One cool, spring night, I bustled around the house hastily rushing the kids to bed. I was in a hurry to speed over to my mom's house because we were in the midst of a huge sewing project. Son #2 jumped on the couch like one of the Five Monkeys while I tucked Son #1 into his bed. He snuggled with his stuffed Snoopy as I sat on his bed reading a chapter from his Bible Stories book. My boots leaned against the mattress and I tucked my feet underneath the stuffed animals for warmth. As the story came to a close, I heard Son #2 cry out from the living room. Most likely, my monkey had fallen from the couch. I patted Son #1's hands and said. "Let me go check on your brother. I'll be back in just a second."
Son #1 replied sleepily. "O.K. Mommy."
I walked quickly down the hallway and found my youngest son weeping on the floor. When he saw me enter the room, he held his arms up and cried. "My hurt!"
"What happened?" I asked as concern filled my voice.
"I fell." Son #2 whimpered pointing to his forearm.
"Oh no! Are you O.K?" I inspected his arm. He wiggled it around in several directions which soothed my fears immediately. Then, I kissed the boo boo and instructed my youngest son to stop jumping on the couch. Son #2 promised to behave himself and ran to his room. Finally, I returned to Son #1's room to pray with him before he fell asleep.
When I entered my eldest son's room, I noticed that my boots were missing. I furrowed my brow and tried to mentally retrace my steps around the house.
Where could I have put my boots?
Did I misplace them?
I know I'm forgetful but this is ridiculous.
Son #1 saw the confused look on my face and giggled. He hugged the blankets to his chin as his eyes danced with delight. Then, I noticed that the outline of his feet under the covers were unusually large for a child his size. I raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "Where are my boots, little boy?"
Son #1 snickered. "I don't know."
"I bet you do know!" I narrowed my eyes. My lips twitched as I tried to conceal a smirk. Then, I ripped off the covers to reveal my boots on my son's little feet!
"What are you doing wearing my boots?!" I laughed.
Son #1 responded without missing a beat. "I was keeping my feet warm!"
Saturday, May 17, 2014
I have not fallen off the face of the earth.
Hmm...I haven't written anything in almost a
month. I've been a little consumed sewing a costume with my mom.
However, we are finally done creating this awesome renaissance outfit.
Hurray!
Sunday, April 27, 2014
The Rogue Okra
This is our second year of planting and maintaining a vegetable garden. Our garden consists of five large wooden boxes filled to the brim with top soil and cow manure. One box contains herbs and lettuce. Another has neat rows of onions. The third has potatoes and bell peppers. The fourth box is beginning to show signs of zucchini and okra sprouts. The fifth box has just been planted with cucumber and tomato seeds. The boys love to help plant seeds and pull weeds. By the time they finish helping in the garden, they are covered in the dark, rich soil.
A few weeks ago, Son #1 and Son #2 were helping us sow seeds in the first and fourth boxes. They carefully dug holes with their fingers and gently covered the seeds. Periodically, their dad would shout. "Get away from the fire ants!" The boys would obediently scamper away.
We finished pulling weeds and planting lettuce seeds in the first box. Then, we moved on to the fourth box. The kids jumped up and down, begging to plant the zucchini seeds. We patiently helped them space out the seeds in the box. Next, we opened the package of okra seeds. My husband and I discussed where to plant the seeds while the boys investigated the onion plants.
When we had made our decision, we called Son #1 and Son #2 over to the box. They held out their little hands as we placed a seed into their palms. Son #1 meticulously dug his hole and placed the seed inside. He carefully covered the seed with the extra dirt and smiled proudly. However, Son #2 threw his seed into the middle of the box. Then, he laughed with delight and shouted. "I DID IT!"
My husband and I looked at each other in shock. We searched the box thoroughly looking for the wayward seed. I smacked my palm to my forehead. Our grand and organized plan for the garden was awry. My husband got up from his knees slowly. Then, he wryly commented. "Well, I guess we're going to have a rogue okra plant in the middle of this box.
A few weeks ago, Son #1 and Son #2 were helping us sow seeds in the first and fourth boxes. They carefully dug holes with their fingers and gently covered the seeds. Periodically, their dad would shout. "Get away from the fire ants!" The boys would obediently scamper away.
We finished pulling weeds and planting lettuce seeds in the first box. Then, we moved on to the fourth box. The kids jumped up and down, begging to plant the zucchini seeds. We patiently helped them space out the seeds in the box. Next, we opened the package of okra seeds. My husband and I discussed where to plant the seeds while the boys investigated the onion plants.
When we had made our decision, we called Son #1 and Son #2 over to the box. They held out their little hands as we placed a seed into their palms. Son #1 meticulously dug his hole and placed the seed inside. He carefully covered the seed with the extra dirt and smiled proudly. However, Son #2 threw his seed into the middle of the box. Then, he laughed with delight and shouted. "I DID IT!"
My husband and I looked at each other in shock. We searched the box thoroughly looking for the wayward seed. I smacked my palm to my forehead. Our grand and organized plan for the garden was awry. My husband got up from his knees slowly. Then, he wryly commented. "Well, I guess we're going to have a rogue okra plant in the middle of this box.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
The Underwater Cartoon
One afternoon, the boys tackled each other repeatedly as they sprinted over furniture in the living room. My husband and I sounded like broken records as we called out. "Stop tackling your brother!"
"Hey! Quit jumping on the couch!"
"You guys are going to get hurt!"
"Go outside!"
All our practical "suggestions" went in one ear and out the other. The boys continued to race around the house as if they had been given espressos and a brand new puppy. Suddenly, we heard a crash. Then, a little voice began to cry. Son #1 sheepishly peered around the corner as Son #2 jumped up and down sobbing hysterically. My husband and I listened sympathetically to their sad and dramatic story. We nodded our heads and furrowed our brows. When our sons were finished telling their story, we lectured them on the importance of obeying your parents. (See requests above.) The boys hung their heads as we asked them the final question. "Are you going to obey next time we tell you to stop the monkey business?"
"Yes." Son #1 replied quietly.
"Yeth." Son #2 echoed.
"Good! Now stop running around the house." We stated firmly.
The boys walked to the living room and began to quietly play with their cars. Soon, they were investigating the jogging stroller parked in the entry way of the house. Son #2 climbed into the seat. Son #1 buckled the harness gently. Then, Son #1 began to push his younger brother around the living room. One thing led to another and soon the boys were flipping through channels looking for cartoons. Lingering tears trickled down Son #2's right cheek. All of a sudden, a cartoon with colorful, singing fish in an underwater world appeared on the screen. Son #2 laughed aloud as his tears disappeared. Son #1 poked his head into the stroller and quipped observantly. "I guess diving shows make babies happy when they get hurt."
"Hey! Quit jumping on the couch!"
"You guys are going to get hurt!"
"Go outside!"
All our practical "suggestions" went in one ear and out the other. The boys continued to race around the house as if they had been given espressos and a brand new puppy. Suddenly, we heard a crash. Then, a little voice began to cry. Son #1 sheepishly peered around the corner as Son #2 jumped up and down sobbing hysterically. My husband and I listened sympathetically to their sad and dramatic story. We nodded our heads and furrowed our brows. When our sons were finished telling their story, we lectured them on the importance of obeying your parents. (See requests above.) The boys hung their heads as we asked them the final question. "Are you going to obey next time we tell you to stop the monkey business?"
"Yes." Son #1 replied quietly.
"Yeth." Son #2 echoed.
"Good! Now stop running around the house." We stated firmly.
The boys walked to the living room and began to quietly play with their cars. Soon, they were investigating the jogging stroller parked in the entry way of the house. Son #2 climbed into the seat. Son #1 buckled the harness gently. Then, Son #1 began to push his younger brother around the living room. One thing led to another and soon the boys were flipping through channels looking for cartoons. Lingering tears trickled down Son #2's right cheek. All of a sudden, a cartoon with colorful, singing fish in an underwater world appeared on the screen. Son #2 laughed aloud as his tears disappeared. Son #1 poked his head into the stroller and quipped observantly. "I guess diving shows make babies happy when they get hurt."
Monday, April 7, 2014
The Moon
Saturday evening, my mom and I took the kids for a walk around her neighborhood. The air was thick with the scent of fresh rain. Puddles dotted the intersecting roads and sidewalks. The sun was slowly setting in the distance leaving streaks of orange and pink underneath the fluffy layer of rain clouds. My sons stomped their feet in the water as we strolled through the streets. We investigated the newly constructed houses and peered at the rolling hills beyond the neighborhood. We even stopped to talk to neighbors along the way. As we meandered past a tiny park in a cul-de-sac, Son #1 looked up into the sky and shouted excitedly. "Look, Mom! I see the moon!"
A crescent moon hid behind the wispy edge of a cloud. It appeared briefly in the dusky sky before being covered by another thick rain cloud. Son #1 gazed up at the moon in awe. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jacket but his feet danced with delight. "Did you see it, Mom? Did you see it?" My eldest son asked as he wriggled with joy.
"Oh, yeah. I saw it." I said sweetly. "It was really pretty."
Son #2 began to look around. He was curious about our conversation and wanted to join in the fun. My youngest son watched as his older brother tilted his head back to peer at the moon again. The thick clouds rolled away once more to reveal a sliver of the moon. "I see the moon again!" Son #1 called out. Son #2 leaned back as far as he could and scanned the sky for the elusive moon. Then, he caught sight of it and cried. "Oh! Look! Da moon! I see da moon!"
As we walked back to my mom's house, the boys repeatedly tried to spy the moon. When they were successful, they would call out. "I see the moon again!" It became a game of hide and seek as the clouds obscured the moon for minutes at a time. Eventually, the clouds would move on in the sky and the moon would reappear as bright as ever. Finally, we arrived at my mom's house. The boys were exhausted from our walk around the neighborhood. They rubbed their eyes sleepily and climbed into their car seats. Once they were buckled in, we drove off to our own home. As I drove, I could hear them whisper to each other before falling asleep.
"Do you see the moon?" Son #1 said quietly to his younger brother.
"Yeah. Da moon." Son #2 replied dozing in his car seat.
The moon's light gently provided a slight glow in the night sky. The boys slowly drifted off to sleep. Soon, all that could be heard was the tires rolling down the road and their soft breathing. Their little faces leaned onto the seats as the moonlight once again disappeared behind the clouds in the sky.
A crescent moon hid behind the wispy edge of a cloud. It appeared briefly in the dusky sky before being covered by another thick rain cloud. Son #1 gazed up at the moon in awe. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jacket but his feet danced with delight. "Did you see it, Mom? Did you see it?" My eldest son asked as he wriggled with joy.
"Oh, yeah. I saw it." I said sweetly. "It was really pretty."
Son #2 began to look around. He was curious about our conversation and wanted to join in the fun. My youngest son watched as his older brother tilted his head back to peer at the moon again. The thick clouds rolled away once more to reveal a sliver of the moon. "I see the moon again!" Son #1 called out. Son #2 leaned back as far as he could and scanned the sky for the elusive moon. Then, he caught sight of it and cried. "Oh! Look! Da moon! I see da moon!"
As we walked back to my mom's house, the boys repeatedly tried to spy the moon. When they were successful, they would call out. "I see the moon again!" It became a game of hide and seek as the clouds obscured the moon for minutes at a time. Eventually, the clouds would move on in the sky and the moon would reappear as bright as ever. Finally, we arrived at my mom's house. The boys were exhausted from our walk around the neighborhood. They rubbed their eyes sleepily and climbed into their car seats. Once they were buckled in, we drove off to our own home. As I drove, I could hear them whisper to each other before falling asleep.
"Do you see the moon?" Son #1 said quietly to his younger brother.
"Yeah. Da moon." Son #2 replied dozing in his car seat.
The moon's light gently provided a slight glow in the night sky. The boys slowly drifted off to sleep. Soon, all that could be heard was the tires rolling down the road and their soft breathing. Their little faces leaned onto the seats as the moonlight once again disappeared behind the clouds in the sky.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
The Vest
Yesterday morning, Son #1 and Son #2 dressed up in vests, a dressy shirt, and nice jeans. I thought they looked absolutely adorable. They were very proud of their outfits as well and hopped into their dad's office to show off their clothes. My husband commented. "Wow, boys! You look really good!" His eyebrows raised slightly with approval. A look of pride appeared on my husband's face. The boys wriggled with delight and then ran off to the living room to play.
Later in the day, we packed up some food, got into the car, and drove to my mom's house for lunch. As we pulled into her neighborhood, Son #1 began to complain about his vest. "I don't want to wear my vest! I want to take it off!"
"Why?" I asked with a touch of confusion. "You look so cute in your vest. Wear it. Then, you can show it to Abuelita (Grandma)."
"No! I don't want to!" Son #1 shouted in defiance.
"Too bad. You have to wear your vest." I said, laying down the law. Normally, I try not to be so rigid about clothing. However, Son #1 likes to change his clothes at least two to three times a day. All I wanted was for him to stay in his original clothing one day out of the week.
Unfortunately, Son #1 did not like the law presented to him. We continued to argue discretely as we entered Abuelita's house. Son #1 pouted in the dining room and pulled his arms inside his shirt. "Don't take off your vest." I warned. Son #1 poked his head out from the dining room and eyed everyone around the corner. Then, he silently inched past the crowd to the other side of the kitchen.
My husband noticed that he had taken off his vest. I noticed as well. "Where is your vest?" I asked.
"I don't want to wear it anymore!" Son #1 responded with a cross look on his face.
I bit my lip and looked at my husband. My wise husband presented a way out of a bad situation for our eldest son. "Are you hot? Is that why you took off your vest?"
Son #1 eagerly replied. "Yes. I was hot."
"Oh, you're hot. That's O.K. Just go hang up your vest in the closet." I said with a bit of relief.
"Thanks Mom! I'll wear it when we go home." Son #1 assured me.
Later as we sat at the table to eat, my sister's mother-in-law noticed a peculiar sight. "I think I just found Son #1's vest." She observed and then pointed to a large vase in the corner of the room. I looked over my shoulder and began to laugh. Son #1's vest was shoved tightly into the vase. Only a portion of it poked out of the opening. My sister's mother-in-law looked amused. "He must have hidden the vest in hopes that you would forget about it later."
Oh, Son #1...my little stinker! What am I going to do with you?
Later in the day, we packed up some food, got into the car, and drove to my mom's house for lunch. As we pulled into her neighborhood, Son #1 began to complain about his vest. "I don't want to wear my vest! I want to take it off!"
"Why?" I asked with a touch of confusion. "You look so cute in your vest. Wear it. Then, you can show it to Abuelita (Grandma)."
"No! I don't want to!" Son #1 shouted in defiance.
"Too bad. You have to wear your vest." I said, laying down the law. Normally, I try not to be so rigid about clothing. However, Son #1 likes to change his clothes at least two to three times a day. All I wanted was for him to stay in his original clothing one day out of the week.
Unfortunately, Son #1 did not like the law presented to him. We continued to argue discretely as we entered Abuelita's house. Son #1 pouted in the dining room and pulled his arms inside his shirt. "Don't take off your vest." I warned. Son #1 poked his head out from the dining room and eyed everyone around the corner. Then, he silently inched past the crowd to the other side of the kitchen.
My husband noticed that he had taken off his vest. I noticed as well. "Where is your vest?" I asked.
"I don't want to wear it anymore!" Son #1 responded with a cross look on his face.
I bit my lip and looked at my husband. My wise husband presented a way out of a bad situation for our eldest son. "Are you hot? Is that why you took off your vest?"
Son #1 eagerly replied. "Yes. I was hot."
"Oh, you're hot. That's O.K. Just go hang up your vest in the closet." I said with a bit of relief.
"Thanks Mom! I'll wear it when we go home." Son #1 assured me.
Later as we sat at the table to eat, my sister's mother-in-law noticed a peculiar sight. "I think I just found Son #1's vest." She observed and then pointed to a large vase in the corner of the room. I looked over my shoulder and began to laugh. Son #1's vest was shoved tightly into the vase. Only a portion of it poked out of the opening. My sister's mother-in-law looked amused. "He must have hidden the vest in hopes that you would forget about it later."
Oh, Son #1...my little stinker! What am I going to do with you?
Friday, March 14, 2014
The Buttered Bread
Several weeks ago, our little family was enjoying a lazy supper in front of the television. I honestly can't remember what we were watching but it probably fell into the educational cartoon category. My husband had just sliced some freshly baked, homemade bread when the boys danced into the kitchen. They batted their long eyelashes and gazed at their dad with their wide, green eyes. Then, they held out their hands expectantly and hopped around the room shouting. "Please! Can I have some bread?"
My husband slathered butter onto the steamy slices of bread and placed them on a plate for each boy. Son #1 and Son #2 carefully carried their treats to the living and gently sat on the carpet. For a few brief moments, there was silence as the kids savored the tasty bread. Their eyes closed partially with delight as they stuffed it into their mouths.
Son #2 slowly rose to his feet. His cheeks were smeared with butter. His hands were sprinkled with bread crumbs. He toddled over to where I sat in my rocking chair. Then, he tilted his head slightly as if to ponder a thought. I looked down at him and said. "What's going on, baby?"
Son #2 clasped his sticky hands together. His cheeks shone with butter as he pursed his lips to form his reply. He paused, carefully reviewing his answer. Then, he opened his mouth to speak. "Ummmm...well..."
Son #2 paused again and then let out a torrent of baby talk decipherable only to other babies. I'm pretty sure his answer was very poignant and dignified. I just wish I could have replied with something more thought provoking. Unfortunately, I could only give a standard "mommy" response.
"Wow!"
"Really?"
"That is so cool."
My husband slathered butter onto the steamy slices of bread and placed them on a plate for each boy. Son #1 and Son #2 carefully carried their treats to the living and gently sat on the carpet. For a few brief moments, there was silence as the kids savored the tasty bread. Their eyes closed partially with delight as they stuffed it into their mouths.
Son #2 slowly rose to his feet. His cheeks were smeared with butter. His hands were sprinkled with bread crumbs. He toddled over to where I sat in my rocking chair. Then, he tilted his head slightly as if to ponder a thought. I looked down at him and said. "What's going on, baby?"
Son #2 clasped his sticky hands together. His cheeks shone with butter as he pursed his lips to form his reply. He paused, carefully reviewing his answer. Then, he opened his mouth to speak. "Ummmm...well..."
Son #2 paused again and then let out a torrent of baby talk decipherable only to other babies. I'm pretty sure his answer was very poignant and dignified. I just wish I could have replied with something more thought provoking. Unfortunately, I could only give a standard "mommy" response.
"Wow!"
"Really?"
"That is so cool."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)