Climbing

Blue Jeans is a climber. My other two luckily were not, but this one will climb on anything and everything he can. First it was the walker toy/car that he would roll over to my desk and precariously balance on as the wheels rolled back and forth so he could slam on the keyboard. Or he'd roll it over to the table and stand on it to be up with the big boys. Didn't matter how many times it rolled out from underneath him. He would roll it right back over crying in pain from the bump on his head. I removed that little vehicle from the room so he wouldn't be tempted again. Next it was the books bin. He would dump out all the books on the floor and then go to my desk to repeat the process. That time, he figured out the benefits of standing on mom's rolling, spinning desk chair-"Look Ma, No hands!". I removed that bin from the room opting for a pile of books on the floor rather than having my 1 year old do circus trapeze acts while on a spinning chair. Next it was his baskets of toys. Dump out the baskets, push them over to the desired higher location and climb, thereby breaking my nice decorator baskets in his attempts to reach new heights. The baskets are now often on the top counter in the kitchen where he can only see them and whine with his little hand pleadingly pointing at them. Today, with none of the regular resources left to him, he got into the tupperware cupboard, dumped out all the tupperware, pushed the bin over to the table and stood up on it. He then turned to grin at me with the most mischeiouvous and triumphant grin of utter glee that said, "Face it, Mom, you can't keep a good man down!" I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud and got out my camera.

Needless to say we'll be having some lessons about how we don't climb on the table in the near future. And hopefully my little photo shoot won't undermine them!

The Widow's Mite Hands On

We have wanted to start a tradition of family service and so this week we decided to do a little food drive for the local food bank. Today the boys and I went to pick up all the food and they collected quite a bit! And I think the boys felt good knowing they were serving. But the greatest thing about today was the woman we collected from who has very little herself who gave two whole grocery bags full of food-the most of anyone we collected from. She explained to me that even though she doesn't have much, she knows what it's like to have less and she wants to give if she can at all give. What an amazing hands on lesson and example for my boys of the Widow and her mite. I told them the story and Mr. President was of course baffled by her giving so much when it just didn't make sense to him logically. In his little mind it was crazy that she would do that. But I'm so grateful they got the chance to see that! I hope they never forget it.

"Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living." Mark 12:43-44.

The End of Why???

A miraculous thing happened today. For any of you who know Mr. President at all you will know how miraculous this truly is. The ramifications are HUGE. So huge that I had to write about it. Mr. Pres is full of questions. Full of whys. It never ever stops. But today I saw the light at the end of the why tunnel. The boys were pretending to be foxes. Mr. Pres wanted to know exactly what they ate and before coming to me and asking me what they ate, he actually got out our Encyclopedia of Animals, turned to the Fox page and then he and Go Go read it together to answer THEIR OWN QUESTION! I was jumping up and down with excitement in my giddy anticipation of the future. And it was so fun to listen to them figure out how to say the harder words together. I should have recorded them discovering together.
How wonderful it is when they can actually answer their own questions!!! Wow. Dreams really do come true!

You Know You're Old When

Mr. President was playing "house" with his friends today and he came walking down the hall to say "goodbye" to his "daughter". From this I deduced that he was the father going off to work for the day. I noticed he had a square paper something in his hand that he had made and it looked to me like a briefcase. Having grown up with a father who took a briefcase to work, I naturally assumed this to be what it was. Impressed with his artwork I said, "Is that your briefcase?" He said, "No, what's a briefcase? This is my computer." Ah. Yes. Of course. Excuse me while I take my old self and go hang out with Ward Cleaver.

Things You Won't Hear When They're 13

We just started having the boys bring the big garbage cans in after garbage day. They are twice their size, but they LOVE doing it. Today as I drove into the driveway and saw the empty garbage cans ready to be brought in I asked Mr. Pres if he wanted to bring them in. He said, and I quote (and will quote again when he's 13) "Oh PLEEEASE can I? Please oh please?"
Anyone know of a drug I can give them that makes this joyous desire to do chores stick? I'd bet even in this economy you could make a fortune on that kind of drug!

Just Move the Mixer

I had another grand Motherly Moment of Wisdom today that for some mothers would probably have been a no brainer, but not for me. I'm a little slow when it comes to stuff like this so I'm going out on a limb here sharing my thick headedness for all to read.

Today I was spending some quality time with Mr. President making banana bread. I wanted this to be a happy bonding time with no fighting, arguing or yelling, which for Pres and I is quite a feat! To do the mixing for our bread we used the kitchen aid mixer. This is over in the corner between the stove and the sink so when I bake with the boys, we have to crowd into the corner because moving the mixer is too hard as it's so heavy. This was the case today and I kept getting really annoyed at Pres for pushing his way in to see the bowl and getting in my way constantly. I was just about to growl at him to stay back for a second when providentially a thought occurred to me. "Move the mixer to the other counter." Those of you less block headed than myself would have seen this as glaringly obvious, but unfortunately such was not the case for me. And so I moved the mixer. I hefted it and all it's heaviness over to the long counter where we could both be more comfortable and I wouldn't get annoyed. Yes, it was heavy. But to have the rest of our time together be peaceful was well worth it.

How many other problems that I have with my kids could be cured just by simply "moving the mixer"? How many problems could be solved just by having a slight change in my point of view?

I'll tell you what, though. I'll move the mixer anytime for this cheeser grin.

Valentine's Day Happenings

All week long we've been doing "heart service" at our house. At any given time you could walk into your room to find a made bed, or cleaned up toys with a little heart left behind. Go Go has seriously gotten into this and several times I heard him run into the room and frantically shout, "Where are hearts?!!! I need to do some service!" Here's our collection of service hearts.

This morning the boys found our dinning room Heart Attacked with strawberry covered waffles on the table. This was my "heart service" to the family today. Mr. President walked in and said in his typical derogatory tone, "Mom, why are there hearts everywhere?" Meaning, "Come on, mom, can't you keep the place a little more picked up?" "It's a HEART attack, Pres," I tried to explain, "You know, hearts attacked our dinning room??.....nevermind." It loses so much of the fun when you have to explain it as we often have to with Mr. Pres. Literal to a fault! Halfway through breakfast he finally said, "OHHH, I get it! HEART ATTACK!" Sigh. Hard work is wasted on the young. At least my hard work for my young. And as a final blow, Blue Jeans found unholy glee in tearing all the hearts off the walls and windows.