Goose Bumps

Bammy's Dance Moves

2012-01-26T21:40:00.000-06:00

Sometimes he even rocks out with a guitar.

Me too, honey. Me too.

2012-01-24T22:31:00.001-06:00

I'm guessing this was related to a discussion of MLK. It's a little less idealistic than Dr. King, but still not a bad idea. Nope. Not a bad idea at all. We may need to work on our clock skills though.

To My Dear Sweet John-John (NOT on your birthday)

2012-01-22T23:12:00.000-06:00

Dear John,

I always write to you on your birthday, but tonight I'm writing NOT because it's your birthday (but actually yesterday was mine, and it was fab.u.lous), but because we shared a moment (bedtime routine? hour?) that I want to remember.

Your grandparents are here this weekend, and they are staying an extra day to watch Sam for us tomorrow because he has two pink eyes and cannot expose other people. But you were so upset tonight about the fact that they are leaving tomorrow afternoon, and you turned into this sniveling pile of emotion that I have rarely seen in you. I sat with you, and listened, and validated, and just was THERE with you while you cried.

Good gracious, child: You do everything with SUCH intensity. And usually that intensity is manifested in something energetic or annoying or just something sevenyearoldish. Tonight, however, it came in the form of tears and sobbing and all kinds of stuff that I don't normally see in you.

And it was one of the only times I've ever seen myself in you. And it scared me.

I am not ashamed to say that it scared me enough into being the kind of mother that I wish I could be for you always. The kind of mother who just loves with such ferocity and compassion that she can see herself in her children -- good and bad -- and is there to support them for it all.

Because John-John. Seriously. (As YOU say.) This is probably not news even to you in all of your many seven years: There are very few times when we connect.

Mostly there are just times when you are being you, being honest, being seven, and I am being 35 and uptight and pretentious.

Mostly -- and embarrassingly -- there are just these snippets of time where you are just being a small, wild person, and I am being a wildly small-minded person.

But Sweetheart: I have been sad in the same way that you were tonight.

If anything in this life. I have been sad. Mostly in my 20s. But it was big and strong enough to seem like way more than a decade. And I watched terrified tonight as you endured some mix of sadness & exhaustion, which, in combination, were about as fun as bleach and ammonia.

And I wondered -- not for the first time -- if you got all that sadness from me. Inherited it. Just like you got my thick, wavy hair.

So I started talking. Telling stories. Confessions really. Just stuff to get your mind off of that horrible state -- that familiar state -- of Sitting-On-The-Side-The-Bed Wailing.

I told you the story of my childhood best friend Robyn. And how MEAN I was to her when we were little. And how much she just loved me back. Ignored me. Forgived me. Made excuses for me even when I told her that she thought she was something "just because her feet were clean and mine weren't" ... and when she had literally gotten lost on the side of a mountain, and then found again, all I had to say was, "You smell like you've been OUT.SIDE. Gross."

And at this point I may have waxed philosophical about the importance of NOT BULLYING. The necessity of radical acceptance and love. Because I had been reading this: http://momastery.com/blog/2012/01/22/a-mountain-im-willing-to-die-on-2/, and I was moved.

But the main point I want to make here is that after all that you stopped crying for the first time in HOURS, and you looked at me looking at you, and you said: "Mom. You have never smiled like that."

"What do you mean?" I needed clarification.

"Your smile has never looked like that to me," you said. "It is a different smile."

And in that moment of differentiation, I realized so much about God. I realized that we are physically present on this earth to be his hands, feet, and mouth. I had a connection with the divine because I realized that there is something earthly that is NOT NEGATIVE (unlike most earthly things): We have nearness to each other. We have just (and all of) each other.

And I realized that I have you. For now. That I have this wonderfully intense little being that has been sent here to teach me about life, myself, the world, everything really. I realized that "we own nothing. Nothing is ours. Not even love so fierce it burns like baby stars." Gosh I love the Indigo Girls.

Because Lovey: I haven't ever smiled like that.

That smile was just for you.

And I will never, EVER forget it.

Love,
Mama

Why He Likes the Redheaded Woodpecker

2012-01-21T06:41:00.004-06:00

In case you can't read any of this, here is what is says from left to right:

"Where's Mom?" (concerned & hungry baby woodpeckers)

"Worms are really hard to catch!" (distraught new mother woodpecker)

"I like the redheded woodpecker because of its sound. Its head is a really brite red. It can fly really high." (John's reasoning)

"Very nice!" (teacher's comment)

On Helicopters & Tristadekaphobia

2012-01-17T22:48:00.000-06:00

For Christmas, John's Nanny & Grampy got him a super cool remote control helicopter. The only problem with the helicopter was that it would not fly or even turn on. This was such a shame, since I had dictated John's exact specifications for the helicopter to Nanny. These included the quantity & placement of exhaust pipes, reach of the remote control, possible flying heights, and cost parameters. And of course she had found one that met the requirements.

And so because a helicopter was one of the ONLY specific things he had on his wish list, the fact that it wouldn't work was, obvously, disappointing.

So Nanny took back the dysfunctional helicopter and gave John-John the money to pick out the perfect (i.e., functional) helicopter for himself. After Christmas, we were busy painting our bedroom and trying to refinance our house, so we have only just now gotten around to The Helicopter Replacement Shopping Trip. Although it has been mentioned at least once every hour since Christmas Day.

On Monday, the boys all went to Target, cash in hand. John picked out the helicopter you can see pictured above, which has no exhaust pipe, but three gears, a charger, and two rotors -- one on top to provide lift, and one on the tail to aid in turning. The remote control itself is almost an exact replica of a real helicopter's cockpit (minus all the gauges and dials), which I know because to date, I have read each the following library books aloud at least seven times:

Rescue helicopters and aircraft / Henry M. Holden

Helicopters : from start to finish / Mindi Rose Englart ;photographs by Peter Casolino

Helicopters / by Darlene Stille

The book of flight : the Smithsonian Institution's NationalAir and Space Museum / Judith E. Rinard

Harry's helicopter / by Joan Anderson ; photographed byGeorge Ancona

Amazing aircraft / Seymour Simon

No one can ever say that I don't indulge the children in their interests.

Now the Helix 360 4-channel helicopter with Gyro is a part of my daily life, much like the cicadas were this past summer.

It is a buzzing, flying object that moves mostly with abandon and often crash lands into my hair. And then my lost hairs become entangled in its rotors. Another neat trick it can do is hit the ceiling and knock off weird bulbous paint chips which Sam picks up and brings to me (and then I obsess about whether or not they could be lead-based). It flies and buzzes. (Did I mention that it buzzes and flies?)

But the best trick of all is how this little flying toy has provided me with a newfound understanding of the male brain from age 2 to almost 40. Little Sam is obsessed with grabbing it out of the air (or the ground, or the top of the fridge, or wherever it is hidden). Brian stays up late at night "practicing" with the remote so that he can "help John understand it better." And of course John never stops flying it around, hiding it from Sam, and discussing its various parts and amazing abilities.

I did not intend to write this much about a helicopter.

But can't you see that the helicopter is a metaphor for ME?

Think about it: The boys like to push buttons and then watch things flap their wings, make noise, and hit the ceiling. This is what I do daily in response to various Boy Activities. Up until now, I have been their remote control helicopter. They know exactly which of my buttons to push so that I fly, turn, hit the ceiling, crash into walls, land, somersault, spin, and buzz. I have even been known to flap about wildly on the ground from time to time.

Oh, and one more thing, the boys LOVE to discuss my helicopter parts: rotors and, ahem, exhaust pipes.

This definitely gives new meaning to the term "helicopter mom."

And calls attention to the fact that I should really be terrified of myself.

But really this is not about me. (Really!) I mean, I am happy for my child that his Christmas wish has come true. I am! But as of tonight, he has been ~~banned from using it ever at all again in the house in my presence~~ encouraged to use it only in my absence, as it ~~sends me into absolute conniptions~~ makes me feel a bit anxious.

I have always hated any flying, buzzing object. Especially if there is the possibility of it getting entangled in my hair. This used to be an individual problem, but it has now evolved into a family "situation."

However.

It is definitely not as big as the very unique and interesting problem of one of my new writing students, who recently wrote the paragraph below in an email to me. The assignment was for each student to send me an email in which they introduced themselves and told me something unique or interesting about their lives.

I am very happy to take this classwith you, for all my friends said you are a perfect teacher and i will be verycomfortable with you. Ms. Kim you aske me something interesting about my self.I never try any kinds of pickles from my childhood to right now. It make me cryand nervous. Also, if I smell or view the pickle, I will not eat any thingwhole the day. But This is not a satisfactory condition. My parents never bringthem to our house although they are liked so much and my husband is doing samething now. This thing caused and causes many problems in my life especially whenI be invited to some where.

A simple google search of this phobia has revealed that it even has a name: Tristadekaphobia, the fear of a pickle. In fact, it is common enough that Maury Povich did a show on this topic, wherein he interviewed someone suffering from this condition (it was not my student).

And so it is by re-reading this email repeatedly that I am inspired to learn how to live with my ridiculous fear of flying, buzzing things, and all the problems it has created for poor John, who is fascinated by them all -- bees, wasps, helicopters, etc. I can console myself by embracing the fact that at least I am not an Iraqi, Muslim refugee living in a pickle-dense foreign land that is often hostile to people of her religion who have a mental disturbance.

Onward, upward, and sideways,

Videos of Late

2012-01-14T19:03:00.004-06:00

I recently cleaned my camera from the Christmas trip and some other stuff that had been on there for awhile. Here are my four faves:

4 Minutes of Chocolate Cake (and when he was done, I licked him clean) -- only grandparents will appreciate this
3 Pulled Teeth (8 seconds long -- don't watch if you're grossed out about dental work)
What Didn't Happen @ Chick-Fil-A (10 seconds long -- all can appreciate)
A Holly Jolly Discussion -- only Beckers/Povondras will appreciate this

Vote for your favorite by leaving a comment!

Kairos Time

2012-01-14T09:05:00.006-06:00

This is a way more articulate take on my exact theory of parenting:

http://momastery.com/blog/2012/01/04/2011-lesson-2-dont-carpe-diem/

And "Kairos" is the name of our Sunday school class.

Comparandome con mi companero

2012-01-12T19:27:00.000-06:00

In case you can't translate, here's my rough estimate (feel free to correct me -- my Spanish is rusty enough to give someone lockjaw):

John B is taller.
Emilia is shorter.
Emilia has longer hair.
Emilia has smaller feet.

Hold You Me

2012-01-09T22:40:00.000-06:00

Recently Sam started saying a phrase that I would like to freeze in time, and forever keep it on hand for those moments wherein one wonders why one has procreated.

Quit being horrified -- you know you have been there.

The sweet and gentle demand, "Hold you Mama!" has now evolved to, "Hold you ME, Mama."

If I say, "Oh, you want me to hold you?" He replies, "NO! HOLD. YOU. MEeeeee!!!!!!"

And even though it would be nice to (fill in the blank here) -- cook dinner, read a book, play piano, eat dinner, drive safely, etc -- I am eating up the developmental stage of him knowing only one "ME."

If only we could all get away with that kind of narcissism.

The Gift of Being Intentionally Hard of Hearing

2012-01-05T20:29:00.000-06:00

Well, we have started back to work, and Hannah has gone into labor. Today is her due date, so that makes sense. Both of her labors have started ON her due date. Unheard of. As I write this, she has just texted me to say that the contractions are still pretty irregular. So now Sam will be staying with our neighbor while we work & Hannah acclimates to Life With Two. When I asked Sam tonight if Mrs. Hannah was going to have a baby, he said, adamantly, "NO."

Not sure how smoothly his transition back will go.

Sam & John are both in pretty fun stages right now. It's just that the stages do not go well together. To be honest, I prefer to manage them separately. In the morning, they play nicely, eat breakfast, and get read with no problems generally. After school -- particularly during the dinner hour -- I put in my earplugs.

Have I mentioned that trick? It's my newest Mom innovation, and it's brilliant: LIVING WITH EARPLUGS. I got the idea from a friend, who was listening while I bemoaned the following traumatic states:

Motherhood During Dinner Time
Parenting in the Car
The 13-hour Holiday Roadtrip

So my friend said, "What you need is to bring it down a notch."

Exactly! And that's what my Etymotic High Fidelity Earplugs do. I got them in red and paid $10 to have them overnighted.

With my Etymotic High Fidelity Earplugs, I can still hear ~~all~~ most conversation, but it's like the volume is turned down. And since John often speaks to me as if I am deaf, this is perfect. I wear them pretty much constantly, and I am not kidding when I say that it has changed my life. I'm not as reactive and sometimes I don't even notice when someone is screaming, bleeding, or paralyzed.

The bonus is that I can play the piano and tune out all other annoyances. Even when John makes up words to go with the tune of Schumann's "Traumerei" and every other line in the song has "fart" or "barf" in it, I am mostly oblivious. I just imagine that I am Beethoven in the early stages of his deafness.

Additionally, when Brian comes home and they start the horrendous ritual of Wrestling Hour, I can go into my room and read on my John's Kindle Fire and not even notice that someone is bloody-murder screaming: I CAN'T BREATHE. MY RIBS ARE BROKEN. I'M DYING. GET OFF ME DAD!!!!!

Please don't misinterpret. We are guilty of neither physical abuse nor neglect. The boys WANT to be pummeled into the carpet and furniture, and I WANT to not hear my children a lot of the time. It's perfectly normal.

In the next post, I may see fit to actually write about the children's "pretty fun stages," which I mentioned earlier. But now it's off to bed for me. I have the terrible burden of a 37.5 hour work week this week and next, and although it happens only twice a year, it nearly does me in.

Onward & Upward (in silence),

Our ONLY first cousins

2012-01-02T20:46:00.000-06:00

A few more Christmas pics ...

2012-01-02T20:44:00.001-06:00

A thank-you note to Santa

2012-01-02T09:28:00.000-06:00

Christmas in Austin

2012-01-01T21:22:00.000-06:00

Watching "The Polar Express" in a hotel room in Texarkana

It was fun until John had an allergic reaction to the chlorine and his eyes swelled shut.

Next year, I want to be a man during Christmas.

Plasma cars and Star Wars guns

Watching Dora

MiL & SiL

Reindeer pancakes with bacon antlers! This was Sam's plate before he dumped $20 worth of maple syrup into it.

Christmas breakfast

One of Sam's favorite toys.

John shows excitement over his new Kindle Fire.

Elmo Love

herding cats

Luce

Keeping Sam occupied while I cooked

It was merry!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T14:59:00.000-06:00

Tire Swing

2011-12-31T12:10:00.000-06:00

Recent pics I love ...

2011-12-31T07:47:00.000-06:00

John-John in his Thanksgiving outfit from school.

One of Bammy's Santa Claus gifts.

The boys on the 4-wheeler.

The boys on the tractor.

The boys pushing their cars on the ground. I love how they get down close to watch the wheels turn.

Adults Night Out

2011-12-30T13:51:00.000-06:00

First, Amy hired a babysitter.

Next, we had a fabulous dinner. During the dinner, there was nothing spilled, and nobody handed me any half-chewed food items that didn't suit their tastes.

After that, we went bowling and had a combined score of maybe 300.

Finally, there was the 80s dance party.

Best memories of the night:

Jamming out to Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" and knowing every word while all the 20-somethings stood around wordless
Jane getting hit on by some guy from Seattle (while Bruce looked on)
Not being the one who had to pay (or be) the babysitter

Thanks Bruce & Jane for a super fun night out!

Nearly 2,000 miles of holiday travel yields this:

2011-12-30T11:46:00.000-06:00

Christmas 2011

2011-12-25T20:42:00.000-06:00

Some Pictures of Late

2011-12-20T22:21:00.000-06:00

Luckily tonight I have been taking pictures instead of packing for myself and/or helping the children pack for our triangle TX/MS trip that starts tomorrow.

I asked Brian to unpack John's suitcase and check for necessities. This is what he found:

1 bottle of Elmer's glue
10 pairs of shorts
1 remote-control batmobile
1 good shirt (several others size 4T or smaller, all short-sleeved)
1 pair of skeleton-themed long-johns
1 catapult launcher

Note the important missing items: socks, underwear, etc. I laughed until tears squeezed from my budding crow's feet.

This one is doing fine despite his 3 missing teeth. He hasn't even needed the codeine they provided.

This one wants my attention ALL the time: "Mama PLAY!"

It's very difficult to get anything done in the face of that.

We let John open one early Christmas present -- a bed tent! It was a hit.

Wish us luck on the triangle trip -- MERRY CHRISTMAS!

A Big Job for the TF

2011-12-19T20:07:00.000-06:00

John had 3 teeth pulled today. Cost me $400 just for the anesthesia. But it was totally worth it. He slept from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. solid. Now if that ain't worth $400, then I don't know what is.

He's doing fine. Bouncing off the walls and hoping for lots of loot from the TF.

Down Home Christmas IV

2011-12-19T13:10:00.003-06:00

John's piano teacher does a very cool "recital" of sorts at the end of each year. She calls it Downhome Christmas and invites everyone she knows (including her students) to come and play or sing something Christmassy. We also had a potluck lunch. This was a great first performance for John -- low key, no pressure, and he rocked it, of course. In each of the songs below, he is playing the main melody and the others are just backing him up (including me!).

Here are the videos:

Away in a Manger

Jolly Old St. Nicholas

We wish you a Merry Christmas

And the grand finale: Joy to the World

I also played one number though we didn't get it on video at the actual recital. But here is "Carol of the Bells" on our home piano, which I like better than Miz G's fancy baby grand. Excuse the sidewaysness and the ugly background.

Side story about the recital ... Brian got food poisoning from eating some bad eggs on Saturday, so he was up all night vomiting. Again. Poor guy. So the next day at the recital, he wasn't feeling too hot, but he dragged himself in of course, and sat on the sidelines, green.

At least it's a Christmas color.

John's First Piano Recital

2011-12-18T14:29:00.000-06:00

John-John & "Miz G"

Well, it went off without a hitch! I'm in the process of uploading the videos, but with my old computer, it takes awhile. Check back later tonight!

A Holiday Card Option

2011-12-17T20:33:00.000-06:00

The Newest Trick

2011-12-16T21:48:00.000-06:00

First, prepare yourself.

John-John has pinkeye. Which means that he couldn't go to school today. Today was my only Christmas shopping day. He planned this.

So I was all anxious this morning about how the day would go. If you know me, and you know John, you know that we tend not to be the best of companions on outtings. Or at home. And lately, just in general.

Next, launch yourself.

This is hard. On the one hand, I want to embrace his wildness. I want to sit with it and be curious about it, and not judge.

Then, use your arms to propel you higher.

On the other hand, I want to tame it, calm it, make it be seen, and not heard.

Now, revel.

So I thought that today might be a challenge, and thus I started it out at Radnor Lake State Natural Area, where I ran his butt into the ground hiking up the highest ridge in Nashville.

Land.

He was undaunted, of course.

And gloat.

And then I -- get ready -- took. him. shopping. with. me.

Applause please.

Nobody yelled, nobody punched, nobody rolled their eyes. It was a lovely, wonderful day spent with this boy who, at times, makes me want to get in the car and drive any direction AWAY. Just to get quiet and peace and not be tackled while I eat oatmeal & flax seeds. With Trader Joe's fruit and nut mix. (Fabulous, btw.)

In fact, at approximately 12:14 p.m., while at a Books-a-Million in a strip mall, the 7yo in question looked up at me and said, "Mom! Look at us! We're getting along!"

This heartened me, though it may seem sad to you that a small child has to notice such things.

You see, while on our walk at Radnor, we talked about how we are so different. And how that is at times good and at other times bad, depending. I started out with examples: You're really energetic; I'm kinda lethargic. You're loud; I'm quiet. You're young; I'm not that young. Et cetera. And then he started to join in: You're a teacher, I'm a student. You're married; I'm not. You're tall; I'm not tall yet. Etc. It was fun, actually, until it morphed into this weird critique of my body parts, which, c'mon, please, no: Your butt is big; mine is really tiny.

And then I said this, which I think may have been equivalent to the removal of the pea from underneath the princess's umpteen mattresses: You are silly; I am serious. And that is great because sometimes I need to be more silly. And sometimes you need to be more serious. (Like when we were with the pediatrician yesterday getting diagnosed with pinkeye, and you were saying your name was Jonerthoniabuttmouth, and I was gouging out my eyes.)

It seemed that this really clicked with him. He suddenly understood that opposites can attract or repel each other. He recognized that we are like batteries: If you lay us together the wrong way, nothing will work.

And just now, as I left him in bed, he said this: Hey mom! Listen to this song I made up --

You better watch out!

You better not make repetitive noises!

You better not cry,

I'm telling you why.

Mom is watching out for people

Who are screaming.

My special earplugs are being delivered this weekend. I paid $10 to have them 2nd day aired.

The End.

A Letter

2011-12-14T16:44:00.000-06:00

The Baby Jesus Series

2011-12-11T12:49:00.000-06:00

It started out innocently enough. Baby Jesus, a sheep, and Piglet were taking turns riding on a monster truck.

Then Mama asked if that was Baby Jesus. A thought-provoking question

"Beebee Yeeshoos"

"Beebee Yeeshoos nose"

"Beebee Yeeshoos mout"

"Beebee Yeeshoos BUTT!"

Just before Beebee Yeeshoos was flung violently into the dishwasher.

THE END.

Fatten me up.

2011-12-08T22:12:00.000-06:00

There are so many things that happen in a day.

So many things that I want to tell you. Tell somebody. Anybody.

So I don't forget.

For instance, the morning we put up our half tree. John's interest in the scientific workings of the German Christmas Pyramid that sits atop our table. Sam's hugs.

Our nightly rituals. Our arguments. Our days of questioning, contempt, humor, forgiveness.

Advent is a time of waiting. A time when it is acceptable--for once--to watch and see what life brings. To be curious about how confusing or wonderful it all is. To notice.

But I can't just notice. I also want to record it, save it somehow. Put down in writing what whirs past me each day. To say all the stuff that puts flesh on the bones of my character, even when it feels more like a tearing down.

I feel a New Year's Resolution coming on.

More observing, more writing, less judgment.

Yeah, that's it.

Sam's Second 2nd B-D Party

2011-11-27T14:32:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-27T14:15:00.000-06:00

The only thing this doesn't incude is the barfing. Which is still going on. Day 5. Not me. The other people who live here. And not one of them has EVER made it to a toilet.

Still, we're thankful.

To my sweet 2nd child on his 2nd birthday.

2011-11-22T23:04:00.000-06:00

I two!

Happy 2 Bam-Bam!

I’m so excited that it’s your birthday because I needed anexcuse to sit down and really celebrate YOU.One gets so overwhelmed what withall the parenting, cooking/cleaning, and full-time jobbing, that one oftenoverlooks the most important things in life.And you are exactly that, my sweet.

1 day old

It was more than appropriate that you were born atThanksgiving. Of course every parent is thankful for their children, but thereis something about the “baby” that we all relish in a different way. Thedessert of our family. The little red caboose. The happy ending.

Except of course, that you never werean END to anything. You were the beginning of a lot though. The beginning ofmore than I could ever imagine.

1 year old

The second child defies the laws of mathematics. The secondchild proves why numbers cannot explain everything (or, for some of us,anything). We went from 3 to 4 (25% total increase). From 1 child to 2 (50% kidincrease). But we also went from 0 to 60. From play to fast forward. The laundrysomehow quadrupled. The messes duplicated themselves like fecund viruses. Notthat I’m likening you to a virus or a bajillion loads of laundry. You are muchmore enjoyable, of course. If only I could isolate you, reduce you to an easyfraction, solve the equation of how you can – at the same time -- completeour family and also transform it into a very complexalgebraic expression.

One of the things I like most about you, Bammy, is that youhave all the right amounts of things a parent might want in a 2 year old: Zeroseizures (since March!), not that many tantrums (so far), a few bad habits(throwing hot wheels and kicking), plenty of sincere apologies (“I all done”),immeasurable hugs & kisses (which actually make a smooch noise now!),and infinite sweetness.

But what I loveabout you most is your commentary on life, which at this point is about 97% successful. One of my favorites is yoursimple rendition of “NO,” always emitted at a much lower pitch than yournormal voice.

Another good one is, “No, Jah-Jah!” which, this morning waspaired with the causative statement, “Mama night-night.” A

And we all get a kickout of your usage of the possessive pronoun “my” in place of the subject one,“I.” As in “My ewww” (I pooped), or “My dur-dur”(I’m dirty), or “My balls” (Ihave a diaper rash) – many thanks to your big brother Jah-Jah for that lastone.

Ialso love these phrases:

· “Mone!” (Follow me! C’mon!)

· “Out-hide!” (I’d like permission to exit the kitchen and playon the back porch.)

· “Ooosh OFFF!” (Please remove my shoes.)

· “Ice.” (This one’s tricky; I’ve seen it mean “There’s acooler that might have juice boxes” or “I want ice in my cup” or “the sun’s inmy eyes.”)

· “Aulk!” (Let’s take the stroller out for a jog.”)

· “Nie-nie -- ewwww.” (My blanket smells bad.)

· “Kuck!!!”(There's a truck!”)

· “Usss! Usss! Elloooww!” (A school bus!)

· “I all done!” (Please do not put me in time out as I’m trulysorry and promise not to do it again.”)

· “Hi, Mama!” (I’ve climbed on top of the table and used amarker to color a placemat purple.)

Butthe best of all, no contest, is:

“Hode you, Mama.”

It's enhanced by thearms-held-high lean against my leg.

Some of your favorite foods are CHEEEEEEZ, ‘NACK (goldfish),and DIP-DIP (applesauce with graham crackers as a spoon).You also like NANAs(bananas) and CHEEEEEEZ.Did I mention CHEEEEEEEZ?But NOT the jalapeno kind (“MyHOT!!!”).

You’re obsessed with Thomas the Train,Lightning McQueen, and now Simba. And your love of tractors, which is serious,but doesn’t quite surpass that of your brother when he was your age, hasencouraged you to develop a new onomatopoeia for the English language. It’s notgraphically plausible for me to put letters together to make the sound that youdo, but it’s a combination of the sound a tractor makes (brrrm brrrm) and theword “tractor” itself. It’s simply amazing. And brilliant. And so true and realthat even John Deere himself would approve.

Bammy, you are everything I dreamed for my little boy Sam. Ialways wanted a Sam, and I got an unfair amount of it: YOU. When Ithink of how lucky we are to have you, I feel that life is truly NOTreasonable: Sometimes, we get more than we deserve.

XOXOX,

Mama

11-23-09

2011-11-22T22:46:00.000-06:00

Sam I Am

2011-11-20T21:54:00.000-06:00

To Sam from his 92-year old great grandmother, who sewed this completely by hand.

He turns 2 on Wednesday.

Bammy's 2nd

2011-11-20T07:18:00.000-06:00

We celebrated The Bam's 2nd birthday this weekend with Nanny, Grampy, Millie, Annie, Molly, Baba, Elijah, & Hannah. Macy & Grandaddy couldn't make it (and besides we will see them in a few days for Turkey), but otherwise I think those are all his absolute favorite people.

The Janeious made her usual, amazing cake structure, which as you can see is a 3-car train pulled by an engine with a smoke stack and some licorice tracks and oreo wheels. Easy, of course. I could've done it myself, but I was too busy reading my novel and throwing up.

Other than my 12-hour stomach bug though, it was a great weekend, and a nice kickoff to the upcoming holiday. Which, of course, will always -- since 2009 -- remind me of my sweet Sam.

gRAND mASTER fLASH

2011-11-17T22:47:00.001-06:00

This one just got placed into ENCORE (his school's gifted program). Indeed.

Pie Contest

2011-11-15T21:39:00.001-06:00

Tonight there was a pie contest at John's school. In order to enter the contest, you had to pay a $5 entry fee and take two pies. Brian baked them (pumpkin, of course), but last night as we were preparing for this event, it occurred to us that we could just show up, not pay (or bake), and still eat pie.

We are stupid.

Brian had his first basketball game tonight (he is coaching the girls' team), so I took the pies and the boys for this event. All was going well until the showing of Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving Special. At the exact moment when the introductory music stops and the characters are preparing to speak, an emergency evacuation was necessary due to the toddler melt-down over a tether ball that was simply not holdable no matter how nicely you ask and beg and plead and throw down. Because it was tethered. It was tethered because it's a tether ball. Ahem.

We hate tether balls.

Why is it that when these things are happening, everyone else's kids are quietly munching popcorn and sitting with their legs crossed on nap mats, watching the movie while their parents mingle and sip coffee and eat pie and I tear at my hair and stumble awkwardly out of the building holding a screaming toddler and yelling over my shoulder to the other one that he better follow me because I.CANNOT.TAKE.ANYMORE.OF.THIS.

Yes, this one. This angel.
And then on my way out the door, I announce loudly to the President of the PTO (who is my friend) that this is SO MUCH FUN that maybe we should do it all again tomorrow night and can she please pick up my 2nd pie tray because I have my hands full?

Yes, she says. And then clarifies: To the pie tin retrieval, not the repeating of this event. Next she confessed to me that she wanted to slip some cinnamon whiskey in her coffee.

We made it home.

The End.

This little bit of sweetness

2011-11-14T13:02:00.001-06:00

This week there is a book fair at John's school. So, last night, I pulled out my wallet and took out several dollars and put them in a Ziploc bag marked "BOOK FAIR." It wasn't much, but it was all the cash I had. He said thanks, stuck it in his backpack, and then we all sacked out before 8 p.m., which is how it goes at our house these days.

This morning, at 6 a.m., I opened my eyes, and there stood John-John, beside my bed with with two dollars in his hand.

"Mom, thanks so much for giving me the book fair money. But I don't want you to have nothing in your wallet, so I dug these dollars out of my GIVING jar for you."

"You don't have to do that, sweet. I don't need cash for anything today, so I'll be alright."

"No, I want you to have this money, Mom. You never know."

Then he socked me in the arm and left.

I'm at work now. Just finished teaching two classes. I'm hungry, but I somehow managed to pack an EMPTY lunchbox for myself. So, I just took my $2 to the snack machine and got -- in honor of him -- some cheesy crackers and a Sprite.

Moments like these make all the WHAT-IS-WRONG-WITH-YOU-STOP-PLAYING-THAT-KAZOO-AND-SPITTING-ON-YOUR-BROTHER moments worthwhile.

Watching, Looking, Whatever

2011-11-12T21:25:00.000-06:00

When the kids look at the TV (which is the verb my grandmother always used), I often look at them. I notice how they drool and fold their feet just so. I like the folded feet more than the drool.

And sometimes, when there have been too many activities in a Saturday, there is obvious exhaustion. In this last picture, I love how John-John is nearly comatose while Sam tries to hog the heater. It's cold.

But we've warm hearts.

Happy fall, y'all.

2011-11-10T21:31:00.000-06:00

It is my favorite time of year. I love the colors. They all look good on me.

But man. It's turning cold, and it gets dark at 5 p.m., and lately I've been thinking about anti-depressants, I must admit.

Because the children are growing up, and instead of blogging about it (or even writing it down to blog about later), I'm going to bed early so that I can arise and face the next day of it all. I want to document everything about The Bam, just like I did for John-John. But.

If anybody has any great ideas about how to manage it all, please email me. Especially if your ideas involve a maid or fast food.

While I cooked dinner...

2011-11-07T19:33:00.000-06:00

Fire Truck Song

2011-11-06T06:19:00.000-06:00

Recently we discovered that Sam can sing all the "long O" parts of the Fire Truck song. Here's how it goes in the car, on repeat:

Happy Halloween 2011

2011-11-01T19:43:00.000-05:00

Halloween circa 1979

2011-10-31T12:51:00.002-05:00

I cannot get over how much Brian and John look alike! Especially the nose/mouth area. But really if you took away the blonde hair and blue eyes, it's John. This was when they were living in Germany.

Trick or Treat?

2011-10-29T19:54:00.000-05:00

The Good Ole' Days

2011-10-27T21:38:00.000-05:00

GET WELL SOON G'DIDDY!

2011-10-20T20:57:00.000-05:00

While we were in MS last weekend, Grandaddy had a stroke in addition to pneumonia. He scared us to death, but within 24 hours was back to giving orders. He doesn't seem to have any obvious permanent damage except dizziness and general weakness. Today he was moved from the hospital to a rehab center in Meridian. Prayers for a speedy and complete recovery are appreciated.

Cumberland Plateau Hike

2011-10-10T07:47:00.000-05:00

Tacky Day

2011-10-10T07:43:00.000-05:00

The Glendale Get Down

2011-10-07T09:46:00.001-05:00

Well, here we are in all of our glory. I have to say that we absolutely couldn't hear each other at all and thus had a hard time finding the harmonies. I truly hope it sounded better in person ... because at rehearsal in Margy's living room with wooden spoons for microphones, we rocked.

He has my arms & dreams, but Brian's spelling ability.

2011-10-06T09:17:00.001-05:00

I want to be a book writer because people can enjoy the books I write. I really like books.

Mirror Image

2011-10-02T20:54:00.001-05:00

What we did while Brian shopped for new school clothes.

The Bam

2011-09-29T21:34:00.000-05:00

There's a lot to be reported in the way of The Bam. The biggest news is that he has morphed into a little kid. No longer a whiny crying baby. Now he's a whiny crying toddler.

He can use some two-word phrases, but he's still sort of in the grunting and pointing stage. Which, if memory serves me correctly, alleves itself after about 26 months. I alternately crave his littleness and fantasize about a world full of boys who ALL use the toilet, words, and manners.

There have been no seizures since Aprilish, so for that we are immensely thankful. But because of that, I got all freaked out about immunizations, and didn't take him for a well-baby checkup for nearly a year. I think his last shots were @ 12 months.

So when the grandmas got all up in arms about whooping cough, I felt it necessary to take action.

I made Brian take him.

I told him to get two shots. I was thinking, TWO LEGS, TWO SHOTS. But instead they gave him two multi-vaccines IN.THE.SAME.LEG. And if you checked my backlog of google searches, you'd certainly find something like "first signs of autism" ... because I was so unnerved about the shots that you'd've thought I was one of those non-herd-mentality parents who refuse immunizations altogether.

And honestly, it wasn't all in my head. He was acting a little different this week. But the funny story is that after the shots, Brian took Sam to McDonald's to get a milkshake. Thinking that sugar and dairy would make an exposure to Measles, Mumps, Rubella, Diptheria, & Pertussis ALL BETTER. So they get there and he orders the milkshake and Sam runs to the playground. Brian takes the milkshake into the play area and hands it to Sam.

Immediately Sam wails and runs screaming toward the ordering area/cash registers. He flings himself into the side of the counter. Brian runs over, still thinking he has it all under control. I can just see it.

Sam is completely losing his mind. Beating his fists against the counter beneath the cash register. Gnashing his four teeth.

The McDonald's employee says, "Maybe he wants something else?"

Brian says, "What do you want?"

"Uh-huh!" Sam replies. (That's what says for any affirmative notion he has.)

"Do you want fries?"

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!!! FIES!!!!!"

But Brian held strong. No fries for mannerless boys.

On the way home, Brian tried to give Sam the milkshake in the car. He slapped it out of his hand.

(Ha! She thinks to herself upon hearing this story!)

Finally, they get home, and Brian says, "Sam. Just LOOK in this cup. It's ICE CREAM."

And voila! Problem solved.

As you can see, he managed to stomach it, despite his initial aversion.

As we say daily, "B-A-D."

Soccer 2011

2011-09-29T21:05:00.000-05:00

John scored THREE (3) goals at the game where ALL of his grandparents were watching. Prior to that his average was way lower. I'm worried he's an exhibitionist. But I'm thrilled about the wins. What an athlete we have.

No clue how such grace sprang from my loins. But it's fun to watch. The athleticism, not the birthing.

After the third goal, Sam ran onto the field in an emotional display of brotherly love.

Strategizing.

John's 7th

2011-09-27T22:09:00.000-05:00

John's 7th birthday was this weekend. We did a progressive party for him and 7 of his favorite friends. Started @ Bounce U but ended at our house with pizza and Yoda pumpkin pie.

At the end of the party, we gave out goody bags, as is the tradition. Included in the goody bags was a Spanish-language level 1 reader. Tonight (4 days post party), I realized that the title of the reader loosely translates into Manchita the Dorky Cow. The story is about Manchita and her stupid, clumsy ways -- kicking over the milk bucket, knocking down the other cows at the trough like dominoes, accidentally crashing into the chicken coop and breaking the eggs, etc. But, at the end of the book, Manchita redeems herself by discovering a fox in the hen house and reporting this to the farmer, who brazenly saves the chickens and rewards Manchita lavishly.

Why do I find this so funny and yet so appropriate for our family?

Anywho ... after the party was over, John-John announced that he now has pretty much everything he's ever wanted.

Me too.

John's 7th Birthday Party!

2011-09-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

Laughing at Dad

2011-09-20T19:24:00.000-05:00

Before & After

2011-09-19T19:27:00.000-05:00

Best 7YO Ever

2011-09-16T16:06:00.000-05:00

JEB age 3 days

Dear John,

Happy Birthday Big Kid. It’s simply impossible that you’re seven. But, as you verified this morning, you’ve been six for WAY too long, and it’s time to move on.

JEB age 1

A couple nights ago, you asked me to tell you a story about when you were little. It being your birthday week and all, I decided to tell the story of the days preceding your birth. I left out the part about how we were somewhat homeless and living in a weekly-rate, mom-and-pop hotel on the border of Wisconsin & Minnesota. Although come to think of it, you would’ve loved it there. The owners lived there with their several kids, and a bunch of chickens, ducks, cats, dogs, and bunnies that seemed to have become accustomed to –and maybe even enjoyed – jumping on the trampoline.

JEB age 2

During this time, I was teaching some online courses and trying not to obsess about the fact that they didn’t have epidurals at the hospital where you were to be born. I mostly stayed in the hotel room all day, watching the 2004 Summer Olympics, waiting for your dad to come home, cooking on a hot plate, and trying to keep away from the cigarette-smoking construction workers who were also living at the hotel. I sincerely hope that your asthma was not exacerbated by my inhalation of their 2^nd-hand smoke. I obsessed about that too.

JEB age 3

So the other night for your bed-time story, I told you the part of our tale that begins after we had moved out of the hotel and were living in a furnished home owned by the St. Croix Scenic Riverway, where your dad was working as a ranger. It was a small house on the high banks of the St. Croix River (which, unfortunately, wasn’t visible due to overgrowth). There was only a gravel road leading up to the house. The neighbors were sparse, but we were pretty much next door to Walter Mondale’s summer home. The Mondales didn’t have interesting pets or young kids or a trampoline, but they also didn’t stand around smoking or really even live there most of the time.

JEB age 4

I told the story of how we waited and waited and waited for your arrival – 9 days past your due date. And then Grandma (your dad’s grandmother whom you now call Mimi), suggested that I try taking some castor oil. It had worked for all three of her children and Dr. Google didn’t have too many horror stories about using it to induce labor, so I tried it. On September 15, 2004 at approximately noon, I took 2 ounces of castor oil mixed in orange juice.

At this point in the story, you interrupted me to ask if there was going to be any guns or fighting or funny stuff. I assured you that it would not disappoint.

I knew it would not disappoint because one of your favorite plot lines for a good story is poop. And as everyone knows, all stories about castor oil end with poop. In my case, an explosive two hours of poop, which left me exhausted and still pregnant.

This fascinated you.

“You had a major diarrhea attack while I was IN YOUR TUMMY?!?!?”

JEB age 5

“Yes.”

“Did I come out with like, diarrhea all over me?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“But, how was I living in there around all that poop but not poopy?”

At this point I thought it appropriate to explain about the amniotic fluid which surrounds the baby and I also threw in some information about the purpose the umbilical cord and its connection to belly button creation.

JEB age 6

“Did they cut the cord with Dad’s pocket knife? Didn’t that hurt me? Did I cry so much that I pooped? Whose bombs are worse—mine when I was a baby or Sam’s now?”

“Go to bed.”

“Is that the end of the story?”

“Yes. I love you. Good night.”

“But you haven’t said how MUCH you love me yet.”

JEB age 7

And so I said what I say to you every night. What I mean from the bottom of my heart (which also is not poopy even though it is also in there near to where you were, and are still): “I love you VERY much. Nothing you could ever say or do would make me stop loving you. I want you to have sweet and long dreams. I’ll see you when you need me; if you need me call me, and I’ll be right here.”

And that was the end of my story, but the beginning of yours.

I love you GOBS and BUNCHES,

Mom

p.s. In addition to my annual birthday letter, I have attached another letter—one that nominates you for the Best 7YO Award, which is given out every year by the NAASP (National Association for the Advancement of Seven-Year-Old People). Below is a draft of my nomination letter.

*****************************************************************************

Dear NAASP Best 7YO Committee:

It is with great pleasure that I write this letter of recommendation for John E. B. After working with John for more than 7 years, I can confidently say that I know him better than just about anyone. During this time, I have been John’s direct supervisor. In this position, I have helped to oversee his life planning, assisted with homework, facilitated extracurricular activities, ~~corrected his proclivity to make rude digestive noises~~ served as politeness coach, created his chores, and watched his interactions with both friends and foes. And through all of that, I have learned that one thing is true about John E.B.: He excels in absolutely every respect. In short, J.E.B. is an outstanding seven year old worthy of accolades.

I believe that John would be an excellent candidate for the NAASP’s Best 7YO Award. In our family’s working environment, John is always a superlative example of all activities. He’s won numerous inter-familial awards, including Smartest, ~~Loudest~~ Most Boisterous, Funniest, Most Hardworking, and Most Persistent. He has extreme focus, but he can also be silly. He’s a problem-solver and a helper-outter and he has a great nose to sniff out ~~3-week old misplaced dirty diapers~~ many types of unknown, malodorous, household/automobile oddities.

In addition to his time spent under my supervision in our home, John has 5 years experience in pre-K, and one year in kindergarten. This sundry experience speaks directly to his ability to work with both children and adults, manipulate learning objects, and create all sorts of ways to entertain himself. John’s favorite school activities are recess, lunch, and gym. (Although he gets “E” for excellent in nearly every category of every report card.) His teachers and friends have ~~only~~ mostly good things to say about him, and often praise his ability to ~~make jokes about~~ work well with people of different ages, sizes, intelligence levels, and diverse cultural backgrounds.

To illustrate John’s academic prowess, humility, and general loveliness & potential, I’d like to share one of my very favorite moments this past year.

John attends a Spanish-immersion school. So after a whole year of kindergarten, we were understandably worried when his dad came home one day and said, “Hola!” and John replied, “What’s ‘hola’?”

We sent him to the neighbor’s house to find out. He came back completely unphased and announced that it means “hello” in Spanish but that he already knew that. So I said, “I’d like to hear you speak Spanish more.”

Two weeks later we stepped out the door on the way to 1^st grade and he said, “Ay- yay- yay! Hace muy calor ý sol!” (Oh my goodness! It’s SO hot & sunny!)

And what other seven-year-old child has such critical thinking skills to respond to the phrase “We have to go now” with, “I’m NEVER going to do anything fun again because then it has to be OVER and we have GO. We ALWAYS have to go, so I HATE doing fun stuff.”

One of the things I most admire about the way John behaves is that he remembers to use his manners. He is particularly good about consistently and appropriately using the following phrases:

· “Excuse me?”

· “May I be excused?”

· “Can I clear your plate for you?”

· “Thanks for doing my silverware job!”

· “Ooh! A package! I need to send a thank-you card for this!”

· “I’m so sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

Moreover, John is absolutely meticulous about keeping ~~practically everything we’ve ever gotten out of a happy meal but nothing we really need~~ his material possessions organized. Having supervised ~~way more children than I should have~~ two different children in my current position as Mother, I can say that John has been the most consistent in retrieving ~~rotten boiled eggs~~ snacks & toys from underneath the seat of the car, submitting laundry items to various household departments, and being ~~100%~~ 95% in charge of the silverware drawer. He keeps his crayons neatly sprawled on the dining table for ease of use, always has some Scotch tape handy, and is ~~completely obsessed with~~ ever at the ready with his pocket knife.

Finally, John is a phenomenal teacher. In just 7 short years he has taught our family things that ~~we never could’ve imagined in our most insane nightmares~~ no other human being could have provided for us as parents: How to love and laugh better, how to invoke consequences rather than punishment, and how to manage the complexities of having a ~~wild, stubborn, smarter-than-us~~ spirited, persistent, forward-thinking child. Without him, neither his father nor I would have matured into any sort of halfway-decent adult. With him to love, we have evolved into pseudo-patient people who ~~throw fewer tantrums~~ think less of ourselves and more about others. And we have ~~at rare times even~~ found MUCH joy in learning these life lessons.

Overall, John is a dedicated 7YO with a real passion for ~~winning~~ participating in all games/sports, practicing ~~ONLY the Star Wars theme song~~ his lessons on the piano, building marble tracks, and ~~torturing~~ having fun with his family & friends (especially his baby brother). He is also highly self-motivated, responsible, professional, and yet, above all, FUN. I recommend John E. B. for the Best 7YO Award in the highest possible terms.

Sincerely,

Kimberly P.B.

Unbiased Mother

Living the Good Life

2011-09-11T21:28:00.001-05:00

Currently including (but not limited to):

Unlimited cheese consumption in your crib if you will just go to bed at a decent time and not get up at 4:30 IN THE MORNING.

First Soccer Game of the Season!

2011-09-11T12:06:00.000-05:00

At least he has no delusions about keeping his hair.

2011-09-11T12:03:00.000-05:00

A Week in Pictures

2011-09-09T14:58:00.000-05:00

One Mohawk, One Mop

2011-09-04T07:52:00.000-05:00

Labor Day Weekend

2011-09-03T16:56:00.000-05:00

A little church mouse

2011-08-21T13:12:00.000-05:00

Ridin'

2011-08-21T12:56:00.000-05:00

2011-08-16T19:49:00.000-05:00

MIBs

2011-08-16T10:35:00.000-05:00

1st day of 1st Grade

2011-08-11T22:13:00.000-05:00

All was well for John's first day of 1st grade. His only comment was that they didn't spend enough time in the cafeteria due to it being a half day.

When he got home, Annie immediately came over to share about her first day of kindergarten. She also reported a bit of disappointment: The monkey bars are off-limits if you're not yet in 2nd grade.

Then they were happily watching Garfield in their matching outfits until I disrupted the movie to attempt a photo.

Sam & The Crew

2011-08-11T22:02:00.002-05:00

Sam is back with Hannah part-time right now (full time after next week), and she is also temporarily working for her "old" family, whom she was with since Catherine (far right, age 4) was a baby. They spent the afternoon at the zoo.

Zoo Trip (mama's perspective)

2011-08-10T21:25:00.000-05:00

Zoo Day

2011-08-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

Today we went to the zoo. These are some of the pics I found on John's camera.

This last one initiated a fun conversation, as you might imagine.

Ah, the zoo. It's the only place where you can get -- in one day! -- both a sex ed primer and a preview of what it might look like if you decided to do meth. I'll spare you a picture of the latter, but can school just please start? Please.

A Late Summer Update

2011-08-07T22:12:00.002-05:00

Somehow, for the first time in nearly 7 years, I forgot about this blog. You probably didn't notice, but it's been a few days, and honestly, I haven't even thought of Goose Bumps. Wow. That's just one letter away from Goose Burps, which is WAY more appropriate considering the number of boys around here.

I know other people sometimes forget to post on their blogs, but let's face it: I am not Other People.

We had a really fun blast-from-the-past friend (like, Teach for America '99 corps past) stop in last Friday night for a fun catch-up-on-10-years dinner party. And she mentioned that she keeps up with my blog! I nearly died. She lives in Seattle. I'm famous.

And it reminded me that I had not even thought about the blog in a few days. So either this is a great, relaxing summer vacation, or I'm getting old.

She brought salted caramels.

Go back and read that again: Salted. Caramels.

This gift, a beacon in the night of a no sugar/carbs phase for me, has totally opened my eyes to a whole new world of chewy candy. It was like light at the end of a cave. And now if I could just make chiropractic adjustments to my own neck, I'd be happy for life with my salted candy and my always-in-alignment spine. (Sometimes, when you're eating the candy, you actually get big chunks of salt.)

This from someone who was once given the gift of "Morton Salt Family Size Shaker" from an office mate. One who salts cantaloupe and watermelon and butter. I'd salt soy sauce if Brian would let me.

Thank you, dear Emily, for the candy. And please don't think that we always eat over-cooked shish kabobs and dry pesto pasta. It was an off night.

So, let's get caught up, friends!

The boys went to Wisconsin to visit the Paternals. They did a lot of swimming and lego-ing. I couldn't go. Someone has to work and pay the bills around here. These are the photos from the MiL, photographer extraordinaire.

Yes we do too feed him.

And so, dear friends, I'll leave you with this bit of brotherly love.

OUS,
k

We have a few tomatoes coming in.

2011-08-06T17:55:00.000-05:00

How we roll.

2011-07-28T09:25:00.002-05:00

Another reason I love summer ...

2011-07-27T10:48:00.001-05:00

Dale Hollow Lake

2011-07-26T20:44:00.000-05:00

Last week the big boys went canoe/camping on Dale Hollow Lake.

They were gone two nights and 3 days and all I know is what's here in these pictures.

Apparently they never changed clothes, kept a fire going, all but slept in the water, and had a blast.

Hat

2011-07-20T18:17:00.000-05:00

Mawnmower

2011-07-16T10:34:00.000-05:00

The Goodbye Tenores Hike (sniff)

2011-07-13T23:14:00.001-05:00

Our last hike with our favorite family: Greeter Falls on the South Cumberland Platueau. They're headed to upstate NY. Sniff.

Griff takes the plunge.

John thinks about it.

Sam & Mel watch as the tension mounts.

Finally John works up the nerve.

Bye friends.

Onward and upward (literally).

Easy as 1, 2, 3, 4

2011-07-13T23:04:00.000-05:00

Buried

2011-07-11T22:03:00.000-05:00

Surf & Sand

2011-07-11T21:58:00.000-05:00

LOVE this one.

Beach House Fun

2011-07-11T21:51:00.000-05:00

I love these ones.

2011-07-11T21:47:00.000-05:00

The Paternals

2011-07-11T21:43:00.000-05:00

I love this picture, and it's not just because I took it (with Jane's camera).

Toenail painting & kite flying

2011-07-11T21:36:00.000-05:00

OBX Pool Fun

2011-07-11T21:33:00.000-05:00

BTW: All of the pics in this and the previous blog posts are from Jane, of course.

Goin' Crabbin'

2011-07-11T21:17:00.000-05:00

Amy enthusiastically reads to the children.

2011-07-11T21:15:00.000-05:00

What's better than a daughter?

2011-07-11T20:31:00.000-05:00

A LUCY!

Family Pyramid

2011-07-09T21:15:00.002-05:00

Look for this on your Christmas card. Not.

At least I had the good sense to put a child in front of me.

2011-07-09T21:14:00.000-05:00

Those Crazy OBXers

2011-07-09T21:12:00.001-05:00

A little Chopin anyone?

2011-07-06T17:14:00.000-05:00

New Outfits

2011-07-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

Happy 4th & Happy 5th!

2011-07-05T07:52:00.000-05:00

We celebrated the holiday in our backyard with friends & sparklers.

The children became complete pyromaniacs. We had a pit fire AND hand-held explosives.

And we had an extra special treat of hosting a birthday girl! Pilar has now turned FIVE, which is impossible. I think she had a fun night.

This is right before Annie became terrified of her sparkler, dropped it, and ran for the hills.

Sam slept through the whole thing.

Happy happy!

More Beckers (& Povondras) at the Beach

2011-07-03T22:22:00.000-05:00

Note to self: hold baby in beach pic.

Beckers @ the Beach

2011-07-02T21:16:00.000-05:00