The Real Superman

Holy Terror and I settled onto the counter stools at the Foster Freeze with our treats. It was our Mommy-Son date before I headed off to my business trip. It was his first time ordering a sundae.

"You like it?" I asked.

He smiled. "Yup. Dad can make this for me...just like this." He waved his hands and gives that know-it-all Norris look. "Better, probably."

"Probably."

Later on in the discussion, he looks around at the car posters. "When I get bigger, I'm going to have a hot rod that's all these colors."

"That'd be cool."

He nods in and tosses that cocky grin. "Yup. And Dad's going to make them all go really fast."

After treats, we took a walk around the park. "Let's holds hands because it's evening."

"Well," he says with a confident and reassuring look. "If bad guys come, Dad will be there and he'll kick their butts...and I'll call the cops and Dad will make sure the bad guys get arrested."

"Really?" I try to sound serious. "But Dad's not here right now." I was hoping he'd say I could protect him...Nope

"Well, Dad's teaching me how to grow up. So, I'll be able to kick their butts...and you can call the cops."

"Okay. Sounds good."

...No wonder they believe in Super Heroes...their Dad is one...

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...

No is an Answer

Dr. M looks at us and smiles, "Okay. Height, weight all good and in the 90th percentile. Eyesight excellent. Hearing excellent..."

"Really?" Hubby and I say together in surprise.

"Yup. He's just got a case of selective hearing. Very common I find." Dr. M smiles and turns back to Holy Terror sitting on the exam table.

She goes through the usual physical. Thyroids, joints, ears, belly, and so on. There's a bit of awkwardness with the...well, you parents of boys know that part...

Still reeling from this bit of "weirdness" Dr. M has him stand up and plant his feet, then stands behind him and says, "Okay, now bend over and touch your toes."

"No," Holy Terror gives his - very successful - icy stare and steps away to face her.

"I just have to check your spine."

"No." He's got his shoulders stiffened and looks ready to defend his boundary at any further provocation.

I've been through this before with my oldest and am trying very hard not to burst into laughter. My husband's eyes are gleaming with amusement.

Hubby takes the lead and leans towards Holy Terror, man-to-man like. "Dr. M just needs to see if your spine's straight, Buddy."

"No." It's all very black-and-white, no nonsense here. No.

"Okay. No pressure. What about I see if the ear flusher is ready and come back?" Dr. M gives me a smile over Holy Terror's head and starts to step out. She's been with us since the first and is completely amazing.

I have Hubby hand me Holy Terror's pants. I hold them out to him. "What if we have your pants on? Then will you let her see your back?"

He stares at the pants for a moment and then nods. "Ok."

Now, if he'd still said no...

Paper Bag Warfare

It all started so innocently. Daddy brings home groceries and the little boys get the two paper bags. They're bright, new paper bags with wonderful handles. The little boys giggle and jump with the happiness of a new treasure.

Many thoughts cross their minds with these amazing contraptions. They start simple, carrying small toys. Next they pretend to be shoppers, then put them on their heads, then go back to carrying toys.

One little misstep and glint of war...Holy Terror, in his excitement, twirls a little too fast and the bag hits Super Wy's side.

Super Wy glares. "You hit me!"

Holy Terror's pride kicks in. "So?"

As Mommy, I try to let them learn to work it out on their own. It's a tricky balance, I realize as I sit on the sidelines and watch, ready to step in if needed.

Super Wy whops Holy Terror on the arm and smirks. Holy Terror growls and smacks Super Wy in the leg. A tirade of paper bag flying and toddler howls ensue. I prepare to intercede, but as I walk over they slow down and drop to the floor. Both look unhappy, exhausted, and ready to cry.

"Let's go play with cars," Holy Terror offers in the way of a truce.

"Kay," Super Wy whimpers in assent.

They both head off together, the paper bags left in ruins on the front room floor.

...and the moment of insanity ends...

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...

River Quest

With the return of the sun, the kids and I decided an adventure was in order. We packed up sandwiches, crackers, and drinks and headed out to the river trail.

The day was perfect with poofy clouds and a slight breeze. For some time we followed the paved walkway, then paused at a resting point.

"Mom, Mom. Let's go this way!" Holy Terror gestured.

Just beyond the paved walk, a little dirt path wandered out closer the riverbank. So, off the beaten path we went. About twenty feet in, we spotted a miniature house (the size of a small dog house) to the right, placed well into some bushes.

"That must be the Beavers' home," Drama Queen joked.

"Or the Bobcats," Parkour Boy countered.

Moving on, the path opened up to wetlands on one side and the river on the other. The grass was so green it looked almost neon. The smell of muddy river water and moist reeds filled the air.

"Animal tracks!" Super Wy exclaimed, dropping to a crouch. As I took a picture he looked up and smiled. "They're dinosaur tracks. Or a tiger."

Super Wy headed on, crouched and growling like a T-Rex on the hunt. We paused along a river bend and took some pretty pictures. Holy Terror pointed out the ducks with his long walking stick. Parkour Boy threw out a yelp and the ducks skimmed off the water and into the sky. But when I looked over, he hadn't been watching the ducks lift-off. He stood smiling down at Holy Terror who was giggling and smiling at the duck spectacle.

I played it cool and quietly enjoyed the brother moment, so as not to embarrass Parkour Boy at the "catch".

Throughout the next half-hour we joked and talked about the sights and sounds until we reached the end, where the river breaks through and seeps into the wetlands. The older kids jumped of the walk, down into the bank and helped the little boys down. The four explored the muddy area looking for fish and other nature treasures.

Certain moments caught my attention. Drama Queen holding Super Wy's hand as he worked his way to the edge. Parkour Boy grasping Holy Terrors shoulder before he lost his balance on a small log. Parkour Boy helping Drama Queen out of a deep soggy area so she wouldn't lose a shoe.

On the way back I remembered wishing I could whistle. This, so I could express the joy in my soul. The moment was so perfect. Thinking back on it now, I ache a little that we couldn't still be there.

It's these kinds of memories mothers cherish for a lifetime.

Remember?

I was busy cleaning up the lasagna dinner mess - and it was a mess - when Drama Queen turns towards me from where she's sitting at the computer.

"Hey, Mom. You remember my birthday, right?"

Now, I know this is an opening for something she wants to do for her birthday celebration in Fall(she starts planning almost a year in advance). But I decided to feign ignorance.

"Your birthday? You mean the last day of a 9 month pregnancy? The 6 hours of painful labor? The yearly reminder that you'll soon ditch me and never call anymore?" I wiggle my brows. "That day? Yeah, I think I remember that day. Why?"

Drama Queen rolls her eyes, but I can see the warm smile on her lips. "Oh my God, Mom. Whatever." She turns back to the computer.

Sopapilla Memories

Drama Queen and I, as any mother and teenage daughter, are either arguing or laughing...no in between. Lately, we'd been arguing more than laughing. I felt frustrated, like a wall slowly being built up between us, one neither could seem to break down.

So, I decided that the cure was sopapillas.

I do not like to cook by nature and skill (or really, lack of skill). However, there are a few things I love to make, especially with my kids. My daughter has a passion for it beyond even her father's joy of cooking.

Her and I's favorite thing to make together is cakes....and sopapillas. Sopapilla's are a family tradition in my household, started by my Grandpa and Grandma Murrillo. Some of my fondest memories are hanging out at their house while the smells of floured dough frying in the oil filled the house. Then the whiff of cinnamon sugar as they were promptly dripped off and dropped into the sugary goodness to be sweetened.

The pastries, memories, and time together worked.

My daughter has the funniest humor and sees life in such a dramatic and creative way. She's emotionally viewed, instead of logical. This is probably where we clash most of the time. But with sopapilla making, we both work in tandem.

I know that I can be hard on my kids and expect more from them than I should. I grew up quick and there wasn't a long time to be a kid. I sometimes forget that Hubby and I worked hard so that she and her siblings could take their time growing up and having a childhood.

Spending this kind of time with her helps me remember that not only do I need to let Drama Queen be herself, I need to let myself enjoy Drama Queen being herself.

She's okay. I'm okay. Her and I will be okay...and, of course, the sopapillas were yummy.

Boys, Boys, Boys...

By the end of the weekend I was ready for work. For those of you who know me, this is unusual. I enjoy my time with my family and especially my kids. It is no small feat to exhaust me of my "home time"

Well, they did it!

I walked into work this morning, sat in my office chair, and sighed with relief. The thoughts of two little boys sugared up on stolen cake from the frig and two gripey teenagers who'd had little sleep over the holidays danced in my head, threatening to re energize my headache.

The boys - all three - were the worst. Well, not worst, just most active in the exhaustion assault. Why do they have to be so hyper, aggressive, and...and...crazy?! I asked myself. They wouldn't sit still, they wrestled constantly, they jumped off coffee tables, tried to dance on the table (little boys, not the teenager), and mostly were just loud and wild.

As I sat and got started with my work a coworker (and friend) called. She grew up with only a sister and her mother in the house. Her phone call consisted of wondering the same thoughts I was thinking that morning but regarding her own son. She couldn't understand why he wanted to try and wrestle with his sister or get loud and crazy while playing video games.

I laughed and said, "Oh that's just boys for you. That's how they are. I grew up with all male cousins and as a tomboy roughed around with my brother and them."

We sat and I gave her advice on handling and living through the wild life of raising a boy. Things she never realized that happened with a boy in the house. We hung up and I felt good being able to help a friend...

....then I smacked my forehead and laughed. I probably should've given myself the same pep talk last night or this morning.

I guess even moms who were raised around boys and have three boys can forget what patience it takes to live with them.

Motherhood

Motherhood is the most importat thing I'll ever do. I made a vow four times over and the commitment is for life. Each time I made the promise to the growing human inside of me, I was a different person.

The very first time I wasn't even a woman. In every essence I was still a girl, just coming into womanhood. That first time becoming a guardian of a soul I was frightened beyond belief. The fear of not only motherhood, but also of adulthood. In many ways I grew up with my first. During his "belly time" I took classes upon classes, read books, and interrogated my physician. I studied for the biggest test of my life.

Then when he came along, in his own sweet time, we went through the wild ride as partners. We took each new step together. Me with false brovado, protecting him from the monsters of the world.

By the time my fourth promise was made, I was an experienced warrior mama. I was no less frightened. The difference? I knew my foes and my fears were in knowing them. My sword of motherhood was well worn but no less sharp.

My older children complain a lot that I raise the younger two different. In many ways they are right. This is due to knowing my battlefield. The older two were hardly out of my sight, and I jumped at every potential danger. Holy Terror was born 10 years after my first two. They are allowed more mistakes and breathing room, because I know where the actual danger line is laid.

I just hope the older two realize that even though my tactics are different, my love is not. My bond with them is connected in a way that the younger two will never know. Just as my experience towards the younger is something the older two will never quite know.

There is no right answer to mothering. The stakes are so high and each soul is so different. A mother just has to make the vow and leap in with her weapons ready. Those weapons are knowledge, committment, hope, and most importantly love. Everything else can and should be forgiven when the child becomes the parent.

But what do I know...ask me in a couple generations and I'll let you know how they turned out.

Just Gotta Dance

(Replay of My Yesterday)

I walk the last block and reach my house. Opening the door I enter not the Norris Ranch, but the Norris Rave Club. The music is bumping from the computer speakers, the little boys are dancing in the front room, and the older kids are clapping and urging them on.

Oh yeah...this is what I'm talking about!

I drop my pack, kick off my shoes, and get down. I have Parkour Boy turn up the music a little more (it can never be too loud). The little boys and I alternate who decides the dance moves. Then we get to some freestyle. As the crescendo, we do a little spotlighting.

Holy Terror starts it off with a little arm wave action, moving into some righteous robot frames, and ends with a body wiggling belly dive. Oh yeah, he rocks!

Super Wy starts with a body wiggle, leading into a half jumping twist, a couple ninja kicks, ending with something akin to the splits but not as...painful looking. Whoot Super Wy!

Okay, it's on like Donkey Kong. I can't be out shined by these little squirts. Time to bring the smack down. I start with a little sprinkler, transitioning into a link arm wave combined with a hula hoop motion, ending with a nose plug wiggle drop.

It was so close...we decided to call it a draw.

A Quiet House

A quiet house...

There are days when I dream of a quiet house. On those days where the two teenagers bicker over nothing, complain about chores, or slam the door. Or those days the little boys have dumped a pitcher of dirt into the dogs water bowl, then threw a blanket over the fence to the farm behind our house, then headed off and threw eggs on the backyard cement.

Usually, these are the same days where work was bad, the drive/walk home slow, or the hubby and I grouchy.

But then the house is quiet, like tonight. I've tucked the little boys in their not so clean room (I relinquished the battle to win the war). I've signed all the last minute school papers the teenagers forgot to give me after school. The dogs are fed and laid in their doggy beds.

The house is quiet.

And I am sad. I realize that soon, the house won't only be quiet just after bedtime. The house will become quiet all the time. I will arrive home, not to the little boys trying to ride the dogs like horse. Not to the older kids telling me about a fart in class, or a silly shirt the teacher wore.

No, one day...not very far away. I will come home and the house will already be quiet. Empty of the energy and life children bring. Void of the laughter and chaos they wreak.

For today, at this moment, I will not wish for a quiet house. Instead, I will wish for more time. It's a scientific impossibility. I know. But maybe, just maybe...if I pause what I'm doing and watch more, listen more, interact more. Then maybe it'll almost be like I slowed down time.

I think I might give it a try...no harm in that.

Things Parents Say During a Week...

I thought I'd dedicate today's post on the things parents say during an average week. These are the ones hubby and I compiled from this last week.

1. Stop jumping off the coffee table
2. Quit pushing your brother with the tiger
3. Shut the back door
4. Stop throwing your stuffed animals into the ceiling fan
5. The toilet is not a swimming pool for your action figures
6. You are making me crazy
7. Flush the toilet
8. Shut the back door!
9. Those are your brother's marbles and he doesn't want them lost
10. It is not going to kill you
11. Quit that
12. Stop it
13. SHUT THE BACK DOOR!
14. Because I said so
15. Are you listening?
16. This is the third time....
17. I swear, if you do that one more time
18. You call this clean?
19. SHUT....THE....BACK...DOOR!!!

and the thing we said the most this week?

The Apple Tree

It's late in the evening and Hubby and I are catching up on each others day. Hubby relays a Holy Terror story for me.

Little man came running in excited. "Daddy, daddy, daddy! Come see!"

Daddy followed him out to the back part of the yard where Holy Terror proudly pointed to some muddy dirt.

"Look Daddy, I put my apple seed in the ground and now we'll have a great big apple tree in the back yard."

A couple hours later, Hubby's friend is over and Holy Terror showcased his first gardening endeavor.

"Cool buddy. Are you going to swing on it when it gets bigger?" he asked.

"No. When it grows up I'll have all kinds of fresh apples to eat," Holy Terror said, thrilled.

As Hubby is relaying this story to me, there's an expression of overflowing pride. He gestures with his hand. "You don't understand, honey. He's one step away from growing his own food. If keeps up with taking care of the seed, it means he can survive and provide for himself."

I chuckle and kissed him. "Okay, proud papa."

Losing Your Marbles

I could hear Holy Terror arguing with Billy in the frontroom...it was getting heated. Finally, he comes stomping into our room where we're still laying.

"Billy won't let me play with those little balls!" he cried.

"They're marbles, honey, and are Billy's," I replied.

"But I want to play with them!"

"His marbles are very important to him and he doesn't want them lost," I said.

...Really, does anyone want to lose their marbles?!

Sonoma State Field Trip

The decision of college is starting to loom in the Norris Ranch household. As proof, Scarlet's 8th Grade class took a trip to Sonoma State college. Her storytelling of the trip had me flashing back to every first day of school she's every had.

My son I have to pry out information and threaten death. My daughter...well, she spews it out like a waterfall. Today's blog entry is dedicated to sharing this experience with you all. Take a breath and get ready.

"How was the trip to Sonoma State?" I asked.

"So, okay. We started out on the bus listening to ICP on the iPod, singing along, and eating candy. Then we saw cows and started making fun them. Oh, and we were yelling at stupid kids throwing food in bus."

"That's nice, but how did the college tour go?" I asked.

"Well, we got there and I saw this motorcycle. So, I took a picture. Then we all walked around, looked at the dorms. They were sooo small. It would really suck to live there. I mean, it was smaller than my room here at home and you have to share with someone."

"That's cool. But how was the tour of the actual college. Like courses and stuff?" I asked, trying again.

"Oh, and Megan and I planned out our whole college future together. I told her that I couldn't wait to see the hot guys we'd be going to college with. She said that the guys in our class would be the ones we went to college with. So, I said that if that were the case I'd yack.”

At this point I'd pretty much given up getting real information about the school.

She leaned on the desk and continued. "Then we had lunch near a lake with ducks and fed them breadcrumbs. Emily had to go to the bathroom and we got lost trying to find it. I don't know why. Mr. Lape said it was just down the walkway, two rights and a left. But we did. We had to ask these random people, who saved us. Emily never made it to bathroom."

"Huh." I managed to comment while she took a breath.

"After lunch Emily had to go back to her group. Megan and I continued the tour in our group. We passed these people doing yoga and teased and laughed at them."

"Scarlet, don't make fun of people." I scolded.

Scarlet half shrugged. "Well, they were doing these crazy poses; it was soooo hilarious. So, then the odd kid in class, the one that NEVER talks, asked a question. Everyone was like....whoa!"

"What question did he ask?" I interjected.

"Oh, I don't know...something about scholarships. We were busy eyeing the golf carts and thinking about taking them for a joy ride. But Ms. Anderson was too close, so we didn't."

She jumped up from the desk and waved her hands around. "Oh, and Ms. Anderson caught me checking out this really cute guy and teased me. It was so embarrasing. Everyone thought she was a student."

"Because she caught you looking at guys?" I asked in confusion. How could the two be connected? I wondered to myself.

"What? No." She looked at me like I was unhip and possibly senile.

Just let it go, I encouraged myself. "Oh."

"Anyways, we finished the tours. I had trouble finding my bus and Emily. Once we got settled in we fought over candy. I tried to sleep but my legs were too long."

With the last of my patience, I emphasized the question, "So....why did you like the college and plan your college future there?"

"Because they have a Seven Eleven and coffee shops ON campus. Also, a really cool library that has a robotic arm. You don't have to walk around looking for your books."

...any wonder why some parents go gray early?