That Means It's Done

Beep, beep, beep.

"It's done!" Super Wy hops off the couch and does a little boogey dance.

"Not boiling yet, Mom," Parkour hollers from the kitchen. I hear the little pings as he increases the time.

Super Wy gestures towards the kitchen. "Come on, Mom. It's done."

"No. It's not boiling. Parkour's put more time on the timer." I ruffle his curly red hair, which is always a mess...no matter how much brushing is done to it.

A cute frown purses on his face. "But, it went beep, beep, beep. That means it's done."

"Usually. This times it's not, Honey."

Hopes of food dashes from Super Wy's eyes. He looks close to crying as he sits slowly back on the couch and covers his face with his pudgy little hands.

"But it went beep, beep, beep," he whimpers to herself.

What the Heck?

What the heck happened to the week? It's already the end of Wednesday...this is crazy. Looking back I realize it was just a chaotic week that included insane writing fury on a story, heavy workload, and worst of all...sick babies.

Yay for Mommy and Daddy!!!

The cool thing about having a large family, though, is that siblings automatically draw to each other for support. As I sit here typing the older kids have set up camp to hang in the little boys room.

They're all giggling and joking.

Drama Queen's, "It's okay little baby."

Parkour Boy's, "It's a spider. No, just kiddin." (male-type support...very important I'm told).

These are some funny kids I got. What they probably don't realize is they're at their best when they're all pinging together. They bring out the best in each other.

Parkour opens up, loses the cynicism, and just really allows himself to be a natural leader and positive man. Drama Queen shakes off the sarcastic diva, slows down her over-thinking and shows love and tenderness...and thought to other people.

Holy Terror and Super Wy both chill out with the anarchy, conniving war strategies and adventures to just enjoy the moment.

Every time I see them in these perfect moments I feel like Super Mom.

Funny Little Youngling

Parkour Boy smiles and lays several sketches on the counter for me to see. "Check these out, Mom. I'm working on some new logos and these are three of the top ones."

His eyes shift ever so slightly and he nibbles his lower lip. Now, I know these actions together means he's holding back a request for something. Of course, I don't let him know I know this.

I eye the three very good sketches and point out the parts I like best. I also make suggestions to improve some other parts. He nods and agrees with everything I'm saying.

This is because of two main things:

1. He knows I'm an artist and it's one subject where he listens to me almost 95% of the time
2. He really wants me to say yes to something so feels butt-kissing is the most effective tactic

I ruffle his hair and smile at the end of my little comments and say, "Well done, Honey."

I then grab my soda and start back to my writing area. He's behind me, and I can feel the request about to happen.

"You're not using those sketches for a tattoo," I add as I head down the hall.

I hear, and pretend I don't hear, his whispered curse. "When can I get a tattoo then?"

I laugh, and laugh, and laugh all the way into the back room.

...Oh what a funny little youngling...

Brushing Teeth

I'm in the process of editing when I hear Holy Terror growl with aggravation. Looking over the top of the laptop, I see him leaning into Drake. He's trying to get something in the dog's mouth. Next to them is a cup of water.

"Drake, open up," Holy Terror commands in his most serious tone.

Drake shakes him off.

"I'm trying to brush your teeth...they have to be clean."

Holy Terror holds up Drake's lips and tries again. Drake shakes him off and I see that it's a toothbrush in Holy Terror's hand.

"Drake!"

Dog grumbles at him, sighs, and rolls over away from him.

"Fine. I'll brush Connor's teeth." Holy Terror heads over to our other dog.

"Whose toothbrush is that?" I ask, not sure I want to know.

"Drama Queen's," he says off-handed.

...Oh boy...

Over the Top...What? Me?

I must thank my writing friend and all-around funny guy, Spammy, for awarding me the "Over the Top" Blog award. I love that kid! As part of the award I am to answer the following questions and then nominate five bloggers the award

Your cell phone: Nonexistent

Your hair: On my head

Your mother: Groovy lady
Your father: Mysterious
Your favorite food: Mexican food
Your dream last night: Scandalous...dreamed I got all the laundry done AND put away
Your favorite drink: Coca Cola
Your dream goal: To be one of those wrinkly old bikini ladies on a beach with cheap books and margaritas
What room are you in: Bedroom
Your hobby: Sky-diving and saving the world (oh wait...that might have been the dream)

Your fear: Alien Abduction
Where do you see yourself in six years: Six years?? I can't see six days from now!
Where were you last night: You can't prove anything

Something you aren't: Graceful
Muffins: Baked = yummy but Topping jeans = shivers
Wish list item: A week long cruise with my hubby
Where did you grow up: Wouldn't you like to know
Last thing you did: Typed "Wouldn't you like to know"
What are you wearing: I take the 5th
Your TV: Can read my mind
Your pets: Are my babies (and a little crazy)
Your friends: Are for life (and a little crazy)
Your life: Chaotic, loud, and perfect (and a little crazy)
Your mood: A little crazy (heehee)
Missing someone: I don't remember...I'm sure I left someone someplace...hmmmm
Vehicle: Goes grrrrrrrrrr, unless they need a tune -up and then they go rumble, rumble, grrr...
Something you aren't wearing: Wouldn't you like to know
Your favorite store: Bookstore
Your favorite color: Blue or green, or blue-green, or green-blue...or bleen...or grue
When was the last time you laughed: I'm still laughing
Last time you cried: I'm still crying (it happens)
Your best friend: Hubby (I know, cliche...but it's true. We're bonded through geekdom)

One place you go to over and over: The bathroom..and the older I get, the more I go
Facebook: Addict
Favorite place to eat: My Mexican or Pizza joints

Okay...so now to nominate five of my blogging buddies. Spreading the love that Spammy kicked off.

• Yunaleska and her blog Nayu's Realm
• Laura Scarlett and her Self-Titled blog
• Liana Brooks and her Self-Titled blog
• Elisabeth and her blog Elisabeth's Adventures in the Written World
• Sam's family blog Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys

Thanks again Spam...you rock!!!

NO...That's A Baby!

"Oh, look! He had the hugest eyes when he was little," Drama Queen exclaims holding up a baby picture of Parkour Boy.

Super Wy and Holy Terror rush over to see.

"Awwww! That baby is so cute!" Super Wy brings it over so he can show me. "See the baby?"

"Yeah. That's Parkour Boy when he was little." I smile at him.

"No, that's a baby," Super Wy clarifies, then points over at Parkour Boy at the other end of the couch. "That's Parkour."

"I know, Honey. But this baby is Parkour Boy when he was first born."

"NO. This is a baby. THAT is Parkour." Super Wy clarifies very slow and simple, so I may understand.

"I know. They're both Parkour. THIS one when he's little and him over there when he's a big boy."

Super Wy looks at me like I'm crazy, shakes his head sadly, and walks away.

Parkour Boy Turns Fifteen

"Three more years and I am on my own!" Parkour Boy smiles and tosses in a fist pump.

My heart cracks a little more and I fight back the tears. I smile, nod, and give my best "Mom-style" fist pump (the kind intended for full embarrassment impact).

Everyone else sees a young man growing into adulthood. I can see that too. But what they don't see?

The little toddler who squealed over dump trucks and fell in love with C3PO. The young boy of 5 who, for years, introduced himself as a paleontologist. The little toe-head who would run and jump in my lap and cuddle, but refuse to hold my hand in the store because he was "a big boy".

If I close my eyes real tight I can feel him as a baby wrapped tight in the nook of my arms. When we're on the beach I can look at him in the distance walking with his dad...and I'm not seeing the teenager in deep discussion. I'm seeing the little boy giggling and holding Daddy's hand.

I love him so much, and I'm proud he's independent, strong-willed, and excited to start his own adventure. But my heart breaks a little bit more the closer he gets.

Why am I a babbling mess? A cry baby at the drop of a hat? Happy one moment and completely a wreck the next?

Monday, Parkour Boy turns 15.

Don't get me wrong...I am happy but as any Mom will tell you, it's a double-edge sword. Each milestone ahead of them is farther away from you and your protective wings. And I'll admit, with Parkour Boy it's a little keener than the others. He's my first and the most like me. He's the one who altered my whole life. I looked into those baby blue eyes in the hospital and could feel the shift. THUD! My heart fell for him and I was from that moment on a Mother.

He's my poet, my artist, and my adventure partner. He's fearless, tiresome, internal yet goofy too. He's a brooder and a natural cynic. Parkour's an old soul who's ready to take each moment in depth and draw from it the most he can.

God, I love him (oh man, here come the tears again...damn it).


Happy birthday, Honey. I love you very much.