Death from a Child's Perspective

On the way home from the tennis courts tonight, the air bag light for the passenger seat was flashing off and on for no apparent reason.

We were discussing whether we thought the air bag was really off, or if the sensor was malfunctioning.

This brought on the following conversation.

7 yo: Well, if someone died, I bet it should be mommy or daddy.

10 yo: Why?

7 yo: Because they wouldn't want one of us to die!

10 yo: But it would be really, really bad if dad died.

(Mom is feeling the love.)

Mom: Why is that?

10 yo:  Because we need his paycheck to pay for things.

(Dad is feeling the love, too.)

Dad:  Well, that is why we have life insurance.

10 yo: I know, but that money wouldn't last for very long, would it?

Mom:  It would pay off the house, help with college funds, and last for quite a few years if we were very careful with how we spent the money.

10 yo: Oh, that's good.

Dad: Yeah, it all depends on how you would use it.  You definitely couldn't go buy something really expensive and use a bunch at one time.

7 yo: Like a Lego set.  We couldn't get a Lego set.

Me: Ummm.....yes, son.....like a Lego set.

And So It Begins

My son is in 5th grade.

This comes with all of the typical new territory...new teacher, new classroom, oldest class on the elementary side of the school, switching rooms for a few subjects, and....

BAND.

I wasn't quite sure how this would all play out for my oldest child.

For the past year, he has been talking about the possibility of picking an instrument for 5th grade band.  Sometimes he was excited; sometimes he wasn't sure.  I encouraged him to experiment with some instruments and give band a try.  I wanted him to see for himself whether or not this would be something that is "his thing".

Last year in May, the band teacher had the 4th graders try out some instruments they thought they would like.

First on his list -- trumpet.

He could not make a sound.  Not even one little peep.

Second up -- saxophone.

Not even a squeak.

Third up -- trombone.

After much huffing and puffing, he managed to play a note make a little noise.

When it was over, he was discouraged.  He said, "Mom, it just felt like I didn't have any air."

That's when it hit me.

Every year since he was 2 or 3, the pediatrician has asked him to try to blow hard enough to make a pinwheel spin around really fast.  He could never do it.  At the allergy doctor, he would always struggle to get the spirometer to go up as high as they wanted it to.

Apparently, the child has an issue with air capacity.

So, where does that leave us?

Yep, the drums.

He is not sad at all. 

The incessant noise has started. The drumsticks travel around the house with him.  Everything under our roof has developed the potential to be turned into a drum.

I had to draw the line when he started drumming with his sticks on the dining room table.  It is quite possibly the only piece of furniture we have purchased from an actual furniture store in our entire married life.

So far, it hasn't driven me crazy.  I'm happy that he likes to practice.  It's great that he wants to play all the time.

Only one thing makes me nervous.

Band doesn't even start until Wednesday.

What will it be like after that??

Deep, Dark Questions from a Mother's Brain

I have always been a learner.  I like to ask questions; I like to have answers.  Research intrigues me, and the more data there is (preferably in understandable, normal people terms), the better.  If it didn't take so much time and money, I truly could be one of those life-long student types.

In my never-ending search for knowledge, I have come across a few problematic questions of motherhood...

1. How long can Scooby-Doo underwear hang on a ceiling fan light without catching on fire? 

Last week my mother-in-law brought my kids home to change into their swimsuits so they could go on an impromptu swimming outing.  Apparently part of changing into a swimsuit must include kicking off the underwear and sending it sailing as high as possible (if you are seven, anyway...). 

I am guessing grandma didn't notice this moment of time, because Scooby was still stranded on the light when we arrived home from work later that day.  Scooby was also very, very warm.  We could safely call him hot.  I have no idea if Scooby would have ever burst into flames, but the important part is that the seven year old has been firmly convinced that the house could have burned down to the ground.

2.  Why do we even buy our children beds for their rooms?

Both of my boys have perfectly good beds.  Granted, they are hand-me down, garage sale types of beds, but they are extremely functional. 

Why is it then that these children like to sleep ANYWHERE except in their beds? The living room couches, the bedroom floors, the futon, the basement, the tent outside (or inside...it doesn't really matter), the living room floors, under a table 'tent'  anywhere in the house, in tiny little forts.....you name it, they would rather be there.  I'm fully convinced they should have beds made of legos.  They could then create on a daily basis whatever type of sleeping contraption they prefer.

3.  How long REALLY is "just a second"?

I have never been a fan of "just a second" or "just a minute" as a response from my children when I ask or tell them to do something.  Yes, I realize that it is better than "No", but I have always felt like it is just a variation of not really listening. 

It seems like a good life skill to need to respond and do something when asked.    Think school...

Teacher: "You need to be in the classroom and in your seat when the bell rings."
Student: "Yeah, just a minute....I'll get there when I can."

Uh....No.

Translate that to a job and we have even bigger issues. 

However, there is a flip side (there is always a flip side when parenting).  I don't want to raise little robots who are commanded to respond without using their brain.  There are legitimate times in life when we all need to say, "May I finish this first?", or, "Just a second, I'll be there in a little bit."

So, I am doing a little experiment.  I am wondering, if they are allowed, will they always try to buy more time? And if I only ask them once, with no reminders or repeat questions, how long will it take them to obey? Will they even come at all?

Yesterday evening was the first try.  I told them to come empty the dishwasher.  I got the standard, "just a second" answer. I waited.  And waited.  Five minutes later they came, the oldest was trailed by the youngest.  I have a feeling the youngest should be very thankful the oldest actually decided to come to the kitchen.  My money would not have been on the youngest ever arriving. 

I didn't say anything, but I will keep adding up the minutes. 

A few minutes here and there is not the end of the world.

However, if we accumulate a bunch of time within a few short days, I am bound to get very creative with how they will make that time up.

First Day

School is back in session.

This always comes with mixed emotions.  By mid-August, I have been back to work full-time for about two weeks, and the boys are being shuffled back and forth between grandparents.

This wears me out.  

The boys think it is pretty great.

So by the third week of August, I am typically ready to get them back into the school routine.

They are not always so sure.

The little one looks a bit skeptical about it all.  The big one doesn't seem sure whether he is in grade 4.......4 1/2.....or 5.  

A good mom would have made sure the boys had haircuts at some point in the last three months.  Or at least before school started.  In my defense, I had them scheduled for haircuts on Tuesday.  However, when an offer to go swimming appeared, I relented and rescheduled them to Thursday.

Speaking of haircuts, this has been a continual fight with the 10 year old.  He has once again decided that he wants.to.keep.his.hair.long.

I have nothing against long hair.  In fact, sometimes I like it better than short hair.  However, when the head in question has a cowlick the size of....well....a cow.......it just looks a little bit odd.

I have about 18 hours to debate forcing a haircut  vs. taking the 'who cares, it's just hair' stance.

 

This guy gets this sweet gal as his fifth grade teacher.

I had a little moment this morning when it hit me that 16 years ago I started my teaching career in this very classroom.  Now I have my own 5th grader who is going to have an amazing year with his fabulous teacher.

One would think that this may be how the little guy is feeling about school this year.

And, granted, he would much rather be catching snakes and lizards.

However....

When your aunt is your incredible 2nd grade teacher, you just can't go wrong with school.  My poor sister-in-law has not only her nephew, but her own daughter.  She is going to be one worn out soul, but the kids think it is great! 

 And here we go....the craziness begins.

.....And Now We Have A Snake

Three weeks ago we came home from the lake with a lizard.

Much to our surprise, Speedy is still alive and kickin'.

A week ago my little guy caught 14 tadpoles at our pond.  They came home in a galvanized tub and have been swimming around in our garage.  We aren't overly optimistic that there are still 14, but we are pretending all is well.

Four days ago grandpa found a turtle in his garage.  We were {insert extreme sarcasm here} so fortunate that my kids were spending the day at grandpa and grandma's house so the turtle could come home to our house.

We have become a regular zoo around here.

But yesterday was the icing on the cake.

I was leaving a conference when I got a text from my husband...

Him: "I never ever thought I would do it, but today I did it for my son."

Unfortunately, I had a feeling that I knew exactly what he was talking about.  I wrote back:

Me: "You caught a snake?"

Him: "Yep.  Put it in a bucket for him."

Me: "Please tell me you did not tell him that he could keep it."

Him:  "Uhhh....."

This is getting serious, folks.  So serious I had to detour to Maurices to do a little post-panic shopping.

Well....that is sort-of the truth.  I had to return some shoes at Famous Footwear, which just so happened to be located right across from Maurices.  It really would have been a shame not to go in and browse {spend} a bit {a lot}.

The situation got even better last night when my 7 year old said, "Who thinks the snake should come in the house?! All in favor, say 'Aye'".

Imagine my shock when I heard my husband say, "Aye"!

I think I fell to the floor.

Or I may have knocked him to the floor; I am not sure which.

After about .2 seconds of discussion (and when I say "discussion", I mean me saying, "You have got to be kidding me!!!  Does anyone remember the frog that we haven't found yet?!?), it was determined that the snake would not come into the house.

Which was good, because I really didn't want to have to find a new residence.

It's me or the snake living in this house; however, I was careful not to voice that to my son.

If he was given the option, I'm thinking there is a good chance the snake would have been reclining on my pillow sipping a glass of lemonade.

The Dangers of Blogging

Recently I wrote a post about my place of employment.

That is typically a huge blogging no-no, but in this case, I was sharing what a great "family" I have worked with over my many years at school. 

I even had my boss read it ahead of time to make sure that it didn't read like I had one foot out of the door, and to make sure there were no negative connotations that could be read into it.
 

However, just today I got a text from someone who asked if there was something going on that I wasn't sharing.

I asked why.

She mentioned the blog.

And then I discovered that my post said I was feeling nostalgic about a new school.

What it really was supposed to say is that I was feeling nostalgic about a new school YEAR.

Funny how one little word (or the lack of) can so drastically change the meaning of  a sentence.

It's true that I don't know what God has in store for the future.

It's true that life in general or my son's health issues may cause some changes to occur.

But I definitely did not mean to insinuate that I am longing for a new school!

So, I apologize to those I may have confused.

And I wil attempt 2 edit bettr in thee futurre. 

Vacation Catch-up

Typically I post blogs about vacations a bit sooner.  Like, when we are actually ON the vacation.

I found that a bit difficult with no internet access.  My boys really think it is time for the local lakes to offer wi-fi at each campsite, because, come on, how will every body see the pictures of the really cool things that are captured on an hourly basis?

They haven't quite yet gotten to the age where they are blaming their parents (*cough*....father....*cough, cough*) for our family not having smart phones which would basically do everything they think they should have access to...........but, I digress.

Last Sunday we headed out for our week away at the local reservoir.  For several days before, I had been trying to convince my husband that it really would be easier if we had 2 vehicles on hand for the week.  We already knew we had to go back to town one day for prior commitments, and inevitably there seems to be a lot of running around for one thing or another.  And what if we had an emergency? And what if...? You get the picture.

Eventually he agreed that I could take the car.

So after packing nearly everything we owned for our week away (seriously, this was more prep work than a 12 day trip to Oregon!), we headed out.  My husband and oldest son were in the truck, pulling the camper and the jet ski.  My youngest son and I were following along nicely behind them in the car.

Fifteen minutes down the road, my low tire indicator light came on.

My heart sank.  I am sure my husband's blood pressure rose.

Two towns and three gas stations later and we still hadn't found a working air option.  Feeling fairly sure that the tire was not losing air quickly, we continued on to the lake.

Ten miles from our destination, my cell phone rang.  It was my husband.

He said, "Guess what we forgot?"

I love that question.

The grills.  Two little grills that belong to my dad. We forgot to pick them up. 

No problem…the menu for the next 5 nights only consisted of grilled brats, grilled chicken, grilled steak, grilled hamburgers, and grilled pork chops.

Ugh.

It was becoming apparent that this ‘vacation’ might be one big lesson in flexibility.

And we hadn't even actually made it to the lake yet.