Puzzle Me This

I love puzzles, more specifically jigsaw puzzles.   When I was a kid, I kept a cut piece of cardboard under my bed with some 1000 + piece puzzle in some sort of working fashion.  There was always something therapeutic for me when it came to working puzzles.  A couple of years ago, while visiting my husband’s grandmother in a nursing home, I found myself face to face with a puzzle sitting on a table.  I’m a bit ashamed to say, but while his grandmother napped, I sat there and started working the puzzle.   It was great.

My boys have begun to pick up this habit.   Like most every parent, I bought them some sort of wooden peg puzzle when they were babies.   I coaxed them both along just a bit, but they eventually got the hang of it.   These days, they are both puzzle working fiends.

Henry works his transportation puzzle.
Henry works his transportation puzzle.

Davey’s most favorite thing to do is work puzzles.   I have to keep one packed in his back pack every time we leave the house, should we get stuck somewhere and he needs some entertainment.  Last week at the beach, this kid reworked the same three 24 piece puzzles like a champ.   Henry didn’t pick up on it as quickly, but he’s moved along.   He is the second child, after all.

Henry is learning about animals of the jungle.
Henry is learning about animals of the jungle.

The downside to being a second child means that you don’t get the one on one attention that the oldest child received.  I’m painfully aware of this with Henry on a daily basis and I’m a bit perturbed with myself that I haven’t spent the time instilling my hobby into him.   Fortunately for me, he’s picked up on the puzzle working mania of this family and can work puzzles that Davey couldn’t when he was the same age.  Perhaps it’s from watching Davey, because I know I haven’t worked with him to that level.   Shame on me.

And more jungle animals.
And more jungle animals.

Either way, my boys love a good puzzle and this makes me so happy.   Yesterday, Davey worked 8 different puzzles, ranging in size from 12-48 pieces.   He did the hardest one in literally 5 minutes.  Yeah, I timed him.   But here’s the thing with Davey, he doesn’t look at a piece and then think about where it should go, he just seems to pick up a piece, runs it through his fingers while his eyes are simultaneously looking at the other pieces, and know exactly where it goes.  It’s almost as if he has a sixth sense working these things.

Working the pig portion of Melissa & Doug.
Working the pig portion of Melissa & Doug.

As the boys have progressed, I have begun purchasing puzzles that will actually teach them things.   For example, Davey’s favorite puzzle has become his Melissa & Doug puzzle of the United States.  He asks to work this at least once a day, and is learning where the states go and the names of them.  He knows more than I do with regards to the location of the states.

Davey likes to tell his daddy which state he has.
Davey likes to tell his daddy which state he has.

The great thing about the puzzles is that it keeps them busy while I’m doing chores.  On a rainy day, when they can’t go outside and I refuse to cave into the television as it beckons my name, puzzles have become my godsend.   I’m glad these two love working puzzles.   I’ve begun to find myself looking at some of the larger, harder puzzles for myself.   What a great way for Davey and I to do something together by setting up a puzzle on the dining room table and working a little bit every day.

He knows exactly where every state goes.
He knows exactly where every state goes.

I guess I’ll be making a stop to Wal-Mart tonight.

And another state is placed.
And another state is placed.

Myrtle Beach Days

We’ll have some fun in the waves.

And that’s exactly what my boys did.

This happiness makes me happy.
This happiness makes me happy.

This past week, we enjoyed our last summer vacation before BOTH of my boys start back to school.   As with every summer, we went to North Myrtle Beach, SC home to Vanna White and the beach I grew up going to.   My parents have a cute little condo and being the old retirees that they are, they forgo their summer week since it’s too hot and usually too crowded.  For as long as my husband and I have been married, we’ve taken their summer week.

The wave just crashed onto him.
The wave just crashed onto him.

Back in those days, we could really call it a vacation since my husband and I actually relaxed.   These days it’s consider more of a trip, but as my boys get older I’m honestly finding it more and more enjoyable.

This year we kept our agenda light.   There was to be no running around, no going to shows, no attractions.   This year we were going to save money and enjoy the beach, the ocean, and the pool.   In the future, this may not pose to be as exciting for the boys, but for now they had a blast.

Out running the waves.
Out running the waves.

It warmed my heart and my soul to hear their giggles as they both attempted to out run the waves before they crashed upon shore.  I felt content and blessed beyond measure at seeing the two of them so wrapped up in their daddy, a man who willing allowed them to splash him, cover him in sand, chase him, and cannonball him in the pool.   How fortunate we all are to have him.

We took the opportunity to learn about sea life each day.   Davey was fascinated with the shells, and their “feet” that would help them burrow into the sand after a crashing wave.   He never knew sea shells were alive.   We talked about the birds and the sea gulls.   Davey watched in awe as the gulls would dive bomb into the water, scooping up a fish or two in it’s beak.

My three boys.
My three boys.

We flew a kite, fed some fish and ducks, and enjoyed some of the best seafood around at Captain John’s in Calabash, NC.   We kept it light, and for the first time in a while I genuinely had fun.   We didn’t rush to stick to a schedule and for once I didn’t overthink things for the kids to do.   I just let them go.

At night, when the boys were tucked away in their beds, my husband and I hung out on the back porch, a bottle of wine, a deck of cards, and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach to entertain us.

Building a sand castle with daddy.
Building a sand castle with daddy.

Growing up, Myrtle Beach always held a level of excitement for me.   We spent some of our vacations with my dad’s family, camping at Lakewood Campground, other summers we rented condos, and then my parents bought into their current time share 25 years ago.   Back then, the Pavillion was still on the boardwalk at the beach.   We could sit up top and watch the teenagers “cruise”.   The amusement park flashed lights across the street, with giggles and screams abounding.   Pinballs would light up, skee ball signs blinked and ice cream was the treat of the night.   The Bowery was the place to go, to see where Alabama got their start.   I get nostalgic when I think about my summers as a kid at the beach, and I smile when I think about how my children are doing the same thing.   When I was a teenager, I never thought I would be coming back to Myrtle Beach, SC.   Truthfully, I can’t think of anyplace else I would want to take my boys.   Memories of my childhood mesh with newly created memories of theirs.   I love it.

Of course, the sad part is always leaving and even at 40 years old, I get sad when our car pulls out of the parking lot.  I look back over my shoulder to see the Atlantic Ocean, the sunlight glittering upon the waves, and a lump forms in my throat.   Today, Henry looked out the window and repeatedly said, “bye, bye, beach” as he waved until he could no longer see the ocean.   Davey, on the other hand, almost began to cry as he exclaimed he wanted to stay forever.   A good vacation will do that to you.

Sharing a shell with daddy.
Sharing a shell with daddy.

I wanted to stay in that vacation, in this past week, forever.

Our final night.
Our final night.

Afternoon Blues

Surely my children are not the only ones.   Absolutely not.   I just can’t believe that they’re such an anomaly.   It’s almost irritating.

Every afternoon around 4 o’clock, my boys transform into creatures who resemble my children but are inhabited with little demons.   It never fails, like the a man changing into a werewolf at a full moon.   They become something other than my children at the stroke of 4 EVERY afternoon, regardless of the day of the week.  I mean EVERY AFTERNOON.

Please don’t tell me I’m stuck in this parallel universe alone, forced to suffer through the tortures of seeing children I love so much become such little monsters.

As stay at home moms, there are things we are forced to endure, there are scientific abnormalities we never knew existed.  One of these is the complete mutation of our little spawns.   I suppose I could blame my current viewpoint on binge watching episodes of Fringe over the weekend, but I can’t help but wonder if at 4 o’clock either I cross over into another universe or if my kids do.

Davey gave up naps about a year ago.  On occasion, we can get him to take a snoozer, but it’s rare.  Henry; however, is still forced to face the dreaded bed and a 2-3 hour nap every afternoon.   If he doesn’t nap, it’s like the Apocalypse has descended upon my house.  During Henry’s nap time is the only time I allow Davey to watch television and even then it’s only for about an hour or so, long enough for me to take care of some necessities.   So, one would think that if Henry is well-rested and Davey’s had some “down time” as well, their attitudes would be different, right?  WRONG!

Henry whines, he takes toys from his brother, he runs around like a screaming banshee and the entire time from when he awakes from what should be “restful slumber”, he’s yelling, “bites!”  which means he wants a snack.  My conundrum with this is that I’m trying to feed them dinner by 6 and I want them to be somewhat hungry so they may have a pleasant dining experience.  Unfortunately, most days I seem to be caving and like a broken seal that keeps leaking, once you’ve given Henry a snack, regardless of the size or what it is, he wants more.

When Henry whines, Davey becomes irritable.   He wants to slap his brother, I mean literally slap him, and on occasion I’ve caught him slapping Henry which leads to punishment for him and an even more horrible time for me.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what occurs during the course of 2-3 hours in the afternoon that turns my children into raving lunatics.   At first, I thought they only did this with me, but no.  My husband experiences it first hand.  My parents have even suffered through this remaking of our children.

Yesterday afternoon was the same.   I love my boys.   I’m blessed to have them, I just wish they wouldn’t be little screaming leeches every afternoon.   I must remind myself on occasion that I’m stronger than them, that my mind has more power, but alas they literally break me down.   Perhaps I don’t possess the strength I thought I had or I’ve come to underestimate theirs.

A Change Will Do You Good.

I have a mixed relationship with change.  I’m always eager to have it, to break up what I feel has become the monotony of day to day life.   I dream about it, allow it to seep into every spare crevice of my brain.   I allow it to take control of my life, to affect me in ways that it shouldn’t.   Change is a good thing.   I’m a firm believer in that, it’s just the process of going through the change that wears on me.

My husband and I are very blessed.  We are fortunate for everything the Lord has given us.   We do our best to continuously thank Him for those blessings and not take them for granted.  Some days I feel that I should just be happy with what we have and not look for more, but I’m human.

For the past year or so, my husband and I have embarked on the adventure of looking for land with a potential new home site.  Over the years, we’ve both decided suburban life isn’t for us.  We have wonderful neighbors, but our neighborhood has grown and truthfully we feel almost suffocated.   The idea of land would give us the opportunity to explore with our boys in the comfort of our own backyard.  It would give my husband the opportunity to hunt in our own backyard, and it would give us the ability to do what we want with our property without seeking approval from our neighbors first.

Recently, the opportunity has presented itself for us to possibly purchase a significant amount of land along with a house already on the property.  The house is older than ours, as we custom built ours 8 years ago, but the place is beautiful with a lot of potential.  Unfortunately, there are some downsides.

It is more land, so there is more work.   There wouldn’t be a fence, so what would we do with our dog?   There are some changes and renovations to be done to the house, something I’m eagerly looking forward to should we get the house, but again it’s work.   My husband and I managed to get our current house the way we wanted it BEFORE having kids, thereby granting us the ability to really just do maintenance and spend time with our boys.   We wouldn’t be able to do that as much if we get this new house.

There’s also the moving.  I would have to pack up our ENTIRE house amidst the chaos of two boys.   I would uproot them from their home base and move them almost 45 minutes away.   On the plus side, moving would give me the opportunity to really declutter and clean out.  We would still be close to my family, but there wouldn’t be daily visits to the Y, there wouldn’t be a neighborhood pool during the summer, there wouldn’t be easy access to a biking trail.   A lot of things would change and it makes me sad, but the possibilities for our new adventures also excite me.

My husband and I aren’t new at house hunting.   We’ve done it before, but this time we have to take in so many other factors.   I find myself researching schools in my spare time, looking at FBI crime statistics for what could be our new area, trying to explore what could be our new surroundings.   I want to get it pinpointed where our closest grocery store would be, and fast food joint.   And all of this could be for naught if we can’t sell our house and get this one.   My sleepless nights of worry and excitement could be nothing more than a colossal waste of my time.

I’ll still plug forward, working towards the common goal of possibly purchasing this house with the land.   If it doesn’t work out, then something else may come along.  I just have to continue to reconcile myself with the fact that change is inevitable and it’s what you make out of it that really impacts your life.

Now, I must go and pray for guidance.  Sometimes I just really wish the Lord would tell me “yay” or “nay” when I attempt life altering changes.   It would make life easier.

Highlights Of His Life

When I was a kid, one of the most exciting parts of the day for me was when the mail would arrive.   I loved going out to meet the mailman, to get the mail directly from his hands, and to come running inside with our treasure trove of bills, mail outs, magazines and cards.   It became much more exciting for me when I started receiving my own personal mail.

There’s something about seeing your name on an envelope or on a label on the back of a magazine.  It seemed like everyone knew my mom and dad, and didn’t just know them but also knew their entire names, even names they didn’t go by in normal day to day conversations.  I thought they were famous because of all the mail they would receive and when I finally received my very own first piece, I genuinely thought I had joined the ranks of the rich and famous!

This month's issue
This month’s issue

My first piece of mail came in the form of a magazine for children, Highlights.  I’m sure many of you have heard of it and if you’re from my generation, then you likely received the magazine on a monthly basis.   Back then it was only one magazine bursting full of games, riddles, stories, and stickers.   By the time I started receiving my first subscription, I was old enough to actually read the words.

Reading the stories.
Reading the stories.

I used to sit on our couch at home, cross my legs one over the other, and put on my fake plastic glasses as I read through my magazine.  I usually had a cup of chocolate milk alongside me that I liked to pretend was my own cup of coffee, just like my dad’s, and read through the “news” of the world, or at least the news of a kid’s world.   Hidden pictures were my favorite.   I would never actually circle the pictures when I would find them because I wanted to make sure I could reuse the magazine.

Finding the pictures.
Finding the pictures.

These days, Highlights has progressed.   They now offer three different levels of the magazine, starting with “Hello”, which is geared towards the 0-2 age set, “High Five” for the 2-6, and “Highlights” for the 6-12.  We started a subscription for Davey before he turned one.  At that age, he didn’t really understand the excitement of getting mail, but I was looking for additional ways to boost his brain power.   Once he became two, we graduated to the “High Five” subscription and it’s been a tremendous success.

Hello
Hello

He loves his Highlights magazine.  He’s come to expect it, to actually ask for it on a regular basis.   Sometimes, when he’s getting the mail from our postman, he inquires, “do you have my magazine for me?”   It’s sweet actually and I love that when he does receive it, he points out his name on the back and then immediately wants to drop everything so that we can read it and do the puzzles.   And just like his mommy, hidden pictures are his favorite.

I keep all of the magazines, as I’m eager to recycle them for Henry’s use.   We’ve started reading the “Hello” issues to Henry.  He loves the size, as they are perfect for fitting into his hands.   He’s learning the various words and can even find a few of the hidden pictures in those.

Puzzle Book
Puzzle Book

Highlights has also progressed to a level of offering up puzzle books and other little ways of learning and encouraging our children.  We subscribe to the puzzle books as well, another exciting anticipation for Davey.   The puzzle books offer up stickers that you can use to complete a picture, as well as word finds, rhymes and riddles.

High Five
High Five

I love that things I adored as a child are still around for my children.   As with most anything, they’ve progressed with the times, but they are still around.   Occasionally, Davey will ask, “is this what yours looked like, mommy?” when he starts reading one of his new Highlights.  I tell him it’s close and then I remind him that I had just as much fun with mine as he does with his.

The Lost Art of Penmanship

Writing a letter is a lost form of art.   Once upon a time, letter writing was the only way to communicate.  At that time, the prose was more romantic, the wording more lyrical, and the grammar nearly flawless.   Of course that was before the days of the internet, back with the Post Office didn’t bleed you dry just to mail a letter, and when someone wrote “I love u”, it meant you loved the letter “u”.   These days, there are comma splices every where, slang and lingo have taken over the way people communicate, and confusion over how to actually start writing a letter abounds.

I wrote my first letter when I was seven.  It was my first summer away from my parents.  I didn’t actually spend the entire summer away from them, more like two weeks, but for someone who’d yet to stray from her parent’s grasp, two weeks seemed like an eternity.   My aunt and uncle from Baton Rouge, La had come to visit us and I flew back down with them.   At first, I believe there was a bit of trepidation on my part, but then reality sank in and it became clear to me that I would finally have something that was all mine.  The birth of my younger brother less than a year before was sucking all of my parent’s attention away from me and to know that I would be free from him seemed like paradise.

While down in Baton Rouge, my aunt encouraged me to write a letter home, a sort of summer camp letter, minus the whole “Hello, Mutha.  Hello, Fatha.”  She bought me my first stationary, a beautiful red pen and even made a snack for me.  We sat down at her kitchen table that afternoon and I pounded out my first letter.

I wasn’t new to writing at that point.  I could write quite well and spelling was my forte, as I was already winning spelling bees by the time I hit first grade.  I found writing the letter to be exhilarating.  It was fun and intoxicating.  I wanted to write a letter every day, each time I embarked on some new adventure.   Fortunately for me, stamps were super cheap back then and my aunt was patient.   I wrote quite a few letters that summer, and even wrote my first story.

I’m not so naïve to believe that the art of putting pen to paper will ever be revived, but that doesn’t mean my boys will not understand how to write a letter and the importance of it.

I started working with Davey a few months ago on learning how to write.  We’d spent months prior to that with workbooks where he could trace letters, but I decided that it was high time we progress past that and start writing his ABC’s on his own.  I didn’t know he would take to it so quickly and happily.

Dear Mimi
Dear Mimi

Last week, I encouraged him to write his first letter, which was to his Grammy in NY.   I put Henry down for a nap, thereby allowing me all sorts of time to devote to Davey.   I spelled the words for him and he wrote the letter.   It was simple and basic, getting his point across.  It went like this:  Dear Grammy I love you.  There was no complimentary closing, as Davey informed me that he’d written enough and was tired.   Those five words took up three sheets of paper.

and Pop
and Pop

At that point, I didn’t realize how happy he would be about writing.  I always thought he would see it as a chore, something I was forcing him to do, but he’s completely blown my mind.   He genuinely wants to write.  He eagerly asks for it every day.  Last night, as I was kissing him good night, he asked me if he could write a letter to Mimi and Pop after this sleep.  Of course I said “yes”.

I love you
I love you

So, following suit with the other days, Henry went down for a nap and Davey began writing his letter.   He has a few stumbling blocks, mostly with the letters “R” and “Y”,  but he’s quite the pro at the others, namely “D”, “E”, and “M”.  Today’s letter actually included a closing and it was four pages long.

Love Davey
Love Davey

I love his excitement over writing.   I’m glad that he wants to continue doing it and I’m aware that at some point this enthusiasm may change.   I know the days are long gone of slipping notes under desks and swapping them in the hall between classes.   I’m also well aware that everyone these days is in a hurry and taking the time to actually write counters that need for urgency.   For now, my boys will hand write letters.  My boys will learn they need a signature and how to write in cursive.   For now, my boys will at least enjoy something that is “mine”, something I’ve always loved…writing.

 

Dinner Party Conversations

This past Saturday, my husband and I waded into waters that we thought had long since dried up for us.  Since having kids, there’s been a bit of a drought of sorts with our entertaining schedule and our ability to have adult conversations with others.  A couple of weeks ago, we decided we would host a small, intimate dinner party at our house.  We planned it for 7:30, so that our boys could meet some of our adult friends, but they would then go to bed at 8:00, thereby leaving my husband and I with the opportunity to discuss things other than the color of snot, the size of poops, the dribble drabble of baby talk, and the words that spring forward from our kids’ mouths.

Last week, with each approaching day, I became more and more giddy at the thought of seeing some of our old friends, but I also became nervous.   Why was I nervous?  Because I feared that I may be incapable of contributing to the conversations if they didn’t swirl around my children’s bathroom habits or their pickiness with food, or that they are learning so much.   Once upon a time, I was able to have intellectual conversations about politics, the woes of society, even the Theory of Evolution.  Ok, so perhaps I exaggerate about discussing the Theory of Evolution.  My point is that I used to have good, stimulating conversations.   Would I be able to do that again?

Saturday arrived and honesty I began to wonder about what I would talk about with these people.  One couple has children, but they’re in high school.  The other two couples don’t have kids so highly unlikely they’d want to hear my anecdote of how Henry tightrope walked down the bannisters and then doing a triple somersault, landed on his feet and began reciting the periodic table of elements.  Ha!  My kid’s not that good!

Would I be able to add to a conversation?   Would my input be taken like it used to be, as one spoken by a well read female with a Master’s Degree?   Would I sit there and smile, staring at the speaker like a deer caught in the headlights?   Maybe I should be a good hostess and just shuffle around, refilling drinks and passing our hors d’ouevres?  That last thought continued to swirl through my brain when I was stumped by a question from one of my girlfriends.   Oh, these children!  That was my first thought.  Why, oh why, must you suck out any brain cells I have left?

Thankfully for me, the conversations were light, our friends’ anecdotes were hilarious, and I was able to have a conversation outside of poop, puke, boogers, and “woe is me” sighs.   I found out on Saturday night how wonderful adult dinners with friends who either don’t have kids or whose kids are much older, can be.  Please don’t get me wrong.  I love our friends with kids.  I really do.   I still need that adult interaction where we do compare war stories from the battlefields of mommyhood.  My boys still need the kids of those friends as their own friends.  I still need and value my mommy friends with kids, but sometimes it’s just nice to occasionally step out of that world.   And for me, to know that I can do that and still walk back down Mommyhood Lane, really makes me feel fortunate.

It’s taken me a while to get to this point in life.   When I first left work and became a stay at home mom, my entire world revolved around Davey.  I never made time for myself, my husband, or for us as a couple.  I didn’t think it was possible to balance it all and if I tried to, I felt guilty for selfishly wanting time other than that as “mommy”.   It’s a great feeling to know that I can balance it all, that I can have the best of all worlds, and that I do still have the ability for “dinner party conversations”.

Rock The Boat

It took becoming a stay at home for me to become a somewhat decent cook.   I never really liked doing it and truthfully, my husband is way better at it than I am.   Because he works and supports us financially, allowing me the opportunity to be home with the boys, I have taken on domestic roles that I once thumbed my nose at.

These days; however, it’s become a lot more enjoyable to cook since I have the world’s cutest sous chef.   He’s eager to help, he learns measurements, and he even cleans up after himself.   How wonderful I have it.

Sous Chef Davey ready for his time in front of the camera.
Sous Chef Davey ready for his time in front of the camera.

Yesterday I posted a few pictures on my Facebook page showing Sous Chef Davey and I preparing dinner.  I promised a blog post later, but with everything else in life these days, my children called and I completely forgot that I didn’t post this.  So, here you go!

I had decided to plan ahead since my initial intent was to spend the afternoon at the pool.  I didn’t think I would have time to cook dinner and I knew I would also be tired.  Something about chasing around an almost 20 month old in the hot sun is quite tiring.  Once I put Henry down for his nap, Davey and I got underway prepping our zucchini boats.

I originally saw a recipe for this on the Today Show last week.  I think it was for zucchini pizza boats.  Since I didn’t have any pepperoni, I decided to just make a stuffed zucchini boat instead.   It was pretty simple actually.  I used three medium sized zucchinis, cleaned them, cut off the stem, and sliced them in half long ways.  I made sure to slice them in a way that would allow for them to sit flat (or as flat as possible).   After that, I cleaned out the zucchini of their “innards”, as Davey calls them.  Not sure where he’s heard that.  Davey was a most excellent helper as he dumped the “innards” into a bowl, to save for use in the stuffing.  Waste not, want not!

Once they were thoroughly hulled, I gave Davey the responsibility of oiling the boats.  He brushed extra virgin olive oil on the insides of all the zucchini and then placed them inside the baking dish.

Oiling the boats
Oiling the boats

Next we went to make the stuffing which included half of an onion, chopped, fresh roma tomatoes from our garden, mushrooms, and the pureed zucchini left overs.  I sautéed the onions and mushrooms first, then added in the tomatoes and zucchini.   Davey helped season the veggies with salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, and basil.  Oregano and basil were fresh from our garden as well.

Cooking and seasoning the veggies.
Cooking and seasoning the veggies.

When we had those good and cooking, I lowered the temperature and then covered the pan.   We went to another pan, where we decided to brown some ground turkey.   I’m sure some of you worry about me letting my almost four year old near the stove, but we’ve taught him what’s hot and what he shouldn’t touch.  He’s extremely cognizant of his surroundings and what’s going on.

Cooking the meat.
Cooking the meat.

After the meat was cooked, we let it cool for a few minutes before Davey scooped meat into all of the boats, then covered them with the veggies.   I put a piece of aluminum foil onto the baking dish and slid it into the fridge.

Spooning in the stuffing.
Spooning in the stuffing.

As I explained to Davey, every great sous chef understands the importance of a clean and organized kitchen.  So with his apron still on, he set about to clean up our mess and put everything back in their places.

Cleaning up.
Cleaning up.

When it was time to start preparing dinner, I preheated the oven to 350, covered the tops of the boats with shredded mozzarella cheese, and cooked them for 30 minutes.  I followed that with a brief 5 minutes under the broiler, to brown and crisp up the cheese and dinner was served.

The finished product.
The finished product.

The only downside to this was that Davey would help make the dinner, but he refused to eat any part of it, as did Henry.   So I used the leftover sauce and meat to put on top of a plate of penne pasta for the boys.  Sigh.  I suppose you don’t have to enjoy the food to cook it?   I told Davey if he keeps this up, he may become our next Food Network star, a dream that was once his daddy’s.

Allowing My Love to Permeate

We had a wonderful lesson in Sunday School today.  It resonated not only with me, but with the other members in my class.   My husband and I had nursery duty today, so we were unable to attend our Pastor’s sermon, but my understanding is that it followed along with our lesson.   The lesson was about returning to your first love…Jesus Christ.   As Christians, we are taught to always return to a love for Christ that permeates everything we do.   At times, we find ourselves straying.  Perhaps, day-to-day life gets in the way.   Other times, we get settled into our routines and sometimes those routines are not allowing room for Jesus.   I’m definitely guilty of this.

Once upon a time, when I would get frustrated with my boys or life, I would retreat to a chair in another room, whip out my Bible and start reading.   Davey used to say to me, “Mommy, do you need Jesus?” when I would start counting to 10 in order to calm myself down before berating him or his brother for flushing legos down the toilet.   These days I’m afraid that I’ve allowed my relationship with God to start sliding.   One thing I was most proud of was that my boys would see me taking time to read the Bible.  They would see me in quiet prayer or reflection with God.  I hang my head low now as I admit that they haven’t seen that in a while.

So, tonight I made sure to carve out some time, any time I could to read a Bible study and a couple of passages in the Bible.  It’s funny how God always know when you need Him most.  He knows that today is the best day to start back over with me.   He forgives me for my laziness and my sinful nature.  He loves me and He encourages me and today’s Bible study reminded me of that.

It starts with the commandment to Honor Thy Mother and Father and takes me into Ephesians, Chapter 6, verses 1-4.  I want to take this time to share verse 4 with you, more specifically my fellow parents out there who find themselves overwhelmed.

“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up with the training and instruction of the Lord.”  Ephesians 6:4

I reflected on this passage for quite some time and I’ve looked back over the past few weeks as Henry has become more strong-willed and Davey more head strong.   I’ve started developing a lot of gray hair (my stylists calls it glitter) thanks to these two and I feel that lately I’ve been quick to anger and raise my voice.  This isn’t the way the Lord wants me to discipline my children.  I know this, but I haven’t exactly heeded His words or commands.  I haven’t been allowing God’s Love to permeate and I definitely don’t think I’ve been allowing my love to permeate as well.

Being a parent is a hard job.  It’s the toughest, most stressful, and yet most rewarding job you’ll ever have.   If you mess up with your kids, then there’s not really a do-over.   You can’t take a “pay cut” or find another job.   This is it.   But when you get it right, man does it feel like you’ve hit a grand slam in your final ever at bat.

I’ve allowed too many other things to “interfere” with my life and my boys’ lives.   My backsliding from God has hurt us all, but I want to remember what it was like when I first became a Christian and committed my life to God.  I felt relieved.  I was happy.   My stress level plummeted and I felt like for the first time ever things were going right in my life.   It’s time to get that back again and to start letting that permeate through to my boys.

I encourage you all to take that closer look.   To ask yourself how it felt being a Christian for the first time.   Find a way to let the love permeate.

You Wanna Day at the Water Park, You Say? Well, It’s Going to Cost Ya!

Who remembers the days of going to the pool, waterpark, lake, or beach and all you needed was a towel, your sunscreen, and a good book?  Hey, I remember those days.  They’re not so far gone that my boys haven’t completely obliterated the memory and feeling of being solo.   I can still see those days, they’re hazy, but not so distant.  Sometimes I think I can reach out to touch them, but when I do they’re completely wiped away.

These days I have a love/hate relationship with the pool and the waterpark and even the beach.   Our first summer at the beach as a family, Davey was just 9 months old.  I can remember my husband asking me to bring his book down to the beach so he could relax and read.  I laughed at him hysterically.  I mean I literally laughed at him like I was some crazy haired, wild eyed, nut case who should be locked up in an insane asylum, straight jacket and all.  Sorry, sweetheart, there’s no relaxing with a kid in tow.

Last week, the boys and I spent two days on the water.  The first was at Otter Creek waterpark here in North Greenville.  We went on a Thursday afternoon which I had hoped would mean it was less crowded, but it’s summer…it’s ALWAYS going to be crowded.   Kids these days are privileged during the summer, with camps and programs, and accredited day care.  My brother and I had some old lady who watched us in her house.  The closest thing we got to a water park, was a blue piece of tarp, with a hose and running water on it.  We actually used an actual tire to slide down the hill in Mrs. Powell’s back yard.  Ah, memories.

waterpark

Kids frown on you if you offer up something like that now.  Well older kids, who are raised by my generation (Generation X) do.  They have a sense of entitlement and a need to deserve nothing less than the best.  Someone needs to slap those kids silly or maybe their parents.  Of course, I’m one of those parents as I took my kids to a waterpark.

My original intent had been to go for the day, but I seemed to underestimate the physical cost to my body.   I forgot that Henry must run free, he can’t be contained, and he doesn’t meet a stranger.  I actually helicoptered over him, but let Davey have a bit more freedom.   We ended up spending just three hours there.  My plantar fasciitis started kicking in (or that’s what I told myself and my kids), but really it was getting close to closing time.

waterpark 4

But here’s the thing, for those three hours that we spent at the water park, it took me an hour to get everything, including the boys, ready.  So the opportunity cost of going to the water park really meant less time of playing in said water park, as opposed to just sticking the kids out in the back yard with a good ole fashioned hose pipe, a blue tarp, and a kiddie pool.  My boys are pretty smart and creative.   I’m sure we could have had the water pouring down the slide at their club house and into the huge kiddie pool.   That’s like having your own personal water park in the backyard!  Why didn’t I think of that before?  Because my kids have sucked me of all brain cells.

waterpark 3

All joking aside, these three hours at the water park, only cost me $11.  That was my cost to enter.  Thankfully, Henry is still free and I had a coupon for Davey.  Outside food and drinks are discouraged, but since they don’t inspect bags I was able to “movie theater” it and bring in my own drinks and snacks so as to not have my wallet assaulted by the concessions.

waterpark 2

My boys enjoyed themselves.  Henry suffered a few battle scars from running and falling and Davey proved to me that he’s capable of diving and can indeed swim without a life jacket.  The other perk?  They both went to bed early and slept like babies.