You know those conversations children have when adults aren't around? Or at least our of eyeshot... Those are my favorite ones to eavesdrop in on. My boys talk about some of the most interesting stuff and I get such amazing insight into the ways their minds work.
If you follow my blog at all, you are well aware the Rob is fascinated by presidents. Abraham Lincoln is a true hero in his eyes and he and Ray both think the Civil War is a fascinating piece of American History and so it and relevant aspects are frequent conversation pieces in our home.
As I made lunch the other day, this is a bit of their conversation...
"You know Rob, Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves with the Civil War."
"Yea, I know that."
"You know, you probably would have been a part time slave if it wasn't for Lincoln."
"Yea probably."
"And Papa too. His skin is a little bit darker too. You and Papa both have darkish skin. It's not really black, but it's not white like mine."
"Yea. I know."
"But you are only a little bit dark so you would've only been a part-time slave. That means you'd work for someone in the morning but then you would've had the afternoon off to do whatever you want. Papa is a little darker than you so he would've had to work longer."
"Yea."
"Part-time slaves were easier to free that full-time slaves. I bet Lincoln was able to free them first so you would've got to free early in the war."
"YEAH!"
"They had to fight the war a long time to free all the full-time slaves."
"But he did it and now all the slaves are free!"
Hmmmm.... Something tells me we have some details to smooth out here...
Monday, August 22, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Goodbye Grandma
The last few weeks have been difficult in the larger Wx family. We have had to prepare and finally say goodbye to a staple of the family. If we are the bread, she was the soft butter that she always kept on the table. Grandma Wx was an amazing woman and she will be greatly missed. Michael and his siblings were fortunate enough to have grown up across the road from their grandmother. With her farmhouse directly across from theirs, there was a great deal of work and visiting to be done with her. When I joined the family 10 years ago, there were a lot of things that made me feel like an in-law, but Grandma was never one of them.
My children also loved the woman they called Great Grandma so you can imagine that it was with difficulty that they said goodbye. Ray had experienced a funeral once before with the passing of my grandmother a few years back, but it is a vague memory for him and not a memory at all for Rob who was just a baby at the time.
Grandma lived a full 87 years. Her love of life affected the lives of her 4 children, 15 grandchildren, and 29 great grandchildren. (And that doesn't even count the children and grandchildren she gained by marriage!) One thing that amazed everyone was when she decided in her 60's to go take care of old people at the nursing home. She never missed a day of work in 16 years and retired in 2003.
In the last few years, Grandma's health was not what it had been. Two weeks before her death, she fell and broke her hip. She did well through the surgery but the complications of pneumonia and blood pressure fluctuation proved challenging. As she tried to rally, her family gathered around her bedside and Michael and I tried to explain what was happening to our children. When we would leave them with my Mom or Sue because family said it might be tonight, Ray and Rob would get wet eyes because they didn't want Great Grandma to die. In the morning they would climb into my bed and with sad eyes ask if Great Grandma had died. When I would say no, she was still alive, their smiles and cheers always lifted my spirit.
Last week, family gathered at Grandma's bedside daily as the end become more and more evident. I will never forget sitting there Thursday night into the early morning hours of Friday watching her children and grandchildren gathered around her, holding her hands, stroking her hair, telling stories, singing songs and reminding her she had nothing to fear. Grandma knew Jesus and with that, we all knew where her place in eternity lie. The love in that room was so powerful and such a testimony to the woman she was and the life she lived.
When Michael and I left at 2:30 a.m., we truly expected to wake up in the morning and learn she was gone. But she wasn't. We went off to work and school while her children and some grandchildren stayed at her bedside. Close to noon that day, we learned that Grandma had left her pain and sorrows behind to join her husband and other family on the other side of the pearly gates.
I didn't plan on telling the boys until we were home and all together, but insightful and sensitive Rob asked when I picked him up from daycare, "Mom, is Great Grandma still alive?"
I looked into his big blue-green eyes and told him the truth. "No honey. She died today. But that's okay, because do know where she is now?"
"She's with Jesus," Robby replied with a sad smile.
"Yes, she is," and I swallowed back my tears.
We gathered as a large family that evening for dinner and fellowship. Some of us found our way to the floor surrounded by years worth of photos. As we pointed and laughed, told stories, and remembered, Sam walked up to my mother-in-law, pointed at her and in a puzzled voice said, "You dead?"
"No honey, Grandma is not dead. GREAT Grandma is dead."
"Great Grandma dead?"
"Yes, Great Grandma is dead. The only who lives across the road."
"That chair?" Sam asked pointing the rocking chair where Grandma sat nearly every Sunday and for any other family gathering.
"Yes. Great Grandma who sat in that chair is dead."
"Oh. Where she at?"
"She's gone honey. She's in heaven now."
"She on the roof?"
"No, she is in heaven."
"She in the basement?"
"No, she is in heaven, with Jesus."
"Oh, she with Jesus."
As the time for the funeral drew near, Michael and I discussed if the boys should go and what they should wear. We decided it would be good for them to go and have the experience now rather than wait and have it for the first time with someone they are even closer to. When Rob heard Michael was wearing a suit, he got his own ideas about what he should wear.
"Can I dress like a president for Great Grandma's funeral?"
"Sure," I replied too quickly thinking a shirt and tie would suffice.
"I wanna look like George Washington!" Rob said motioning near his neck, "I want a fluffy white thing!"
Uh-oh. "I don't think we'll find a shirt like that."
"Adams?"
"Hmm, no."
"Jefferson?"
"No."
"Jackson?"
"No."
"Who can I dress like?"
'How about Obama?"
"Okay. Or what about W. Bush?"
"Fine."
The shirt and tie were not enough and my quest for a sport jacket only found one: a Calvin Klein version at the cost of $90. But Rob was relentless. We wanted to wear his tuxedo leftover from Ray's ring bear debut. As I thought about if I should let him wear it or not, I finally asked myself what would Grandma say? She'd surely say, "Yea, sure, whatever you got it fine." I smiled as we compromised by letting him wear the jacket.
Word got around throughout the day that a future president was in the midst. It was nice to see people smile as they told Rob they would be sure to vote for him someday. I'm sure Grandma would have agreed.
My children also loved the woman they called Great Grandma so you can imagine that it was with difficulty that they said goodbye. Ray had experienced a funeral once before with the passing of my grandmother a few years back, but it is a vague memory for him and not a memory at all for Rob who was just a baby at the time.
Grandma lived a full 87 years. Her love of life affected the lives of her 4 children, 15 grandchildren, and 29 great grandchildren. (And that doesn't even count the children and grandchildren she gained by marriage!) One thing that amazed everyone was when she decided in her 60's to go take care of old people at the nursing home. She never missed a day of work in 16 years and retired in 2003.
In the last few years, Grandma's health was not what it had been. Two weeks before her death, she fell and broke her hip. She did well through the surgery but the complications of pneumonia and blood pressure fluctuation proved challenging. As she tried to rally, her family gathered around her bedside and Michael and I tried to explain what was happening to our children. When we would leave them with my Mom or Sue because family said it might be tonight, Ray and Rob would get wet eyes because they didn't want Great Grandma to die. In the morning they would climb into my bed and with sad eyes ask if Great Grandma had died. When I would say no, she was still alive, their smiles and cheers always lifted my spirit.
Last week, family gathered at Grandma's bedside daily as the end become more and more evident. I will never forget sitting there Thursday night into the early morning hours of Friday watching her children and grandchildren gathered around her, holding her hands, stroking her hair, telling stories, singing songs and reminding her she had nothing to fear. Grandma knew Jesus and with that, we all knew where her place in eternity lie. The love in that room was so powerful and such a testimony to the woman she was and the life she lived.
When Michael and I left at 2:30 a.m., we truly expected to wake up in the morning and learn she was gone. But she wasn't. We went off to work and school while her children and some grandchildren stayed at her bedside. Close to noon that day, we learned that Grandma had left her pain and sorrows behind to join her husband and other family on the other side of the pearly gates.
I didn't plan on telling the boys until we were home and all together, but insightful and sensitive Rob asked when I picked him up from daycare, "Mom, is Great Grandma still alive?"
I looked into his big blue-green eyes and told him the truth. "No honey. She died today. But that's okay, because do know where she is now?"
"She's with Jesus," Robby replied with a sad smile.
"Yes, she is," and I swallowed back my tears.
We gathered as a large family that evening for dinner and fellowship. Some of us found our way to the floor surrounded by years worth of photos. As we pointed and laughed, told stories, and remembered, Sam walked up to my mother-in-law, pointed at her and in a puzzled voice said, "You dead?"
"No honey, Grandma is not dead. GREAT Grandma is dead."
"Great Grandma dead?"
"Yes, Great Grandma is dead. The only who lives across the road."
"That chair?" Sam asked pointing the rocking chair where Grandma sat nearly every Sunday and for any other family gathering.
"Yes. Great Grandma who sat in that chair is dead."
"Oh. Where she at?"
"She's gone honey. She's in heaven now."
"She on the roof?"
"No, she is in heaven."
"She in the basement?"
"No, she is in heaven, with Jesus."
"Oh, she with Jesus."
As the time for the funeral drew near, Michael and I discussed if the boys should go and what they should wear. We decided it would be good for them to go and have the experience now rather than wait and have it for the first time with someone they are even closer to. When Rob heard Michael was wearing a suit, he got his own ideas about what he should wear.
"Can I dress like a president for Great Grandma's funeral?"
"Sure," I replied too quickly thinking a shirt and tie would suffice.
"I wanna look like George Washington!" Rob said motioning near his neck, "I want a fluffy white thing!"
Uh-oh. "I don't think we'll find a shirt like that."
"Adams?"
"Hmm, no."
"Jefferson?"
"No."
"Jackson?"
"No."
"Who can I dress like?"
'How about Obama?"
"Okay. Or what about W. Bush?"
"Fine."
The shirt and tie were not enough and my quest for a sport jacket only found one: a Calvin Klein version at the cost of $90. But Rob was relentless. We wanted to wear his tuxedo leftover from Ray's ring bear debut. As I thought about if I should let him wear it or not, I finally asked myself what would Grandma say? She'd surely say, "Yea, sure, whatever you got it fine." I smiled as we compromised by letting him wear the jacket.
Word got around throughout the day that a future president was in the midst. It was nice to see people smile as they told Rob they would be sure to vote for him someday. I'm sure Grandma would have agreed.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
When I Grow Up
Rob has a fascination with presidents lately. The first presidential incident that I can recall was back in February this past winter. President's Day was approaching and Ray, 1st grade at the time, was researching James A. Garfield and creating a presentation on him. I remember our whole family driving down 4th street in our Yukon and Rob inquiring if Washington was dead.
"Wahsington? George Washington, the president?"
"Yea, that's the one. Is he dead?"
"Yes honey, he's dead. He's been dead for a long long time."
"Oh."
We drove on further down the road while Rob apparently continued to ponder this. A few minutes passed and he said, "What about Log?"
"Log?"
"Yea, Log."
"Log? Like Lincoln logs?"
"Yea. Lincoln Log! Is he dead too?"
"OH! You mean Abraham Lincoln. Yes. He is dead too."
"AW MAN! ALL my favorite presidents are dead!!!"
As adorable as this was, I never dreamt it would be the beginning of a full fledge presidential fascination. Rob colors pictures (which he hangs in chronological order), borrows books from the library, listens to videos on YouTube, sing songs, and spots president pictures everywhere. I have to admit, he has taught me a great deal of history this summer.
The other morning Rob woke up way to early so as is customary in the Wx household, he curled up in bed with me. He fell back asleep and woke up again at a more reasonable 7ish. He barely peeked through his sleepy eyes and anxiously asked, "Mom, what do presidents eat?"
"Well, they eat food just like you."
"No, I mean, how do they get big and strong. What do they eat? What does Barack Obama eat?" His voice sounded genuinely concerned and on edge.
"They are people just like you and me Robby. They eat foods like fruits, vegetables, meat, just like you."
"Oh." This time Rob sounded very relieved.
The relief didn't last for long because soon he was fighting back tears as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, looked at me and said, "Mom. When I grow up, I want to president, but I don't want to die. I don't want to die when I'm president like Lincoln. I want to president and die when I'm done like Washington."
What was I to do? I scooped him up, hugged him tightly and said, "I think you'd make a great president. I'd vote for you. And don't worry. Now the president has lots of people to keep him safe." As I squeezed him a little more I thought to myself, "And until then, I'll do what I can."
"Wahsington? George Washington, the president?"
"Yea, that's the one. Is he dead?"
"Yes honey, he's dead. He's been dead for a long long time."
"Oh."
We drove on further down the road while Rob apparently continued to ponder this. A few minutes passed and he said, "What about Log?"
"Log?"
"Yea, Log."
"Log? Like Lincoln logs?"
"Yea. Lincoln Log! Is he dead too?"
"OH! You mean Abraham Lincoln. Yes. He is dead too."
"AW MAN! ALL my favorite presidents are dead!!!"
As adorable as this was, I never dreamt it would be the beginning of a full fledge presidential fascination. Rob colors pictures (which he hangs in chronological order), borrows books from the library, listens to videos on YouTube, sing songs, and spots president pictures everywhere. I have to admit, he has taught me a great deal of history this summer.
The other morning Rob woke up way to early so as is customary in the Wx household, he curled up in bed with me. He fell back asleep and woke up again at a more reasonable 7ish. He barely peeked through his sleepy eyes and anxiously asked, "Mom, what do presidents eat?"
"Well, they eat food just like you."
"No, I mean, how do they get big and strong. What do they eat? What does Barack Obama eat?" His voice sounded genuinely concerned and on edge.
"They are people just like you and me Robby. They eat foods like fruits, vegetables, meat, just like you."
"Oh." This time Rob sounded very relieved.
The relief didn't last for long because soon he was fighting back tears as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, looked at me and said, "Mom. When I grow up, I want to president, but I don't want to die. I don't want to die when I'm president like Lincoln. I want to president and die when I'm done like Washington."
What was I to do? I scooped him up, hugged him tightly and said, "I think you'd make a great president. I'd vote for you. And don't worry. Now the president has lots of people to keep him safe." As I squeezed him a little more I thought to myself, "And until then, I'll do what I can."
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Things I Never Knew I'd Have to Say (Part 2)
We recently had an addition to our family. Ewok (I know you are all shocked by the name!) is now 10 weeks old and a little tiny ball of fluff. With this ball of fluff, there have been more things I find myself smirking as I have to say them to the boys...
BTW, This one's for you Nick J!
"Don't put the leash around your brother's neck."
"Don't put the leash around your neck!"
"Don't put the leash around your neck, tie it to the tree and try running around the tree!!!"
"Don't drag the puppy by the leash."
"Don't pick the puppy up by the leash."
"Don't pick the puppy up by her neck."
"Don't carry the puppy upside down."
"Set the puppy down, don't let go till her feet are on the ground." (Sam is rather good at releasing 2 feet above ground level.)
"If you don't like you nose bitten, don't put it next to the puppy's mouth."
"Don't chew on the puppy's toys."
"Don't put your brother in the dog kennel."
"Don't LOCK your brother in the dog kennel."
"NO BOYS in the dog kennels!"
"The puppy should not take a bath with you."
"Puppies do not take baths in the washing machine."
"Get the dog out of the washing machine, NOW!"
"I think the poor puppy needs a nap." (and so do I!)
BTW, This one's for you Nick J!
"Don't put the leash around your brother's neck."
"Don't put the leash around your neck!"
"Don't put the leash around your neck, tie it to the tree and try running around the tree!!!"
"Don't drag the puppy by the leash."
"Don't pick the puppy up by the leash."
"Don't pick the puppy up by her neck."
"Don't carry the puppy upside down."
"Set the puppy down, don't let go till her feet are on the ground." (Sam is rather good at releasing 2 feet above ground level.)
"If you don't like you nose bitten, don't put it next to the puppy's mouth."
"Don't chew on the puppy's toys."
"Don't put your brother in the dog kennel."
"Don't LOCK your brother in the dog kennel."
"NO BOYS in the dog kennels!"
"The puppy should not take a bath with you."
"Puppies do not take baths in the washing machine."
"Get the dog out of the washing machine, NOW!"
"I think the poor puppy needs a nap." (and so do I!)
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Hungry Hungry Kiddos
My kids may appear small, but don't let that fool you about their appetites! I have NO idea where they pack the food away, but somehow they manage to eat and eat and eat. I can't imagine what our grocery bill will be by the time they are teenagers. YIKES!
On a campout a few weeks back, my long-time friend Caroline was in charge of bringing the hot dogs and brats. She thought she brought extras. My boys fooled her when they ate 2 a piece along with plenty of other sides.
The other evening, Michael was working on a vehicle which left the me and the boys on our own for dinner. Since we had returned from camping earlier that day and were low on groceries, I had no issue caving when Rob requested cereal for dinner.
Here is what they managed to shove into their hollow legs:
Sam: 2 bowls of cereal
1 apple
1 piece of string cheese
and several crackers
Ray: 2 bowls of cereal
1 piece of string cheese
and a half sleeve of crackers (come to think of it, that wasn't very much for Ray; maybe he was too tired from the campout)
Rob: 3 bowls of cereal
2 pieces of string cheese
an apple
and some crackers
I can honestly say they all out ate me, but that really isn't anything new these days...
Well, I think we're out of cereal. And fruit. And granola bars. And orange juice. Guess I better make a trip to the grocery store. Again.
On a campout a few weeks back, my long-time friend Caroline was in charge of bringing the hot dogs and brats. She thought she brought extras. My boys fooled her when they ate 2 a piece along with plenty of other sides.
The other evening, Michael was working on a vehicle which left the me and the boys on our own for dinner. Since we had returned from camping earlier that day and were low on groceries, I had no issue caving when Rob requested cereal for dinner.
Here is what they managed to shove into their hollow legs:
Sam: 2 bowls of cereal
1 apple
1 piece of string cheese
and several crackers
Ray: 2 bowls of cereal
1 piece of string cheese
and a half sleeve of crackers (come to think of it, that wasn't very much for Ray; maybe he was too tired from the campout)
Rob: 3 bowls of cereal
2 pieces of string cheese
an apple
and some crackers
I can honestly say they all out ate me, but that really isn't anything new these days...
Well, I think we're out of cereal. And fruit. And granola bars. And orange juice. Guess I better make a trip to the grocery store. Again.
Monday, July 25, 2011
EVERYone???
We all have memories from childhood of saying things like, "But MOM! EVERYone has one!" To which parents across the world respond, "EVERYone???" While we knew in our heads what our parents were saying, it wasn't what we wanted to hear it it certainly didn't help us move past the feeling we had in our hearts.
Yesterday Ray and Rob were in the swimming pool and I was walking around the yard watering my flowers. As I water petunias near the pool I heard Ray and Rob working on their rendition of Kung Fu Fighting. "You sing the first part and then I'll do the HUHs," Rob instructed his older brother.
"Everyone likes Kung Fu Fighting!" sang Ray. (He had already decided EVERYone was not fighting but more people liked Kung Fu Fighting.
"Huh! Huh!" chimed in Rob.
On and on they went switching up parts and adding actions and jumps into the pool. When they got out Ray was following me around the yard continuing to sing to himself and then began to think aloud.
"Hmm. I don't think EVERYone likes kung fu fighting. 90% like kung fun fighting!"
Pleased with his modification, he continued on with his new lyrics for a minute or two before he must have decided while that was an improvement, maybe that it was an accurate reflection of how people felt about kung fu fighting.
"98% like kung fu fighting!"
I don't know which part of me was more amused and pleased: the mom who was happy to have him think past the idea that of EVERYone else or the math teacher who has thrilled to see him playing around with ideas of mathematical concepts in a real world situation.
Yesterday Ray and Rob were in the swimming pool and I was walking around the yard watering my flowers. As I water petunias near the pool I heard Ray and Rob working on their rendition of Kung Fu Fighting. "You sing the first part and then I'll do the HUHs," Rob instructed his older brother.
"Everyone likes Kung Fu Fighting!" sang Ray. (He had already decided EVERYone was not fighting but more people liked Kung Fu Fighting.
"Huh! Huh!" chimed in Rob.
On and on they went switching up parts and adding actions and jumps into the pool. When they got out Ray was following me around the yard continuing to sing to himself and then began to think aloud.
"Hmm. I don't think EVERYone likes kung fu fighting. 90% like kung fun fighting!"
Pleased with his modification, he continued on with his new lyrics for a minute or two before he must have decided while that was an improvement, maybe that it was an accurate reflection of how people felt about kung fu fighting.
"98% like kung fu fighting!"
I don't know which part of me was more amused and pleased: the mom who was happy to have him think past the idea that of EVERYone else or the math teacher who has thrilled to see him playing around with ideas of mathematical concepts in a real world situation.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The one in the middle: 24 hours in the life of Rob
Life with Rob can be interesting to say the least. He is most defiantly a middle child. I guess that's bound to happen when you have three kiddos. I think the fact that they are all boys only amplifies that situation at times. It will never cease to amaze me how he can be as good as gold one minute and have his head spinning the next. I am also perplexed by the fact that it seems that if there is screaming, yelling or fighting in our house, Rob is almost always involved in some way, but you can be sure, it is NEVER his fault...
Don't get me wrong, I love the little goose to no end. He makes me smile multiple times a day. I often find myself even laughing out loud at his antics, even when I maybe shouldn't. After all if I didn't laugh, I might cry. Actually, sometimes I do cry; sometimes I'm crying because I'm crying because I'm laughing so hard, and sometimes I'm crying first and then laughing.
I think Michael and I are able to laugh about it more than others might because we are both middle children ourselves. We know what it can feel to sometimes feel like you are lost in the middle with an older sibling who knows more and is allowed to do more and a younger sibling who is inevitably the family's baby in every way. That internal struggle with striving to be older and wiser on one hand, but wanting the attention and coddling of the baby on the other and feeling either way, it doesn't matter because you're always just the one in the middle.
To help illustrate this point let me share with you a few of his attention seeking antics in a 24 hour window...
It began in the morning when Rob decided he needed breakfast and he needed it now!!! This isn't exactly out of the ordinary for Rob. I asked him what he wanted and he choose toast. So I made toast. And he ate toast right? Wrong. He decided he didn't really want toast he wanted something else. Too bad. You picked toast, you got toast. Eat it. Screaming, stomping and a whole fit resulted. I shrugged my shoulders and continued on with my day figuring if he's hungry enough, he'll eat it.
The toast became cold and Rob became hungry. He made his way back to the table and a whole new tantrum erupted when he discovered his toast had not been kept warm for him. His demanding that I warm it up RIGHT NOW of course only resulting in my taking my time to make my way back to the kitchen. In the meantime, Rob grew impatient and decided he could resolve the situation in his own way. Michael entered the kitchen to the smell of something burning in the microwave. When he pulled the now badly burnt toast from the microwave, he saw it still had 7 minutes left in the display. Thank goodness he pulled it when he did! I can only imagine what horrific things might have happened if it continued charring the toast. As it was, our house smelt like burnt toast for days!!!
Due to the unpleasant aroma that filled our house, we made a family outing to a local retail store looking for a deodorizing product among some other household necessities. As we stopped to look at lawn furniture Rob yells out, "I need to pee now! Didn't you hear me? I said my penis is ready to pee!!!"
And when I say yell, I mean yell, volume all the way up. Even though we were at the back of the store, I'm sure some kind little old woman at the front stopped to raise her eyebrows at Rob's outburst.
The day continued and so did Rob, melting over this and that and us trying to muddle through it, making it to bedtime. Ah, sweet, sweet bedtime. Well, at least once you manage to wrangle all the little munchkins into their pj's and hog-tie them to their beds. It seems though, that someone almost always manages to wriggle free and find their way down to our room for one reason or another. Tonight, it was Rob.
"I don't want to go to bed. I'm not tired."
"Too bad. It's bedtime. Go to bed."
"No. I don't want to."
"Robert. It's bedtime. Now."
"No."
I got up off my bed to steer him back down the hall to his own.
"But I have to pee."
"Okay, then go to the bathroom and go to bed."
"But I'm peeing right now!!" Rob declared as he glanced down towards the floor beneath him.
My glance dropped too and sure enough, there was a puddle forming under him.
"Robert! Then stop! You are old enough to know better! Stop peeing and go finish on the toilet!"
After getting him to the bathroom, mopping up the floor and getting Rob cleaned up and in clean pajama's, I tucked him back into bed and went back to my bedroom confident we were done with the boys till the morning.
My confidence was shattered a few minutes later when I heard Rob's distinctive footsteps making their way back down the hall toward the master bedroom.
"Mom, I have an owie. I need a band-aid."
Ray had managed to get quite a scrape on his side climbing a tree earlier in the day. In order to make him more comfortable and protect it while he slept, I put a gauze pad on it and held that in place with roll of self-cling wrap. This apparently left Rob feeling left out. He came hobbling into our room because he had an owie that needed to be wrapped. Hmmmm.... Where exactly is this owie? When asked Rob, pointed to a his foot. Easy enough. I tied a bandana around his seemingly fine foot and sent him back to bed.
"Mom, I have another owie too."
Sigh. Really? I was tired. Physically and emotionally. I knew I had a choice to make. Rob needed attention. I could give it him in the form of yelling or in the form of a few kisses for boo-boo's and bandanas. I laid my bandana collection out on the bed and said, "Okay Rob. These are all the bandanas I have. Where are your owes?"
He pointed. I kissed and tied bandanas. As he scooted down the hall, I smiled at the sight of him with bandanas knotted in various locations on his body. "Hey Rob. Let's go downstairs real quick."
This was one of those moments I wanted to be able to remind myself of years from now. "Say cheese buddy. No wait. Show me your best pout face! That's it!"
"Now go to bed! I don't want to see your cute little face again until the sun is shining!"
Don't get me wrong, I love the little goose to no end. He makes me smile multiple times a day. I often find myself even laughing out loud at his antics, even when I maybe shouldn't. After all if I didn't laugh, I might cry. Actually, sometimes I do cry; sometimes I'm crying because I'm crying because I'm laughing so hard, and sometimes I'm crying first and then laughing.
I think Michael and I are able to laugh about it more than others might because we are both middle children ourselves. We know what it can feel to sometimes feel like you are lost in the middle with an older sibling who knows more and is allowed to do more and a younger sibling who is inevitably the family's baby in every way. That internal struggle with striving to be older and wiser on one hand, but wanting the attention and coddling of the baby on the other and feeling either way, it doesn't matter because you're always just the one in the middle.
To help illustrate this point let me share with you a few of his attention seeking antics in a 24 hour window...
It began in the morning when Rob decided he needed breakfast and he needed it now!!! This isn't exactly out of the ordinary for Rob. I asked him what he wanted and he choose toast. So I made toast. And he ate toast right? Wrong. He decided he didn't really want toast he wanted something else. Too bad. You picked toast, you got toast. Eat it. Screaming, stomping and a whole fit resulted. I shrugged my shoulders and continued on with my day figuring if he's hungry enough, he'll eat it.
The toast became cold and Rob became hungry. He made his way back to the table and a whole new tantrum erupted when he discovered his toast had not been kept warm for him. His demanding that I warm it up RIGHT NOW of course only resulting in my taking my time to make my way back to the kitchen. In the meantime, Rob grew impatient and decided he could resolve the situation in his own way. Michael entered the kitchen to the smell of something burning in the microwave. When he pulled the now badly burnt toast from the microwave, he saw it still had 7 minutes left in the display. Thank goodness he pulled it when he did! I can only imagine what horrific things might have happened if it continued charring the toast. As it was, our house smelt like burnt toast for days!!!
Due to the unpleasant aroma that filled our house, we made a family outing to a local retail store looking for a deodorizing product among some other household necessities. As we stopped to look at lawn furniture Rob yells out, "I need to pee now! Didn't you hear me? I said my penis is ready to pee!!!"
And when I say yell, I mean yell, volume all the way up. Even though we were at the back of the store, I'm sure some kind little old woman at the front stopped to raise her eyebrows at Rob's outburst.
The day continued and so did Rob, melting over this and that and us trying to muddle through it, making it to bedtime. Ah, sweet, sweet bedtime. Well, at least once you manage to wrangle all the little munchkins into their pj's and hog-tie them to their beds. It seems though, that someone almost always manages to wriggle free and find their way down to our room for one reason or another. Tonight, it was Rob.
"I don't want to go to bed. I'm not tired."
"Too bad. It's bedtime. Go to bed."
"No. I don't want to."
"Robert. It's bedtime. Now."
"No."
I got up off my bed to steer him back down the hall to his own.
"But I have to pee."
"Okay, then go to the bathroom and go to bed."
"But I'm peeing right now!!" Rob declared as he glanced down towards the floor beneath him.
My glance dropped too and sure enough, there was a puddle forming under him.
"Robert! Then stop! You are old enough to know better! Stop peeing and go finish on the toilet!"
After getting him to the bathroom, mopping up the floor and getting Rob cleaned up and in clean pajama's, I tucked him back into bed and went back to my bedroom confident we were done with the boys till the morning.
My confidence was shattered a few minutes later when I heard Rob's distinctive footsteps making their way back down the hall toward the master bedroom.
"Mom, I have an owie. I need a band-aid."
Ray had managed to get quite a scrape on his side climbing a tree earlier in the day. In order to make him more comfortable and protect it while he slept, I put a gauze pad on it and held that in place with roll of self-cling wrap. This apparently left Rob feeling left out. He came hobbling into our room because he had an owie that needed to be wrapped. Hmmmm.... Where exactly is this owie? When asked Rob, pointed to a his foot. Easy enough. I tied a bandana around his seemingly fine foot and sent him back to bed.
"Mom, I have another owie too."
Sigh. Really? I was tired. Physically and emotionally. I knew I had a choice to make. Rob needed attention. I could give it him in the form of yelling or in the form of a few kisses for boo-boo's and bandanas. I laid my bandana collection out on the bed and said, "Okay Rob. These are all the bandanas I have. Where are your owes?"
He pointed. I kissed and tied bandanas. As he scooted down the hall, I smiled at the sight of him with bandanas knotted in various locations on his body. "Hey Rob. Let's go downstairs real quick."
This was one of those moments I wanted to be able to remind myself of years from now. "Say cheese buddy. No wait. Show me your best pout face! That's it!"
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