Which One is the American?

After two plus years of his inquiring, we cracked and let Ray join the YMCA swim team this fall.  Following swim practice, Ray makes his way to locker room to shower and dress and believe me, he takes his sweet, sweet time with this process.  (Apparently the Y has a better hot shower than we do at home...)  That leaves me, my big round pregnant belly, 5 year old Rob, and 3 year old Sam waiting patiently (or as patiently as a 3 year can) in the chairs outside the pool while the big kids start their practice.

"Mom!  Which one is the American?"  Sam loudly asks.

"They are all Americans, Sam."

"They are ALL Americans?"

"Yes, Sam.  We are in America, and all of the kids are Americans."

"And they are all human?"

"Yes, they are all human boys and girls."

"So ALL of those humans are Americans too?"

"Yes Sam.  They are all humans and they are all Americans."

"Wow.  Then how do I know which one to cheer for?"

"They are all on our team Sam.  You can cheer for them all."

"Oh, okay."

Once again, we provide the entertainment wherever we go.

Tarzan

Sam is a tiny bit strong willed.  Okay, tiny bit is a understatement.  Strong willed may even be an understatement.  Sam ranks high in the  stubborn, obstinate, willful, headstrong , unbending, unyielding children I've ever known.  (And since I teach 43 preschoolers every week, that says a lot!)  I tell myself regularly that his determination will make him an amazing adult some day.  However, that means he, and I, have to survive his childhood first!

The other morning it was time to get dressed for preschool.  If I thought getting (& keeping) Sam dressed in the summer was challenging, I was sadly mistaken.  The weather was a chilly and shorts were out of the question.  I gave Sam a choice in long sleeve shirts to slip on and he rebuked them all the 1st time through.  He finally settled on a shirt the third time through the stack (with a good deal of coaxing.)  Next came pants...

"I HATE jeans!  I do not snaps!" Okay, fine.  I can live an alternative to jeans.  "Do you want this pair of this pair?"  I asked holding up 2 pairs of elastic waisted pants.

"I don't want pants.  Tarzan doesn't wear pants."  Tarzan lives in the jungle.  Tarzan doesn't go to school.  Tarzan doesn't have a mom.

"Sam, today is a school day.  You can't go to school in your underwear.  You have to put on pants."

"But I'm Tarzan!"

"How about this pair?"

"Tarzan doesn't wear those."

"Let's try these on.  You have to wear pants for school."  I managed to get a pair of pants on him.
He managed to rip them off.

"I can't wear these, kids will laugh at me!"

Cause 3 year olds always laugh at the kid who comes to school in pants.

"These feel funny.  They touch my socks.  I don't like pants that touch my socks."

Um, okay.  That's a new one.

Back and forth we went.  Pants on, pants off.  Pants on, pants off.  This could be a really good exercise for a Karate Kid in training.  Sam would agree to a pair and then find fault with whichever pair.

"I want pajama pants," Sam declared.

Hey, if the pants fit!  (and the underwear are covered....)  I had my own chuckle seeing as he had been concerned about the children laughing at him in pair of grey sweat pant type pants, but whatever.

Sam choose a pair of dark and light blue striped pajama pants.  He settled in to watch a cartoon for a few minutes while I finished a few other things before we headed out the door.  When I told Sam it was time for shoes, he stood up and took the pants off. 

"Sam!  What are you doing?  We need to go to school and you have to wear pants."

"I'm not wearing those!"

Sigh.  Here we go again.

6 pairs of pants later, the promise that he could be Tarzan after school at daycare, my threatening to leave without him and getting in the car to prove it, Sam was ready to go.  His pants were at least an inch to short and way to wide in the waist, but he was dressed.

What's in a Name?

Poor Wix #6 may actually have to write that on his kindergarten papers because we are in quite the dilemma trying to come up with a name for baby boy #4.  The boys all have family ties with their names, and we'd like to do so much for this one.  The boys all have names that they can grow into but have nice little nicknames for the times being, we'd like that for this one too.  The problem therein lies with us finding a name that meets these criteria while not causing Michael or I to scrunch up our noses.  I say a name, he responds with silence.  He says a name, I comment about such and such a student.

Add to the mix the opinions of the three boys, whom, for the record, get minimal to no vote, and the conversations get really interesting... Take the other day for example:

We were driving and I brought up the topic of names and even tried sneaking in one or two of my faves that Michael has already less than enthusiastically passed on.  "What is your dad's middle name again?" I know he's said it 100 times already, but maybe this time inspiration will strike and I'll come up with a creative way to make it work.

"Laverne," replies Michael.

I wait for the inspiration bolt of lightening, it doesn't come, I slump in my seat.  "There HAS to be the perfect name out there.  We just need to get creative.  Maybe I can come up with a cool way to combine Dale and Lee..."

"Like what, L'Dale?  Dalee?"

"Okay, maybe not."

"Let's name the baby Apple," says a voice from the backseat. We are at a stoplight near Applebee's.

"What about Target?" says another voice.  Target is kiddy corner from Applebee's.

"Oh!  What about Chip?" I say, "We all love to eat chips!"  A Frito O' Lay truck drives by.

"Sounds good to me!" says Michael.

"If it's twins, we can name one Chip and one Dale!" says Ray.

Michael and I chuckle, "Maybe, but I don't think it's twins."

"Yea, you're right, but his first name could be Chip and his middle name Dale.  Chip Dale! I like it," says Ray.

"We'll take that name into consideration," I say, trying not to bust out loud laughing.

"If he's anything like his brother, it could be fitting..." ponders Michael.

And consideration done.  I'm sure we'll pick a name before baby comes home from the hospital...

Shots?! Gulp.

I almost forgot to share another first from our experience at the doctor office yesterday...

Rob is going to kindergarten and therefor he needed a few shots before the 1st day.  By a few, I mean 4.  Gulp.  1 mom, 3 kids, 4 shots.  This had potential for disaster written all over it.  At the word "immunizations" panic broke out.  But not by Rob.  No, Ray was the one freaking out.  "He has to get shots?!?!  I HATE shots!"  Ray's face was flushed.  Tears welled in his eyes.

"Ray, you are not getting any shots.  Just Rob and he's really tough."

"But I don't even want to see a needle!" A tear slipped over the rim of his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"Fine, you don't have to.  You can wait in the waiting room."

"Okay." Ray reluctantly agreed.

When the time came for Rob's immunizations, Ray retreated to read, Rob climbed up on my lap and took the 4 immunizations like Superman.  He barely even flinched and didn't shed a tear.  As the nurses and I made a big deal about how amazing and tough Rob was, Sam decided he wanted a chance.

"My turn!  My turn!  I want a shot now."

"That's a first," commented the nurse. "I don't think I've ever had a child want a shot before."

It only got more interesting as we explained to Sam that he wasn't getting a shot today and he dissolved into tears.

"Hey, Sam, how about we come back in October and you can get a flu shot then?  We can all get flu shots to keep our baby healthy."

"Okay," Sam sniffled and agreed.  Just don't tell your oldest brother I thought as the boys all picked out a lollipop.

Who would've thunk that only child getting the shots, would be the only child to not cry about it?!?!

My Well Behaved Brood

When we had our third child and learned he was a boy, some people made comments about it being same old or how he'd never get to do anything 1st.  In some ways, life with a third boy was a little old hat.  We did have lots of blue clothes, we had the art of changing lil boy diapers down, and we were even pros at knowing how to deal with Sam's bout of jaundice.  He certainly seemed to be following the path of his brothers.

Sam decided early in life he didn't want to spend his life in the shadows of his brothers and proved as much when he fought (and thankfully won) his battle with recurrent pneumonia as an infant complete with many 1sts for our family.  However, that is a whole other blog entry in itself.  My point is, from a very early age, Sam has moved to the beat of his own drum.  Or, er, um, in this case, dances to the beat of his own song.

As I've mentioned, Sam has a favorite song.  It isn't one that we've tried to encourage, however, encouragement for it is plenty...

The other day the boys and I were clipping along down the corridor of Owatonna Clinic to have Ray's broken arm reexamined.  It was about twenty minutes after ten so the clinic was in full buzz.  The waiting room to our left had few empty chairs and the hall was lined with people moving to and fro appointments.  Right in the middle of all the commotion, Sam decided it was a good time to belt out a few lines from his favorite song.  

"I'm sexy and I know it, I'm sexy and I know it, I'm sexy and I know it."

I didn't want to draw attention to the behavior so I tightened my grip on his hand and tried pulling him along a little bit quicker.  I also avoided the amused gazes of the passerbyers who caught what he was saying.

"Look at my body!  Look at my body!  I work out!"  Sam continued complete with flexing his arms.

I could feel my face flushing as I scooped him and asked him what color lollipop he would get if they were good boys in the doctor office today.  It my relief, I not only made it to the ortho check in desk, my distraction worked as Sam started talking about the colors lollipops came in.  Whew.

Yesterday we had well child checks for Rob and Sam to make sure they were all ready for school in a few weeks.  Sam was a handful throughout the time at the appointment but things got really embarrassing when he looked at the doctor and said, "Hey, look at me!"  Sam went on to whip his t-shirt up and over his head, spin it a few times and start in with song and dance.  Dr. Holtz's face went from confusion to utter amusement as he processed what Sam was both doing and saying.

I shook my head, grabbed Sam's shirt and struggled to redress him as I asked Dr. Holtz if there was an anti-social medication we might be able to prescribe for Sam.  He laughed and confirmed my fears, there is no such medication.  He also informed me how brave we are.  He wasn't brave enough to go three kids, so he and his wife stopped at two.  I'm not sure if bravery is the word I would use...

Following our appointment, we made our way out to the waiting room to regroup and make sure we had everything we had come with before heading to the car.  The ladies at the reception desk chuckled as told me they heard Sam had a song he likes to sing.  I sighed and said, "I guess Dr. Holtz shared Sam's performance with you." 

Sam walked right up to the desk, looked at the receptionist and said, "Want to hear my song?"  In no time at all Sam's shirt was in his hand twirling to the side as he started singing.  He proceeded to fling the shirt to the floor and continue his song and dance as the crowd grew.  I could feel the color rising in my cheeks and it felt like a lot longer than the 10 seconds or so that it was.

"I'm sure this isn't the first time he's done this, but look at mom.  She still gets flushed every time he does it," commented one of the nurses.

"Make sure he doesn't see Magic Mike!" said the other nurse.

"You have adorable boys.  And they are really well behaved," commented one of the receptionists.  

I forced myself to say thank you and refrain from rolling my eyes as I ushered the boys out the door.  The receptionist followed me to lock the door behind us.  "They really are well behaved, good boys.  We see all kinds.  You'd rather have them healthy and active than not."  

I managed to smile and believe the sincerity in her eyes as I again said thank you.  If my "well behaved" boys make me blush this much, I'm thankful God didn't give me naughty ones ;)

Things You See in the Rearview Mirror

Ray's cousins had invited him to their churches Bible camp with them this summer.  I personally thought 8 seemed too young for  5 nights away from home.  Then I realized it was more me, than him having a hard time with this concept.  And since he would be staying in a cabin with 2 cousins, a family friend, have another family friend for his counselor and an uncle on site as camp dean, I was about out of good excuses.  So Monday morning came his bag was packed, sleeping bag rolled, and he was off to meet the other campers from Austin.  My brother-in-law had the group meeting at Walgreens and then heading up together on the church bus.  When Bernie had to remind Ray (and others) to come back off the bus to tell their families good-bye, I knew he was going to be just fine.  (It was still me I wasn't as sure about.)  We sat in the parking lot a few minutes while the campers took some pics and loaded up and then drove off.  A few blocks later, I checked my rearview mirror and saw an empty booster seat.  My throat knotted and a tear or two slipped down my cheek.  Sometimes being a mom is tough.

Tuesday morning I was woken up to the sound of my phone.  I missed the call, saw it had been Michael and called him right back.  "Hey, what's up?"  It's not all that common for Michael to call from work.

"Bernie just called.  Ray fell from the bunk bed and they think he may have broken his arm."

I can honestly say I wasn't horribly alarmed or startled.  Somehow, and I know it was only by the grace of God, I kept my head together, devised a plan for getting the boys taken care of for the day (thank you Nicole and Grandma!) and headed off to meet up with Ray and the camp staff at the hospital in Mankato.  I will admit I did have to use GPS to find the best way and I did have to check with Bernie on the way to say, "I'm on my way, but my way to where???" because I was a little sketchy on the details.  It was a long couple of hours from wake up to arrival at hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, I went straight to the ER desk.  I was impressed that upon mention of Ray's name, they instantly remembered "the adorable blonde boy who was trying so hard to be brave and not cry."  I was surprised when I was told it appeared that he was being discharged.  "Awesome!  Must not have been broken after all!"  I commented.

I spoke too fast.  "Oh, he is being taken up for surgery."  My heartbeat and feet both sped up at that point.  I managed to hear and follow the directions the lady gave me to the elevator and up the stairs.  I even managed to sign the appropriate forms when I got to the surgery desk.  It was such a relief once I finally got to see and hug my lil guy.

The surgeon explained that Ray had broken both bones in his right forearm all the way through and while it was not an uncommon pediatric break, it was not a desirable one.  (What break is???)  He performed a closed reduction to better align the bones and Ray was a champ through it all.  He fell asleep as we cruised home along highway 14, and as I saw his little head bob over his splinted and slinged arm, that same pesky knot returned and I let the tears finally flow, but only for 2 minutes.  Sometimes being a mom is really tough.

After some difficulty, I managed to get Ray follow up care arranged in Owatonna on Friday.  We were disappointed to learn his alignment was not ideal and a second surgery was to be on Monday.

Monday was a tough day.  A really tough one.  Monday was a long day.  A really long one.  But all in all, it went well.  Ray came through again like quite a little champ.  Michael veered for the pharmacy and I to get the other boys.  As we neared home, I glanced into my rearview mirror.  Three blondies all "mmmm'ing" their blankies with super sleepy, super sweet eyes.  And there was that familiar knot again and a single tear rolled down my cheek.  Sometime being a mom is tough, but it is oh, so worth it.

3 Reasons I Love Raising Boys

I can't believe the number of people who act as if I should be deeply saddened by the upcoming birth of another boy.  "Maybe #5 will be a girl."  "It's too bad you aren't getting a girl."  "ANOTHER boy?!  You poor thing."  Would a girl be fun and exciting, sure.  But so will a boy!  I love my boys and can't imagine life without any one of them.  If given a chance to trade one of my boys for a girl, I couldn't and wouldn't.  They are each so wonderfully and uniquely made.  And besides that, don't you know people, little boys love their mamas forever!

Reason #1-Sam
The other day I was getting ready to lay with Sam for what he calls "fake rest time" (nap time, as opposed to "real rest time" or bed time.)  His shorts were damp from sprinkler fun so we left them to dry in the bathroom.  Upon climbing into my bed with me, he started tugging at his t-shirt.  "Mommy, help me.  I need to take this off so I can be your huzzbin."  I laughed as I helped him peel his shirt up over his head and then he snuggled into next to me for a lovely nap.

Reason #2-Robby Roo

"Robby Roo, why don't you stop growing, stay 5 and live with me forever?"

"I can't Mommy.  Everyone has to grow."

"Maybe I can find some medicine to help you stop."

"I have to grow up, but I can live with you forever."

"I think you will grow up and probably get married.  I don't think your wife will want to live with me."

"Yup, she will.  I will find a wife and she can help you with all the cooking and cleaning!"

It wasn't just the words, but look of sincerity and devotion in his eyes as he spoke.

Reason #3-Ray
It was a near perfect summer evening.  Swimming and pizza topped off with a backyard fire.  Michael and I sat on an old beater love seat watching our boys chase fireflies and roast marshmallows.  When Michael got up to assist one of the boys with the roasting process, Ray ran over, snagged his seat, put his hand on his shoulder and pulled me back till my head rested on his shoulder.  It was such a sweet, loving gesture and topped off an evening that will live in my memory forever.

I love my boys and they love me.  I would trade that for any amount of pink in the whole wide world.