Walked in but Limped Out!

Okay, our son will start fifth grade in August. The Genesis of this blog was when he was three and his sister was five. They were so funny. All kids are funny when they're young. I thought I'd run out of funny stories about them by now. But they still do ridiculously, funny things, that leave me feeling a little dysfunctional as a mom.

We've always had humorous stories when it comes to visits with doctors. And we still do.

Our ten-year-old went to the doctor recently after complaining about his throat and a headache. Normally when he complains and we suggest going to the doctor he has a change of heart.
"Well I think we should wait until tomorrow to see if I feel better."

When he doesn't change his mind we know we have to take him in.

So after a brief examination, the doctor tells us he needs to do a test for strep- just to rule it out. I knew what this meant: his throat would have to be swabbed.

As the doctor walked out to retrieve "supplies" the ten-year-old jumps off the table.

"Come on Daddy, let's go," he said, walking toward the door.

Daddy remains calm and in his seat. I just smiled. I've been through enough doctor visits with them both to know what's about to go down. Daddy usually underestimates the power of the (listen for the epic, powerful music in the background) TEN-YEAR-OLD! Not to take credit from Daddy because he has been there for backup when doctors, dentists and the Chick-fil-a staff (yes, he's still scared of the cow) have needed help, but I've told him he can't go all WWE on my baby- slamming him down by the throat.

"No Buddy. We gotta wait for the doctor," Daddy said nonchalantly, while looking at his phone.

He gets really close to Daddy's face and asks, "What's he gonna do?"

Still calm, he responded, "Well, he's just gonna check your throat to make sure it's not really bad."

"Naw Daddy he already did that. He don't need to do that again!"

I could tell he really meant that too. His body language changed abruptly. He stood differently.

Let the games begin!

The doctor and Daddy were involuntarily about to play TRY and Pin the boy on the table.

I sat really still and tried to be invisible. Too late...he was coming toward me for a lifeline. I did the only thing I could at the moment- I began rumbling through my purse. Don't make eye contact!

I decided to make a run for it before the doctor came back. I had to now because our oldest was beginning to smile. Not good.

Before I could make my move the doctor came in. Doc has some age on him but about six feet, so I figured between him and Daddy, they should be just fine with the little one.

"Okay Mr. Jackson, jump back up here for me," he said, patting that crinkly white paper on the table.

The ten-year-old confidently looked at Daddy.

Daddy finally put his phone down and said, "No Buddy. He's talking to YOU."

Surprisingly he sat on the table on his own.

The next few minutes were just a mess. He tried to swab his throat but the little one put up a fight. I turned my back.

I heard that white paper ripping! The doctor tried to keep his voice sweet but yelled, "No, no! No hitting!"

He finally called for backup, "Daddy. Can I get some help please?"

"Cut that out and get it over with!" Daddy yelled as he went over to help.

He put up a fight but it wasn't a fair fight. Daddy pulled out the claw, picked him up and put him down on the table in a flash. When he hit, what was left of the white paper, he protested screamed.

"Now Doc!" Daddy yelled, and the doctor was able to quickly swab his tonsils...finally.

The room was a mess! The two GROWN men were sweating, white, shredded paper was everywhere EXCEPT the table. It was muggy in the room and our daughter was bent over laughing uncontrollably.

The rest of us were silent. Daddy fixed his clothes and the doctor limped out with his sample.

Now That's Scared!

Playing around with our son the other night and I decided to do what my parents and friends' parents did when I was little. I decided to scare him. Now, when we were little we enjoyed it- being chased by adults or the adults hiding and jumping out to scare us when it was dark.

Let's set the scene: Daddy and our daughter were hanging out downstairs. He was watching TV while she created animations on the laptop. They were sitting just a few feet from the stairs.

I was chasing our ten-year-old son around upstairs. At one point I decided to let him get ahead of me. I backed up and turned the hall light off. This light is left on for them at night so they can easily navigate to the bathroom the ten-year-old won't be scared at night.

All the laughing immediately stopped.

"Mama?"

"Mama, I know that was you."

I didn't move.

He darted into his room and closed the door. Then locked it.

I crept up to his door and put my ear up to it, smiling.

I could hear him pushing his chair up to the door. I muffled my laugh.

Then, I heard him hit the floor.

"Mama? I can see your feet!"

Well why don't you come out.

So I just tiptoed to his sister's room a few feet away and sat on the floor. Waiting to see how long he would act scared.

No act.

Daddy's cell phone rings downstairs.

"Hello?" he said.

"Daddy... can you tell Mama to come out and stop trying to scare me?"

"Where are you? Are you upstairs in your room calling me?" Daddy asked. "And why are you whispering?" he added.

Shocked, I almost gave in but the youthful, mischievous girl in me decided to play a little longer.

I quietly walked downstairs and motioned for Daddy not to say anything nor rescue him yet.

I went back and scratched on his door. He pushed the chair closer to the door.

"Okay Mama, stop playing!"

I went back to his sister's room to wait.

I didn't hear anything from him for about two minutes- just his TV. I assumed he just got wrapped up in a show or something.

Then...

"Daddy. Please come tell Mama to come out."

I heard Daddy walking upstairs while he had him on the phone.

"Okay. I'm upstairs now and Mama's not gonna scare you anymore," he assured him, while making a face at me.

He moved the chair and came out of his room.

"See Mama. I knew it was you!"

Well, why didn't you come out then?

"I had to use the bathroom," he revealed.

"Well go to the bathroom then," I told him.

"I already went."

Daddy and I both stopped and looked at each other.

Before we could ask, he came out of his room with a cup. It was clear so I could see what looked like Mello Yello. But I knew it wasn't- we don't buy sodas.

Not sure how long my mouth stayed open.

"I know you weren't that scared that you peed in a cup!" Daddy yelled. "You can't be scared in yo' own house boy! And we were all here too!"

I closed my mouth but opened it again long enough to add, "And you are about to be a tae kwon do black belt dude."

I almost didn't blog this one. #soembarrassed

Shower Scenes

Not sure why but our son still has problems with the shower. Tonight we reminded him to take a shower... a few times. "I don't like 'em," he softly said. His honesty caught me off guard. But so did a quick thought: "You don't want to be the stinky boy at school!" Like water from showers he should be taking, the conversation began going down the drain. "I just don't like taking them. They take too much time," he added. So Daddy threatened him... "You don't want me to sit in the bathroom again to make sure you take a shower." Last time that happened, I overheard more than water running as our son casually and comfortably said, "Daddy! You know I got some hair down here!" He wasn't talking about hair in the drain either. And Daddy casually replied, "Really" "Yes Daddy. You know down here on that round thang. Some boys at school call them balls but they don't look like balls 'cause it looks like, you know, one- not two with an "s"." There was a pause, then I heard him step out of the shower. "See Daddy. This-" "Just hurry up and wash yourself man!," Daddy told him with a little more urgency in his voice. Interrupting the memory, Daddy warned him about the little girls at school. Thinking this would give him more reason to embrace t showers. "The little girls at school are gonna talk about you." Shaking his head confidently he replied, "Nah... they won't." "GO TAKE A SHOWER DUDE!" We both shouted. He reluctantly walked to the shower. Head down, saying, "I don't know why everybody make a big deal about showers." After the shower we asked, "Did you brush your teeth?" He threw his hands up in despair. "Take showers. Brush your teeth."

What Looks Like Crazy on An Ordinary Day

Turning forty-one has been fabulous and amusing! I have finally learned to relax and not worry so much about some of the trivial things. Unfortunately, I have had to accept that my metabolism is not as it used to be. I'm not the lean, young girl who could eat everything when I wanted and not have it camp around my mid-section. I remember constantly trying to GAIN weight, as a junior high student. Quite different now. Years ago I could just grab my size when shopping and not worry about trying it on in the store. Now I take several sizes in the fitting room. This is usually how I gauge my weight. Usually, I leave out with my hair sticking up, sweating and leaving every item there.

Recently, I was running late for work. I quietly but quickly grabbed my red shirt and pants from our closet. I didn't want to wake my husband so I used a dim light to see and took my clothes to our bathroom. I put on my pants, but the shirt was a little challenging. I could hear some threads popping as I forced it over my head and arms.

The shirt fought me as I attempted to pull it over my torso. The shirt yelled, "I DON'T FIT YOU!" I'm a fighter, so I was determined to get the shirt on. Until... I began sweating and felt a little dizzy. This was ridiculous! It felt like I had a blood pressure cuff on my body!

Glancing at the clock, I realized I had minutes to get out and head for work. But how was I gonna get out of the shirt? I could barely breathe or move. How in the world did this happen? Sure I'd gained some weight and it fit a little snug but gracious, I could get it on before.

I could feel tears coming. I sucked it up and took a deep breath and tried to pull it up and over my head.

Comedy! After about five minutes of circling around with my arms stuck and eyes covered, I finally got the thing off. Couldn't believe I didn't wake anyone. So I cleaned up, cooled down, stomped on the evil shirt and quickly threw on another one.

On the way out to the garage, I slammed the ripped shirt into the trash! Not to be outdone, I immaturely gave it half a peace sign.

Driving to work, I reflected on the whole ordeal and tried to accept that I had simply blown up. It's life. I collected myself and walked into work...feeling bruised mentally and definitely physically.

Later, when I got home, my eleven-year-old daughter asked me what happened to her red shirt and why was it in the trash.

Yep! I'm crazy.

Really?

There have been times when I shake my head just thinking about how fortunate our kids are are that they weren't reared the same as us. They don't have to stay outside from sunrise until the street lights come on...in rotisserie heat during the summer in NC. Knock on the door if you dared...for water or bathroom. "Stop bammin' on that door!" an air conditioned adult would yell, while giving me a dingy, tupperware cup of water, through the door, before it slammed shut. And we've rarely beckoned them to come in, during the eleventh inning of rolling bat, just to turn the channels of the TV. While the Genesis of our childhood was different and somewhat tough, there were numerous things that were simple and that just didn't need to be taught. Simple things will arise periodically, that will have the little bubble above my head around the word: Really? For example, yesterday was a gorgeous day which called us all outside. So we're actively enjoying it: running, and riding our bikes, when our daughter abruptly runs past all of the dirt, and grass- all the way home to...spit. Really?

Only The Youngest

Only the youngest in our house. The same one who recently thought he could skip a bath because he was baptized earlier that day. The same one who runs from the cow at Chick-Fil-A...and Chuck-E-Cheese... and jumped across the barriers at Disney World to avoid all the Disney Characters. The way he ran then at three had me believing he could be the next Bolt! Heck! Forget the gun going off- just put someone in a costume at the starting line. Only the youngest, who put lego blocks in his shoes to be taller a few months ago. Same kid I watched run about five times around the house, from a puppy, who wanted to play. I watched from the window, then wiped the tears from my face before finally opening the door. I know I'm an adult and his mom- protector BUT... This same kid, just set off the smoke alarm in the house. Why? His shoes were washed and instead of him simply sitting them out in the laundry room and closing the door to allow them to dry overnight as someone (clearing my throat) suggested... he attempted to dry the shoes with my hand-held blow dryer. Not sure how long he planned to sit and hold it, close to each shoe but... When the alarm went off in his room he runs out and stands in the hall with his hands out like, "What happened?" Only our youngest.

A Normal Day

I was so excited about today! Both kids CHOSE to be baptized! The day started off a little... normal. Daddy and I were humming around the house, as we prepared for church. I felt flutters as I sped up to make sure we got on the road promptly. It was as if I were being baptized. The kids, on the other hand, were... normal. I really couldn't understand why they were quarreling. (This words sounds a little better on a Sunday morning) "Break that up please," I told Daddy. I have to admit, I was a little concerned about how the oldest would do during her baptism. Yes she is eleven BUT, you would have to read my old blogs to understand. She was the reason I started blogging in 2006. She was five then. I really should have started blogging once we brought her home from the hospital. Myriad memories flashed across the windshield as we drove to church. She lifted her head at just one week young. Just shy of her second birthday her brother was born. She was reprimanded for something as she got into the van in the parking lot of Babies R Expensive. We were too big to take on she slapped her newborn brother as she plopped down in her car seat and crossed her plump legs. At three she got into my Maxi pads and put one on, then walked out into the great room while I entertained a friend from church who was there to promote Pampered Chef. She stood in the middle of the room and pulled the strip out and gave it to the lady. I didn't buy anything and now that I think about it she never called back to set up that party. At four she ran around the foyer of the church singing "It's Gettin' Hot in Here, So take off..." That was my fault. But hey, I got tired of listening to CDs of Barney in the car. It was my radio! Also at four, she would not ring her bell during the kids' singing of songs during a Christmas play. She kept it in her elf hat until the other kids stopped singing. She rang that bell and belted out the wrong words to that song! The stories are endless. So you see why I had some concerns. I'm proud to say she and her brother were baptized without any problems today! While the other two females changed afterwards and remarked about the experience, she simply asked,"Mama. Are you gonna dry my hair and put it back like Cleopatra?" I just smiled and hoped the other ladies didn't hear it. "Come on," I sweetly said. Pinching Helping her out the door. So after an adventurous day, it is time for us to prepare for Monday. "Someone get in the shower!" I yelled to them. I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the sweet, innocent, youngest. "I gotta take a bath? But I was just baptized."

Bad Example

I was expecting a phone call. Maybe a visit from my administrator. I'd bitten my nails down too far. Not knowing if there would be repercussions was the worst. During my fourth period, just before my lunch and planning, I'd talked too much. My students were reading a story about a boy who wasn't allowed to play soccer because of a vision problem. He was upset because he didn't think it was a big deal but the school was cognizant of it once his mom sent a note.
So one of my students asked what were vision problems. I gave some examples- one of them being amblyopia or "lazy eye".
"What's lazy eye?" one student asked. So I explained and I gave an example. (Mistake)
"It's not a big deal. It is common," I assured him and tried to move on.
Not quitting while I was ahead, I came up with a real example. Limited English Proficient students, many times, need real examples or visuals.
No pun intended.
"There is a lady who works in the drive-thru at the McDonald's, right up the road here, from the school [pointing at my window] and she has a lazy eye."
Again I attempted to move on.
"At the McDonald's beside the highways down there [pointing in same direction]?" a student asked.
"Yes. The McDonald's near the highway, UP there," I answered, "now who's turn is it to read?"
I noticed the student's face. He was still thinking about it.
"Do the lady have long, black hair?" he continued.
"I think so, but-"
"That's my Mom!" he interrupted. This was awkward. All eyes were on me...waiting.
"As I said, it is a common eye problem and I am not sure if it was your mother. But it isn't something people can help," I offered.
"What is it called again?" someone asked. "Their eyes is lazy," another answered.
"No! Not lazy eyes. It's called lazy eye and-"
"But my Mom, her eyes is not lazy. They work all the times," he added.
Everyone started talking.
"Okay. Okay. Get quiet everyone," I said.
I quickly walked up to him and apologized. His feet were swinging as usual like a happy dog with a wagging tail. He turned to the next page in the story so I quickly jumped back in too.
"Where were we?" I looked up.
One student was crossing his eyes and raising his hand, with a foolish smile.
I called on someone else.

Volunteering with the Old People

Tomorrow will be a big day! A National Holiday and the Presidential Inauguration! Wow! Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday! So Daddy and I thought it would be nice to volunteer, as a family on this holiday since he was about service. My suggestion was to volunteer with the elderly. There is an assisted living facility nearby- actually just a five to ten minute walk. I just thought it would be different and I have a heart for the elderly. "Aren't they old people?" our son asked. "Well, yes but doesn't elderly sound better?" I responded. "And we need to respect our ElDERS." I added. More questions followed: "So what are we gonna do with the old- I mean the elderly people?" Our eleven-year-old chuckled. I didn't ask what she was laughing about. I'm not elderly yet but wise in my own right. I was once a little, silly, girl too. "Well, we you and your sister could read to them. They would appreciate that." "They don't read the same books I read Mama," he replied. I tried to suggest other things. "Well, the people who work there may have suggestions. When I was a teenager and volunteered a lot, I played games like BINGO with the elderly and they enjoyed that." Surely other activities have been created after 25 years. Smiling, his sister said, "Maybe we could let them listen to music on our MP3 players." She can be so charming and creative. "Do we have to go help old- I mean elVerly people we don't know?" he asked. "I know some, old, elVerly people we can help." "It's elDerly. Who?" I asked. "Grandma and Papa!" I'll probably break a nail calling them to tell them this! My parents are in in their early 60s and so are my in-laws!

Bob

Okay...we've always-well I've always used big girl words with the kids when referencing body parts. Boys don't have "little wee-wees" and girls don't have "pocket books". And we have always purposely allowed them to see us be affectionate with one another. They need to see hugs and kisses. And we like to have conversations when topics come up. We had planned to talk with our nine-year-old son about sex soon. Well we should've sped it up. We planned to use our big words too. SEX! Not "Bob". So he comes home and just jumps right into it... Targeting me. He looks me up-and-down, deplorably, and asks, "Mama...you had Bob with Daddy two times?" Now I teach students how to use context clues to figure out new, unfamiliar words so I put the clues together. Caught off guard but too cool to be embarrassed, I calmly used my big girl words, "OMG!" He just continued on. "Well technically you did it THREE times because you [voice goes down with some slack] got IMpregnant with that other baby who didn't make it- And Mama I think that was gonna be a boy BUT that makes THREE times Mama!" He held up those three little fingers. I did the only thing I knew to do at that moment... "Boy! Look at your fingernails! Go get the clippers. Makes no sense and you questioning me. I'm grown!" I flipped on him so quickly that it got him off track. Briefly. While I clipped his nails slowly, he watched me. He looked as if he didn't know me. The mom he'd had since May 2003. He is wise. Knew I had the clippers. Waited until I clipped the last one then said, "Mama?" Apple don't fall far- "What's this 'Bob' mess you talkin' about?" He explained that on the playground he and other boys use it as a giggly code word. After some interrogation on my part I discovered he didn't find out too much on the streets- I mean playground. After wrapping up- no pun intended- for bed and saying prayers, he walked upstairs and said, "Well, when I get older I don't know about having a baby with my wife." I laughed. "Your wife would HAVE the baby. Not you." "But I gotta process all that with her."

Lego Shoes

Happy 2013! Wow! When I blogged for the first time our daughter was just entering kindergarten and our son was in daycare. Now she has started her first year of middle school (6th grade) and he is in fourth. She is trying to find herself- and I am trying to find her too!! Our son is cool but doesn't know it and... he wants to be taller. How tall does a fourth grader need to be? I think he has been comparing himself to the wrong kids. "Ma... this one kid is really tall- he is almost the same height as her (pointing to his sister as if he doesn't know her name)!" Without looking up at my book I asked him, "How old is he?" "Well... he almost 11." Huh? "He's really smart and he is really tall," he added. "Um, naw. He's supposed to be tall and he is SUPPOSED to be in a higher grade," I assured him. "Maybe two grades higher." Silence. He had to think about it. I thought that would cure the height issue that plagued him. Then, last night, just before bed he came downstairs and asked, "Do I look taller?" I looked over and noticed he had on his black and purple high-tops. Upon further examination I saw that the heels looked indented- and he had a peculiar stance. "Something is wrong here," Daddy said. Our son tried to create height by putting his lego blocks in the heel of his shoes! We should have made him wear them like that!