new word

B is always coming up with new twists on old words. It makes me smile every time I hear him use these "new" words passionately!

B tends to be our dramatic one...I know...we can only figure out where he inherited the drama from. His favorite line to use when ever I ask him to clean up his toys is "I had a really hard day". This is delivered with the full downcast body language and sadness in his voice. Early in the game I had, of course, comforted him and asked him specifically about his day. Bingo! He now knew how to distract me...but it didn't last for long. My current response is, "I'm sorry, I know, I had a hard day too! Pick up your toys!"

Recently he has decided to try a new approach. When asked to do something A and I heard, rather emphatically, "Everyone wants to make me their SLAVE-IOR!" Yes, slave-ior...slave and savior. A and I busted up.

To be honest I feel like my family's slave-ior on a daily basis. It does however, tend to make me stop and think everytime I'm feeling overwhelmed with the day to day drudgery of running a house. Yes, at times I feel like a slave...but in truth at what point in my serving my family am I truly showing my Savior's love for my family. It can in fact change the posture of my heart when I'm feeling "slave-ish".

So to all the "slave-iors" out there keep up the good work. You may feel your work goes unnoticed...but us fellow "slave-iors" silently raise our hand to honor you!

P.S. I'm trying to come up with a good definition to submit to Webster's Dictionary for consideration of a new word. We'll see how far I get.

Happy Halloween!

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the quick pace through the holidays...so here's to the start of the craziness!





Oh and to not be undone...me...(actually, I told my mom this is what her upper lip will look like if she keeps shaving it...I don't care what Dr. Oz says mom...)


Have fun!

the knife

It's so true that if you blink the years will fly by. My oldest will soon be 7 in just a few weeks. I, like every other mother, am getting all misty thinking about those first moments in the hospital when I gazed on this incredible creature that I now was to take home and raise. He seemed so small (not for long) and vulnerable. He needed me!

Jump ahead 7 years. He's all legs, energy and dancing to the beat of his own drum. At 7 he stands above my shoulder in my bare feet. (Current scientific growth charts project he will be as tall as I at the age of 10..thanks dad for that info!) He is growing and becoming an amazing creature.

Currently, A and I have been reading a book about masculine initiation. The author talks about the stages boys and men travel through in their lives...Cowboy, Warrior, King to name a few. It has shed an interesting light on how I view parenting my boys. I've always been a "teaspoon of dirt a day keeps the doctor away" and I've watched mothers run after their sons "rescuing" them regularly from things like...oh, dirt and adventure (they may get hurt...or dirty). I've always tried to limit my "be careful's" to only life threatening scenarios. I don't want them to be overly cautious and lose their sense of abandon and adventure.

Recently, I've been challenged in this area. I knew it was coming. I've always said that I will more than likely be sitting on the sidelines watching one or both of my children hurl themselves around a track on or in something that requires fuel.

J has been talking about getting a pocket knife since we visited his older boy cousin this summer. His cousin is in Cub Scouts and was learning to use a pocket knife. Oh, J thought this was the coolest thing. So A and I decided that we would get him one for his 7th b-day. He and A picked out the perfect camo swiss army knife on-line and we started the long painful process of waiting for it to arrive.



The instructions have been clearly ingrained since we first started this adventure. He is not to use it without adult supervision and it will be kept in a "safe" place other than his back pocket. Time seemed to drag on forever, yet he never whined, he only waited with eager anticipation and excitement.

Finally, about a week ago it arrived! I wish I had a camera at the moment he opened the box. Truth be told I just wanted to be in the moment rather than trying to "capture" it...(it's captured in my heart forever!) Excitement! Shock! Thrill! Now the hardest part would be waiting for daddy to get home. There are just some things that a boy needs to do with his dad and learning to handle a knife is one of those things.

After a few brief instructions and words of caution about safety J was set free to whittle. He sauntered around looking for the "perfect" piece of wood...found himself a chair (which he moved about 10 feet away from everyone so we'd be safely out of the way) and began to whittle. His male bravado was strong. After about 3 strokes with the blade he leaned over his shoulder and.....spit. Yes....he leaned over his shoulder and spit. I literally did a double take, looked at A and asked, 'he just spit didn't he?' 'Yes, he did' said A. Where in the world did he get that from? A has never whittled before and I don't remember watching any whittlin' and spittin' shows on PBS? At this point I realize (and embrace) that you can't fight the Y chromosome.

bad salami dream

Last night B woke up scared and said he had a bad dream. So I climbed into bed (no small feat trying not to dislocate anything while crawling into the bottom bunk of a not so tall bunk bed...mind you at 12:30 a.m....after being awoken from REM sleep...but I digress) and snuggled him back to sleep.

Earlier this evening, on our way to church, B started talking about his scary dream. I asked him if he remembered why it was so scary. He said, "Well it was the salami's that my friends and I were fighting." I'm racking my brain about how in fact a large salami could be frightening in a young boy's dream. We had just read the "Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle that night and I do recall that the said caterpillar had ingested a rather large salami. But why are B and his friends fighting these large salami's and what makes them so frightening?So I comment, "These were big salami's that look sort of like a hot dog, right?" "No, mommy, like the green guys on the show where they walk like this," and he sticks his arms out in front of him,"the guys we see on that old show 'Scooby Doo'"....Ohhhhhh, he's talking about ZOMBIES....zombies...salami's....well one can definitely feel like a zombie at night after eating a salami. Beware of zombies posing as salami's in your dreams...if so...throw back a few Maalox before bedtime...sweet dreams.