Frump Family Randoms

"Judah?! What is THIS?!" I asked with my angry eyes.

He came running over and looked to the spot on the sofa cushion to which I pointed.



"A spiedow" he said, shrugging all matter-of-factly, as though it were no big deal.

And looking at the threadbare in places sofa cushions that are 15 years old and have been through numerous other toddler 'incidents' (including the Molly McButter leopard-spots incident and later the scented marker incident by both Jericho and his cousin K, and lets not forget the countless spills and wiped noses of barely-learning-to-walk toddlers)...well, I could hardly blame him for thinking that was just another canvas for his artistic endeavors.

Apparently somewhere after the 13 year mark, Scotch let down it's guard.

:: :: :: ::

After Jericho's recent birthday party, he had a couple of his cousins stay the night.

The next day turned out to be very hot, and so as a treat I took the kids to Baskin Robbins for ice cream.

Jericho, 13 year old that he is, was goofing around trying his best to get his cousins and anyone else around him to laugh, and on the way out of the ice cream shop, he was talking in muted tones to his cousins as though saying, "Watch this".

Suddenly, very loudly in front of a group of people exiting the nearby grocery store, he said in true Jim Carrey-esque, dimwitted fashion, "Mom, how are babies made?"

Punk kid knows full good and well how babies are made...but he did succeed in getting us and about a half-dozen people to laugh at that one.

:: :: :: ::

While driving in the car last night, Jericho said, "Hey, dad...does this sound like Yoda?" and does a dead-on perfect impression.

This morning, I went into Jericho's room to scold him for not doing the job I'd sent him there to do, and he looks at me with the most innocent face he could muster and says in perfect Yoda-voice, "Angry are you?"

How is a mother to discipline a kid that can so disarm her with his comical one-liners?

:: :: :: ::

We were at Wal*mart a week or so ago, and I was picking up a few things in the cosmetics section.

Our store provides these little gray baskets to put items in so they don't drop out of the cart throughout the store like Hansel and Gretel's crumb trail, and so I made my selections and moved along through the store.

When I got to the cash register, I simply lifted that very convenient basket out and placed it on the belt along with the rest of my items, and the unloading process was done.

My total, however, seemed to be quite a bit off from my mental tally, but having already tucked the receipt into the black hole my purse, it would have to wait until I was home and the party-popper effect of opening my purse wouldn't be quite so embarassing.

Upon arriving home, I put everything away, and sent the sack of cosmetics items via Jericho to my bathroom counter.

Later, I walked into the bathroom and was putting away those items when I came across a few things I didn't remember buying. A lipstick I'd looked at but put back and a powder compact. The biggest thing, however, was a bottle of pretty pricey liquid makeup.

I set it aside on the counter assuming that somehow there had been a mixup and we'd ended up with the stuff from the lady in front of me in line.

Just then, Judah comes meandering in and seeing the makeup on the counter his eyes light up and he says, "Did you wike yeow pweasant, mama? I buyed dat fo you!"

Sooooo....there was no taking that one back.

:: :: :: ::

A couple of nights after Jericho's birthday, while up late blogging, I heard some strange sounds coming from the living room.

"Ooomph!"

"Ugh!"

"Oh!"

"Ahhh"

"Heoughhhh!"

I glanced out into the living room to find Jericho ducking and weaving from a fixed position, his eyes on on the wall across the room.

It was close to Midnight and he was supposed to be asleep.

"What are you doing?", I inquired, tapping my foot.

He ducked suddenly, and grunted, narrowly missing some perceived blow. "Boxing! Man, this is a real workout!"

We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we agreed to the Wii.

A Day at the Beach...Frump Style

We had a rare extra day off last week due to the Holiday weekend, and so took time out to go visit some friends in Huntington Beach, CA.

Now we'd been to the coast and other beaches plenty of times before, but never to that particular beach.

Boy, were we in for a treat.

Upon approaching the pier at Huntington Beach, it appeared to be constructed of toothpicks wood, and out at the very end of the pier, that red roof tops a SoCal chain restaurant called Ruby's.



Which was convenient, because we were hungry travelers, and I had a hankering for the chicken salad I remembered from that restaurant years ago.

While walking along the pier, I realized it didn't feel quite so rickety as I'd first thought. About midway down, we looked down and saw a large group of teenagers running quickly from under the pier, most wearing yellow swim caps. Turns out it was Lifeguard Camp.



Ruby's restaurant is a two-story affair, built on the very end of the pier. Naturally, the boys wanted to sit on the uppermost deck. The view from there was great, though I still felt a little nervous about the whole toothpicks-holding-it-all-up aspect of dining there.

Especially after seeing signs posted along the beach, "Tsunami Zone. In Case of Earthquake, move immediately to higher ground."

Judah had no fears whatsoever. That thin pane of plexiglass between him and the ocean gave him confidence enough to stand up in the window sill, lean against it and stare down at the water below. Way, way far below.



I was disappointed that they no longer carried my favorite salad on their menu, so I was forced to order something else.

Sorry, Jenster and Deb, I was remiss in taking pics of the food. (In case you haven't caught on yet, remiss is my word of the month.)

So a couple of bites in to my fish taco, I glanced out at the water just past Jericho and saw something that very nearly made me choke. I was gesturing wildly towards the window so my family would look outside.

"Daw-phins!!" Judah called out. And it was! Arcing perfectly in and out of the water.

They were so playful, frolicking about in the waves, feeding on the schools of mackerel that the fisherman were pulling out of the water left and right on our way to Ruby's.

In our excitement, this was the best photo we were able to take of the event (double-click to enlarge). However, as a bonus, if you look in the upper right corner, there is what appears to be a ghost ship on the horizon. Jericho called it "The Black Pearl". (It may actually have been an oil rig. There are also a few of those in the area.)



Here we have a flock of pelicans. It was fun to see them out on the ocean for once.

Pelicans must not have the best sense of direction, because they occasionally get lost and end up way out in our desert, far far from the ocean. We've seen the pour souls on the lakes in our area, no doubt wondering what happened to the plentiful supply of ocean fish and the clean ocean breezes they are accustomed to.



After our lunch, we exited the restaurant and walked around the building, hoping to spot more dolphins out in the waves.

Judah had a very healthy fear of getting too close to the edge. "I don' wanna go wif da sharks."



However, when we saw this guy, he did get a tad bit closer to get a better look. Though he kept looking up occasionally where fisherman would toss him a bait fish, this was the best photo I got of the our pinniped friend.



Along with all the wildlife, you can't go to SoCal beaches without seeing a few of these guys.





Oh, and remember how I said the restaurant looked like it was held up by toothpicks?
I felt much better after going below the pier. It kinda looks like a freeway overpass from that angle.



Judah couldn't wait to get into the water.









Of course, after spending half the day in the surf and the sand, someone needed a thorough hosing down before we headed back to the car.



On the way back to the parking garage that afternoon, we passed by this staircase which both boys found irresistable.

Jericho was able to slide from top to bottom down the handrail.



Naturally, little brother had to emulate him, but ended up having to settle on the safer arms-around-the-handrail version.



While in the general area, and after having worked up an appetite playing at the beach all day, we headed for Downtown Disney.

Along the way we saw some very interesting signs.

This one for a restaurant that served a rather odd combination. As a former student of Graphic Design, I feel that these sorts of pairings are just wrong.

Or maybe that's because I don't go into a crawfish joint intent on a pile of live crawfish and think, "Ahhh...if only I had a funnel cake for dessert, my culinary dreams would be complete!"

And yet, there must be a market for it, because there it is.



This one, however, totally took the cake. In fact, we saw it at a passing glance and had to turn around the block to get a picture of it.



Exactly what kind of a watering hole is this, anyway? I'm thinking the whole vampire thing has gone a bit too far...

I was relieved when we finally got to Anaheim.

I love all the details that Disney puts into everything, even into externals like the landscaping around the parkways leading to Disneyland and the restaurants in Downtown Disney (for you out-of-towners, that's an area outside of Disneyland that you can get into for the great shopping and restaurants, without the hassle of all the rides, lol.)

I'm SO stealing this idea for a thrift-store makeover of a shelving unit. Love those ornamental pieces along the top of the shelving.



And this yummy restaurant which we only just tried out for the first time...The Jazz Kitchen. It was a bit on the pricey side, but the ambience and service were great, and the food was delicious.
This was a view into the restaurant from where we were seated on the patio, which looks a little like New Orleans. I loved what they did with the lighting and those parasols and umbrellas. Way cute.



As usual, the boys entertained us throughout the meal.





Everyone agreed it was perhaps our new 'favorite' restaurant. Both the soup (a delectable french onion with a red-wine reduction) and salad were fantastic, but Jeff's steak was what everyone seemed to enjoy most. Perfectly cooked and loaded with flavor...and cut like, well, like buttah.

The meals being three courses, left us with lots of leftovers.

On the way home, Jeff commented that nobody, but NOBODY better lay a finger on his leftover steak in the morning.

Alas, the child responsible for bringing it into the house forgot to put it in the fridge, and our house languished all night with 100 degree temperatures and still no A/C...which meant that our dog Raisin got a delightful gourmet meal of tantalizing steak the next morning.

Sunday Funnies

This was written a couple of weeks ago...

Sunday mornings these past couple of months have been wonderful, because I get to sit through the entire church service.

The day begins when we arrive at church and go straight to Sunday School with our youth group teens.

Judah usually comes in there with us, as our smaller congregation has found it hard to keep find Little Tots workers for the Sunday School hour.

It's not often we make it all the way through the hour. Judah has the attention span of...well, a 3 1/2 year old boy, and tends to get really squirrelly after sugary treats like donuts and juice.

Those well-intentioned folks that brave working the Little Tot's class, for whatever reason, usually only last a few weeks.

I think this is because of the fact that Judah the three boys currently in that class are, together, a real handful. Yes, Judah and the twins are a force to be reckoned with.

Recently, my friend (the twins’ mother) had brought to church with them a toy motorcycle that Judah had left at their home the previous Sunday.

This toy is roughly the size of motorcycle Barbie would ride if she had a street racing bike. (Or does she? She's come a long way since the days of the fancy pink RV I used to play Barbies with at my friends house as a girl.)

This is one of those toys that has obnoxiously loud sound effects which I have elected never to buy for my own children, but am tortured with annoyed by on a regular basis anyway thanks to an uncle who thinks our boys need the noisiest toys on the market.

It's one of those toys which I loathe and feel like chucking off a twenty story building usually disable the sound effects for by removing the batteries, but somehow kept forgetting to do so. I think that is because it involves finding a Phillips screwdriver to open the battery case on the bottom, and me going to our garage to find a tool would be akin to asking Jeff to find me some scrapbooking eyelets in my craft room. A wild goose chase.

Which is the very reason it’s one of Judah’s favorite toys...because with him, the louder the better.

This is probably also why the twins mother wanted to return it to us so badly enjoyed playing with it so much during the week it was at their home.

Because of the fact there was no Little Tots class, the twin brothers were sitting with their mom and their visiting aunt in one of the adult Sunday School classes. Which happened to be held in the sanctuary. They were in the front pew.

The motorcycle was in with their mom’s stuff, and one of the brothers just couldn’t resist pushing the button on top of it.

And into the middle of the Sunday School lesson, the toy belts out, “I FEEL THE NEED FOR SPEED…LET’S RIIIIIDE!” complete with very loud music and the revving sounds of a motor. And it doesn't stop for a long, long, too-embarrassingly-long time.

Which was probably about the time she promptly rose and ushered the boy back to the Little Tots classroom where I was hanging out with Judah waiting until the teen girls arrived to take over for the Service.

Yes, a few months ago someone finally came up with the brilliant idea (read: they’d run out of other options) to ask a couple of the teen girls at church if they would like to work in the nursery during the service, and wonder of wonders they agreed to do so! For the first time in ages, I’ve been able to sit through worship without distractions.

So anyway, later that same morning, while listening intently to the sermon, I saw my friend (the twins mom) walk past and suddenly recalled the story of the toy motorcycle she'd told me just before the sermon began.

Which triggered the thought that my cell phone ringtone was not yet set on vibrate after a busy day out and about on Saturday. Which meant, of course, that I had to tend to that promptly and so reached over to rustle it out of my purse.

This is because my dad someone in my life has a real knack for calling at the most inopportune moments.

In doing so, I glanced at the time and discovered that we were just a couple of minutes from the end of the sermon.

I turned my attention back to the sermon, and became so engrossed that I didn’t realize we’d gone a few minutes over the usual ending time.

That is...until I heard a loud banging on the two-way mirror between the nursery and the sanctuary.

How distracting, I thought, then glanced back, and from my angle could barely make out the silhouetted ouline of one very familiar little head, cocked just so, and the faint, somewhat muffled sound of his gleeful shout behind the glass, “Hey, dere’s my mama and daddy!”

Clearly the boy was proud of himself for spotting us his parents and slapped the glass a few more times before he was bodily removed from the chair he’d somehow managed to push up to the two-way glass.

Yes, because stealing toys from the church nursery, running up and down the aisles during the middle of a sermon and then flipping the bank of light switches for the sanctuary off and on during another service were simply not enough, he had to add yet another incident to his record.
This kid is making a real name for himself in our church, let me tell you.

Sappy Mother's Day, Randoms and a Recipe

This is a 4-generation photo of my mom's side of the family, taken a couple of years ago shortly before my sweet Grandma went to be with the Lord.



I think often about the Faith in Jesus that she modeled not just for me but for her very large extended family and many other grandchildren and great grandchildren and everyone she 'adopted' as her own.

I remember her gentle guidance. Her patience. How she taught me how to sew as a little girl. (Do you know how painstaking it is to teach someone with a very short attention span a young child to sew? I'm telling you, that woman knew patience and persistence, because I eventually learned how).

I remember the generosity that was so much a part of who she was. That she died with only a few boxes of earthly possessions (mostly mementos) because she'd given everything else away.

I loved that she doted on every baby or child she ever met, and that everyone was "lover" or "honey" (spoken with tender endearment) and that everyone who knew her felt like they were special to her. That just about all my mom's, mine and my siblings friends knew and called her either "mom" or "grandma", and we were happy to share her. Proud of the fact that she was so loving and likeable and bighearted to include everyone as her own, and that our friends all adored her as much as we did.

I appreciate it so much now that my grandma was always puttering around in her garden, putting up fruits and veggies and her infamous fruit-leather when all of us kids were over during the summers. We loved spending weeks at a time at her house, all us cousins together, helping to harvest all the plums, pears and apples from her trees, and all manner of veggies from her gardens and berries from her berry patch.

It was a common sight to see grandma in the kitchen slicing up fresh fruits and veggies fresh from her yard or her sisters, and coaxing us to eat all these good-for-us foods, eschewing junk food completely. For her day, she was a health nut, and just wanted to be sure all her kids were getting plenty of what was good for them to nourish young bodies and brains. It developed some good habits in my life early on as well as a love for garden-fresh produce, as well as the desire to do the same our kids.

I still remember what a treat it was to get to sleep with grandma in her big bed in her lavender bedroom during those week long stints during the summer. I loved her shiny satin floral bedspread and the headboard with sliding doors. I loved trying-on her horn-rimmed reading glasses with the little crystals set in the corners which she kept in there.

It was there, tucked cozily into her big bed with her and a cousin or sibling or two that she taught us to pray, and to memorize Psalm 23 and the Lord's Prayer among other Bible passages. Just before bed each night, she'd read to us kids out of her large print Bible. After we learned to read, she'd usually ask one of us to read the Bible to her, which was a special honor.

And sometimes, if I was lucky, I'd wake in the night and slide my hand under her pillow where I would find her false teeth. I'm not sure why, but examining them was irresistable to me in all their waxy-plastic pink and white glory. I think it's because she usually either had them in her mouth or kept them in cup in the bathroom with a fizzy white tablet that helped to keep them clean. (She must have known I had a fascination with her dental products, because after the time she found me in the bathroom with an empty box stuffed with wrappers and a toilet bowl full of fizzing water, well, she began keeping them and her false teeth where I couldn't find them when I came over.)

There are many things in my life that daily remind me of Grandma. Things I can link directly to her having explained or imparted to me. Names of plants or flowers will suddenly come to mind after not having seen them in years, and I remember them because she patiently answered gazillions all my questions as a young child.

She spent most of her life caring for her own family, then an ill husband, and in later years, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She had such a way with babies and could make friends with just about anyone. She was always there to listen and to "ooh" and "ahhh" over every little gift given to her. She adored cute-kid stories, and took special delight in seeing the world through children's eyes.

In the years she lived with our family, she always knew the best ways to pass wet and dreary Western Washington afternoons and somehow managed to sneak in good, contructive activities that we didn't realize until much later were for our betterment.

While her homemade bread and pancakes were second to none, she wasn't particularly known for her cooking, but nobody could beat the warmth of her hospitality. A cup of tea and toast at her table was a feast.

My mom learned her mothering skills from the best.

Like the master gardener that she is, my mom never left her little 'seedlings' to fend for themselves, to be overcome with weeds that might choke our fledgling faith, but carefully tended us, weeding when necessary, and making sure we had plenty of food, water and Sonshine. As a result, we grew up strong and healthy, able to withstand the storms of life that blew our way.

Even in the days when she was slogging it out as a single parent, by God's grace, she managed to impart wisdom and truth into our lives, and to always point us to The One that could meet all our needs. She also kept us in church where we had an additional support system made up of folks who came along side to help her in instilling good values in her children. "He's never failed me yet!" was something I heard her say about the Lord a lot...a phrase I continue to use with my own children.

We went through some rough years together, she and all us kids, but she was always 'available' to mother and nurture and guide. Several discussions of great importance to my teenage self took place early in the morning while sharing the bathroom mirror as we put on our makeup.

She, too, loves and dotes on babies and kids, and gets a charge out of cute-kid stories and loves a good game of Scrabble over a cup of tea. Sometimes, as teens, our friends would bend her ear long into the night pouring out their troubles to her because she'd listen and always gave them wise, motherly advice.

Mom always found creative ways to keep us all clothed on a dime. Our vast joint collection of turtlenecks, sweatshirts and sweaters in almost every color(which she and my sister Jami and I all shared during the 'lean' years) allowed for a mix-and-match wardrobe that was virtually endless in it's combinations. Sheer genius. And though she was by necessity a working mom in later years, when a special outfit was needed for some upcoming special occasion she'd buy bargain fabric and work long into the night transforming it into a fabulous outfit, stitched together with love.

I can still remember numerous nights during my childhood falling asleep to the sound of her beautiful piano playing downstairs. She wrote many songs over the years, working them all out on the piano after we all went to bed because we kept her hopping during the day. She also took us for numerous day-long trips to various lakes during the summertime and thought it a worthy investment to buy yearly family passes to Wild Waves water park when we got older because we all loved the water so much.

I also remember once that she saved the day, when after a long day on her feet at work she drove through busy rush hour traffic and pouring rain to take my friend Denise and I all the way to the Seattle Center for an Amy Grant concert at the last minute, because my friends parents got tied up.

And who could forget all the embarrassing things she purposefully yelled at boys in movie theater parking lots when she heard my friends and I in the backseat all atwitter about which ones we thought were cute. "Hey, my daughter Becky thinks you're cute!" she yelled out to one of those boys, with my mortified self sunk down as low as low could be on the backseat floor of the old family station wagon. (Is it any wonder than when I saw that very high school classmate recently while on our weekend vacation to San Diego I still couldn't garner the courage to go up to talk to him...after 20 years!) Ahhh, good times. Good times.

In the midst of making lots of zany family memories, Mom also taught us all to trust the Lord through hardships. To cling to and follow His guidance instead of striking out on our own. Together, we saw the Lord provide for us in miraculous ways. Groceries showing up in our car when we were down to our last package of Ramen. Even though we'd never said anything to anyone but the Lord about our needs, He answered those prayers very tangibly.

Raising four children on an income of little more than $12,000 dollars a year for a few years there, the majority of that going for housing and utilities, was in itself miraculous. The faith-lessons learned in those years were what got me through college and beyond. And for some odd reason, many of the very same things I heard my mom say to me as a child come out of my own mouth in the midst of this child-rearing thang with my own two boys. ;)

Then there is my mother-in-law.



Grandma Bonnie is a former navy wife who can stretch a dollar farther than anyone I know, having raised 6 children on a single income during their growing-up years. Like my grandma, she, too, spent years caring for an ill husband. Her devotion to his care and comfort was truly honorable.

She, too, provided a warm, nurturing home to my husband (her baby) and his siblings, somehow managing to keep her daughers, their boyfriends and her sons and all their football-playing friends that frequented the house in good food (which they kept coming back for because it was good home-cookin' served with a smile). She supported her kids in their after school activities and was their number one fan, cheering them on in all their endeavors and keeping scrapbooks, clippings and team photos.

She, too, managed to keep her children in nice clothing, and at times, private school, and always made Holidays and birthdays memorable for them though things were usually tight financially and her husband was in and out of the hospital a lot in later years.

She dotes on her grandchildren and great grandchildren still, and loves when they come to visit her, often traveling far and wide to attend school plays and sporting events. Our boys enjoy going over to her house, parking themselves on her sofa to watch cartoons and soaking up all the attention as she waits on them hand and foot.

This is yet another woman who has passed on a legacy of Faith to her children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren. The values she fostered in her children were one of the things that I first noticed in her son, my husband Jeff. I am thankful to her for upholding these things in their home during very difficult years, through the countless surgical procedures and hospital stays of my father-in-law, as my husband learned an early, rock-solid trust and dependance upon the Lord which is being passed on to our own children as well.

All these remarkable women in my life have several things in common:

They all began their married lives with military men. They all had 5 or more children, their hands very full with small children in the home for many years in a row. All these moms had a significant break of a few years between the older kids before having at least one more child.

They all managed households on shoestring budgets, often times with the spouse away on active duty. They, too, were veterans, these women. Holding down the fort while their men were off defending our freedom. The women behind the men, and they were proud to do so.

These fantastic mothers also obliged their children with pets they didn't really want over the years, but just couldn't turn away a needy cat or dog. Or bird. Or frog. Even the occasional carnival-won goldfish. None were wild about reptiles.

More importantly, however, was that after their relationships with Jesus, family was their priority. Being wives, and stay-at-home moms were, to them, an honorable and worthy calling in life even though all of them had plenty of other avenues their lives could have taken. Their homes were hubs of activity, pulsing with family, doors flung open in hospitality.

Their hearts large and generous, brimming with love. Their faith strong, withstanding difficult storms in life and teaching their children the same. Their wisdom deep, borne of an abiding faith in the Lord and a priority given to studying His Word. Their children never lacked for the love and support of family or any good thing that was within their power to do for them. Sacrifices were made willingly, lovingly. The end results were more than worth it.

I've learned much from these women, and pray that just as my grandma passed the torch to mom mom, and my mom to me... it is my desire that I, too, will do my part to pass the torch into the next generation of our family...holding high that legacy of Faith, all while being that crazy, zany, supportive mom that always strives to point them in the right direction.

And by the Grace of God, I believe we're well on our way.

Even if Jeff has never been in the Military and I am lagging behind on the number of children I've had and am not yet 39. ;)

:: :: :: ::

A recent cute-kid story from Judah

Judah:"Mama, how did I get in yeow tummy?"

Me:"Ummmm... (stammering, and although generally frank with my boys not quite ready to address that topic with his 3.5 year old self) ...God gave you to me."

Judah: "Why?"

Me: "Because He wanted us to have a little Judah-boy to love."

Judah:"Did I touch yeow hawt (heart) in dere?"

Me: My eyes stinging with sudden tears, "Yep. You grew right into it."

Judah: "I wuv you, mama." Followed by a big smile and an affectionate hug. "I gonna mawwy you."

And my heart just melted into a little puddle on the floor.

:: :: :: ::

My Mother's Day festivities were made extra-special by Jericho and Judah presenting me with handmade cards early that morning, and Jeff picking roses for mine and his mother's corsages right off our own rosebushes in the yard.



Have I mentioned how much I *heart* having rose bushes in our yard, and having all those fragrant bouquets (and corsages) just waiting to be picked? It's heavenly. Even better to be presented with bouquets by the man and boys in my home.

Jeff also gave me a book I'd wanted, and made a special lunch for us after church.

Not-Your-Average Chicken Salad Sandwiches (MMmmmm)

• 2-3 cups cooked chicken, shredded
  
• 1 cup chopped celery


• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts


• 1/4 cup dried cranberries


• salt, pepper, deli mustard and mayo to taste. We like ours chunky, as it's like summer sunshine bursting in your mouth. However, you may prefer to give yours a whirl in the food processor for a smoother consistency.

Mix together the above ingredients and stuff a large dollop into whole wheat pita pockets along with some baby spinach leaves or alfalfa sprouts.

We 'invented' these to stick close to our SouthBeach diet guidelines. They are very hearty, and are excellent served with a pickle and watermelon on the side. Makes 5-6 sandwiches

:: :: :: ::

Happy Mother's Day to all you FABULOUS bloggin' mamas!

Randoms

Yesterday, I went to one of my favorite Thriftique stores and found Judah's "big boy" bed (with rails) for only $25!



This is a really big step for us, putting Judah in a big boy bed.

On the one hand, I feel almost ashamed that we still have him sleeping in a crib at 3 1/2, but on the other hand, when your son is prone to walking around the house in the dark of night and has done this, what else is a parent to do to be able to get a wink of sleep?

We've already long since installed a latch way up high on our front door and are now looking into buying some type of lock for our sliding-glass back door as well, because the old stick-in-the-bottom of the door thing doesn't keep him from getting out.

Despite our attempts at curtailing this behavior, Judah has also become quite adept at scaling and climbing over chain link fencing (thanks to big brother). Even very high chain link fencing.

And there is only one such fence between our yard and our neighbor's in-ground pool! Lord, have mercy!

We're obviously going to need to find some sort of method of alerting us when the boy climbs out of his bed.

Something loud enough to wake us from a dead sleep at night.

What really frightens me about this is that Judah was up wandering the house again last night because he was allowed to sleep in a big boy bed in big brother's room.

He already talks in his sleep, and now wanders the house at night (also apparently in his sleep)...do you see now why I worry excessively?

Have you seen those shows on TV where parents wake to find sleep-walking teenagers mechanically doing things like washing dishes, trying to get into the car in the garage and climbing around on roofs at night in their sleep yet with a blank look in their eyes?

I fear this. I truly do. But he's only going to fit in the crib for so much longer.

It's just that there are few options available that would be fire-safety approved.

Maybe keeping a baby gate in his doorway at night would help? If it was tricked out with bells?

I'm just not sure the other option would be loud enough. Bubble wrap on the floor could get pretty expensive after awhile.

On second thought, maybe I'll just put this bed in the studio/guest room for now instead.

:: :: :: ::

The kids had all been down for their naps for about a half hour or so, and I was in my studio happily drawing up landscaping plans for our newly cleared property when I heard a cry.

It sounded like the cry a little one makes in the night when they've gotten overheated and are all sticky and miserable, annoyed that their sleep was interrupted.

A sound that could almost be mistaken for a cough, but is really more of a cry of complaint. (And I know you're probably sitting there right now at your computer almost coughing, then smiling because you know exactly what type of cry I'm talking about).

"Figures it would be right after they finally all got to sleep, too..." I groused as
I silently tip-toed down the hallway to the other end of the house, hoping that whoever was awake would go back to sleep with a couple of soft pats on the back.

I peeked in on the girls and was relieved to find them both sound asleep. Which was good, because if one of the sisters woke up in the room where they were take their naps, I could pretty much kiss the next two hours of freetime goodbye.

Hoping that Judah would snuggle back into his bedding with the usual smoothing motion across his forehead, I crossed the hall, stepped into my bedroom and found that he, too, was sound asleep.

Well, whoever it was had fussed but managed to fall back to sleep on their own.

I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to work.

After drawing out some sketches for our side yard, I was trying to decide between honeysuckle or jasmine for the trellis there when I again heard crying, only this time it sounded like someone was calling out for me.

Somebody was probably thirsty. I filled a glass with water and headed stealthily back down the hallway to peek in on my boy.

He was snuggled into his blankets fast asleep.

Maybe the dogs barking earlier had wakened one of the girls. I quietly opened that door and found that they, too, were peacefully sleeping.

Coming back out to the living room, I was almost to my studio door when I again heard someone calling me.

Had Judah been pulling a fast one, trying to trick me? He'd never done such a thing before, but I certainly wouldn't put it past him.

Once again I crept down the hall and peeked into the rooms, only to find three soundly sleeping children.

I was just closing the door on the girls room when I heard it again, this time coming from the direction of the bathroom.

What in the world? I peeked in the bathroom, thinking maybe we had mourning doves nesting outside the window there as we did once in the other house.

And just then I heard the sound again coming loudly from outside, "Maaaaaaa-ma-a-a-ah."

And I had a good chuckle, realizing I'd been fooled by the neighbor's baby goat.



The kiddos quickly learned that if they made goat sounds, the kid next door would imitate them.

Little sister came running for me when the goat got too close to her and made it's loud "Maaaaaaah-ma-a-a-a" sound.

She wasn't sure what to make of an animal that could say "Mama".

:: :: :: ::

We broke out the sidewalk chalk after visiting with the goat for a bit.

Little sister was standing by the silly spider I drew.



Here, our Judah had just drawn a heart for his friend.



"Mama, wook...I maked a spiedow!"



Not too bad for a little tyke. I think he may become an arteest one day.

:: :: :: ::

In church on Sunday morning there was no Little Tot's class, and so Judah was in our Teen Sunday School class with us.

I'm pretty used to this, as for a couple of years there he was in my Wednesday evening Awana class since there was really no place else for him to go.

Occasionally he would interrupt, or the kids would laugh about something he was doing while standing out of my line of vision, but I got used to that, and was able to quickly get back on task.

Jeff, however, teaches all day in a school classroom and is unaccustomed to distractions during his class time, having very good classroom management skills. Most of his students are much older and with longer attention spans.

Judah's attention span is admittedly short, but for the most part he will sit quietly and listen.



But occasionally, all the sugar pulsing through his veins from the donuts and juice earlier will get the best of him, and he just can't contain his pent-up energy one moment longer.

This past Sunday, Jeff was in the middle of a fantastic lesson, when Judah climbed up on his seat and looked over at Lyndsay (one of the teen girls that rotates through the Nursery during Sunday Services) who was sitting to his right and whispers loudly, "Wookit, Wyndsay...I can Fwy!" And flapping his elbows wildly leaped off his seat in an arc and landed right in front of daddy's podium.

I don't know if I was just into Jeff's lesson that much or was completely oblivious to my child's distracting behavior, but it all happened so fast and just far enough out of my reach to be helpless to do anything without adding to the interruption.

That he'd been sitting there absolutely silent up to that point, and then suddenly decides to announce to Lyndsay that he could fly struck me as so funny that a giggle bubbled out.

Do you know how hard it is to restrain your laughter when something funny happens in church?

I managed to repress further audible giggles, but it instead took on that other form...silent laughter that shook my shoulders and the bench, until I was snorting and causing a bit of a scene myself.

I finally had to get up, grab Judah and leave.

Man, when is that kid going to grow up?

You Know It's Officially Spring...

...When you wake to the sounds of birds chirping and twittering in the trees and building nests under the eaves of your house.

...When you hear the first cricket songs at night and actually enjoy them.

Especially when the littlest family member is the one to bring it to everyone's attention by stopping his own incessant chatter asking, "What dat sound, daddy?"

You see, in the desert, crickets have a tendency to sneak into houses unawares during the evenings (when screen doors may or may not have been securely shut) lodging themselves behind the stove or some other hard-to-reach place and stridulating their hearts out all. night. long.

Ask me how I know this.

I'll try not to think about that, however, because tonight...for the first time this year, several crickets were heralding Spring.

Outside in the yard where they're supposed to be.

And it was a beautiful sound. A welcome one.

And we all paused to listen to the symphony for a while before dashing into the house and slamming the door behind us to be sure that none followed us inside.

You might also know it's Spring when you've been doing ridiculous amounts of yard work, an ice-cream truck goes tootling by and your parents actually spring for a treat.



"Ahhh, yeah. Dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout."

Which brings me to yet another sure sign of Spring:

Boys covered in dirt.

I think that one is pretty much self-explanatory.

Happy Spring, everybody!

Sweetness And Light and Other Disgusting Things

Some people have children who are always doing darling, imaginative or otherwise clever and creative things.

Oh, yes...I know this because I read all about them on blogs.

All of these wonderfully charming and adorable children exist out there which are apparently always doing cute and wonderful things which their mothers always manage to capture with the most incredible photographs of them in all their sweetness and light...

...and then there are my kids.

They do things that are...well, not quite so darling or imaginative.

Like the toilet water incident of a few days ago.

And, more recently, this:



Which was what happened when Jericho was watching a movie while drinking the last of the Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Cider from the bottle instead of the cup I'd told him to pour it into, sucked all the air out of the bottle and then decided to see what would happen if he stuck his tongue in the vacuum.



With his tongue still stuck, it reminded me a lot of the frozen flagpole kid from A Christmas Story except that what my son said sounded something like..."Mo-o-o-o-m...pleath don' bwog abou' thith", which I totally ignored because, hey, this is just the sort of thing that memories are made of in our house.

And then, today there was this:



What's this, you ask?

Why, it's a cute little plastic pet habitat for bugs and lizards that was given to Judah by cousin L a while back.

Judah has been searching high and low for a little lizard to keep inside of it (no doubt to scare the bejeebers out of his mom when it fell off a shelf and the lizard got loose in the house or some such scenario)to no avail.

In the meantime this little habitat has been sitting on our front porch covered in dirt and spiderwebs, having most recently housed a half-dozen earwigs which turned up when Judah hefted aside a cinderblock.

And wouldn't you just know that today, when I finally had something darling and imaginative to brag blog about, and at the very moment I was loading the pictures of the bracelet that Judah had lovingly crafted at Awana "fo you, mama"...



...I heard the water spigot turn on out front.

The water pressure at that particular spigot causes a very distinct honking kind of sound to blow through the pipes at the front of the house (which is probably a good thing with a mischievous son like Judah) so I promptly went out to see what he was up to.

I found Judah there, the hose with the new spray nozzle only inches from where he stood, clothes dripping wet

cute little critter habitat up in the air

tilted slightly

(okay, take a deep breath 'cuz this is kinda gross)

so that he could DRINK THE WATER THAT WAS DRIPPING OFF THE CORNER OF IT!

Has living in the desert so scarred this poor child that, when thirsty, he feels he must drink water from whatever vessel he happens to find some sitting in, just in case he never gets the chance at another drink again?

I'm quite sure I'll never get that image from my mind.

And I'm pretty sure I'll never stop gagging whenever I think of it.

And please, Kimmie...don't tell me what Cousin L used it for at your house. It's just better that I don't know what manner of salmonella bearing reptiles once called it home.

Yes, some parents have little darlings that are all sweetness and light...but I get snakes, snails and puppy dog tails.

Yet strangely, in spite of it all, I wouldn't want it any other way.

Well, except maybe the part about worrying that he'll come down with flu-like symptoms just before our Spring Break plans begin.

Bottle Caps and The Big Lie

So last evening, Jericho came out of his bedroom incensed that someone had rifled through his things while he was gone.

"Someone got into my closet, tore open my bottle caps candy and ate them all...and my toys are scattered all over the closet!"

Now as a rule, Judah isn't allowed in big brother's bedroom. Mostly because of his penchant for swallowing things (like nickels and tiny legos) that are not edible, but also because he can, in two seconds flat, wreak havoc on a carefully crafted lego creation that took big brother hours to construct.

Nevertheless, because the baby-proof door-knob cover on Jericho's door recently broke, I questioned him in depth.

His big brown eyes looked up into mine with such earnestness that I didn't think there was any possible way he was responsible.

Which left one other culprit... one of the little girls I babysit for...the same little girl that sleeps in that particular bedroom for nap-time.

Jericho was quick to accuse, immediately suspecting the girl, and I had to caution him that we can't jump to conclusions. We'd wait and ask her about it in the morning.

So, this morning I called her over and asked, "Did you get into Jericho's closet during nap-time and eat his candy?"

She, too, looked up at me with big hazel eyes filled with sincerity. "No, Miss Becky."

Jeff, who was standing nearby said, "Were the candies good?"

She replied, "I din't eat no cannies Mr. Jeff." Her expression and body language told me she had no earthly idea what we were talking about.

Soooo, I turned back to culprit #1 (who was listening to this interrogation questioning with great interest, I might add) and asked firmly, "Did you eat the candies in brothers closet, Judah?"

Again with those big earnest brown eyes...although this time, I sensed that the dramatic shaking of his head "no" was a bit overdone.

Jeff continued with a different tack, "What color were brother's candies, Judah?"

His eyes lit up. "Dey were pink!"

"Did they taste good?"

Once again he shook his head, only this time to say, "They were SOOO...ICKY!" and scowled in distaste.

The jig was up. (Even though Jeff, Jericho and I had to turn away from him to hide our laughing faces).

Those candies must not have been too terribly awful, because every last one of them was gone.

That kid is SO busted!

More Medical Adventures With Judah

Judah was sick with a fever this past week.

We assumed he was just fighting off the same flu-bug the girls I babysit for had recently.



Isn't that so pitiful?

His fever ran for about three days or so, peaking in the afternoon and in the middle of the night.

This, of course, wreaked havoc on my sleep. I don't know about all you other moms out there, but I tend to sleep with one ear open whenever my kids are sick, and just don't get good sound sleep.

Especially when there is the slightest bit of congestion or concern over a possible middle of the night puke detail.

Judah had pitiful glassy sickie-boy eyes and wanted me to hold him a lot more than usual, but he still found the energy to play with his toys and was cooperative in drinking plenty of fluids.

Waiting on sick children kind of throws a wrench in your usual routine, so needless to say, it was a very, very long week.

Made even longer by trying to keep him seperate from the rest of the fam to try and prevent the rest of us from getting the same bug.

When he finally started feeling good again and hadn't had a fever for 24 hours, we invited the girls I babysat for to come over again.

And that evening was when he broke out with red spots.

All over his torso, back and front.





Naturally I thoroughly freaked myself out by looking up pictures and symptoms on the internet but was very proud of myself for deciding to just take him in and let the doctor tell me what it was and not worry in worst-case-scenario for nothing.

It was a small victory, really, not running into the clinic as soon as it opened this morning thinking my kid had smallpox or some other dread disease.

Nope, I was a good girl this time.

But because a recent bout with Scarlet Fever and Hives and an ER visit weren't enough to worry his poor mom (not to mention the full-time babysitting schedule that another family is depending on us for) we now have a new childhood illness to add to the list:

Roseola. Baby measles.

And oh, joy...it's contagious to other children.

Even if the doctor did say it's pretty much just a viral infection that manifests in a rash and not particularly worrisome.

Thankfully, Jericho was already immune, having had it at 18 months while we were on vacation. Unfortunately, hard as I try to not 'share' our germs with other people when we're sick, this one kind of broke the rules on us.

I just love (sarasm intended) having to be the bearer of such news to other parents, "Oh, by the way...while they were over here yesterday, your children was exposed to ______."

Because it's not exactly the kind of news a parent says, "Thank You!" for.

Especially when it renders their kids cranky, contagious and more or less out-of-commish for a week.

Not that we could help it or anything...we took every possible preventative measure, but still, kind of embarrassing.

While at the clinic, the doctor detected a slight heart murmur.

One which wasn't detected by several medical personnel when Judah recently had his nickel removal procedure.

And speaking of which, that little emergency procedure to get "da money" out of our boy turned out to be quite spendy.



Yep, that would be 2 digits in front of the comma.

Thank God for good health insurance!

Our portion of the bill came to "only" $100.



Or $99.95 if you subtract the nickel.

*sigh*

Some folks worry about their boys eating them out of house and home with their 'growing boy' appetites, but for us it's a matter of being nickeled and Dimed by all the visits to the Doctor and the E.R.

And I ask you, does this look like a kid who has been sick all week?



Personally I think he's growing to enjoy being waited on hand and foot and is milking it for all he can.