Saturday, May 25, 2013

Everything Is A Bonnet

After eating breakfast at the camp site, my boys and I began taking pictures of the flowers.  We combed the field by our tent for Bluebonnets, Indian Paintbrushes, Indian Blankets, Mexican Hats, and Pink Evening Primroses.  Tiptoeing past bees so as not to disturb them, we snapped pictures of the flowers and of each other. 

Son #1 and Son #2 wanted to pick the flowers but were told not to touch.  Instead, they were encouraged to explore the field for the prettiest flowers they could find.  Son #1wandered about shouting to me about his discoveries.  Son #2 babbled and trotted through the grass like a maniac.

After some time, a wasp decided to join us.  Son #1, Son #2, and I decided to cut our journey short and return to our camp site.  As we walked back to our tent, Son #1 called out to his dad.  "Hey, Dad!"

"Yes, Son!"  My husband replied.

"Dad!  I saw a bunch of Bluebonnets!"  Son #1 cried.

"We saw Indian Paintbrushes and Primroses, too."  I said casually.

"Uh uh!  Those are Redbonnets and Pinkbonnets!"  Son #1 corrected with confidence.

"No, Baby.  Those are Indian Paintbrushes and Primroses."  I reiterated.

"No, Mama.  They're all bonnets!"  Son #1 shouted.

I stand corrected.  Everything is a bonnet.

Monday, May 13, 2013

The Leaf Monster Poos

This is a story about a tiny baby transformed into a Leaf Monster while we camped by our favorite lake.  The little Leaf Monster was swept up into his mother's arms and vigorously dusted until a majority of the leaves fell away from his fuzzy green jacket.  However, some of the leaves remained on the green jacket.  The Leaf Monster had not completely vanished.  This is where our story begins.

As I held the Leaf Monster in my arms, I detected an unmistakable odor emanating from his bottom.  I sighed and settled him down in the front seat of the car in order to change his dirty diaper.  I expected the diaper to have a reasonable amount of poo so I grabbed four wipes.  Four wipes should have been enough.

When I opened the diaper, I found a conglomerate of poo and leaves stuck to his behind.  I immediately muttered to myself.  "Great!  I don't have enough wipes."  Then, I began the tedious process of removing poop, leaves, and twigs from the little monster's rear end.

The Leaf Monster fussed and squealed.  He tried to roll away.  Visions of leaves and poo pasted to the car interior swam through my head.  I shook my imagination free of those terrible images and concentrated on cleaning my baby.  After what seemed like an eternity, I finally placed a fresh, clean diaper onto my baby.  He smiled and babbled gratefully.  At last, the Leaf Monster was transformed back into my sweet baby.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Leaf Monster

A couple weekends ago, our little family went camping by our favorite lake.  It was Son #2's first time to go camping and he was very excited.

The morning had a chill in the air when we climbed out of our tent.  Son #2 was dressed in his jeans and favorite fuzzy, green jacket.  He and his older brother began to explore their surroundings.  They played with sticks, bugs, wood, and flowers.  Then, Son #1 began to build a giant leaf pile. 

The pile grew to modest proportions.  When the pile was just right, Son #1 took a flying leap into the leaves.  Son #2 chortled with delight and tried to do the same.  Our two silly boys bounced, rolled, and jumped in the leaves with sheer joy.

Eventually, they began to tire and sat in their pile of leaves to rest.  Son #1 casually flung leaves in the air and watched them land on his younger brother.  Over and over the leaves flew through the air.  Slowly, they drifted back to the earth and onto Son #2.

When that game had finished, Son #2 was covered from head to toe in leaves.  If you will remember, he was wearing a fuzzy green jacket.  Unfortunately, every leaf and twig imaginable was stuck to his green jacket.  Try as we might, the leaves and twigs would not come off.  Our sweet baby boy was now a Leaf Monster.

I love my little Leaf Monster but I had plans for that jacket as soon as we got home.

Daddy's Surprise

A week or two before my husband's birthday, I had secretly conspired with my mom and sister to surprise him with a banana split party.  Banana splits are his favorite ice cream treat.  Sadly, he rarely gets to indulge in them.

I used to be a terrible secret keeper but the effects of chemo have given me the gift of discretion.  If you tell me something now, I'll never remember it.  Therefore, there is no secret to spill. 

My husband's banana split party had been effectively kept from his knowledge for several days when I realized I needed to go shopping for some of the ingredients.  I was in a bind because I would have to take the boys with me.  Could they keep this secret hidden from their dad?  We would soon find out.

While we shopped, I slyly slipped the banana split ingredients into the cart.  My eldest son got curious.  "Mommy, are we going to eat a dessert tonight?"

"No, son.  We're going to grill tonight."  I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

"Why are you buying bananas and strawberries and whip cream?  We can't grill that!"  Son #1 observed.

I ignored that question but Son #1 persisted.  "Can I have a banana and some strawberries when we get home?"

"No."  I replied a little worried.  "I have to drop the bananas, strawberries, and whip cream off at Abuelita's (Grandma's) house."

"Why?"  Son #1 asked.

"Because."  I responded.  "Hey, do you want corn dogs?"

Son #1 thought for a moment and then began  "Umm...sure.  Are we going to grill at Abuelita's house?" 

At that moment, I felt like I was the one being grilled tonight.  Finally, I broke down and said.  "Can you keep a secret from you Dad?"

Son #1 nodded emphatically.

"We're going to have a surprise banana split party for your dad this weekend.  I have to drop the ingredients off at Abuelita's house.  If your dad sees these ingredients, he will get suspicious.  Don't tell your daddy what we bought or where we went.  O.K.?"

Son #1 whispered with wide eyes.  "O.K."

We purchased our stash of groceries and hurriedly journeyed to Abuelita's house.  Once there, I rushed the ingredient to her refrigerator and ran back to the car.  Quickly, we drove to the house.  When we arrived, I repeated my warning.  "Don't tell your daddy what we bought or where we went.  If you do, the surprise will be ruined."

Again, Son #1 whispered seriously.  "O.K."

We unloaded the groceries and entered the house.  Son #1 ran to his dad's office and shouted.  "Dad!  Dad!  We have a secret at Abuelita's house but I can't tell you!"


Apparently, this is my parents' revenge for the MANY secrets I spilled as a child.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Chasing the Ice Cream Truck

One spring afternoon, Son #1 flew out of his room toward the front door screaming.  "The ice cream truck is coming!  The ice cream truck is coming!"

I shouted.  "Don't go out the front door yet!  You need to wait for me!"

I handed  shoes to my sons and my brother.  Then, we ran outside to the edge of the lawn.  We peered up and down the street but did not see the ice cream truck.  Where could it be?  We could hear its song and concluded that it was a street over.  After a brief discussion with the gang, we decided to walk to the corner of our street and wait for the truck.

Slowly, we meandered down to the stop sign.  Son #2 held onto my finger while Son #1 skipped ahead.  My brother walked behind us casually.

When we arrived at the stop sign, we peered up and down the cross street.  There was still no sign of the ice cream truck.  However, we could hear its distinctive song.

We turned left on the cross street and continued our journey.  As we rounded the corner, the tune from the truck became louder.  Son #1 shrieked with glee and sprinted to the truck.  I swept Son #2 into my arms and moved quickly to catch up with my eldest son.  My brother hurried behind us.  The truck stopped and everyone selected a treat.  We conversed with the ice cream man and then bid him farewell.

I'm sure we'll see him again soon.  We are regular customers.  Being that we are regular customers, he probably thought we were lunatics for chasing him down two streets.


One day, my husband and eldest son were discussing respect and obedience.  My husband explained to Son #1 that we should respect God first and then our parents.  They were delving into the finer points of listening, obeying, and showing respect when my husband decided to check Son #1's understanding of the subject.

My husband turned to Son #1 and asked.  "So, who do you respect first?"

Son #1 thoughtfully put his hand to his face and tapped his cheek.  His eyes brightened and he replied.  "The Cowboys!"

My husband and I rolled our eyes simultaneously.  Had our oldest child listened to anything that was being said??

With a hint of amusement in his voice, my husband said.  "Nice one, Son.  However, that is not the right answer.  Who are you supposed to respect first?  What have we been talking about?"

Son #1 pondered the question for a moment and said.  "Oh, God's first."

"Yes!"  My husband replied.  "Next, you respect your parents.  THEN, you can respect the Cowboys."

"Alright!"  Son #1 shouted with joy.

Good grief.