She Scratched Me!

Just a moment ago, my husband and I heard a rather blood-curdling scream coming from our 3 year-old twins' bedroom.  They were supposed to be going to sleep.  Daddy ran up the stairs and burst into the room in time to hear our son say, "She scratched me!"

My husband looked at our daughter, whose bed is across the room from her brother's, and said, "How did you scratch him from your bed?"

Our daughter didn't skip a beat when she very confusedly said, "I didn't scratch him with my bed."

I love my kids' language skills!    

Cornyhorn

The twins were lying down to take their naps when there was a brief discussion about a pink pony one of them received for Christmas.  My son was feeling sad and I held the pink pony up to his face and pretended it was licking him.  He began to feel better, so I turned my attention to my daughter.  As I was tucking her in, she said, "Mama, I thought it was a cornyhorn."  I chuckled and smiled so big that I nearly teared up.  She did the same and I gave her sugars.  I said, "Do you mean unicorn?"  We chuckled together for a few moments and the moment passed.  I don't know how many more of those I have, but I don't want to miss any of them.   

Toddler Epiphanies

Lisse says to Daddy.
"Daddy, I have a idea!"
Daddy, totally riveted, waits for an impressive piece of knowledge.
Lisse. . . "Your head belongs to your face!"

Sometime later. . .
Lisse runs face first into the hutch.
"Ouch!"  (Rubbing her head.)  "Daddy, I keep getting owies!"
Daddy. . . "Well, your head belongs to your face."

I will never get tired of observing 3 year-olds using language.  LOL

Late Night Sugars

I have to admit that once the kids go to bed at night I really enjoy having time to myself.  Invariably though, the quiet never lasts for long as I hear the creak of the floor and the pitter-patter of little feet on the ceiling.  There have been too many times I've hollered up the stairs, "Get in your bed!"  Not long ago, I decided to stop whatever was so important (dishes, e-mail, laundry, movie watching, etc.) and trudge back up the stairs to address why they were yet again out of their beds after lights out.  Tonight was one such occasion, and here is how it went. . .

Pitter-patter, creak, creak. . . up the stairs, I'm barely in the door of their mostly dark room and I hear a little voice softly say, "Hi, Mama."  I knelt by his bed and as he lay back on his pillow, he said, "I check Sissa and she is sleeping."

"Why did you need to check Sissa," I asked?

"I need sugars."

"Oh, okay."  He swung his little feet to the floor and crept over to her bed.  I rested my hand on her in the dark and could feel him reach down with his little hands to find her face.  The slightest smack of his lips was all I could hear as he gently gave her sugars on her left cheek before climbing back into his bed.

I leaned over and held him in an easy hug, whispering in his ear how much I love him.  "Can I give you sugars, Bubba?"

"Yes."

"Can you go night night now?"

"Yes."

Moments later I am now back at my computer and the house is calm and quiet again.  For now they may argue and fight over this toy or that or disagree feverishly about whether or not to watch Dora or Octonauts, but one day I will share this story with his sister and she will know how much he has always loved her.  And never again will I pass up an opportunity to share those late night moments with my kids.  These days will too soon pass.

What Matters Today & Tomorrow

What Matters Today

doing my dishes, over and over

washing, folding, and putting away the clothes

dropping off and picking up my son from silversmithing class

checking my e-mail

cooking meals...and planning more

walking the dogs

grocery shopping

cleaning the house 

paying bills

organizing next week's school schedule

telling them to stop talking and eat their food, stop arguing. . .

What Matters Tomorrow

watching Blues Clues

stopping to pet all the dogs at the park

strumming the threads of the spider web

watching the creek flow under the bridge

running under the red "magnets" (arches) at the park

stopping to admire the bamboo. . . and talk about pandas

wiping his runny nose, again and again

taking time for hugs and sugars to stave off a tantrum

celebrating with my son as he shows me his first silver creations

not making mountains out of molehills

telling them about Jesus

Caught Longing

They sat staring out at the rain, cradling double-handled cups of their afternoon snack in their hands.  Grapes, they love grapes.  You would think it was a cold winter day, though it was more than 80 degrees outside.  In between mouthfuls they alternated between chasing one another around the house and pleading to go outside.  By the time the rain relented, dinner was nearly finished cooking.  This is how it goes with time. . . it simply gets away, often while we are consumed with the minutia of life.  They do not have a monopoly on longing, but on this day theirs is all that matters.  

How could I not have engaged their little dreams.  My sister reminded me of a time not so long ago when I threw-off my bonds of dullness and traipsed through the rain with my oldest son, just because we could.  We were soaked to the bone and loved every rain-drenched minute of it.  

I can't get so caught in the routine 

that I don't allow myself to get caught up in the moment.  

The photo is my reminder.

Lest you think otherwise, this is what lay on the other side of those little hoods. . . that mischievous little grin melts my heart.

Revenge of the Apple Festival

Last night our family attended the Apple Festival and Campfire.  We headed out early thinking we would grab a nice dinner together before heading to Rock Creek Regional Park.  It was a good thing we left home early since the DC traffic was horrid.  By the time we got near the park there was little time to enjoy a leisurely dinner, so we opted to stop in to Chipotle for a quicker bite to eat, although it was hardly quick as we were stuck behind an apologetic woman who was placing an order for an army.  While waiting our turn, we had a spontaneous conversation with a lovely Irish lady with a great accent - a conversation that could hardly be avoided since the twins stood two feet in front of her, staring up at her with unblinking eyes.  For some reason, she was a spectacle to them.  Interestingly, I routinely find myself commenting to yet another stranger that they would think my children have never seen other people for how often they stare holes through them.  Thankfully, the twins normally receive a warm reception, which invariably yields smiles and giggles all the way around.

Upon inhaling our dinner, we were out the door, not quite sprinting to the van, but just nearly as we wanted to have as much time as possible to play before sunset.  Certain of my directions, I set out with Koen as my navigator.  My first indication of a problem came when "you have reached your final destination" only to find it was a dead end with only a bicycle path entrance to the park.  Scratching my head, I surmised that I had only to continue driving the park perimeter, which logically should reveal the proper entrance.  Yeah, well. . . this is a rather large park.  After ten minutes of testing my apparently faulty logic, I pulled over and double checked my address.  It turned out I had input the general park address, but not the park's nature center address.  Problem solved, we put on our racing caps and sped off (a whole 5 miles over the speed limit) to the correct address.  We were thrilled to finally get to the festival. . . and only 30 minutes late.

Everyone piled out of the car ready for fun and me with my camera in hand to capture it all.  First stop was the trunk, where I pulled out my handy dandy bug spray.  We were after all entering what appeared to be a 72 acre jungle.  I have to admit I was proud that for once I had remembered to bring the insect repellent.  My kids were finally going to be bug free!  Imagine how loudly my bubble burst when after fighting with the can of bug spray, I had to abandon my attempts at shielding my kids from the mosquitoes because the sprayer was broken.  Well, at this point no one cared because they heard the music spilling through the trees from deep in the forest.  Lisse would have it no other way than to sprint toward the music, which we did.

After clearing the ticket table and repeatedly removing the display apples from Lisse's hands, we headed toward the sound of the banjo.  The kids pointed out every little thing along the way.  They certainly are city kids, but they're fast learners.  Taking out across an open field, they were squealing with joy.

It wasn't long before the field turned into a forest path and Lisse learned her first lesson about avoiding tree roots.  She took a rather dirty tumble, recovered quickly, and still blazed the trail ahead of the boys.

Finding our way into the center of the melee, we looked around and plotted our course of action.  First step, apple-tasting!  Gala and Honey Crisps were among the variety, but the one that caught our eye was the Smokehouse.  It was pretty tasty, as are all apples in our humble opinions - we are just an apple-eatin' family - however, Honey Crisp took the prize.  We then tried our hand at pressing apple cider, making apple pies, eating caramel apples, and creating Johnny Appleseed hats, all while listening to a talented, live bluegrass band singing mostly hymns.

At this point I would normally move on in the story, but I have to pause to contemplate the caramel apple.  Whoever came up with the caramel apple concept must have been a twisted individual, or at least not slightly OCD like me.  It took all of five seconds of watching everyone else walking around gnawing rather unsuccessfully on their miracle grow, massive apples to realize there must be a better way.  Like the perfect marriage of peanut butter and chocolate achieved by the Reese's peanut butter cup, I snagged an apple from the caramel apple stand and stepped ten feet over to the young man cutting apples at the tasting stand.  Voila!  You would have thought I was developing the cure for cancer as people stared at my sliced apples.  No really, didn't McDonald's figure this out not so long ago?  In all fairness, when you have a child who loves apples, but is cursed with braces, you have to improvise.

After all the aforementioned fun, we made our way to the campfire for marshmallow roasting, smores, and a viewing of the classic, animated Johnny Appleseed.  Everything was going well until Lisse melted down over wanting to eat her "marsho" before it was roasted.  She truly never relented on the issue until I took the initiative to create the smore and shove it in her mouth.  At that point, she was like Stitch when he was destroying Lilo's room and she placed the lei around his neck, at which point he fell over backwards and began purring in contentment.  Okay, so Lisse was not quite purring, but I'm fairly certain she reached toddler nirvana.  Nothing like sugaring up your kids just before bedtime.

With the festival itself shaping up nicely, I was quite content that I had provided my kids with such a wonderful opportunity to make a warm memory with Mama.  Feeling quite accomplished that I had achieved my goal, I convinced the kids to leave ahead of the crowd.  We even stopped on the way out of the nature center upon Lisse's request to ogle at the farmer, which is oddly what she persists in calling any red barn she sees.  On the way out to the parking area, she then spied a sign that read "NO VEHICLES."  She was beside herself, "Mama, LOOK!  It's AB's!"  We spent a couple minutes letting her and Karter trace the letters with their fingers.  These were moments of pure joy.

 

Heading out of the park on a slightly declining sidewalk, Lisse began picking up speed.  "Lisse be careful, slow dow. . ."  My words trailed off as she tripped forward, landed on her knees, and rolled forward onto her face, screaming.  Only five feet behind her, I snatched her up with speed and cradled her in my arms, shoving the front of her shirt into her mouth, having already seen the blood pouring from her lip.  There was little light left to the dusky evening and I jogged to the van carrying her, Koen trailing behind holding Karter by the hand and carrying our goodie bags, camera bag, and my cell phone and keys.  Koen was one step ahead of me and had the side door of the van open before I got there with Lisse.  I placed her in her car seat and tried to get a closer look at her face.  I was just realizing the extent of her lip injury when Koen blurted out that one of the bags had torn open and something had fallen out. . . in the dark.

 

Strapping the kids into their car seats, I quickly surveyed the remaining contents of the bag and realized the missing item was my cell phone.  Like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, I began brushing my hands all over the tallish grass on the side of the road where we were parked.  By this time, there was nearly no light whatsoever.  Rather desperately wanting to find my cell phone so I could get Lisse home to doctor her wounds, I stopped a passing parent and asked him to call my phone, not realizing that Koen had his cell phone in his pocket.  As we all searched the grass, Koen called my phone, which was answered by a lady who had found it inside the park.  Koen sprinted back inside the park, secured my phone, and sprinted back to the van.  He had an even greater sense of urgency over the whole incident than I did, even gasping and recoiling with his hand over his mouth upon seeing the blood.  In his mind, we were experiencing an emergency.

Safely back in the van, he used my cell phone to navigate us back to where my internal map could take over and get us home.  Halfway home, Lisse began saying her nose and knee hurt as well, and I reassured her that I would be her doctor once we got home.  Karter quickly jumped on the doctor bandwagon, stating he was going to be Lisse's doctor too.  Minutes into that conversation Lisse stopped crying and said "I'm better now, Mama.  Can I be play a doctor too?"

It was all uphill from there as we finished our trek home, bathed the kids, and had some great play time before bed.  The looks on their faces tell it all.  They just love being together!  Koen adores them, they follow his every move, and they are all pretty much inseparable.  

In hindsight the whole evening could have perhaps been characterized as attending the "get stuck in traffic, shovel your dinner down your throat, get lost, rip your lip off, lose your cell phone" festival!  Thankfully, all these things were punctuated by warm, memorable moments. . . and the smores didn't hurt either.  Like many other days and circumstances, we lived to tell about it.  If such times can end in a photo like the one above of my three kids, I'll take whatever life throws at us. 

Watching Them Learn & Grow

The kids and I recently went to the USDA Agricultural Research Center to pick corn for the Food for Others: Harvest for the Hungry program.  It was a great opportunity to expose the kids to razor sharp leaves, itching...er, helping people, seeing where their food comes from, etc.  All kidding aside, seeing them experience new things is always exciting for me.  I'm especially passionate about teaching them to give to their community.  Getting children involved in service projects at an early age is beneficial for everyone.  They need to understand and embrace the role they can and will play in making a difference in the lives of those less fortunate than themselves.  What goes around does truly does come around.  Additionally, exposing them to agricultural experiences is beneficial so that they learn where their food comes from and how it's processed.  

The day was fairly hot, about 82 degrees.  I have to say Karter took a page from Mama's book..."Mama, I wan do back to a tar.  I sweaty."  He didn't last long.  I kept having to distract him with "Oh, there's a corn! Pull it down and twist it!"  The corn was in better shape than I expected considering the lack of rain this year.  Once they decided they could run in the corn they had a better time.  Of course that created a little more stress for Mama.  It was everything I could do not to lose them in the field.

We wrapped up our picking and lounged on the tailgate eating cold clementines.  It was refreshing and wonderful.  Afterwards, we made our way to a nice park for lunch with friends who had joined us for the day.  The kids and their friends ran themselves crazy.  Koen was the oldest and spent plenty of time giving piggyback rides to the others.  Of course wherever Karter is, there is inevitably significant amounts of entomological exploration.  They crawled on the ground, following a granddaddy longlegs spider, observed a beetle as it crawled down the middle of the table between their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and poked and prodded tons of stinkbugs!

Following our fun stop for lunch and bugs, we took off for frozen yogurt at froYo.  Everyone loves a little cold treat after running around outside on a hot day.

After dinner and showers, the twinks went to bed and Koen and I read a couple chapters together in his new book, Kingdom's Dawn (Kingdom Series).  It was a relaxing end to a lovely day.  I love days like this with my kids.  Before I know it those days will be long gone and I'll be wondering where the time went.  Accordingly, I've been working harder lately on enjoying little moments with them, engaging them in more meaningful or playful ways, and just following their lead.  My attitude of late has been just go with it.  :)  As such, we've been shifting gears a lot, turning on a dime as it were.  I have always said my middle name is Gumbi.  Guess I'm trying to wear that a little more.

Seeing the smile on my 12 year-old's face as he explores the world and shares his latest finds with me is priceless.  I want to share with him as many more days like that as I'm able.  He was so joyful upon spying this tiny purple flower growing from the corn stalk.  You would have thought he found gold. Half of my job as a his homeschool mom is complete.  He loves to learn!  Everything else is just giving him access to the knowledge and like this little purple flower. . . watching him grow.  Now if I can instill the same love in the twins.  I just love this life!

 

Flemmies, Soank Ateckers, and Yestermornings

I absolutely love the things my kids say. Over the years I have tried to document funny words or phrases as they've spilled out of their mouths. When they are using their English they are as serious as a heart attack, completely sure of themselves.

When my 12 year-old was about 3, he wrapped a chubby little arm around each of our necks (me and my husband) and pulling us close announced, "I love my flemmy." Flemmy has been a part of our flemmy language for nearly ten years now. More than any other word he ever said, that one will stay with us.

Each of the kids has contributed to our family speak. My 3 year-old daughter routinely talks about things that happened "yestermorning." I love it! It is her way of talking about anything that is past tense. It's adorable. In her honor, I have taken to referring to past events as having occurred yesterevening as well. :)

None of the kids ever really runs out of a word to share. Accordingly, my current 3 year-old son will talk your ear off. He actively grows his vocabulary each day. When he spouts off a sentence, he will sometimes get half-way and turn to me searching for the word to describe what he's talking about. He'll pause, smile at me, and say, "Mama, I don't know that word." That is of course my cue to fill in his blank. He then uses his new word repeatedly to reinforce his learning.

Recently, he has become quite interested in fire. It all began one night when he noticed a tiny green light shining down from his ceiling. "Wha's dat dreen yight, Mama?" I can hear him saying it. :) I told him it was the smoke detector. He tried so hard to repeat those words, but they simply would not roll off his tongue. For at least two weeks now he has been talking about smoke, fire, choking, and staying safe. No less than twice a day he talks with us about the "soank atecker" and how it will keep him safe from the fire.

Two nights ago Daddy pushed the test button so he could hear how loud it is. Now he's more interested than ever. We daily reassure him (and his twin sister, since she has not-so-spontaneously developed a like interest) that the soank atecker won't choke him and that Mama and Daddy will run to get him if it makes a loud beep.

Someday this conversation will pass. He will absorb this knowledge like all the rest.
Someday he won't look to me to fill in the words for him.
Someday he won't need me to reassure him that I'll rescue him from the fire.
Someday all the kids will says words I will have to look up in my dictionary.

Until then, I'm so happy to talk about flemmies, soank ateckers, and yestermornings. I just smile, hug their little necks, and tell them how smart (and cute) they are. :)

The smoke detector just happened to go off while I was cooking dinner the day after I wrote this blog.  It was fun to capture the essence of the soank atecker.  :)

Proximity Alarms a.k.a. Twins

With any amount of observation it is easy to see plethora examples of yin and yang in our environments. My son's strong set of magnets for example. He can place one on top of the table, the other underneath, and move them around with no interference from the wood in between. I tend to think of my twins in similar terms.

So often they are joined at the hip. While they aren't identical, their existence seems to extend and revolve around one another. What he does, she does, and vice versa. How we have been able to get around having two of everything must truly be God's grace. That's not to say that things run smoothly all the time. On the contrary, our peaceful, productive days are often punctuated by explosions of three year-old fierce competition. Such was the case this morning.

More often than not now, the twins are able to work together toward common purposes or play goals. It's been a beautiful thing to behold - two lovely little toddlers stretching their creativity and minds. We have been hearing a steady stream of "Let's do it, Sissa!" and "Help me, Tarter!" (The twins are named Lisse and Karter, but you'd never know it.) Occasionally, we still have a day when their magnetism toward one another is more like a proximity alarm. Today, no matter what they've been engaged in, whether individually or cooperatively, the closer they came to one another, the louder the screams became.

It cracked me up to think of them both as proximity alarms. I thought these became disabled sometime after the separation anxiety stage of infanthood. Now if we can just get them to the stage where they are more like proximity sensors without the alarm. :)

Accountable Kids is a Big Hit

Over the summer I attended my first homeschool convention, HEAV (Homeschool Educators Association of Virginia). Little did I know that after seven years of homeschooling, I was in for a real treat - a time of refreshing and rejuvenation. Those three days were amazing and have helped me renovate and organize my homeschool life. I grew so many brain cells! One product I was blessed to stumble upon is Accountable Kids. I didn't realize until using this system exactly how much I needed it. There is no way I could have imagined how much it would positively impact our family life.

According to developers Traci and Scott Heaton and their website (www.accountablekids.com):

Accountable Kids is a unique parenting program designed to teach accountability and responsibility in the home. It is a back-to-basics system which includes essential parenting principles and concrete stepping stones that strengthen relationships and build a foundation for success; an ideal program for ADHD natural treatment therapy. Children learn to balance choices and consequences in a fun, productive manner. They experience the joy of being a vital, contributing member of the family and develop confidence and self-worth. The Accountable Kids program includes a book, Quick Start DVD, Progress Board, 50 Reminder Cards, 3 blank Reminder Cards, 10 Tickets, 10 Bonus Bucks, 3 Special Date Cards, 4 Best Behavior Cards, and 2 Privilege Passes, and 2 sticker sheets. The Accountable Kids program provides everything parents need to maximize efforts and bring structure and harmony into the home.


Steps of the Program


Step One: Children learn to take care of personal responsibilities without constant direction. They learn work ethics, time management, and responsibility. Children earn Tickets by completing basic chores. Tickets can then be used for activities or privileges. Tickets provide parents the ability to discipline without losing control or physical contact. Basic values are encouraged and reinforced with the Best Behavior Card.

Step Two: The Privilege Pass is introduced to eliminate specific negative behaviors. This process empowers children to predict consequences, follow rules, and redirect themselves towards positive behaviors. A Special Date Card is added to allow children to work for future rewards and enhance parent/child relationships.

Step Three: Completing basic chores provides basic privileges, but not the extras. Children earn Bonus Bucks for completing extra chores. This gives them the ability to make decisions about purchases. They experience the advantages of saving and learn to manage resources for the future.

Step four: The Family Forum presents an opportunity to discuss goals, problems, challenges, and accomplishments. It provides an opportunity to monitor progress and encourage positive behaviors. Quiet Time is introduced to refresh and recharge children and parents. It encourages the use of imagination, self-discipline, and self-entertainment.

My Personal Experience with Accountable Kids

When preparing the peg boards for our 3 year-old twins, I enlisted the help of my 12 year-old son. We decided to go the natural route and he took them into the backyard to burn their names into the wood using the sun and a magnifying glass. They turned out quite nicely.

I sat down to watch the video with high hopes and found that it did not disappoint. The Heatons presented the program in such a simple way that setting it up in our home was a cinch. I was able to set up their boards and chores after watching the first 12 minutes of the video. Armed with the information presented in the DVD, I had my husband mount their peg boards in the diningroom, low enough for the kids to reach them and placed all their chore cards on the basic chores and extra chores pegs. After watching the entire video, I headed to bed with a clear idea of what the next day would bring. I drifted off to sleep with the possibilities alive in my head.

The next morning, I sprung out of bed and bounced into their room with a fresh perspective, ready to help them get dressed, make beds, etc. We hardly made it downstairs before Karter saw his board and said, "Mama, you put these cards on here for me while I was sleeping?" He was already excitedly pulling them from the pegs to inspect the photos on each card. I had them both pull cards from their start peg and flip them onto the finish peg for getting dressed and making their beds. We then moved on to breakfast and our morning chores. Before we knew it, all their morning chores were completed and we flipped the rest of the cards over onto the finish peg. I explained to them that they had earned a "ticket" for completing all their morning chores. You would have thought I had given them a surprise ice cream when I handed them their tickets. After explaining to them that they get to "spend" their tickets on fun things like watching a 30 minute kid show, they were ecstatic and settled in to spend their first ticket on an episode of Dora the Explorer.

Admittedly, I had become one of those parents who was too ready to plop their toddler in front of a television so that I could get something done. I was thankful for the distraction so that I could perform my she-Tazmanian Devil whirlwind around the house doing all the chores that I have now set out to teach my children to do along side me.

Throughout the first day, they spent tickets on two shows, blowing bubbles in the front yard, and making chalk drawings on the driveway. We were able to accomplish all the chores on their "go" peg and then some. I felt productive and peaceful and didn't have to mediate arguments as usual. The day flew by! I was amazed at how positively the day had progressed. This type of day has been the norm each time we actively use Accountable Kids. There have been days we haven't used the program and I have overwhelmingly found that our days are more hectic, less productive, and much more stressful, mostly because the kids have too much time on their hands, which leads to more conflict between them. Following the cards I've set up for each of them keeps us flowing through the day with a steady stream of productivity, fun, interaction, and calm down time that we all share. I think they sleep better too because they are more active throughout the day.

The program has been so effective with our younger kids that we have also decided to use it with our 12 year-old son. He doesn't even have his board yet and he is already excited about the possibilities, particularly his earning potential by doing extra chores and earning bonus bucks. We have already laid out with him the benefits he can realize by being more responsible within the family. He has already benefited from the concept of the best behavior card. During a recent visit to our home, his best friend left crumbs on the table after eating a sandwich. My son instructed his friend to clean up the crumbs and showed him an easy way to accomplish this. I stood back and soaked it all up. I took a "Best Behavior Card" and handed it to him, explaining how proud I was of his behavior. Once I outlined for him how we will use this card, he was even more excited to use the program.

On a scale of 1-5, with 5 being the highest mark, I give Accountable Kids a high five in terms of easy of use, flexibility within and across families, and effectiveness in establishing routines and discipline. I look forward to the positive difference this will continue to make within my family as we use the program to enhance our communication and increase the harmony within our home. I'm so thankful to have found Accountable Kids.

An Evening to Remember

 

My son is a Boy Scout and is therefore called to live by the Boy Scout Law, which states:

“A Scout is:

• Trustworthy,
• Loyal,
• Helpful,
• Friendly,
• Courteous,
• Kind,
• Obedient,
• Cheerful,
• Thrifty,
• Brave,
• Clean,
• and Reverent.”

It is important to us to provide opportunities for him to exercise these virtues and to bear witness to and praise him when he embodies them in his life.  Last night I was present for a beautiful moment where he identified with one of these virtues for the first time.

We participated in a flag retiring ceremony with his scout troop.  The evening was cool as the crowd of boys and adults alike circled the fire.  With the troop band striking a patriotic tone, the scene was set for a solemn observance.  The senior scouts began to describe in detail the meaning behind each aspect of the American flag, including the colors: 

• Red symbolizes Hardiness and Valor.
• White symbolizes Purity and Innocence.
• Blue represents Vigilance, Perseverance and Justice.

With the boys holding a large flag stretched flat, one boy cut away the blue field of stars, saying it would be kept intact signifying the unity of our fifty states.  As the scout then separated each stripe from the flag, another read aloud historic details of each of the original thirteen colonies.  Upon completing each reading, yet another scout would step over to the fire, drop the stripe into the flames and render a scout salute.  Once all the stripes were likewise burned, the blue field of stars was laid across the top of the fire.  As the flames began to consume the cloth, the stars let off a slight glow.

Once the flag was completely consumed, all were invited to participate.  Many flags were being retired after being flown to tatters and we lined up to place our piece of the flags into the fire.  We were asked to pause for respect and reflection upon dropping our piece into the flames.  In those moments, I captured the following photo of my son.

His look was serious, his salute poised.  Something was obviously stirring in his mind.  As he stepped near me, I could see his eyes were moist.  I asked him if anything was wrong, to which he replied, “I don’t know.”  He continued to stare at the fire, watching others in a slow procession.  Then I asked, “Are you feeling quiet?”  He gave me a nod and I asked, “Are you feeling patriotic?”  “Yes,” he replied.  I put my arm around his shoulder and told him, “I think what you’re feeling is reverence.  It’s part of the Boy Scout Law.”  I used my phone to look up the word and handed it over to him.  After reading the definition, he acknowledged that was exactly what he was feeling.

I’m blessed to have been present for that singular moment in his life when being an American came to mean more to him than simple birthright.  It is an evening neither of us will ever forget.

The Doppler Effect of “No”

A few mornings ago I was sitting on the kitchen floor with my kids having breakfast.  (Suddenly that seems like something I never would have done as a kid myself.)  Yes, we were throwing etiquette out the window to enjoy our oatmeal and blueberries. 

We were all clearly loving every minute of it, as my son rested peacefully in my lap while my daughter danced playfully beside us.  She was somehow excitedly running in place and dancing simultaneously.  Perhaps she’ll be a famous choreographer one day.  Feeding her was quite a challenge since her mouth was a moving target.  With each bite, she would slow down just long enough for me to get the spoon in her mouth, then she’d be off again doing her unique jig.

Our collective euphoria was making for a beautiful morning, when our bliss was suddenly interrupted by the approaching whine of what sounded like a prop plane.  “Nrrrrrrrr…”  We could hear the Doppler effect as the plane flew away from the house.  Following a stunned moment of silence, my 20 month-old daughter ran to the door and peered up at the sky.  With eyes wide and raised eyebrows she looked several times at me and pointed toward the sky.  After a few moments, she returned to my side and as if to explain the whole situation to me, raised her hand into the air.  With a sweeping motion of her hand above her head, she let out, complete with her own fading Doppler effect, a loud, “Noooooooooooooo…”.  I live for memories like those…  

Caution: Slippery When Wet

In February 2009 I was approximately 4.5 months pregnant with the twins. It had been a long time coming - 6.5 years to be exact. Koen was then 9 years-old.

On that day we were walking through the community center on our base. We eventually came upon a "Caution: Wet Floor" sign where maintenance had just mopped. Koen said, "Be careful, Mama." He then reached out and wrapped one arm around my waist, while placing his other hand on my pregnant belly. As we carefully crossed the wet floor, he closely watched every step I took. I was chuckling at the cuteness and sincerity of his concern when I asked him if he was worried about me falling. He said he wasn't worried about me, but that he had waited a long time to be a brother and didn't want his siblings to get hurt!

Oh, the heart of my son! All I could do was smile.

My Son's Mature Moment

As a home school family, we're always looking for new and exciting educational opportunities, not just for our kids but for the whole family as well. Living in the area we are currently located has blessed us with access to an amazing home school support group. They are very active and provide activities such as P.E., a spelling bee, a science fair, a history fair, field trips, dance, and the list could go on. Recently, we've been attending a weekly co-op where my son Koen has been studying Bible history and (if you can believe it) cake decorating. He loves it!

This week, we headed off to co-op with the twins. It happened that I was teaching a Japanese culture class to elementary students this week and the twins would be in the nursery. With Koen's help, we got the twins into the nursery and they began playing under his watchful eye. I only had a few minutes before needing to set up my classroom. I asked Koen to stay with them while I was in the next room setting up for my class. I told him that there would soon be another mom come in who would be watching the kids and to please stay with them until then. He was happy to stay and play with his brother and sister. He loves that too!

Soon after I stepped out, another mom stepped in to watch over the nursery kids. Moments later a second mom arrived to help. The first mom told Koen it was okay for him to go to class and they would take care of the twins. Koen, being the young man he is, looked around the room and took stock of his surroundings before responding, "Well, there are five kids and only two adults. That's not a very good ratio, so I think I'll stay until one more adult comes." The other mom was slightly stunned at his response and thankfully shared it with me later on. It was a blessing to hear another parent comment on the maturity of my 11 year-old. That was a proud Mama moment! My son is such a cool person! :)

How Many Hands Does it Take to Rub a Butt?

My husband did a brave thing tonight. He overcame his apprehension about giving me a shot and took the plunge, pardon the pun. I was a bit nervous as he prepared for the task. I knew he and my sister were getting the syringe ready. They tried hard to hide it, but I'm fairly observant which consequently makes it hard to pull a fast one on me.

I was quite pleased with myself that I was better able to control my nerves and face the needle without tears or other signs of anxiety. In truth I've pretty much just resigned myself to dealing with it.

Without the usual fanfare, Arie dove right in and delivered the shot to the left side of my butt. Where the whole experience departed though was in the pain. Previously, I've not actually felt the needle. Arie however, had never given a shot before and moved just slow enough that it pinched. He definitely learned his lesson.

I'd like to give a nod to two people who helped him tremendously: my sister and my 17.5 month-old son. Because Arie was uncertain where to stick the needle, my sister grabbed a black Sharpie marker from the side of the refrigerator and drew a large circle on each side of my butt! I said, "Did you just draw on my butt with a Sharpie?" "Yes," she said. I'll spare you the photo she took afterward to show me. Our little boy, whom I affectionately call Bubba was even more helpful. After Arie pulled the needle out and began to rub my butt so as not to leave a knot, Bubba walked in the kitchen and reached up to help Daddy rub it in. He's such a big helper! :)

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Getting Pregnant: Our IVF Experience

Today was the day my sister and brother-in-law have been waiting for a long time. As I laid in bed this morning I began to ponder what the appropriate outfit is to wear on the occasion of becoming a surrogate for your sister, using her eggs and her husband's sperm. It's not like I needed to don lingerie (though I didn't honestly think of that one until we were nearly to the clinic). I started to wear jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, then thought better of it. That would have been way too casual. I eventually opted for slimming black jeans and a pinkish cashmere sweater. Someday these things might matter. LOL

When I finished dressing myself, I reached for the card I'd bought Val. A week ago I'd visited Hallmark looking for the perfect card that says "I'm ready to loan you my body for nine months - and I'm actually happy about it." Not surprisingly, it doesn't appear there are cards that fit that category. Pouring through the store, I finally found the one. It was yellow with some black writing on the front that says, "NICE." The inside sports the words, "Way to go!" The whole thing is accompanied by the song Whomp!(There it is!) by a group named Tag Team. Something about it seemed right as I was busting a gut in the middle of the store. The only real problem was I couldn't decide whether to give the card to Val or to Aaron. Of course I knew I would have to come up with my own version of a Hallmark mushy card to say all the other heartfelt things I wanted to say. So I stood in my bathroom and wrote a letter to my little sister. I think I effectively conveyed how much I love her.

Looking in the mirror I realized that I needed to accessorize my sweater. I reached for a necklace that was given to me by a close friend as I left Japan. It's two silver circles resting on top of one another holding a single pearl in the lower curve. I stared at it thinking how much it looked like an egg in a womb. Perfect! My friend Tomoko would be so pleased to know I wore it today. I threw on my pearl earrings and the ensemble was complete. It's been a long time since I thought that hard about what to wear. I'm really not that into my clothes. My life is pretty simple and doesn't normally call for special wardrobe consideration. Today was just...well, different.

Val, Aaron, and I paused for a short time in the kitchen to take some photos before she and I headed out the door. We wanted to document the occasion. Whether we become pregnant or not, it was still a momentous day.

On our long drive we joked about it being a covert operation. I could imagine her talking into her wrist like the Secret Service saying, "The package is delivered." I told her I suddenly felt like I was in protective custody. In essence I guess that was true. Had we recorded the conversation, we would have a great addition to a baby book. I wish I could recall all the details. The most important part is that we spent nearly an hour laughing together and having a good time. There were times she was actually laughing and crying at the same time, but that was partly due to the pain she was in.

Unfortunately, Val was uncomfortable during the whole drive, just as she has been since Tuesday. The stimulation of her ovaries left her with Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome. It is a painful condition that can be quite serious. In fact, an ultrasound today revealed that her ovaries are so large they are rubbing against each other. It's called "kissing ovaries". Hopefully her symptoms will subside within a week from now. For now she's not very mobile and is moving very slowly. She has a positive attitude though and has been an inspiration through the whole IVF process. No matter what she's encountered she has done so with grace.



When we arrived at the Jones Institute, we were placed in a pre-op area and changed into our designated OR garb. We cracked out our cameras and took tons of photos of each other and the staff. It was a fun time even while we waited. The laughter continued right up to the moment they rolled me back into the OR.

After the nurses situated me on the table, Dr. Sergio Oehninger (our doctor) and the embryologist doctor both came in. Within a few moments the embryologist walked out and flashed the eggs, as viewed through a microscope, up onto a large screen. We had less than a minute to admire them, during which Val took a nice photo.



The doctor walked back in shortly afterward and with movements as careful as if he were disarming a bomb, he handed the pipette to Dr. O. who then threaded the pipette through my cervix as we watched on the ultrasound screen. I could see the white line of the long tube moving up into my uterus. Suddenly there was a puff that shot out the end of the tube and Dr. O said something like, "There they go." The entire procedure lasted roughly two minutes or less.

Dr. O stepped out and came back in carrying a certificate for Valerie, as well as the petri dish that held the eggs. He gave it to her saying, "This is their first cradle." It was pretty neat and of course brought a smile to Val's face. Once I was transferred to another bed, they rolled me out. Valerie was walking behind me when a nurse named Donna said something to her that stopped me mentally in my tracks. She turned to look at Val and said, "Come on, Mom." I said, "Wow, Val. I think that's the first time you've ever been called Mom." We were both tickled. Suddenly I think she felt pregnant. I know I did a little. That was a memorable moment for her.

As usual, we were barely in the post-op area when my phone rang and it was Mom calling to see how things were going. Her timing is always spot on! She definitely has a sixth sense about her when it comes to her kids. We told her we were done and she shared a funny story. Apparently she had just spoken with an older lady and told her she was a grandmother again today. They lady asked the obvious next question, "Was it a boy or a girl?," to which Mom replied, "We don't know yet - they were just implanted." LOL Imagine the confusion on that woman's face. I'm sure Mom went on to explain.

I think our family became a little more like glue today. We spoke with Mom, Dad, and our brother Ross. They were all so excited. It's great to feel their hopeful anticipation. It's amazing to think that in 11 days we may have another family member or members on the way. We all can't wait!

Scars: to Reveal or Not to Reveal

I went to the YMCA today with the kids. I've avoided getting into the pool for months because the only bathing suit I own is a black Speedo that accentuates all the wrong parts of my body. Additionally, the last time I wore it it was horribly tight and a little girl accused me of being pregnant. Wow! To say I hate that suit is an understatement. Today however, I chose to overcome myself in order to play with Koen in the pool and have some "us" time. I was excited to share those moments with him.

Having gone through boot camp, I was able to get over being naked in front other others since we regularly changed and showered as a group. Living in Japan as well offered opportunities to spend time at various onsen, which are public bath houses where naked is the rule and not the exception. Suffice it to say that I'm really over the whole naked thing, though I don't go out of my way to show off what my Mama gave me.

I changed in the bathroom stall since I had consumed a lot of water in the hour before hitting the pool and frankly, I needed to be in there anyway. :) I was pleasantly surprised that my bathing suit fit much nicer. I guess dropping those 20 pounds was helpful. It was great to feel that difference. My weight loss efforts are paying dividends.

After spending time in both the pool and the hot tub, I headed back into the locker room to peel out of my suit. Where an hour before there had not been more than a few people in the room, suddenly there wasn't a private spot to be had. As I stood there contemplating changing my clothes, it occurred to me that I was feeling anxious. It made me pause. I'm not accustomed to feeling nervous in this type of scenario. I wondered what lay at the root of my sudden modesty. It didn't take long to realize that I was concerned about someone seeing my breasts.

My breasts look like road maps now with long scars that wrap around my back. They are slightly misshapen because of my recent surgery and I don't have any nipples. As I was pondering my own feelings about revealing my body in front of strangers, a little girl walked in. She looked squarely at me, as had several other people. I thought, "What if this little girl stares at me with question marks in her eyes?" What if others notice as well? Will the obviously missing nipples create a discomfort in them that would be awkward? Would they stare? If so, would I want to say something to set them (or myself) at ease? I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to tackle that possibility. It's not that I'm uncomfortable talking about it or even showing another woman who wants to see the scars. In that moment though I couldn't tell how much of me was hiding, versus simply wanting to spare others the awkwardness and questions. I think I would have felt the need to explain myself had anyone noticed.

It reminds me of a man we met a couple years ago. We had seen him around the military base but hadn't spoken with him until one day when Koen stared long at the man's facial scars and loudly asked what was wrong with his face. I asked him if he would like to ask the man what happened to his skin, and Koen did want to speak with him. The man's name was John. He had been severely burned as a kid by an auto accident that killed both his mother and little brother. We enjoyed knowing him during our time in Japan. He was a lovely person and I'm glad we took the time to get to know him, scars and all.

I don't ever want to avoid the discussion about my breasts if it comes up. I guess I just want to do it with the right timing so that the impact at that moment is positive. Making others comfortable has always been important to me. Truth be told though, down deep inside I think there was a part of me that was afraid to be that person. You know, the one everyone is staring at and afraid to talk to because they are obviously different and no one knows how to ask the question.

I Don't Care . . . I Like Me!

On a trying day not long ago, I found myself standing face-to-face with my 10 year-old son. To be honest it felt slightly like a Mexican stand-off. Let me recount those moments . . .

We'd had a very difficult morning that involved lots of driving, baby tears and screams, long periods of waiting at a doctor's appointment, and one of our dogs biting the vet. Without further detail, one can imagine the lovely day we were having. During one slight, but desperately needed lull in our day, my son went to our van to retrieve one of his precious Beanie Babies. He's been a collector of sorts for years. Each is special in it's own way and he can recall the details of how each of them have come to join his little "Beanie" family.

Standing in front of the vet's office watching him play with this particular stuffed animal created a stir in me. It was a white umbrella bird with a pink crown of hair that stands up like Don King's. All I could think was here was my 10 year-old son, playing with a very feminine-looking bird out in public. I decided to say something to him. Though I can't recall my exact words, they were an appeal to his masculine side and an attempt to get him to put the bird back in the van. Taking it from his hands, I told him most boys wouldn't be playing with a white and pink bird in public.

My highly introspective son stood there a moment contemplating what I'd said, all the while staring at the bird. After a long pause, he reached for bird saying, "I don't care what people think. I like me." His words left me speechless. In a flash, I was ashamed and thought back to a book I'd read in college called "Real Boys". The premise of this book is that boys suffer low self-esteem and other problems as a result of societal expectations related to masculinity. (That's a HUGE nutshell.) I realized I had just tried to lay on my son what society had brainwashed me with as a child - boys should be tough, act tough, and shun creativity and anything remotely feminine. Wow, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!

Anyone who knows my son knows he is very creative, loves to read, and though he loves to swim, he isn't really an athlete. He's compassionate, loving, sentimental, and a sometimes philosopher. Occasionally, he brings me breakfast in bed or makes a cute homemade note for me. He loves board games and cries when he sees injustice or hurt animals. Truly, he is a wonderful young man and I am so blessed to have him in my life. So why in the world would I want to change him? Put simply, I don't and I won't. I don't want to regurgitate onto my son any dysfunctional societal attitudes regarding his masculinity. Let him have his pink-haired Beanie Baby bird - and let me learn again that the best thing I can do for him is give him Godly guidance and love and encourage the person God is turning him into. I'm so proud of my son. One of my favorite quotes applies so well to what I think of my him today. “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” ~ Dr. Suess

Sometimes as a parent I get it wrong. It's so important when I'm having a less than stellar parenting moment that I'm wise enough to reevaluate my position and courageous enough to change my stance if necessary. I can't be dogmatic. As much as I'd like to be, I'm not always right. Changing my mind or allowing it to be changed by my son is nothing to be afraid of. It doesn't make me a weaker Mom. It refines me.

At times I turn dialogue with my son into a monologue. Better to listen to him tell me who he is than to tell him who is going to be. Who am I to think that he has nothing to teach me? The truth is that I learn from him everyday. What if I spent more time actually hearing what my son has to say? What if all parents did the same?

Oh my God, I can see!

For months my husband has been poking fun at me because he says I have to hold things too far from my face to read them. I have taken exception to the notion that because I can't read six inches from my face that I have a vision issue. What makes his distance any better than mine? I've been fairly indignant on the issue.

Two nights ago I traveled to Wal-Mart with my sister to pick up some prescriptions from the pharmacy. As usual, there was a wait during which time we began to browse the area around the pharmacy. I stared at some of the shelves contemplating that there must be some need I was having for which one of the products in front of me could fulfill. Really it was simple boredom as we passed the time waiting for the pharmacy tech to sort out my insurance.

Having exhausted the ace bandage and contact lens aisle, we shifted toward the reading glasses display. I recalled playing pretend with glasses as a little girl, wishing I had to wear them because I thought they'd make me look older and smarter. Suddenly I could hear my husband's chiding in my mind. I gravitated to the display determined to prove him wrong which I would promptly do upon returning home. Grasping the nearest package with smallish print, I also turned to grab the lowest level of reading glasses. I had practiced reading the small print on that package and found it to be readable, but blurry at the distance my husband said I should be able to see it clearly. Still holding the package at the same distance, I unfolded a pair of funky, leopard and green +1.00 reading glasses and slipped them on, perching them on the end of my nose. "Oh my God! I can read!," I said to my sister. I was stunned!

After several photos of me feigning depression while trying on various glasses, I settled on a red pair with stars and rhinestones on the arms. It seemed to fit my personality - and my face. Now it was time to make our way home and take it like a woman when my husband said I told you so.

The first person to notice was my ten year-old son. He asked me what was hanging from my neck. I pulled the glasses from their little "necklace" holder and slipped them on. He smiled and hugged me, telling me I looked like Memere (my mom). I laid my head on his shoulder and faked a boo-hoo while laughing and telling him Daddy might be trading me in for a younger woman with better vision. We both chuckled and he told me he was sorry. When I asked why he was sorry he said, "Because you had to get glasses and it means you're getting older."

Now in the last ten months I have undergone some major stress! There is no doubt my hair is much more gray. I can handle daily military life, schooling Koen, raising the twins, the transoceanic move, and two major surgeries, but something about having people ask me if the twins are my grandchildren and if my 35 year-old sister is my daughter is about to break me! But did I mention that I can see now? These glasses are meant to allow me to "see" a whole lot more than just what is in writing now. It's the beginning of seeing a whole new me, even if the new me is running head-on into a mid-life crisis precipitated by other people erroneously thinking I'm old! LOL And by the way, my wonderfully gracious husband told me I looked cute in my glasses and didn't even drop a hint of an "I told you so." I think he must have seen my fragile state. :)