As holidays go, this one was pretty typical. Travel, shop, eat; sleep a little, eat, shop some more; eat, eat, eat; wrap presents, open presents, clean up trash created from opening presents; eat, play with new toys, try not to lose new toys; eat, clean up the endless mess from all the eating, eat a little more; pack bags, give hugs and kisses, travel to another destination and do it all over again.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But sometimes the parts we look forward to just get lost in the hubbub. I always start off very optimistic; excited to see all our family, to spend time visiting and catching up. Then reality hits me like a runaway Thomas Train and I remember…we have kids. We all have kids, and kids have to eat, play, dress, poop, drink oceans of juice and be corrected at almost every turn-and as of yet, they can do none of this by themselves. So I’ve had to learn to alter my expectations. After all, Christmas is for children.
We have tried really hard not to over do the gift getting part of the holiday. It’s hard, because we see things we know they’d love, and we want them to have it. But let’s face it, that’s a monster we don’t want to create. While Dollar Store stuff will satisfy them now, they will grow up, and who wants two entitled teenagers who can’t be content on their 16th birthday with a $1500 used truck that they had to help pay for? So this year, we got creative.
Now, when I say “we”, what I really mean is Dad. He may be the brains in the family, but he’s also pretty artistic when the need arises. See, the present that we wanted to give the boys this year was nowhere to be found, at least not in our price range. So “we” decided to make it.
Thanks to a book from their grandmother and a movie from Aunt Debbie, our boys have fallen in love with Peter Pan. And while we’re thankful it isn’t Barney or The Wiggles or Spongebob Squarepants, I’ve had to draw the line at just exactly what they can use to reenact their favorite tale. The day I found them using wire hangers for hooks and part of Brisco’s baby book for their treasure map, I decided maybe they needed a few props. And that’s what got us thinking.
Dad said if I would get the canvas, he would paint the boys a treasure map. I glued some dowel rods on each end, and we rolled it up and put it under the tree. I found a small pair of kids’ binoculars as well, and that is what they woke up to find on Christmas morning.
Now to some, this may not seem like much, but their love of this classic cannot be understated. Every hook-shaped candy cane is a reason to shout, “I’ve got you now, Pan!” Every empty paper towel roll is an excuse to yell, “Peter Pan ahoy!” One day I walked through the living room and heard Cooper saying, “Licky butter nickels” (translation: like barnacles) and calling Brisco “Mr. Smee”. At our house, this Neverland thing is serious business. So when Randy suggested that Santa leave the boys’ gifts under a different tree, I thought it was the greatest idea since Pixie Dust. See, the map that he had created was of Grandmother’s house, complete with cars in the driveway, dog pen, home plate, trees, sidewalks, blue shutters and a little boy looking out the second story window. And an “X” just happened to mark “the spot” under the big, dead elm tree in Grandmother’s back yard.
So on Christmas morning, after all the presents had been opened, Dad put coats and shoes on their still-pajamad-feet, and told them to grab their binoculars and map. We had a Christmas treasure to find.
Cooper was in the lead, and he had this treasure hunt thing down to an art. As he walked around the house, map opened in front of him like a scroll, following the dotted line in front of him to the step, Brisco followed with the binoculars, and together they went looking for “buried treasure”. As they rounded that old elm tree out back, they discovered a shiny, new, red wagon, a huge box full of Lincoln Logs and best of all, a giant “hook” of a candy cane, filled with Christmas candy. And with a smile and a look of accomplishment, they hauled their booty to the house.
So as it turns out, this Christmas was not so typical. I hope the boys will be able to remember their holiday treasure hunt and to retell their story to their own kids some day. I hope that as parents, when we contemplate the many Christmases to come, we will remember the excitement of the moment and the anticipation we felt in giving such simple gifts and watching our boys light up at their discovery.
As a good friend of mine put it, Christmas is for children. “Just to have all those little ones tearing open their gifts surrounded by people who are focusing on them and radiating love for them-that’s quite an experience.” And she’s right.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
“Year in review”
As the holidays approach, it’s that time of year when we often find ourselves looking back over the past months and taking stock of our existence. What were our goals? What did we accomplish? Did we at least survive? Such is life for a parent.
I look back at the last 12 months and I wonder how my kids could have changed as they have. I wonder where those babies have gone! Could it really be that just a short time ago we were learning to talk and changing two sets of diapers and finally sleeping alone? Those are only a few of the moments we’ve endured over the course of this past year.
We met mean little kids at the grade school playground. We grew accustomed to taste-testing every new bowl of dog food, and we perfected our performance at family weddings.
We learned how to shop with a superstore buggy and learned to make “Alto Meal” without any lumps. We learned that there’s more than one Old Yeller in the family, and if we’re not careful, those crazy Road Trips just might cause someone to let out a serious growl.
We’ve learned that there is just no excuse for poor performance at the ballpark, and no amount of screaming or crying or peeing in the stands will save you when you’re due a swat from Daddy’s belt.
We’ve moved homes and moved towns and changed the color of our teams, but we finally came to understand that not all “red socks” are “dirty”.
We’ve learned to sing and catch fly balls and be at one with nature.
We’ve watched as our boys have developed personalities of their own. Cooper, our true Little Randy, his daddy through and through, and Brisco, that ornery, mischievous little rascal who we’ll either laugh at or beat to death, depending on the day of the week. Both alike in so many ways, yet distinctly different, growing into the best of pals and the greatest of competitors all at the same time.
Over the course of the year, I’ve learned to accept the importance of male bonding, conceded that I’ve seen the last of my Saturdays, and prayed for my very own superhero to deliver a moment of peace at the end of a weary day. I’ve learned that sometimes a mom needs to give in and let go. Say yes a little more often. Worry a little less.
We’ve enjoyed blessings and adventures. We have taught lasting truths and learned valuable lessons-many of them the hard way. And all these things we have done together.
As we move into a new year, we’ll continue to enjoy the firsts of our boys and keep looking for firsts of our own. We’ll celebrate every new memory of childhood and revel in whatever stage of life we happen to find ourselves, no matter what challenges parenthood brings next. And above all, we’ll thank God for the blessings of the year gone by and the joy that is surely to come.
And that’s our year in review.
I look back at the last 12 months and I wonder how my kids could have changed as they have. I wonder where those babies have gone! Could it really be that just a short time ago we were learning to talk and changing two sets of diapers and finally sleeping alone? Those are only a few of the moments we’ve endured over the course of this past year.
We met mean little kids at the grade school playground. We grew accustomed to taste-testing every new bowl of dog food, and we perfected our performance at family weddings.
We learned how to shop with a superstore buggy and learned to make “Alto Meal” without any lumps. We learned that there’s more than one Old Yeller in the family, and if we’re not careful, those crazy Road Trips just might cause someone to let out a serious growl.
We’ve learned that there is just no excuse for poor performance at the ballpark, and no amount of screaming or crying or peeing in the stands will save you when you’re due a swat from Daddy’s belt.
We’ve moved homes and moved towns and changed the color of our teams, but we finally came to understand that not all “red socks” are “dirty”.
We’ve learned to sing and catch fly balls and be at one with nature.
We’ve watched as our boys have developed personalities of their own. Cooper, our true Little Randy, his daddy through and through, and Brisco, that ornery, mischievous little rascal who we’ll either laugh at or beat to death, depending on the day of the week. Both alike in so many ways, yet distinctly different, growing into the best of pals and the greatest of competitors all at the same time.
Over the course of the year, I’ve learned to accept the importance of male bonding, conceded that I’ve seen the last of my Saturdays, and prayed for my very own superhero to deliver a moment of peace at the end of a weary day. I’ve learned that sometimes a mom needs to give in and let go. Say yes a little more often. Worry a little less.
We’ve enjoyed blessings and adventures. We have taught lasting truths and learned valuable lessons-many of them the hard way. And all these things we have done together.
As we move into a new year, we’ll continue to enjoy the firsts of our boys and keep looking for firsts of our own. We’ll celebrate every new memory of childhood and revel in whatever stage of life we happen to find ourselves, no matter what challenges parenthood brings next. And above all, we’ll thank God for the blessings of the year gone by and the joy that is surely to come.
And that’s our year in review.
“Year in review”
As the holidays approach, it’s that time of year when we often find ourselves looking back over the past months and taking stock of our existence. What were our goals? What did we accomplish? Did we at least survive? Such is life for a parent.
I look back at the last 12 months and I wonder how my kids could have changed as they have. I wonder where those babies have gone! Could it really be that just a short time ago we were learning to talk and changing two sets of diapers and finally sleeping alone? Those are only a few of the moments we’ve endured over the course of this past year.
We met mean little kids at the grade school playground. We grew accustomed to taste-testing every new bowl of dog food, and we perfected our performance at family weddings.
We learned how to shop with a superstore buggy and learned to make “Alto Meal” without any lumps. We learned that there’s more than one Old Yeller in the family, and if we’re not careful, those crazy Road Trips just might cause someone to let out a serious growl.
We’ve learned that there is just no excuse for poor performance at the ballpark, and no amount of screaming or crying or peeing in the stands will save you when you’re due a swat from Daddy’s belt.
We’ve moved homes and moved towns and changed the color of our teams, but we finally came to understand that not all “red socks” are “dirty”.
We’ve learned to sing and catch fly balls and be at one with nature.
We’ve watched as our boys have developed personalities of their own. Cooper, our true Little Randy, his daddy through and through, and Brisco, that ornery, mischievous little rascal who we’ll either laugh at or beat to death, depending on the day of the week. Both alike in so many ways, yet distinctly different, growing into the best of pals and the greatest of competitors all at the same time.
Over the course of the year, I’ve learned to accept the importance of male bonding, conceded that I’ve seen the last of my Saturdays, and prayed for my very own superhero to deliver a moment of peace at the end of a weary day. I’ve learned that sometimes a mom needs to give in and let go. Say yes a little more often. Worry a little less.
We’ve enjoyed blessings and adventures. We have taught lasting truths and learned valuable lessons-many of them the hard way. And all these things we have done together.
As we move into a new year, we’ll continue to enjoy the firsts of our boys and keep looking for firsts of our own. We’ll celebrate every new memory of childhood and revel in whatever stage of life we happen to find ourselves, no matter what challenges parenthood brings next. And above all, we’ll thank God for the blessings of the year gone by and the joy that is surely to come.
And that’s our year in review.
I look back at the last 12 months and I wonder how my kids could have changed as they have. I wonder where those babies have gone! Could it really be that just a short time ago we were learning to talk and changing two sets of diapers and finally sleeping alone? Those are only a few of the moments we’ve endured over the course of this past year.
We met mean little kids at the grade school playground. We grew accustomed to taste-testing every new bowl of dog food, and we perfected our performance at family weddings.
We learned how to shop with a superstore buggy and learned to make “Alto Meal” without any lumps. We learned that there’s more than one Old Yeller in the family, and if we’re not careful, those crazy Road Trips just might cause someone to let out a serious growl.
We’ve learned that there is just no excuse for poor performance at the ballpark, and no amount of screaming or crying or peeing in the stands will save you when you’re due a swat from Daddy’s belt.
We’ve moved homes and moved towns and changed the color of our teams, but we finally came to understand that not all “red socks” are “dirty”.
We’ve learned to sing and catch fly balls and be at one with nature.
We’ve watched as our boys have developed personalities of their own. Cooper, our true Little Randy, his daddy through and through, and Brisco, that ornery, mischievous little rascal who we’ll either laugh at or beat to death, depending on the day of the week. Both alike in so many ways, yet distinctly different, growing into the best of pals and the greatest of competitors all at the same time.
Over the course of the year, I’ve learned to accept the importance of male bonding, conceded that I’ve seen the last of my Saturdays, and prayed for my very own superhero to deliver a moment of peace at the end of a weary day. I’ve learned that sometimes a mom needs to give in and let go. Say yes a little more often. Worry a little less.
We’ve enjoyed blessings and adventures. We have taught lasting truths and learned valuable lessons-many of them the hard way. And all these things we have done together.
As we move into a new year, we’ll continue to enjoy the firsts of our boys and keep looking for firsts of our own. We’ll celebrate every new memory of childhood and revel in whatever stage of life we happen to find ourselves, no matter what challenges parenthood brings next. And above all, we’ll thank God for the blessings of the year gone by and the joy that is surely to come.
And that’s our year in review.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Don’t Mess with my Toot Toot!
Music is a part of life, and our house is no exception. Whether it’s a drippy faucet, a squeaky shoe on the bathroom tile, or a song being blared out of a standard-option, car radio, kids love the sounds that pervade their world.
When they are young, they make no distinction between music and noise. I guess that’s something that comes with age. And they don’t really care about getting the words right or carrying the proper tune. They just revel in the sounds that so easily sail out of their mouths and into their auditory locale. The “Itsy Bitsy Spider” is a prime example.
I’m not sure why our kids love this song so much. Maybe it is a boy’s natural inclination to investigate spiders and snakes and the like. Whatever their draw to the classic nursery song, they both have their eight-legged friend going up “the spider spout”, and no amount of correction from mom can change it.
The alphabet song is another of their favorites. Both boys get the same letters transposed when they sing it, but they never forget to say, “Next time won’t you sing with me,” unlike their cousin Harlie who actually says, “Next time don’t sing with me.” Cooper and Brisco must agree on some level because they haven’t quite connected on the idea of singing in unison. They each want to be the loudest, and when the other brother tries to bust in with his own version, they’ll holler, “Mom! I can’t hear myself sing while he is singing!”
Brisco is really the musical one of the two. I can remember singing to him a lot when he was just a baby. I sang to Cooper too, but it never seemed to soothe him the way it did little B. Even to this day he will lull about the house, singing to himself while he’s playing with his toys or tormenting his brother. And the kid really can hold a tune. Cooper, bless his heart, can get dramatic with his musical inflection but the notes don’t always seem to come out just right.
But that is no matter. It doesn’t keep him from trying. He actually seems to be getting a feel for some of the more popular jives. An old AC/DC tune came on the radio last week in the car and Randy and I both got a kick out of watching him bob and sway his body about in his head-bangin’ little car seat. And the boy grins and giggles with delight when Dad says, in his best Cheech Marin impersonation, “Respect the classics, man!”
From showing their muscles at the “He is strong” part of “Jesus Loves Me” to misinterpreting Garth Brooks’ “Loooo-ng neck bottle” for “Naaaa-ked bottom”, there is really no end to the hilarity and entertainment that music, created by a child, can bring.
And when they get going, there’s really no stopping them. They’ll go about the day spouting one liners from a whole spectrum of different songs. From “Take you ridin’ in my car, car,” to “Pea-nuuut, peanut butter…jelly!” these boys are definitely a sight to behold, and a sound to be heard as they go about their daily business and play.
Their newest favorites are a collection of songs sent from an old classmate of mine including timeless classics such as “The Chicken Dance” and “Herman the Worm”. It isn’t unusual to find all three of us waddling around the living room singing, “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk,” like a trio of crazed chicks, or wiggling and wriggling as we grow “thiiiiis big!” just like ole Herman.
But banging the bottom of two metal racecars together is just as pleasing to their sweet little ears as a requiem by Mozart or a concerto by Tchaikovsky. And playing the air-harmonica to an old Bob Dylan classic with Brisco in the background saying, “He said Steel-an-Stone!” can bring a smile to a mom’s face like no other over-priced, live and in person concert I’ve ever attended.
Yes, music is a part of life. And there’s none that sounds sweeter than when it’s created by children. Especially your own. So until the days when we disagree about what they consider music and what we consider noise, I’ll continue to enjoy dancing around like a chicken and listening to my baby meander about, impersonating ole Fats himself with his own two-year-old version, “Don’t mess-y my Toot Toot!”
And that’s All in a day’s work!
When they are young, they make no distinction between music and noise. I guess that’s something that comes with age. And they don’t really care about getting the words right or carrying the proper tune. They just revel in the sounds that so easily sail out of their mouths and into their auditory locale. The “Itsy Bitsy Spider” is a prime example.
I’m not sure why our kids love this song so much. Maybe it is a boy’s natural inclination to investigate spiders and snakes and the like. Whatever their draw to the classic nursery song, they both have their eight-legged friend going up “the spider spout”, and no amount of correction from mom can change it.
The alphabet song is another of their favorites. Both boys get the same letters transposed when they sing it, but they never forget to say, “Next time won’t you sing with me,” unlike their cousin Harlie who actually says, “Next time don’t sing with me.” Cooper and Brisco must agree on some level because they haven’t quite connected on the idea of singing in unison. They each want to be the loudest, and when the other brother tries to bust in with his own version, they’ll holler, “Mom! I can’t hear myself sing while he is singing!”
Brisco is really the musical one of the two. I can remember singing to him a lot when he was just a baby. I sang to Cooper too, but it never seemed to soothe him the way it did little B. Even to this day he will lull about the house, singing to himself while he’s playing with his toys or tormenting his brother. And the kid really can hold a tune. Cooper, bless his heart, can get dramatic with his musical inflection but the notes don’t always seem to come out just right.
But that is no matter. It doesn’t keep him from trying. He actually seems to be getting a feel for some of the more popular jives. An old AC/DC tune came on the radio last week in the car and Randy and I both got a kick out of watching him bob and sway his body about in his head-bangin’ little car seat. And the boy grins and giggles with delight when Dad says, in his best Cheech Marin impersonation, “Respect the classics, man!”
From showing their muscles at the “He is strong” part of “Jesus Loves Me” to misinterpreting Garth Brooks’ “Loooo-ng neck bottle” for “Naaaa-ked bottom”, there is really no end to the hilarity and entertainment that music, created by a child, can bring.
And when they get going, there’s really no stopping them. They’ll go about the day spouting one liners from a whole spectrum of different songs. From “Take you ridin’ in my car, car,” to “Pea-nuuut, peanut butter…jelly!” these boys are definitely a sight to behold, and a sound to be heard as they go about their daily business and play.
Their newest favorites are a collection of songs sent from an old classmate of mine including timeless classics such as “The Chicken Dance” and “Herman the Worm”. It isn’t unusual to find all three of us waddling around the living room singing, “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk,” like a trio of crazed chicks, or wiggling and wriggling as we grow “thiiiiis big!” just like ole Herman.
But banging the bottom of two metal racecars together is just as pleasing to their sweet little ears as a requiem by Mozart or a concerto by Tchaikovsky. And playing the air-harmonica to an old Bob Dylan classic with Brisco in the background saying, “He said Steel-an-Stone!” can bring a smile to a mom’s face like no other over-priced, live and in person concert I’ve ever attended.
Yes, music is a part of life. And there’s none that sounds sweeter than when it’s created by children. Especially your own. So until the days when we disagree about what they consider music and what we consider noise, I’ll continue to enjoy dancing around like a chicken and listening to my baby meander about, impersonating ole Fats himself with his own two-year-old version, “Don’t mess-y my Toot Toot!”
And that’s All in a day’s work!
The beauty of nature
Over the last couple of months, we have taken the time to share with our boys the beauty of nature. They are always outside making some valiant attempt to be at one with their environment. Whether it’s digging in the dirt, eating the dirt, or taking full blown baths in the mud they created from their dirt, it seems-at least in a mother’s mind-they could use a little guidance.
With the off season comes a little free time for Dad, and a true, concerted effort on our part to keep the boys interested in being kids. And that means playing, exploring, and of course, getting dirty. We made a day trip to the Wichita Mountains, spent several days walking the creek at Mamaw and Papaw’s and even braved an overnight camping expedition, indoor plumbing excluded. It was quite an adventure. But the experiences our boys added to their future memories of childhood far outweighed every rock to the shin and scratch from a tree branch we endured.
There’s nothing like a couple of boys seeing their first big buffalo to bring to life the closest thing they’ll ever see in the wild to the huge furry mammoth of Ice Age. And after their first viewing of Bambi, it couldn’t be more fitting for a huge, 10-point buck to be crossing the meadow in front of our car with two beautiful does and a little Bambino following close behind.
Little children are so easily entertained. They appreciate the smallest of gestures and the cheapest pursuits of amusement. There’s no need for trips to Disney or vacations to the moon when a drive through Prairie Dog Town will bring the smiles and laughter of two satisfied little boys. “I can’t believe they want to eat our pretzels!” Brisco shouted in disbelief.
I watched as my boys learned valuable lessons from their daddy and their Uncle Ryan-lessons I had to learn from Tom Hanks in a movie or that I leaned right along with them for the very first time. Like why we dig a hole underneath our camp fire or how to fry eggs and biscuits without a stove top to cook on.
I watched as my boys ran around the campsite, thrilled by the simplicity of shining their own flashlight into the dark night. I smiled as they sat side by side with their dad, imitating his movements, whittling a fallen tree branch with their white, plastic knives.
I watched their Daddy reliving his own childhood memories by climbing trees and jumping the creek, while the boys watched in awe and tried desperately to walk in his footsteps, following his every move. From skipping rocks on the water to “steaming” marshmallows on the fire, there’s little that compares to an adventure with dad and learning to be at one with nature.
We walked the rows of freshly planted wheat and answered questions about planting and harvesting and electric fences. We became explorers as we searched for deer tracks and “man tracks” and were overjoyed to find that “baseballs”, big and yellow, were also a part of God’s creation, although to me they seemed strangely similar to a gourd.
We all were taken aback as we climbed a steep hill of trees and brush and found ourselves face to face with a bull snake, just soaking up the sun.
And just this past weekend, as we celebrated Thanksgiving, we were totally immersed in the beauty of nature-maybe further than any man, woman or two-year old child needs to be, in my opinion-as we watched a mother cow give birth.
There is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for the boys God gave us-dirt, snot, slobber and all. Above that, I’m grateful for the father they have to look up to. There are many gifts a mother can give her sons, but the best gift in my mind is that of a firm, fun-loving and faithful father. Just one more way God allows the beauty of nature to come full circle, creating precious childhood memories that will last a lifetime.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
With the off season comes a little free time for Dad, and a true, concerted effort on our part to keep the boys interested in being kids. And that means playing, exploring, and of course, getting dirty. We made a day trip to the Wichita Mountains, spent several days walking the creek at Mamaw and Papaw’s and even braved an overnight camping expedition, indoor plumbing excluded. It was quite an adventure. But the experiences our boys added to their future memories of childhood far outweighed every rock to the shin and scratch from a tree branch we endured.
There’s nothing like a couple of boys seeing their first big buffalo to bring to life the closest thing they’ll ever see in the wild to the huge furry mammoth of Ice Age. And after their first viewing of Bambi, it couldn’t be more fitting for a huge, 10-point buck to be crossing the meadow in front of our car with two beautiful does and a little Bambino following close behind.
Little children are so easily entertained. They appreciate the smallest of gestures and the cheapest pursuits of amusement. There’s no need for trips to Disney or vacations to the moon when a drive through Prairie Dog Town will bring the smiles and laughter of two satisfied little boys. “I can’t believe they want to eat our pretzels!” Brisco shouted in disbelief.
I watched as my boys learned valuable lessons from their daddy and their Uncle Ryan-lessons I had to learn from Tom Hanks in a movie or that I leaned right along with them for the very first time. Like why we dig a hole underneath our camp fire or how to fry eggs and biscuits without a stove top to cook on.
I watched as my boys ran around the campsite, thrilled by the simplicity of shining their own flashlight into the dark night. I smiled as they sat side by side with their dad, imitating his movements, whittling a fallen tree branch with their white, plastic knives.
I watched their Daddy reliving his own childhood memories by climbing trees and jumping the creek, while the boys watched in awe and tried desperately to walk in his footsteps, following his every move. From skipping rocks on the water to “steaming” marshmallows on the fire, there’s little that compares to an adventure with dad and learning to be at one with nature.
We walked the rows of freshly planted wheat and answered questions about planting and harvesting and electric fences. We became explorers as we searched for deer tracks and “man tracks” and were overjoyed to find that “baseballs”, big and yellow, were also a part of God’s creation, although to me they seemed strangely similar to a gourd.
We all were taken aback as we climbed a steep hill of trees and brush and found ourselves face to face with a bull snake, just soaking up the sun.
And just this past weekend, as we celebrated Thanksgiving, we were totally immersed in the beauty of nature-maybe further than any man, woman or two-year old child needs to be, in my opinion-as we watched a mother cow give birth.
There is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for the boys God gave us-dirt, snot, slobber and all. Above that, I’m grateful for the father they have to look up to. There are many gifts a mother can give her sons, but the best gift in my mind is that of a firm, fun-loving and faithful father. Just one more way God allows the beauty of nature to come full circle, creating precious childhood memories that will last a lifetime.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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