Happy Birthday Benjamin!

Happy Birthday to Ben a few days late! We miss you and hope you're having a good time with your Grandma and Grandpa W. in Africa. This video was made around the time of Kira and Ella's birthdays, but for some reason Braden was determined to use Ben's name.



While I was looking through long-neglected videos and pictures for this long-neglected blog, I also found this footage of Braden at dad's house giving Fred Flintstone a run for his money.



More later. Hopefully not too much later!

Braden's Therapy

Compared to the other kids, Braden has had a rather calm childhood so far: no new babies to compete for mom's attention, no cross country moves, no pack of neighborly chihuahuas disrupting his tranquil back yard play time, no 3-lane highway driving, etc. Perhaps for these reasons he is the most well adjusted 2 1/2 year old to ever join our family, with one exception: the dreaded car wash.

The car wash terrifies him to the point that the road salt ate away at the bottom of my car well into May before I had a chance to go through the car wash without him. As soon as I start entering the code, he starts screaming at the top of his lungs and doesn't stop until I drive out. Then he says, "All done!" and continues with life as if nothing happened.

However, on our recent drive to South Carolina, we realized that even when he is not screaming in the car wash, he is thinking about car washes. He sees them everywhere. Auto repair shops, loading docks, and stores with big front windows all prompt a little voice from the back seat saying, "I see ca was. I see tree ca wasis!"

Braden's favorite book right now is called, "Clifford and the Bath", where Clifford, due to his immense size, must bathe in - you guessed it - a car wash.

And like a 3D ink blot test, everything built out of Legos or blocks is not a pirate ship, airplane or Bat Cave, but a car wash. Most of us have just given in and started building car washes. Below is a particularly good one made by Tom.


I haven't yet decided whether this car wash obsession is therapeutic or just plain weird. But since he remains well adjusted in the rest of his life, for now I'm voting therapeutic.

It's the Big Kids' Turn

Since I've already been doing too much talking this week, I'll let my big kids have a chance. First we have a lovely tree created by Anna in kindergarten:

And next a poem written by Jonathan in first grade:

Black

black is....
Night sky above sleepy peoples' houses.
Zebra's stripes in the bright sun.
Girls' hair swishing in the fast wind.
Deep, dark caves with spooky, tiny things.

black is...
TV faces.
Bats hiding in your attic.
Dark bear's hair.
Black is everything I said.
~

Me and My Big Mouth

About a month ago, on the evening of the pinewood derby race at church, I approached a man to whom I had previously only spoken 2-3 times and said, "I saw you leaving the Y the other day. That's not doing much for your flabby physique!"

The shock that you may feel regarding this comment is nothing compared to the shock displayed by my husband when I casually repeated the conversation later that night. He is well aware of my introverted tendencies and the fact that when I'm not feeling comfortable in a social situation, I sometimes blurt out dumb things. However, this comment went way beyond anything in my history.

And now, to borrow a phrase from grandma's beloved Paul Harvey, the rest of the story....

A few months prior to the pinewood derby, the aforementioned gentleman, along with his wife and another couple, had presented an evening of comedy skits, written completely by him. More than campfire skits, these were intelligent, creative and genuinely funny.

Once while the other actors were preparing for the next skit, this man came out and informed us of the lengths he goes through to avoid infidelity in his marriage. Among the steps he mentioned were, "developing annoying habits and personality quirks", "rarely showering", and finally "cultivating a flabby physique". Due to these efforts, he said, no woman had approached him in years.

A few days later, I saw him leaving the Y. The previously mentioned thought ran through my head and, at the pinewood derby race, out of my mouth. My phrase, "not doing much" for his flabby physique was intended to mean, "not helping to cultivate" his flab rather than "not eliminating". However, since Tom hadn't understood the reference, I thought that in the interest of preserving relationships, I had better verify that this man had understood it as intended.

A few days later, I saw his wife around town and described the conversation to her. After a good laugh, she said that she'd check with her husband. And yesterday, in the middle of the stairs at church, her husband told me that rather than offending, I had been 100% correct. The Y was not helping his flabby physique one bit.

As to what he may have meant by that, I have finally learned my lesson upon this subject. I will keep my mouth closed, not daring to either inquire or comment.

The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

I have heard it said that in our children, pieces of our heart walk around outside of our bodies. I have found this to be too true.

Jonathan is like me in that when something important happens, his first inclination is to tell someone else about it. Only then does he feel like it really happened. Upon returning home from school or any activity, he always needs some talk time before moving on with life. I appreciate this, because I love learning what's going on in his heart.

I am also aware of how much of his life I miss. Recently on a day off, I took Jonathan to his former school's recess to visit his old classmates. I sat with the teachers at the edge of the gym, watching the children play what looked like an ordinary game of basketball.

In the car on the way home, I asked Jonathan if he had had a chance to talk to his friend Abby. Abby was one of his favorite kindergarten friends due to a shared love of chasing games and a common understanding regarding all things silly.

Jonathan replied that during the course of our visit, Abby had approached him a number of times trying to find out which girl in the class he liked best, returning to her giggling friends each time he said, "I love everybody." How much I missed! And I was sitting right there!

More difficult for this mama grizzly bear is that Jonathan's classmates have grown sophisticated enough to inflict real pain by their words and actions. Yesterday at recess, a boy Jonathan admires told him that if Jonathan would give him his basketball, this boy would let him be on his team. Instead, he took the ball away and only allowed his other friends to play.

This little incident probably affected me more than Jonathan. How mean! How unjust! I imagined myself stomping down to the playground and giving this 7-year old punk a piece of my mind.

It quickly brought back memories of some of my own school injustices. It also makes me think of all the moments he will face without me, trials and pain more scarring and consequential.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes.

How much does a mom protect? When does she step in? When does she let him handle it on his own? How does she teach him compassion toward others?

Once again I can only depend on a Father much wiser, kinder, and compassionate than myself, who knows exactly how to help us grow through trials, and is beside us all the way.

Pillow Talk

Occasionally throughout our marriage Tom has said funny things in his sleep, the most infamous being during our first months of marriage, when I came to bed to hear him say, "Stop holding that axe over my head!" It was at that point that I decided not to read too much into anything he said while sleeping.

Because he also has a habit of answering the phone while asleep, he has been known to make plans or agree to large purchases without remembering. Once when my friend called our apartment to ask if our power was back on, he said, "I don't know" and hung up on her.

He also teaches in his sleep. I have been shocked into wakefulness by the command, "Sit down and listen!"

Oh, the stories!

His most recent sleep-talk episode took place in the fall. It still makes us laugh, so I thought it worthy of recording. I was coming to bed after him, not unusual with my night-owl habits. Somehow that night I made more noise than normal, dropping and kicking things in the dark. He lifted his head and said to me, "Is Big Foot coming to the Promised Land?" At first I thought he was joking, because it almost fit the circumstances. I laughed and said, "What? You aren't making any sense!" He said, "Yes I am because Big Foot has Big Feet and the Promised Land is Israel." When I told him that he was going to laugh about this in the morning, he looked at me, incredulous at my lack of understanding, put his head down and was immediately deeply asleep.

If I had to guess, he meant to say something like, "Could you be any noisier coming to bed?" But what he actually said was much more entertaining.

Happy Birthday Lianne!

Here are some birthday greetings for our American-African cousin Lianne.

We hope you had a great day! Braden has a song for you too.

Happy Birthday, 7-year old!

In a Nutshell

One can hardly be called a blogger when so much time elapses between posts, but sometime around Halloween the world inexplicably started moving faster. Here's a photo review of the missing months.

During a high school football game, Anna was a cheerleader. Needless to say, she loved it.

Halloween was crazy fun!

One of the three trees in our yard finally produced enough leaves for autumnal pictures.

Seventy shots later, we managed to get a picture of almost everyone looking at the camera.

The neighbors had a new baby.

Braden commandeered Anna's baby dolls.

Anna and one of her best buds sang in their school Christmas program. In total, our family members had 9 musical Christmas events in December.

We said a sad goodbye to my Great Uncle Carl.

Christmas was quiet but nice.

As always, the boxes were the best presents.

Jonathan had a scary bike accident, but is doing well 15 stitches later.

Tom and I had a great trip to Chicago, sans kids.

And it snowed, and snowed, and snowed!