Scriptures with Macy

Since Macy can't read yet, at scripture time we tell her the words to the scripture and she repeats it back.  She fumbles up the words...often.  Here's my latest favorite:

Mike: "Wherefore having this perfect knowledge..."

Macy:  "Where four numbing this perfect college..."

Wanna brush MY hair?

Macy and Jane were brushing my hair last night.  Jane gets oddly excited, squealing and running back and forth from the bathroom with brushes and combs (she smacks me over the head with them more than she brushes).

Mike was watching all this happen and shouted out to Jane as she ran back into the room, "Wanna brush Dad's hair?"  She stopped, stared at Mike and cocked her head to the side with a puzzled look.  "All gone."

She didn't understand the eruption of laughter.  Once we had finished laughing she attempted to brush Mike's bare scalp, until the puzzled look came back and she ended with another "All gone."

I Wet

Jane was watching Dora...again.  Mike was squirting her with a water bottle to see if she'd flinch.  She didn't.  So we placed our bets on how many squirts Mike could get in before she would look his way.  I guessed two.  Mike three.

Fifteen.... it took fifteen squirts before Jane even noticed.  And then it was simply, "I wet." and she moved to the other side of the couch.

I'm so proud.

Mini Van or BMW?

We recently were asked to babysit Mike's parent's BMW while they are on their mission (sorry Rob and Beck) and noticed something odd it has in common with our mini-van.  People glare at us when we drive either car.

If we hadn't had other cars before driving the mini-van and the Beamer, I would just assume that I'm a bad driver, but when we first got our mini-van I noticed the transformation.  I would take our black camry to the store and people would let me over when I had my blinker on,  I seemed to keep with the flow of traffic, essentially I was just another car on the road.  But the first time I took the mini-van to the store, I became "Idiot!" and "Watch it, Lady!"  I was chronically being passed as if I was driving too slow, even when going ten over (not that I EVER do that).  And somehow I was "cutting people off" when there were multiple car lengths between us.

Now, in the Beamer, the glares still happen, they are just the "How old are you?" glares and the "Did your Daddy buy you that car?" looks.  I don't know, there's just something uncomfortable about being looked up and down because you get out of a certain car, or being flashed a dirty look by someone walking down the center of the parking lot because you've stopped to wait for them. I don't get it. 

Guess it's time to get myself a PT Cruiser... now that's a car you can be proud to drive.

The Blood Sugar Monsters

We have monsters in our house.

They appear every night about 6:00 pm.  Four monsters in all; two with red-hair and two brunettes.  You may also know them as Alison, Jane, Macy and me, Jenner.

It's a curse I've passed on to my girls.  A transformation they likely have to live with their whole lives.  Snacks and meals have to be carefully regulated because when our blood sugar drops too low, the claws come out.

I find myself rushing to get the dinner on the table by 5:30 pm, in an attempt to protect Mike and Cole from having their heads bitten off.  Sometimes I make it.  Sometimes I don't.

So, don't be alarmed the next time we have you over for dinner and start passing out the Snickers as appetizers.  It's for your own safety.

There's a hero in the second grade.

Originally written May 9, 2010

He's eight, that's true, but he can do what few grown men have the courage to do. There is no gray in my son's color palate of right and wrong. There is no, just ignore what they're doing so you won't get hurt. There is no, get someone else to take care of the problem, when he could do it himself. He steps up, when others step back. He takes the punch so another doesn't have to.

He saw today's recess as, "I didn't get to play in the soccer game." But as he elaborates, I learn he didn't get to play because his cousin had no one to play with, so he left the soccer game to be with him. He describes his walk home as, "That boy pushed me down." When in his retelling I see that he was pushed down as he tried to stop the boy from harming another child.

The mother in me wants him to hide in the shadows a bit more, so there's less tearful afternoons, and less pushes and shoves. But can I really; should I try to restrain his passion for what is right?

In ages past, in bible stories and history books there are men like my son. Men who did what was right, no matter the cost. Heros to those they defended. Examples to the ones hiding in the shadows. How can I stop him, when etched on his very soul is the glimmer of greatness? I can't. So for now, I'll ice the black eyes and hug away the "lonely" recesses and call claim to the hero in the second grade.