I'm Not Your Mommy Anymore

Mommy to Super Wy, "I said no."

Super Wy to Mommy, "I wanna."

Mommy to Super Wy, "I SAID no."

Super Wy to Mommy, "Whatever... I'm not your mommy anymore."

Mommy to Super Wy as she holds back a laugh, "Fine... but I'm still your mommy."

Super Wy to Mommy as he tries to figure out where he went wrong in his declaration, "Fine, whatever."

Trip to China

Yesterday evening:
Spending the evening watching movie with my sister and brother in law. All the kids are located throughout the house playing.

My oldest nephew runs in from the back room, "They're throwing mud piles in the bedroom window!"

We hurry out back to find the little boys in the middle of their dirt play area digging a hole. Gobs of mud are on the wall, on the sidewalk and all over the grass. Scolding is performed and dirt is picked up. The kids are all tight lipped about the reason behind these antics and my sis and I chalk it up to, "they're boys...nuff said."

This morning:
The little boys and I are eating breakfast and they are busy talking about where they're gonna go.

Confused, because we had no plans for today, I ask, "What are you two talking about?"

Holy Terror hushes Super Wy and as the oldest speaks for them. "We are digging a hole to China."

"No!" Super Wy hollers. "I wanna dig a hole to the beach!"

I realize what they were doing the evening before. My next thought is whether I should give them a lesson about the realities of digging a hole to anywhere then realize how busy it'll keep them...what to do? What to do?

I'll admit it, I went with, "Okay, just keep the mud off the wall this time."

The two spend the remaining breakfast arguing with each other. Afterwards they hurry out back to get going on the hole.

This afternoon:
Holy Terror has given up the effort and is playing in his room. Super Wy comes in from the backyard, dejected. "I'm never gonna get anywhere without Holy Terror's help."

He passes through to the back of the house. Thoughts of China and the beach go up in smoke.

Hot Dogs and Sandwiches

Super Wy hurries to the front room from the back, where he's supposed to already be asleep. He peeks out twice until I finally smile at him. He pops out and begins:

Gesturing like he's reeling in a fish. "I'll use hot dogs and put them on the fishin' pole...because that's how you catch really big fish."

"Really?"

He grins wider and puffs out his chest in a very important manner. "Yeah, the small fish like the small green things, but really big fish like hot dogs...and sometimes sandwiches."

His blue eyes twinkle...my heart falls all over again for this little man. What a crazy nut.

"So we're all going fishing and bringing hot dogs and sandwiches for bait?" I shrug, fully accepting this theory. What do I know? I don't fish. "Okay, sounds good. Just let Daddy know tomorrow."

He nods really big then giggles and runs back to bed.

There, his message is parted and duly noted. Can't wait to hear Daddy's reaction to this advice.

The Jacket

Hurrying to get ready this morning Hubby and I rushed through the normal routine. You know, normal morning stuff:

Shower, dress, argue with teenagers, dress little boys, argue with teenagers some more, fix breakfast, kick the teenagers out to school, find little boy's jackets and shoes...yadayada

Hubby tosses me Super Wy's jacket and I turn to him. He spins around and his eyes twinkle with magnificence.

"Thanks...gotta put my jacket on to be an assassin," he says, pausing for dramatic effect and then adds, "of eee-vil!"

No...Not Again

It's started. I'm now in the first stages of unneeded. Woke up Saturday morning regular time and the boys were eating their breakfast.

Already made.

Already started.

No Mommy needed.

"We did it ourselves," Holy Terror informed me with a touch of pride.

What was I to do? I smiled and gave high fives. Told them how proud I was. All the while my heart was breaking.

It's started again. The first two, now in high school, started not needing me so much about the same age. Somehow I suppressed it, not wanting to think about it.

Now it's smacked me in the face all over again.

*Sigh*

Well, off to continue my moping.

...sigh again...

I Want That!

Cinnamon Crunch commercial comes on and the little boys yell at the same time, "I want that!"

"We'll see," I say absently with a sigh.

A commercial for Nerf mega gun thingie comes on and the little boys yell at the same time, "I want that!"

"We'll see," I say with another sigh and a shake of the head.

The commercial of an older woman praising the Total Pillow comes up and the little boys stand up and start jumping and yelling, "I want that!"

I pause and look at the commercial then at the boys with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" They wiggle and dance and chatter on about the awesomeness of the Total Pillow.

The commercial for the Portable Desktop comes up and...yup, you guess it...

"I want that!"

See? It's Christmas!

"Mom, it's Christmas!" Super Wy comes up to me, bouncing excitedly.

"Not yet. A few more days," I reply.

"No, no! It IS Christmas. Come see!"

He pulls me up and leads me into the kitchen where on the frig is the Christmas calendar. I look closely and notice a yellow color pencil line is drawn through the rest of this week...stopping at the day with the face of Santa on it.

"See! It's Christmas!" He dances in the kitchen, wiggling his booty and twirling his arms.

"Honey, it's only this day," I say pointing at today's square. His smile turns into a frown. "But look, only 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 more days! That's not very far away."

He smiles -- not as bright as his earlier one -- and nods. "Yeah. Not so far." His little chest fills with air and he lets it all out in a big, disappointed sigh before moping his way out of the kitchen.

Poor guy...if only marking days off a calendar would make the fun days come faster.

Battle before Chores

The little boys hold their mini hockey sticks like rifles (the ones I bought in a misguided purchase to be the cool out-of-town mom). They crouch at the breakfast bar peeking around the corner and whispering to each other.

"Boys, I told you to pick up your dinner plates and put them in the sink."

They afforded a quick, serious look back, and then continue their whispering. I obviously don't know the importance of this mission.

"ATTACK!" Super Wy yells.

They step out from the breakfast bar wall, aim their rifles and spray the kitchen with imaginary bullets. It's war. There's bloodshed. Holy Terror is wounded and from the looks of his agony while rolling on the ground, it might be mortally. Super Wy continues the battle, moving along the kitchen opening.

Near the far wall he falls, hit by his enemy. It's an ugly death as the rifle flies out of his hand and he sprawls out, wiggling and then staring blank towards the living room.

"Dinosaurs win?" I ask. He nods, still sticking his tongue out (cause that's what dead bodies do). Holy Terror sighs in defeat from his position. "Well, now that you're both dead, why don't you guys pick up your dinner plates."

"Okay."

Stupid Dog

"Super Wy, get out of the kitchen!" I order from the front room.

"Kay, Mom!" he replies, irritated at being busted.

I hear the food cabinet open, doggie nails clickety clacking on the hard floor, then a long pause.

"Uuuuhhhh...no, that's mine," Super Wy whines under his breath.

"Super Wy!"

"Okayyyyy!"

Another long pause, more doggie toe tapping, then another pause.

"Noooo Connor...that bread is mine," Super Wy whines a little louder.

"Super Wy!"

"Okay...stupid Connor."

Super Wy slams the cabinet and stomps out and into the back of the house with his fists clenched at his side. Connor doggie trots after him, still chewing on the bread.

Cause You Mom

This big guy came by our backyard to visit, where Hubby his friend and the little boys found him. Needless to say, I was a little creeped out and jumped a couple step back up to the back door when they invited me to come see. And the bugger was aggressive.

The guys, of course, thought it was the coolest thing ever.

A few minutes later, when they were all trying to figure out exactly what kind of spider it was, the little boys came into the back room to talk about it.

"You not afraid of spiders," Super Wy informed me.

"A little bit...when they're that big," I replied.

"No you not!" He looked at me like I was silly.

"Why not?"

"Cause you Mom. Mom's not 'fraid of spiders...or monsters...or anything," he explained as if it were the simplest thing to understand.

"Oooohhh," I said. "I forgot. My bad."

"Ya, it's okay."

"Well go finish helping Daddy figure out what kind of spider it is that I'm not afraid of at all."

"Kay." He pecked me a quick kiss and ran off.

Poor guy is in for a disappointment in his near future as he starts to beyond the Mom title.

Dinner with Dinosaurs

I knew something was up when Super Wy brought in an upside down laundry basket to sit on instead of the dinner chair. After taking our seats, the boys started growling.

Holy Terror looked at me, "I'm a carnivore!"

"But you're eating mac and cheese too, Honey. That makes you an omnivore."

"NO! I'm a dinosaur. I'm a carnivore!" He growls and takes another bite.

"Okay...Daddy, take away the mac and cheese. He's only a meat eater. He doesn't eat non-meat."

"Wait...I eat everything," Holy Terror decides.

"Then you're an omnivore. Lots of dinosaurs ate both." I'm not sure if this is a lie, but sacrifices must be made and it's one uncertainty I'm willing to live with to ensure they eat their dinner.

"Yeah, I'm an omnivore."

Super Wy bites into a slice of steak dripping in ketchup with only his mouth. After several bites and a scowl at the vege's and mac and cheese he growls and says, "I AM a carnivore."

...Can't win them all, I guess...

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...

What's My Name?

The boys sprawled out on my bed, watching their Saturday bedtime movie. I sat working on my latest novel. When Will Ferrell was dancing and singing the show toons to keep dinosaur bird babies sleeping, Holy Terror inched over and looked up at me.

"Mom, Mom. How did you know my name?"

I looked down, perplexed. "Because you're my son."

"No. How did you know it was my name when I was born?"

"Oh." I stopped to think about it. Holy Terror's very detailed and answers have to be just right or all heck breaks loose. "When you were in my belly, growing, Mommy and Daddy looked at a whole bunch of names. LOTS of names. Then, one day, we read your name out loud and Mommy and Daddy paused, felt something shift in our hearts...and knew that was you. You were Holy Terror."

He smiled real big and snuggled into me. "I told your heart from inside your belly."

...I love talking with my kids. They make life so simple sometimes...

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...

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."

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.

Don't be Sad

I sat on the couch crying. It was the scene from Steel Magnolias where they unplug the daughter's life support.

Holy Terror walks into the front room from the hallway and stops quick, staring at me. He looks around nervously, seeing what could be bothering me. He climbs up onto the couch, cuddles against my arm and grips my hand, petting it with his other.

"Mom? Why you sad, Mom?" Tears water his eyes, ready to spill over.

"It's a sad part of the movie." I point to the screen, my eyes pouring tears while I sniffle my nose.

"We change the movie so you not sad. I don't want your heart to be sad."

I laugh through the tears. "It's okay, Honey. It's one of my favorite movies. I like to feel sad at this part because I would be sad if that happened to me as a mommy."

He looks up at me with his skeptical face. "You want to be sad?...That's silly."

But he stays right there next to me until the sad part is over, his one arm wrapped around my arm and holding my hand.

What a sweetheart.

Hubby Story: Trip to the ATM

Back with another Hubby story while we're out enjoying the waves. In his point of view:

So, I'm at the bank at the outside ATM, just starting to do my thing when this guy comes running up the sidewalk, flailing his arms and yelling like an freak. At the same time, I see another dude on the other side, in my peripheral.

I'm standing there, waiting for some kind of impact as this crazy reaches the bank of ATMs and slows down, stomps his feet and then trots by to the center machine. As I'm tracking him, I see the other guy was some old man. Him and I share a look about the weirdo now in between us.

So, I go back to my thing at the ATM. All the time the weirdo is sweating, angry, and pounding his way through using the machine.

Finally I stop, turn to him and ask, 'You okay?'.

Well, this guy just turns and glares at me for the longest time, and f*%#, I stare right back. Finally we look away at the same time and finish up. This jerk stomps off, flaying his arms and making weird noises.

The old man looks at me and, shaking his head, says, "That kids on somethin'. I'm tellin' ya."

So I reply, "Yeah. Not somethin' I'd want to be on."

We share a laugh and go our separate ways. Can't even go to the ATM anymore
without some crazy bothering you.

And that's my latest Hubby story. See ya all in a couple days when we get back.

Finding Home

A couple decades ago we parked the car. Opening the door, the rolling rumble called to me with the whip of the wind. Sea Gulls squacked with nuisance. The smell of salt and exposed algea assaulted by nostrils.

Making my way over the last sandy hill scattered with long grass, boulders, and tough flowers, the edge of North America welcomed me.

My heart was lost.

My soul settled watching the wave crest and break onto the beach. Out beyond the white caps my eyes took in the vastness of the beautiful grey-green waters. Peace spread through me as I looked even farther beyond, where the sky merged with the horizon and became one with the ocean.

From the earliest moment I could remember, of all the towns and cities we'd ever lived, I knew I wasn't home. And trust me, we lived a lot of places. None of them called to me.

This place didn't just call, it sung. I'd never touched toe to sand before, yet knew it was the place I belonged. I will never live to far away and will always be comforted in this part of the world.

Even as this is posting the family and I are reconnecting with the ocean and enjoying our time on the beach. I hope everyone has the opportunity to find their place in the world and has the maturity to appreciate it.