heard back from either of them, so I wasn't sure if Jaycene had even received it. Now, two month's later, Jaycene brought it up and I was very moved with the thought that Hannah's thoughtfulness impacted these girls.

In the last month, she has taken to playing games like "I Spy", or "Let's see who can spell the word........", or even "let's count the fire hydrants......." (exciting, I know) on the bus with the younger kids. All of this went through my mind today and I realized that Hannah really has been extra sweet to these younger kids. And today she is reaping the benefits.

I took home the piece of artwork that Tyarah made for her and gave it to Hannah with her well wishes. What does my sweet girl do? She sits down and writes a note for me to give to Tyarah tomorrow (because she likely will not be on the bus again for one more day, at least). Here is the note:

And so the cycle continues.

Killer Ant

Here's the story.

After coming home with a bunch of groceries, my son decided, for the first time ever, that he wanted to run barefoot into the house. You have to know my son to understand that this is a huge progression for him. He is not the typical boy in that he does not like bugs of any kind and hates getting dirty. Thus the combination of these two things makes running barefoot rather difficult. He might squash a bug or get his feet dirty, after all. I do not know what made him suddenly decide to do this, but I celebrate it as a small victory.

Thus, because Seth managed to successfully navigate the length of the driveway barefoot, it was only a matter of time before his very competitive sister decided try this previously uncharted territory as well. Hannah has grown in leaps and bounds in so many things, overcoming many of her fears, so I wasn't really that surprised that she had determined to try this.

She successfully helped me bring one load of groceries into the house - shoeless - dropping her flip flops in the house after the first trip. She went back to the trunk to grab another bag when, lo and behold, out of nowhere, comes this....................KILLER ANT!...................obviously loaded down with artillery galore. I didn't see it (how could I miss it, I ask?), but I certainly could not miss my daughter's shriek. Nor could my neighbours for that matter.

"Mom!" my daughter hollered. "There's an ANT!" I stood there, unable to rescue my daughter because I was laughing, so she took matters into her own hands, as noted by the picture below:

She climbed into the open trunk. And she wasn't budging. And I was helpless with laughter. I finally managed to go into the house, grab the camera, and return with her flip flops. I took this picture (the sun was in her eyes) and did aid in her rescue after all.

And honestly, I'm still laughing.

Just Random Stuff

See my boy's finger? After sustaining a sliver while playing outside, he underwent minor surgery to remove the sliver. Someone must have mistakenly told my son that his finger was being amputated because I'm certain that you could hear his screams all the way to Regina, so traumatized was he.

He came in the house, tears running down his face, telling me about his finger. I was trying to get a glimpse and finding it very difficult to do so because he would not sit still. Finally able to see the sliver, I told him I had to remove it and he promptly went into weeping and travail.

I don't think I've ever had such a hard time comforting him and fighting laughter at the same time, truly. Sitting on my lap trying to prepare him for his surgery, he asked me:

"Mom, (sniff, sniff), do ssssticks (more sniffing) get slivers, too?"

Honestly, I hid my face behind his head and struggled with all of my might not to laugh out loud. He also adamantly proclaimed:

"There should be no sticks in our yard! We need to get them out of our yard and put them in everybody else's yard!"

His dad, who was working on the deck, came in to see what the fuss was all about. It was decided that both of us would undertake this serious operation, so I assisted by snuggling my son and holding his finger still while dad did the dirty work. While he was trying to get out the sliver, Seth again started to wail and said to his dad:

"Pppplease, dad, (sniff, sniff), go gently!"

I caught a glimpse of daddy's face - he was trying to keep it together like me - and as a result I could barely make it through without cutting up myself.

My sweet Hannah, ever compassionate, stood by my side, all the while asking if she could do something to help. I realized that I was out of bandaids (adding to the trauma), so she went into her bedroom to make Seth a bandaid. The picture you see above is my lovely girl's invention of cut up kleenex, a sticker on top - it must look real you know - wrapped around his finger with scotch tape.

It was a great time, needless to say.

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THE ROOM

I said that I was going to get pictures of my girl's room some time and post them. This is the result of living the life of a packrat.

See the two beloved Tic Tac containers amidst all of her treasures? She did manage to get rid of some of them, however. I really should take random photos of her room and make up my own I Spy series. Get rich quick, you know.

THE corner. And the end is in sight. That trip to grandmas is coming up very soon because I am getting company at the end of May and they are using HER ROOM. I will try to remember to take pictures AFTER mommy is through with it.

To be fair, she is not a slob anywhere else in the house. She is very helpful and likes things orderly. But, because she cannot get rid of things, she continuously gets herself in a bind. She'll go several days trying her hardest to put her beloved treasures back, and then eventually just gives up. This is the end result. It's not like this every day, but this is pretty much the worst it ever gets.

And finally.......

Today, my niece Rachel took the kids' annual pictures. Here is a sneak peak of the one picture she emailed to me.

Totally captures their personalities. I love it.