Time Well Spent

How we spend our evenings...

Church

Friday afternoon as the hurricane approached, we were stuck inside.  By we, I mean me and five children.  Five. Inside.  All afternoon.  They were actually very good and I enjoyed my time with them even if it meant a lot of extra laundry and crawling around on my hands and knees picking up popcorn kernels.  After they grew tired of the forts we made in the den, they disappeared into the living room.  I walked by and found Sam, Landry and Cannon on the couch, deep in conversation.  Sam called me into the room and told me they were "playing church."  He instructed me that I was the preacher and that I needed to go get his "story bible" from his room and come back.  I took my orders and went to find the bible.  I returned and was instructed to sit on the other couch and "preach."  Given the outside conditions, I felt it was only appropriate to "preach" on Noah building the ark.  I watched them from behind my book and soon realized they were pretending to be a family.  Sam and Landry were the parents and Cannon was their baby.  Cannon sat between them completely focused and well behaved.  And then, like "babies" do, he began to fuss and whine (as he was instructed to do by his parents).  Sam stood up, looked at me and said, "Um, excuse me, my baby is being real fussy so I need to take him to the nursery."  "Okay, sure," I replied.  I stopped my sermon so he could escort his unruly baby to the nursery (the kitchen table).  Sam came back in, sat on the couch and said, "Okay, go ahead and preach again."  I wrapped up my sermon and was told we needed to sing before church could be over.  I led my congregation in a rousing rendition of "Jesus Loves Me." 

Cannon's "parents" got him all dressed up for church.  They dressed him in Jack's clothes that were ridiculously too small, but he sure looked handsome in his red, white and blue getup.  Too bad he misbehaved and was banished to the "nursery."

The "parents," who were far too embarrased to have their picture taken together.

Sam is clearly a Republican who embraces his right to take a gun to church.

And this is our choir director.  He only showed up for the service when it was time to sing.  He led the members by climbing on top of the coffee table and breaking it down, pumping his arms and showing off a new swerve move.

And then just a quickly as "church" had begun, it was over.

Irene Who?

Forget about Irene.  

Today I was paid a visit by...

Hurricane Sam.

Hurricane Jack.

Hurricane Will.

Hurricane Cannon.

 Hurricane Landry

And they unleashed their furry on our den today.

I'm still assessing the damage.

Injured

Last night Jack fell asleep in my room.   I didn't move him to his bed, hoping to avoid waking him and also hopeful that he'd sleep later in the morning if he was in bed with me.  At 2:30 this morning I heard him crying.  I reached over and he wasn't beside me.  I realized he had fallen off the bed and I quickly reached down and scooped him up. He was crying softly as I cuddled him close to me and rubbed his head, whispering to him that he was okay and that he was back in bed with me.  He continued to cry and became more and more upset.  I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't calm down and go back to sleep.  He wasn't saying anything, but he continued to cry.  I comforted him for nearly ten minutes, urging him to go back to sleep.  And then I saw it.  In the darkness of my room, I noticed something on the pillow.  I jumped out of bed and turned on the light and was horrified when I saw blood everywhere.  It was on the pillows, my hands and shirt and his sweet, little face.  Because his face was covered with blood,  I was unsure of where he was hurt.  And then I saw the gash under his left eye.  He had a deep cut on the top of his cheekbone.  Jody cleaned him up as I tried to stop my head from spinning.  Stuff like that usually doesn't bother me but I was sure I was going to faint last night.  I think it was the shock of all the blood or maybe an adrenaline rush, but I was basically a useless bystander.  We decided to avoid the emergency room and call our doctor's office as soon as they opened. Jody bandaged him up and I fell asleep to the sound of Jack snoring as he clung tightly to my neck.

Jody met us at the doctor's office the following morning.  Here's my sweet boy and his hurt face waiting for the doctor to come in.

I was so thankful that the doctor chose to glue the cut together rather than attempt stitches.  I couldn't bare the idea of the numbing shots and the stitching itself and I knew restraining Jack would be a nightmare.  Well, it turns out the gluing was a nightmare in itself.  You see, Jack cannot handle being held down.  It took three nurses and us to hold him still for the doctor.  There really is no better way to describe the experience other than...The Exorcist. I felt like I was in a scene from The Exorcist.  He yelled, growled and clinched his teeth.  He screamed that we were choking him and hurting him and he totally lost it when the nurse placed a piece of gauze over his eye to protect it from the dermabond.  My heart broke when he looked at me and said he needed to tell me a secret, which is a sweet thing he tells all the time to me.  And Jody and I both almost lost it when he asked why we were hurting him. After the longest five minutes of my life, the doctor was done and I scooped my sweet boy up in my arms where he belonged.  His hair was drenched with sweat and he was exhausted. The doctor told us he was just too strong and there was no way they could have stitched him up because they couldn't have restrained him for the amount of time it would have required.

Here's my sweet boy, all doctored up with a hint of a black eye and a swollen face.  And here's to hoping that  his sweet face doesn't scar.

A Full Load

Handling a few cattle duties before supper...

Shot Through the Heart

This morning I grabbed my laptop to check my email.  Jack was sweetly cuddled up beside me on the couch.  I opened my computer and the last site I had visited, People.com, was still on the screen.  Jack glanced over and something caught his eye. 

This.

This picture was a small item on the sidebar, but it quickly caught my boy's eye.

I have no idea why!?!?!

And then he did it.

He gave me a shot to the heart.

He pointed to the revealing picture and said, "I want a Mama like that!"

Ouch.  I bet you do, son.  You and every other male on the planet.

After totally stomping on my heart, he must have felt bad.

And he tried to redeem himself with this.

He knows I'm a sucker for a flower in a Diet Mountain Dew can.

Me and my wounded self esteem forgive you son.

Love, Don't Love

I love having boys.

I don't love that my den is often the main ring for Wrestle mania.

I love living on a farm.

I don't love the amount of cow manure that collects on my porch.

I love that my boys are learning about caring for animals.

I don't love that that means animals I despise, like chickens.

I love when Jody takes the boys out of the house in the evening so I can clean up the cow manure and remnants of Wrestle mania.

I don't love when he calls me and tells me to "Come outside quick!"

I love that my oldest boy is brave.

I don't love that he is this brave.

Not Nice

Tonight we celebrated Nana's birthday.

And I discovered that I need to talk to my oldest about tact.

Because shielding one's eyes from the overwhelming glare of another's birthday candles is just not polite.

Everything

My whole world.

Wrapped up in three, precious little bodies.

I wonder if they'll ever really know what they mean to me.

Everything.

They mean everything.

Ink

I sent Jack next door to carry something to his Mema.

He bypassed Papa's Place where she whips up her famous cakes.

And apparently he bypassed her house, too.

Instead, he ended up at Mema's Tattoo Parlor.

My fresh faced boy returned covered in "tattoos" courtesy of his great grandma.

Stud earrings.  A bracelet.  A watch.  A ring.  A lovely flower.  The classic heart.  His name.  A key.  And my personal favorite, a chain necklace.

 And I gained a new skill which I'm sure I'll be putting to use fairly often.

 I'm now a master at bathing a dirty boy all while carefully avoiding the removal of his "tats."

Definitely a life skill one needs to know around here.

Just What I Needed

Sam came down with a bug Friday afternoon.  Sore throat.  Rash.  I was sure he had strep throat but the test was negative and the doctor reassured me that it was viral and that all he needed was rest and to stay hydrated. He stayed home with Jody Friday night while the other boys and I ate dinner at Nana and JP's for Nana's upcoming birthday.  I missed him terribly and really wanted to be the one taking care of him, but he was in excellent hands with his Daddy.

Saturday morning the rash had spread and he wasn't feeling well at all.  Jody took Will with him as soon as he headed out to work cows.  He returned for Jack a few hours later and I he had to force Jack out the door.  If Sam was staying with me, he wanted to too.  But Sam needed me.  All of me.  And I knew Jack would be as happy as he could be once he got away from the house with Jody.  And he was.

So I spent my Saturday with my oldest.  We watched movies in bed.  He cuddled beside me in the recliner and I watched him play way too many games of Angry Bulls, admiring his determination to get a better score each game.  I soaked it all in.  The time with just him and me.  Because that doesn't happen too often any more. Saturdays are usually busy, him helping his Daddy with cows, me working hard to mark things off my very long to-do list.

But this Saturday it was just us.  No working cows.  No cleaning house.  No putting out hay.  No answering to the to-do list.  I did nothing.  Nothing, except love and care for my boy, the one who is growing up all too fast. Hours spent just being.  Together.  And while he was the one feeling bad and needing me, the truth is, our day together was just what I needed.  

New Name

This boy.

He announced to me this morning that he had a new name.

And he very matter of factly shared it with me.

Like it was Bill.  Or Tom.  Or Jack.

Except it wasn't.

Hello, Mr. Tootie Boob.

Very nice to meet you.

Odd

"Mama, can I go to the dentist?"

"One day you can."

"No, today.  Can you take me there today?"

"No, not today.  Why do you want to got to the dentist so bad all of a sudden?"

"'Cause, Mama.  I want that dentist to take these teeth right here out (pointing to his top front teeth), and make them gold."

"Gold?"

"Yeah, Mama.  I want me some gold teeth."

I'll break it to him later that no respectable cowboy/cattle farmer/frontiersman would have gold front teeth. 

Just This Morning

Just this morning...


Jack and Will were playing in the den when Jack yelled to me that he needed to pee.  And as he usually does in the mornings, he said he was going outside to pee.  I walked into the kitchen to fix oatmeal for Will, heard the door ding and then the door ding again and slam shut.  Jack ran into the kitchen joined me at the sink.


"Mama!  I had to pee really, really bad.  And I was going outside and I was getting ready and I had to pee so bad, Mama, all my pee just fell out."


"Fell out where?  On the porch?  On the carpet?"


"No, Mama.  It fell out all over Will."


Surely that was an accident.


Sam woke up a little later and ran up to me, with his eyes wide and a very serious face.  And with great emphasis and full hand motions he said, "Mama!  You are not going to believe this.  Mama, this is real life.  This happened in real life!  Real life, Mama."


"What?  What happened, son?


"I just woke up, Mama, and look (pointing to his pajama bottoms) my pajamas are wet."


"That's okay, bud.  You wet the bed a little?  It's okay."


"No, Mama!  My bed is not wet.  And I am just wet right here (again pointing to his pants)!  Know what that means, Mama?"


"No, what?"


"This is real life, Mama.  Not a dream.  Real life!   Somebody came in my room and peed on my pajamas."


I hate when that happens.


And later as I'm trying to get us all out the door, Sam disappears.  I call him, look in his room, nothing.  I didn't worry.  He's my responsible one so I knew he was nearby, hiding from us.  I looked and looked.  In every room.  I looked behind every chair in the den, behind the couch, behind Jody's bar.  Nothing.  I payed no attention to the laundry hamper laying on the couch.  

Sure, it was out of place.  But things often are around here.  I passed by again and saw the hamper move.  And then, I found Sam.

I smiled and congratulated him for finding such a great hiding spot.  And then I told him to return the hamper to my closet.  To which he told me, "It's not your hamper.  This is my house."  So I pointed out the writing on the outside of "his house."

And I told him that it said "Angela" written a few days ago by my middle child so "everyone would know it's mine" and that therefore, it was clearly my hamper and not "his house."  He questioned his brother's handwriting and then climbed out of the hamper and we were on our way.

Just a typical morning around here.

Photography by Jack

I made a mistake recently.  I downloaded Angry Bulls to my iPhone and ipad.  It was a bad decision and I'm paying for it with dead batteries and missed phone calls.  And an overloaded camera roll.  I was not amused to discover 460 new pictures on my phone recently. 460.  And that doesn't include the 20 video clips that were all exactly 2 seconds long.  It appears my middle child became bored with the bulls and decided to experiment with photography.

He began with a few self portraits.  A few meaning 176.

" Here's my best smile."

"Hmm, now I'll try my funny face."

"Sam, you're totally in my shot, man. Back up! I'm working here."

"Jack!  Take a picture of me!  Take a picture of me and my gun."

A still life.  Diapers, coat hanger and stuffed lion.

Buenos Dias!

Self portrait of his fingers.

Belt and boots.  You can't have one without the other.

 Pancho Villa.

Will.

Will trying to escape the toddler paparazi.

Showing off his skills with an action shot...Will on the run.

Saucy. One of the 26 pictures he took of her.

A true photographer, Jack remembers to document all the sweet parts of a baby, including her feet.

A little more Saucy.  

Rebecca, he's for hire if you're interested.

 Sam watching something on television that he a)finds amazing or b) is scaring him to death.

Horse.  The one with no mane, thanks to the photographer.

 Taking a picture of a picture.  Genius.

Another still life.  This time the focus is on nature.

He enjoys photographing animals too.

Rain.  The reason he's shooting indoors today.

iPhone meet iPad.

In keeping with the electronics theme...television.

My boy is multi-talented.  He dabbles in food photography too.

Back to the self portraits. 

Capturing strange combinations.  Cow, chip clip, tiny stuffed dog and magnetic fishing pole.

Stuffed animals and tractors.  Every one needs a picture of these playroom staples.

Hello, Pooh.

Toy snake left on my bedroom floor to scare me.  He totally just told on himself.

I'm highly offended by this one.  I get it, Jack.  I know I let the laundry pile up last week.  Point taken.

More self portraits.  Working on his kiss.

Practicing rescue breathing on his knee.

Close up.

A little construtive criticism.  Jack, you really need to work on controlling that finger. 

He needed a shot of just his hair.

And one of the top half of his head.

I particularly like this one.  Nice smile.  Nice use of back lighting.

Another one.

Return of the wayward finger.

Another action shot.  Sam winning a pillow fight/boxing match with a monkey.

Rody and toes.

Capturing Woody's amazing flexibility.

How appropriate to end where we began, with another self portrait.  Again, he doesn't forget the little details.  Like ears.

Is there an app that helps you pry your phone out of your child's hands?  If not, there sure should be.