I Never Knew Branson could be THIS exciting!!! Are we there yet??? The 2nd morning

The next morning, I woke up and lay in my bed enjoying the stillness and quietness.  I love those minutes before everyone else is awake and I can be alone with my thoughts.  I considered getting a jumpstart on the day but knew it'd spoil the quiet moment so I continued to drift somewhere between conciseness and sleep, where dreams and thoughts meld until it is hard to separate reality from fantasy when I heard a gurgling noise from the other side of the room.  Was this a dream or reality?  I didn't wait to find out.  I whipped the covers off myself and headed towards the source of the noise: Sam's pack and play.  It sounded like he was filling his pants and it sounded loose and messy.  Sigh.  "Great," I thought, "What a way to start the day."

As I approached the pack and play, I heard a new sound, retching.  Poor baby!  I got the his side as he vomited all over his blankets and jammies.  I scooped him up and went straight into the bathroom.  I held him in the tub as he continued to be sick.  When he seemed to have it, and everything else out of his system, I began the process of cleaning him up.  I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of cleaning up bodily fluids of that sort in a small motel bathroom with limited resources, but it's not fun, just in case you were wondering.  While I peeled and rinsed Sam, Michael went to the desk to figure out what we needed to do to gain access to the laundry room.   While I left Sam in the tub to soak, I wrote up a list and sent Michael off to the store for some supplies.  Disinfecting wipes, Pepto for kids, Sierra Mist, etc.  We pawned the healthy boys off on the rents while I continued laundry and clean up duties and Michael found a store.

Once I had the clothes in the dryer, I decided to head down to the motel's breakfast bar area and find something to eat.  Sam seemed to be feeling fine at this point and wanted out of the dingy little room as badly as I did so we set off down the hall together.  As I browsed through the breakfast options, Sam kept trying to open cupboard doors or head out into the lobby.  He loves to explore and hide.  I kept asking him if he would like anything to eat and to stay put.  I found a danish for myself and turned to zap it in the microwave and in the instant I turned back around, I noticed Sam's absence.

I immediately began to open the cupboard doors, but he wasn't there.  I walked out into the lobby, he wasn't there.  Every time I looked into a nook and cranny and didn't discover Sam, my heart beat faster and faster.  The woman working asked if I needed anything, I didn't want to say it out loud, but knew I needed to.

"My two year old took off.  We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone.  He loves to hide and calling for him only makes it worse.  You didn't see him by chance did you?"

She had not seen him but joined me in my hunt.  By the time we had searched the whole lobby area and came up empty handed, I felt like my heart was about to beat right out of my chest.

"I'm going to head to our room.  Maybe he wandered that way," I told the woman.

"I'll head down the other hall," she replied.

I tore off down the hallway headed back to our room praying I would see him around each bend or by a door knocking on it with his little impish grin.  As I searched, I kept praying in my head, "God, keep him safe.  Help me find.  Help me stay calm.  Crying isn't going to do any good.  Help to keep my head clear Lord.  Guide me to him."

It was no use; Sam was not in any of the hallways.  I must have look panic stricken because a gentleman in the hallway asked me if I needed help.

"Have you seen a two year old wandering down this way?  My son is missing."

"No I haven't ma'm.  Do you need help looking for him?"

"I'm on my way to get my family, but thank you."

When I reached out corridor, I banged on my parent's and grandparent's door.

"Sam is missing.  I need your help.  We were getting breakfast and the next thing I knew, he was gone!  I can't find him anywhere."  At this point, I was beginning to loose the battle to fight back tears.  I choked back the ones that were pooling in my eyes and everyone set out right away.

By this point, Sam could be anywhere.  Could he have gotten outside?  Not on his own.  But what if sneaked out behind someone with an armload of luggage?  Worse yet, what if someone picked him up and took?  He would scream right?  Surely, someone would have noticed.

By now there were about ten of us hunting inside and outside.  I headed back to ask the woman from the front desk if maybe we needed to call the police.  Sam had now been missing for the longest 5-10 minutes of my life.  Suddenly, near the lobby, I heard a noise.  It sounded a little like a shout or a cry, but it was muffled.  I couldn't be sure what direction it had come from, neither could the woman.  She hadn't even heard it.

"Again Sam!  Cry again!"

We both stood completely still.  Listening.  Waiting.  Holding our breath.

"Mama!"

"Sam?"

Our eyes locked and we both tore off down the hall in the direction it had come from.  We hit a T in the hall.  I went left.  She turned right.

"Mama!"

"Sam?"

I knew I was closing in.  He had to be in one of these rooms, but which one?

"One more time Sammi, one more time!"

"Mama!"  It was louder this time, but still muffled.  I pressed my ear to a door and listened.  I heard nothing.

"Sammi??"

"MAMA!  MAMA!  Help me!  MAMA MAMA!"

"I'm right here Sammi!  Mama's coming.  I'm right here!  I found him!  I found him!  He's in locked in this room!"

The woman came running from the other direction and immediately began apologizing.  "I don't have a key on me!  I'm so sorry!  I'll be right back!" and she headed back toward the desk.

"MAMA!  MAMA!  Help me!  MAMA MAMA!"

"It's okay Sammi.  Mama's right here.  I just have to get this door open."

Anticipation griped at me as my mind began to wonder if he was alone in there.  What if someone had taken him in the room?  What if he wasn't alone?

The woman returned with key and I only thought for a split second if we should open the door or have one of the men do it.  We opened the door and there was Sam.  His face lit up with the grin when he's been hiding and is found.  I scooped him up and there was no holding back the tears anymore, the damn broke free and my wet cheek kissed his.  I looked back to the woman who had helped me find my son and saw her face was as tear stained as my own.

"I have a son too," she said.  "I'm so glad we found him.  I'm so glad he's okay."

I honestly don't remember what happened next, but I do remember feeling like a crushing weight had been lifted off my chest as it became easier to breathe again and thinking that Sam now owned #1 and #2 on my scariest mom moments list.

What's for Dinner?

Having spent most of the day under the weather, I was looking for a quick and easy dinner and I settled on, duh-duh-duh, PASTA!  Now you're a regular reader of my blog, I'm sure you have an idea where this entry may be headed, if you're not, you might want to go back and read about Rob's issues with pasta in a previous entry.  I made sure to have a veggie and breadsticks on hand so there would be SOMETHING Rob would eat.  I also decided to try a different tactic; when Rob asked what was for dinner, I replied, "Um, Spaghetti!" and on edge awaited his response.

Imagine my surprise when he responded, "YUM!  I love spaghetti!"  Really?  REALLY?  Never mind that this was actually rotoni noodles, spaghetti sauce and ground beef, literally the EXACT same meal as the last pasta episode.  I didn't think I could really pull this off this easily.  I figured that as soon as we sat down to the table and he saw the meal, all deals would be off the table and I'd lose.  So when Michael put the food on his plate and Rob began eagerly eating, I was really taken aback.

That's when I had my near fatal moment.  I made the mistake of uttering the P word.  "Sam, sit down and eat you pasta."  Rob's reaction was fast.  His head snapped in my direction, his mouth fell open mid bite and he gave me a questioning glare.  Think fast Mom, and that's exactly what I did. "OH, silly me!  I meant to say spaghetti."  Whew.  Rob went back to happily devouring his dinner.

I'd be sure not to make that mistake again!  But I guess Michael didn't catch on quite as quickly.  When he spoke pasta, my heart caught in my throat.  How long could we get by with this???  Surely we were busted now.  But maybe Rob didn't hear.  No he did in fact hear, but instead of freaking out he calmly said, "Silly Daddy.  He said pasta too!  Dad, it's SPAGHETTI, not pasta!"  and popped another bite into his mouth.

Score
Mom and Dad: 107
Rob: 1,354

I never knew Branson could be THIS exciting!!! Are we there yet??? Night 1

We had decided that we should go somewhere for Easter this year.  We wanted it to be in driving distance, we wanted to use our vacation club, and we only had a few days to work with.  After looking at a few options, we settled on Branson, Missouri.  We also invited my parents and my grandparents along for the ride.  Grandma and Grandpa had been twice before, but I don't think they had any clue what they were signing up for when they agreed to come with the Wx!

We planned to leave after work and school on Wednesday afternoon/early evening.  By the time I got a couple errands run, picked up all three kiddos and made it to my neighborhood, I had already had two calls from my mom wondering when we were leaving and as I pulled into my driveway, I was only slightly surprised to see that my parents and grandparents were already parked there waiting for us.

"Good thing I loaded almost everything in the truck last night," I  thought.  "I hope they will at least let me pee and put on jeans before we leave."  I didn't give them the option, though I did leave the younger two buckled while Ray and I ran into the house to use the facilities and change out of our school clothes into jeans and sweatshirts.  I was also glad to see Michael had made it home, gotten cleaned up and was ready to go.  In next to no time at all, we were on the road and headed south for Missouri.  The plan: drive until we need to stop and find somewhere to crash till morning.

As best I can recall, our first evening of driving wasn't too eventful.  We stopped and had a nice dinner at the Machine Shed in Iowa and decided to keep driving since the boys were traveling fairly well.  We saw small town after small town with motel after motel so we didn't see any reason to stop.

The drive continued pretty well and about 10 p.m., we decided we'd look for a place to stop.  Why is it that as soon as you are looking for a place, they suddenly become very sparse?  And being a Bambrick by blood, getting off the main road for a place is NOT an option.  If it's not visible from the road, forget it and drive on.  Sooner or later one is bound to exist.  Using the GPS, we saw that there was a town about 45-60 minutes out with several options so onward we continued.  I even used the GPS's info to call one and ask about availability and pricing.  It was both available AND cheap!  (Almost too cheap; it was not first choice on my list.)

By the time we arrived, boys were wide-awake, yet dead tired and a wee bit on the whiny side, and by wee bit, I really mean super de duper!!  The place I had called had lights out in their neon sign and lots of semi's in the lot.  I suggested we try the one across the road.  So we did.  They had 1 or 2 smoking rooms only and were way over priced.  Next.  We tried the motel across from that.  They had smoking rooms, so weird hospitality room but would but all 9 of us in one room but 2 adults on a hide-a-bed.  Not exactly ideal.  So on to my last resort.  The small town inn.  Since I just wanted a bed that I hoped was fairly clean without the stench of smoke, two non-smoking rooms were checked out at reasonable rates.  I was pleasantly surprised by the cleanness of our accommodations and shortly, we all dozed off to dreamland.  We're over 1/2 there now baby.

I Live With a Houseful of DORKS!!!

First and foremost, I think it is important that clarify a few things.  In our household, terms of endearment might be a little bit different that the ones you are used to.  I grew up in house where we lovingly and playfully used terms like dork, nerd, goose, and so on a regular basis.  No offense was meant and none was taken.  When my oldest nephew took offense to being called a silly goose, I was taken back.  I didn't mean it in an unbecoming way what so ever, but try as I may to explain it to my very matter of fact nephew, he just couldn't see any value in silliness so I ended up apologizing.  It was the first time I ever really thought about the idea that my values of silliness, goofiness, fun, and being dorky were not necessarily valued by others.  Needless to say, they ARE still values in the WX household today.  So if someone from my family calls you a dork, don't take offense, say "Thank you!"

Which brings me back to my post today.  I was explaining about my houseful of dorks...

My boys have been addicted to computers, books and Star Wars for quite some time now.  Recently, they have added YouTube to their list of things they obsess over.  Gone are the days of encyclopedias for looking up information; they now love going to Google or on YouTube to look for videos to answer all kinds of crazy questions and wonderings they might have.  In the last few weeks, Ray has come to the discovery that HE could make and post videos on YouTube too and he is anxious to give it a try.  

Before school one day last week, I heard Ray and Rob making plans for their first YouTube video.  They would like to make a video to teach other kids about the Civil War, or as Ray says, "the /k/ivil war."  (Who IS this child's reading teacher???  Oh wait.  That might be me.)  They were discussing what they might wear, if they should have a battle scene, what it should look like, what they will say and so on.  I smiled to myself thinking little to nothing will come from it.

After school that day, the buzz continued.  They were anxious to get started on their big project but decided they might need a little more background information.  They wanted to be as accurate as possible.  (Ray's words, not mine.)  When I suggested we bike to the library to see what we might find there, you would have thought I offered them a trip to a water park.

By the time we had the bikes all down and ready to go (first family ride of 2011!) Michael was home.  In his own way, he was also anxious to go to the library to get some Civil War reading material.  "I'd read the books too," was his comment.  Of course he would, and it wouldn't be with any arm twisting.  

Off we set to the library and with a little help from the online catalog I found the part of the library where our treasures could be found.  Scouring through the shelves of books we quickly accumulated a sizable stack of books on the floor around us.  Fortunately, the puppet theatre area was just a few feet to the side so Sam was able to entertain himself too because the boys weren't quick about making their selections.  I waited and made a few suggestions.  I flipped through a book here and there.  I tried not to appear bored, but it was tough.  History, especially wars: it's just not my thing.  I found myself urging the boys to choose 1 or 2 books each for checkout so we could head home.  Of course they immediately responded, sprang up and headed for the checkout right?  Try again.  They didn't even hear me!  IF they DID hear me at all, I'm sure I sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown.  "Wah, wah, woh, wah, wah."  I got nothing.  No response what so ever.

Try again.  Same response.  Nada.

Third times the charm, right?  Nope.  Nothing.

At that point, I looked at the three of them.  I didn't just see Michael, Ray and Rob reading books on the floor of our local library.  I saw that they had all been teleported to another time period through the pages, words and pictures in the books they were bent over.  I laughed out loud as I looked at Michael and said, "Man!  I live with a houseful of dorks!"

Not being able to make it past the kitchen with his new book, Ray continuing his intent reading on the "K-ivil War" 

Robby paging through Civil War book also on the kitchen floor.

The Robber Did It!

Life at the WX house is never boring.  That statement is an accurate statement without a doubt.  If there were degrees of accuracy, that would be high.  But do you know what would be even more accurate??  Life with Rob is never boring.  Want an example?  Take a sneak peek into a morning at our house last week...

Rob woke up and lumbered into my bedroom where I was finishing getting ready and Sam was already cuddled up on my bed.  At Sam's request, I had turned the TV on.  I mean really, what's the harm in a little PBS kids early in the morning?  It keeps him still and quiet long enough for me to put on a little  makeup.

Well, apparently Rob didn't seem to thin it was harmless.  In fact, he found it quit disturbing and and painful.  He began screaming at me to "Turn the TV off!!!  Why do you always make me watch TV?  It's hurting my eyes.  Owie, owie, owie!  My eyes hurt!  Please don't make me watch TV!  I can't get dressed if I have to watch TV!"  I never knew Martha Speaks could be such a painful experience.  Nor did I know how malicious I was in forcing my children to watch educational televised programming!

On and on he went.  "My eyes!  My eyes!  Don't make me watch TV!  I don't want to watch it.  Turn it off!"  Any passerby would have thought I was doing serious harm to my child.  They would have thought I had him tied to bedposts, forced his eyes open with toothpicks and was forcing him to watch inappropriate content from a blaring big screen television.  In reality, he was voluntarily standing in the middle of my bedroom, fixing his own eyes upon the small screen of my old TV tuned into cartoon focused on expanding the vocabulary of young children.  (On second thought, maybe I should have turned it off.  It's not like he needs his vocabulary expanded!)

Of course, I could have put an end to it by turning the TV off.  But by the same token, he is Rob.  While it would have made peace for the moment, another moment would have been just around the bend.  Not to mention the fact Sam was perfectly content on my bed to cuddle with his blankie while I peacefully (or as peacefully as possible) coated my eyelashes with mascara.

Somehow we managed to get through the trials and tribulations of getting dressed (even with PBS airing), eating breakfast and loading ourselves into the truck to head out for the day.  It wasn't without a good deal of whining and whimpering from Rob though.  That's why when we pulled out of our driveway and he opened his mouth to start with yet another rant, I looked in the rearview mirror at him and said, "Rob, please.  Please, just close your mouth.  I don't want to hear any more.  I'm tired of it this morning."

Well of course he closed his mouth like the obedient, respectful young man that he is.  Oh wait.  That was just my dream version of it.  Reality?  He screams back at me, "You know I DON'T HAVE A MUTE BUTTON!"  sigh.  Yes, I do know.  I know ALL too well.

Somehow I mange to remain composed and keep the us all on our merry little way and pull into the driveway of our daycare.  It's Thursday, which means Sam goes to Becky's and Rob tags along with Ray and myself to school through preschool and then he also heads to Becky's.  "Boys, stay buckled up.  I'm going to run in and drop Sam off and then we'll all get to school."

I dropped off Sam without too much hassle and checked the time as we reverse out of Becky's driveway.  "Whew.  We're still on time.  Amazing!"  I thought to myself as my thoughts are interrupted by a holler from the backseat.

"Mom!  You forgot to buckle me!"

What?  Did I not buckle him before we left our house?  Has he been unbuckled this whole drive?  No.  I distinctly remember buckling him in our garage.

"No.  I DID buckle you.  Why did you UNbuckle?"  I put the truck back in park and open my door to make way to Rob so I can re-buckle him.

"I didn't.  The robber did."

"The robber?  Really?  There was a robber out here while I was inside Becky's house?"

"Yup."

I reach around Rob to click his buckle into place and my hand touches something.  I glance around him to see what it is.  It is a bouquet of flower shaped lollipops that I had purchased to serve as our centerpiece for our preschool concert that evening.  How did these get from my bag in the front seat to Rob's seat?  I confident I know the answer, but I still ask the question.  "Rob, how did these get back here?"

"The robber did it!"

"The robber?  You mean there was a robber here who moved my suckers and unbuckled you but took nothing?  Not my laptop.  Not my wallet.  Not you or Ray.  Not even the suckers. Huh."

"He was going to take the suckers but he dropped them when he unbuckled me and then he just left."

When I got to school I shared the robber story with a co-worker who laughed and said, "Sounds like he got his mama's imagination and story telling skills."  Man, if that's true, I might be in for some SERIOUS trouble!

Turn DOWN the Volume!

This is the shirt Robby was wearing when I picked him up from daycare the other day.  When I got out of my truck and read his shirt, I busted out laughing.  No words can express how true this is.  Anyone who has spent any time with Rob is fully aware of the child's volume issue.  He is L-O-U-D.  He talks loud.  He yells loud.  He cries loud.  He screams loud.  We work on it constantly, but it's just the way he's wired I guess.  (I honestly can't help but think that it doesn't go back to his frequent ear troubles as an infant and toddler.  He did have some hearing loss then, but the tubes seemed to reverse it.)

This past winter, Rob was given another shirt by his grandma that reads "I don't have a mute button."  It is also very true.  It quickly became not only a favorite shirt of his, but also a favorite saying too.  He uses it often when asked to be quiet.  "I can't!  I don't have a mute button!"  Thanks Grandma.

For those of you not familiar with Rob's volume, here's a little sample of what he's capable of.  Keeping in mind, of course, this is him in a good and cooperative mood.  Other moods are a lot louder and a lot less cute :)

Lightsaber Fun is For EVERYone!

So at the W-X house, no one is exempt from the fun with lightsabers.  I am constantly be attacked with a lightsaber of various sizes and colors.  Does that mean we have them all over?  No. And yes.  We do have 2 genuine Star Wars toy lightsabers.  Additionally, we have an orange Power Ranger lightsaber type thing.  We also have a few glow stick flashlights that make cool mini lightsabers.  But most frequently, you will see one of boys wielding a stick.  Or broom stick.  Or fork.  Or any other somewhat linear shaped item.  Yes, in my house anything is game for a duel and any lightsaber will do.  Even 2 year old Sam gets in on the mix.  They all have some impressive skills, but given his age, Sam really takes the show.  Even more impressive are his sounds effects.  He makes this tongue rolling ticking noise that I couldn't make if my life depended on it.  After the loss of two teeth, we were certain his noise effects would be a thing of the past, but I guess no one ever thought to tell him that rolling his tongue should be a challenge now.  Today the boys were at battle and I thought it would be a good time to catch Sam in action.  But of course, catching this on camera is easier said than done.  I got a bit, but I'll keep trying.