Goodnight...with Flare

"Good night, Mom." Drama Queen, the last child to be up, heads down the hall to her room.

I lock up the house. I switch off the kitchen and dining room lights. I turn and see the desk lamp still on. Underneath it, on the desk, basks Psycho Cat. On the ground next to the desk and in front of the fireplace is a sleeping Drake.

I go to the desk, and nuzzle the cat. "Good night, Kitty." He stretches and glories my day with his acceptance of my attention.

I turn to kneel and do the same with my Drake...and he passes doggy gas. He looks up in embarrassment and shame, then buries his nose under his paws as the smell fills the space quickly.

"Damn it, Drakers." I curl my nose, stand, and flick off the lamp in disgust.

I walk out of the front room to bed. In the darkness behind me, Drake groans in his own stinky misery. You'd think by now ('cause this is an often occurance) he'd learn to get up and move...

Drama Queen Turns 14

Wow! Has it really been 14 years? The girl makes everyday an adventure. Drama Queen's always been in a hurry. Even when she was born, which was a week early and took under 6 hours. She came out pissed, glaring at the world, and looked like she'd just been in a brawl with bruises all over her face because she was too stubborn to let her head cone. (Yes, her head came out perfectly round...it was creepy.)


She arrived with my family's bright blue eyes and the Norris family's auburn red hair. It lightened to a pretty strawberry blonde she's always wishing to dye. Born the only girl, we soon found out was because God was having mercy on us. She rules and "manages" over the boys - even the older and her father most of the time - because it's easier than facing her wrath.


I love the passion she carries out everyday with with. I love the moodiness that keeps you on your toes. And most of all, I love waking up, seeing her, and knowing she's my girl. With another year gone, it's another year closer to her leaving home and that makes me sad. I hope she looks fondly at her childhood years as she runs full steam into the teenage years.


I know she been a joy to us and we wouldn't have it any other way. So, happy birthday, Baby Girl! We love you!

Reality Check

We stood in line. The kids all decided what they wanted and then changed their minds at least twice. Two people stood in front of us, a business guy pretending he wasn't in a fast food line and a punk guy with a lot of tattoos.

Holy Terror looked up at me. "I want the toy this time."

I shook my head. "No, Honey. Those are rip-offs."

This is usually the end of the conversation...up until now.

"Mom. I really want the toy in the bag."

I look into those beautiful blue eyes, so sturdy and resolved to the toy. Sometimes, they just have to learn on their own. "Okay. I'll get you the toy."

We ordered, waited forever, then sat at a table. Eating, Holy Terror and Super Wy kept a hyper eye on the bags still containing their toys. After scarfing down their food they wiggled in their seats.

"Toy! Toy!"

"Okay." I pulled out the toys, pulled them out of the plastic wrappers, and held them up. "Here are the toys."

Holy Terror just stared at the stuffed Waldo, his face crestfallen. Slowly, his eyes slid to mine. "That's it?" I nodded. He slumped back in his chair. "What a stupid rip-off."

"Yeah."

As Ready as We're Gonna Get

Last night I cut his hair. We'd let it grow out over the summer and Holy Terror looked like one of the Beatles. Each snip was a reminder our family was reaching another phase of life. Not only our family, but Holy Terror himself. The first year is such a leap in growth.

*Sigh*

We couldn't keep him the Little Man forever. Oh, my heart wishes we could. Our little quiet mouse that first year grew into the hyper Huckleberry. Now, he'll reach out and start the seed of who he'll make himself into.

Yeah, we'll still have a big part for the many years. But this is the beginning. It's the first moment he finds something outside of the home. The first life bubble Mom and Dad didn't create and doesn't fully manage.

Those first 5 years before formal school are important for a reason. You are their sole world. Their only mentor. The one who decides where they hang and with who. Now, the teacher will slowly emerge as the main advisor. She'll have all day...we'll only get the evenings. He'll make friends of his own fruition. We'll only know them after the friendship has been initiated.

Oh, I'm getting all worked up. You'd think, as my third child to reach school age I'd be ready. Well I'm a goober, okay. I can't help it. I must over analyze, worry, and fret over every milestone.

...Mother, stop laughing. I hear you all the way over at my house...

Infamous

I hurry out of work. Halfway to the car, I run into a co-worker I hadn't seen in a while. We catch up on work news and kid news. I tell her about Holy Terror's kindergarten assessment.

"Oh yeah. Holy Terror." She laughs. "I'll always remember him as the little redhead who asked Santa if he and Frosty loved each other...and if they kissed."

...Only 5 and already infamous...

If you haven't been following for a while and wonder what I'm talking about, here's the post.

Meeting Mrs. Teacher

Holy Terror had his kindergarten assessment Wednesday. Needless to say, Hubby and I were a little worried. It's not that Holy Terror's a bad kid. Far from it. He's just...hyper.

Okay, okay. Sometimes he can make you think of the redhead from Problem Child, but most of the time he's just earnestly hyper and curious.

I drove home to meet them and we walked to school, Holy Terror leading the way. He got diverted, as usual, needing to know the what, whys, and hows of the neighborhood. When we finally got to the school, we entered his classroom and there waited Mrs. Teacher.

With a quick smile, wave, and "hey" he was quickly attracted to the classroom sites. Desks, chairs, wall calendars, reading area, toy area, whiteboard...On Mrs. Teacher's gesture, Hubby and I stayed in the background as she attempted to wrangle him to the curved table for his assessment.

I shouldn't say attempted. Mrs. Teacher was Mrs. Awesome Teacher. Guiding him without making him feel directed and adjusting conversation without making his questions feel ignored. They sat and she got started. We held our breath.

Holy Terror did fabulous! He cruised through writing his name, blasted through the colors, counted his way through numbers, and even complimented her on her prettiness.

The kid was a pro. Hubby and I sometimes feel people aren't going to be able to handle Holy Terror the way we can. It's always surprising and refreshing to see that, yes, Holy Terror does just fine in the real world beyond the Norris Ranch.

...Now we just have to stress over the first day...

Snake in the House

I stop short at my bedroom doorway. The light is off and the curtains are closed, so the room is dimly lit. There, peaking out from under the bed is a snake.

It's not moving. I'm not moving. I'm semi-panicked.

Why only semi-panicked? Flashback to about 8 years ago. I'm cleaning up the toys from the backyard at our old downtown bungalow cottage and I go for a toy lizard. Only it was a real lizard and hisses at me. I jump straight up and onto the porch steps...total Spider Man move.

Back to this moment. I wasn't sure if it was real or fake. The kids like real-looking toys. After a minute it's still not moving. I'm still not moving.

Why still not moving? Flashback to the summer I spent in Texas with a friend. We're stopped on a dirt road with a snake facing us off about 10 feet away. After minutes we get the courage to walk over, finding the snake dead.

Back to the moment. If it is real and just dead I'm not looking forward to the scooping and cleaning that will be coming up. Another minute passes and I sigh in resignation. Either it's a toy or it's real and dead, I mine as well get on with the day.

...Thankfully it was just a toy...

School Shopping

Yes, that time of year. School shopping in itself is a battle. With now 3 kids heading to the classrooms, it's near torture. 3 individual tastes, 2 different age groups, and 6 people "joining in the fun".

Start with a quick dinner stop at Taco Bell. This entailed 4 kids telling me what they want at once, changing their minds 3 different times, several trips to the bathroom, and an argument with Super Wy about whether chips and cheese sauce were in fact called nachos.

Hauling them all back into the car, we headed out of town. Over the next 30 minutes it was:

"Get your hands back in the car." "No screaming." "Get your hands back in the car." "Don't yell at your brother." "Stop that weird noise." "Get your hands back in the car."

The parking of the car was signified by Holy Terror kicking open the door into the car parked next to us. After an argument where he thought the car parked too close, we held tight to the two toddlers and headed into the store.

Over laughing, tantrums, arguments, and eye rolling we managed to get most of the school clothes. By the time we reached the counter, Hubby was in his caveman mode of hunched back and solitary responses and I was wishing for medication.

Dropping by the beauty store for a mullet wig - Hubby friend's party thing...don't ask - we went home and unloaded the car. The boys were put to bed, kicking and screaming (them, not us), and I plopped onto the couch to take a breather. Hubby went to his meditation spot, the garage and his workbench.

It. Was. An. Ordeal. Let me tell ya'.

Now, we're good. That is until the school supply lists come home the first week of school.

Morning Send Off

Late (as usual these days) I rush into the living room and hurry to finish stuffing my things into my backpack.

"Hugs. Hugs. Come on guys, I'm running late!" I urge my little guys, who are slouched in just their underroos, watching some kids learning show hosted by a blue mouse. The teenagers are sleeping in. (Last days of summer vacation and I don't have the heart to wake them).

No one hurries to this urgent request, of course, because Mommy is always running behind in the morning. My battle with morning time is well known, as is the fact that I lose this battle 9 times out of 10.

Hubby walks into the hall and saunters over in a silly dance move to give me my hug. Holy Terror decides he's a bunny and proceeds to hop over for his. Super Wy slides off and stalks over to me on his "clawed feet" with his head bobbing in a terrifying raptor way and gives me his hug.

"Bye guys, love you!" I open the door to leave.

Two "byes" and a roar answers my call.