So here we are in our lovely new house, and now that we've lived here for 2-years, I just wanted to show you some of what we're doing:
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Trimming Our House
One of my favorite things about moving is the need to redecorate. I love the challenge of using what I have in a different way. I also love the opportunity to flex my creative muscles when new things are needed. Because the process of redecorating can be so time consuming--and fund consuming--I almost never do it otherwise.
So here we are in our lovely new house, and now that we've lived here for 2-years, I just wanted to show you some of what we're doing:
So here we are in our lovely new house, and now that we've lived here for 2-years, I just wanted to show you some of what we're doing:
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Sneaky Smarty
There is nothing as charming as little boys living out some scenario from their imagination where the world is easily righted, and as the ultimate individual their little minds can concoct, they save the day over and over. I think it might be impossible to tire of watching that. I will truly grieve when that part of my boys' childhood is over.
Any-hoo, some time ago, my mother left a message on my machine that piqued my curiosity. She was just laughing, and all she said was, "Call Mrs. Lynch!" (My mom teaches at Smarty's school) So I stopped in after school. I passed through the faculty lounge where some staff members saw me, and--after an episode of the giggles--ask if I'd 'heard' yet. This all really had me worried about what my child had done to gain such notoriety!
Come to find out, Mrs. Lynch had been standing in the hall and happened to see Smarty on his way back from a bathroom break. I guess he would flatten himself against a wall and freeze for a moment, then dash a few feet down the hall before flattening himself against the wall again. This process was repeated several times before he reached Mrs. Lynch and the classroom.
She was, of course, completely enthralled by his behavior, so she asked him what he was doing. Apparently, he looked at her like he couldn't believe she needed ask, and replied, "I'm camouflaging."
How funny is that!
A few weeks later, this shirt was handed down to Smarty, and with no coaching from me (I promise!), it's become his favorite. :)
Any-hoo, some time ago, my mother left a message on my machine that piqued my curiosity. She was just laughing, and all she said was, "Call Mrs. Lynch!" (My mom teaches at Smarty's school) So I stopped in after school. I passed through the faculty lounge where some staff members saw me, and--after an episode of the giggles--ask if I'd 'heard' yet. This all really had me worried about what my child had done to gain such notoriety!
Come to find out, Mrs. Lynch had been standing in the hall and happened to see Smarty on his way back from a bathroom break. I guess he would flatten himself against a wall and freeze for a moment, then dash a few feet down the hall before flattening himself against the wall again. This process was repeated several times before he reached Mrs. Lynch and the classroom.
She was, of course, completely enthralled by his behavior, so she asked him what he was doing. Apparently, he looked at her like he couldn't believe she needed ask, and replied, "I'm camouflaging."
How funny is that!
A few weeks later, this shirt was handed down to Smarty, and with no coaching from me (I promise!), it's become his favorite. :)
Thursday, February 28, 2013
My boys have a love/hate relationship with the sunshine in their faces.
Once, while riding in the car and trying to escape the glare in his eyes, Sweety said, "The sunshine always likes me! He's kissing my face!"
We've been through a LONG and cold winter this year. We still have a ton of snow on the ground and no relief in the forecast anytime soon. Last week we had a few sunny days, and we dared to hope. But on Saturday morning, another storm blew in with a vengeance. It was disheartening to say the least.
We're all grateful for the moisture, truly, but we're battling cabin fever. The boys are no exception. As we sat, staring out the window at the snow, Sweety did his best to muster a positive attitude and proclaimed, "Heavenly Father is SILLY!"
I probably should have corrected him, but I didn't have the heart. It was so cute! Besides, I'm betting Heavenly Father enjoyed a chuckle or two over that, Himself.
Once, while riding in the car and trying to escape the glare in his eyes, Sweety said, "The sunshine always likes me! He's kissing my face!"
We've been through a LONG and cold winter this year. We still have a ton of snow on the ground and no relief in the forecast anytime soon. Last week we had a few sunny days, and we dared to hope. But on Saturday morning, another storm blew in with a vengeance. It was disheartening to say the least.
We're all grateful for the moisture, truly, but we're battling cabin fever. The boys are no exception. As we sat, staring out the window at the snow, Sweety did his best to muster a positive attitude and proclaimed, "Heavenly Father is SILLY!"
I probably should have corrected him, but I didn't have the heart. It was so cute! Besides, I'm betting Heavenly Father enjoyed a chuckle or two over that, Himself.
Russ' Burn Adventure
At the ranch, last summer, our Flake/Winmill Family Reunion came to a dramatic end with an unhappy accident. I kept waiting to post about it, because I wanted to write it up just right and couldn't seam to do it. But while I was cleaning out my email a few days ago, I came upon the following letter I sent out to family and friends shortly after the whole thing happened. I'm happy with the way I talked about it in this letter, so I'll just repost it here.
August 8, 2012
Dear family,
Thanks to you all for your interest and support with Russ' recovery. I just love you and appreciate you all more than I can say! Russ is doing very well--better and better all the time. Some of you have been asking for details, and I have been craving an excuse to write all of this out of me. So with Russ and Amanda's permission, here's the story from my perspective: (BTW, it's long! I will not be offended if you don't want to read through it.)
We were having trouble with starting fires up there, because our matches were not lighting (perhaps they were old or exposed to water or something), we didn't have any lighter fluid, and, due to monsoon season, our wood was wet. Going to town is no small matter up there, and we were doing what we could to get around that. So we gambled on gasoline.
On Thursday morning we witnessed the first of several miracles associated with this ordeal. After examining Russ' clothing I noticed that although his shirt is charred, shredded, and ruined, his garments are perfectly clean and ready to go right back into rotation. True to form, Russ only has one burn on his torso, a heat burn on his shoulder, far less concerning than the places where flame actually contacted his flesh. Check the picture; you can see for yourself! To me, this is not surprising--we've all been promised our garments would be a protection to us--but it sure is interesting!
The next miracle occurred when Russ was examined in Pheonix. After all the hurry and stress to get Russ to the valley, they found absolutely no burns in his throat! The lining of his esophagus was irritated, but any burns had healed through the night! And, although his skin continued to burn for days (which is to be expected) as time passed, his other burns appeared to be LESS concerning than before--not more. It's just incredible!
On Friday it was determined that Russ could be transferred to the care of the U of U burn center in SLC. So Manda-Lou's mother flew Russ, Manda-Lou, and Johnny to SLC that night, and Katelyn rode home with Grandpa and Grandma Reeder. Russ is home now and just visiting the burn center for outpatient checkups. At this point, there are some concerns with the injuries on his hand. The tip of his thumb sustained the worst damage, due to a band-aide he was wearing. There's also some concern about how tight his wrist is becoming as it heals. He may need some grafting there. We will find out tomorrow at his next checkup.
Obviously this has affected my family. Will's biggest shock came right after the accident when his curiosity lead him into the bathroom where he saw Russ in full glory. So that night we did some crying and talking and praying. We figured out how this situation could have been avoided and what we could do to help now--pray for him and the family.
It also helped that Kayela was brilliant enough to ask my boys to keep little Katelyn busy while everyone was tending to Russ. They had both taken that job very seriously during the moment and, as we were talking later, it was comforting to feel that they had made a real contribution in some way.
Howie's big shock came when we saw Russ in the hospital for the first time. He was all wrapped up like a mummy, and even though Howie wasn't afraid to hug him or interact with him, I think it finally set in how big Russ' "owies" actually were. So we cried and talked and prayed some more. In fact, many times over the next few days, at seemingly random times, Howie would stop us dead in our tracks and ask us to be reverent while he prayed for Russ, Manda-Lou, Katelyn, Johnny, and Grandpa and Grandma Reeder.
Howie also got a fear of lighting all wrapped up in this too. I'm not sure how that worked out. We did have some pretty impressive lightning storms in the days preceding the accident, so all I can figure is that maybe he caught a flash of light through the window (the boys were in the house at the time of the accident) and decided it was lightning that caused the fire.
On Sunday after we returned to Utah, Grandpa and Grandma Bardwell hosted us, my parents, and Russ and Manda-Lou's family for a "get back on the horse" weenie roast. Howie was just a little hesitant at first, but soon got into the spirit of things. Will struggled a bit more. When it came time for him to cook a 'mallow for a s'more, he was firing out all kinds of activities he wanted to do instead of interacting with the fire. Usually he pesters and nags us all the way through dinner to get let him make a s'more, so I figure this was still a bit troublesome. But he did finally give in, and he seems much better for it.
All in all, I am deeply grateful that this whole thing wasn't so much worse. I'm still amazed at how well Russ is doing! He's an amazing example of inner strength. He's never had anything but a smile and a positive attitude. And his biggest concerns have always been how this affected everyone else. I guess when Will saw him that night, freshly hurt, Russ still tried to call out to Will and tell him he was going to be okay. Russ has asked me a few times about "Will's recovery."
He's done a lot of joking about it all too, which keeps us all upbeat. When he R.S.V.P.'d for Sunday dinner, he offered to bring "grilled me" as a side. I told him no, I preferred him really, really rare; like wave-a-match-only rare. No more flame-broiled stuff!
Well that is it for me. If you're still reading, thanks for your interest and well-wishes. You are all such lovely people, and I'm glad to be in your family! Thanks for your prayers. They were most-definitely heard and answered in the form of direct blessings for Russ and his family.
May Heavenly Father bless you all for you goodness!
Much love,
Lynners
A few days after this letter, Will caught a bit of sunburn while swimming. We discovered it while getting him ready for bed. Will was smart enough to remember that Russ' burns kept on burning for a while. He immediately expressed grave concerns about what the morning would bring for his body. More tears and praying. Sweet thing. It was a fairly torturous night for him. He would not be calmed. Only the truth by morning light assuaged his concerns.
But all is well now. The boys have moved passed their fears. Russ has surprisingly few scars on his face and neck. He still wears a compression glove on his hand and a few wounds in his heart, but he will recover. It could have been so much worse. We have a lot to be thankful for!
Russ' shirt and garments. Absolute miracle.
At the ShowLo E.R.
Day 2, swollen mummy, in the Maricopa Burn Center
Days 3 and 4, looking better and better.
A few weeks later--out of the hospitals and safely recovering at home. Thank Heaven!
August 8, 2012
Dear family,
Thanks to you all for your interest and support with Russ' recovery. I just love you and appreciate you all more than I can say! Russ is doing very well--better and better all the time. Some of you have been asking for details, and I have been craving an excuse to write all of this out of me. So with Russ and Amanda's permission, here's the story from my perspective: (BTW, it's long! I will not be offended if you don't want to read through it.)
We were having trouble with starting fires up there, because our matches were not lighting (perhaps they were old or exposed to water or something), we didn't have any lighter fluid, and, due to monsoon season, our wood was wet. Going to town is no small matter up there, and we were doing what we could to get around that. So we gambled on gasoline.
On Wed. evening, my dad was working with Russ to get a fire going. After no success, Russ put 2 or 3 tsp of gas in a paper cup. He started to sprinkle it onto the wood, there was no flame in the pit, but there must have been a warm ember or something leftover from the previous evening's fire, because it immediately exploded into fire and traveled up the stream of gas. Russ dropped the cup, but there must have been fumes on his person, because when I looked from my position just inside the house, his whole torso and head were in flames.
As we were realizing what was happening, Russ was attempting to move toward a hose 15 feet away from where he was. Unfortunately, there were chairs in the way, and Russ says all he could see was yellow, so he wasn't having much success. My parents both called out to Russ to "stop, drop, and roll", and he tried, but we learned that Arizona clay is too hard a surface for that to work, so he kept right on burning.
At that point, Joe grabbed a bowl of watermelon juice, and I grabbed a towel and we came running outside. I yelled, "Smother him!" and I'll never forget my dear brother (who had not cried out at all)'s pathetic moan of "Please!" in response. It just haunts me. Joe reached him first and extinguished the flames on his head with the juice; then Amanda, with her hoodie, and I, with my towel, smothered the flames on his body. After that they tried to use the hose to cool him down somewhat before moving him in to the shower.
We quickly gathered all the first-aide kits and medical supplies we could, but it wasn't hard to see that this was a bigger project than we could tackle. My father and Joe administered to him immediately, and after Kayela (a CNA by trade) examined him, they decided to take him to the ShowLo hospital 40 minutes away (if you go the speed limit).
Joe and Kayela drove Amanda and Russ in as fast as they could. As they entered town, Joe was caught on camera and issued a speeding ticket! Grrrrrrrr. Where's a real cop and police escort when you need one!!! He's still trying to negotiate his way out of that ticket too.
Back at the ranch, Grandma Reeder put Katelyn and Johnny to bed in the hopes that Russ and Amanda would soon return and be able to climb into bed themselves. But when they found burning in Russ' throat and looked at the severity of his burns, the ShowLo ER people decided to med-evac Russ to the Maricopa Medical Center burn unit in Phoenix--about 3 hours' drive away. The ShowLo people just aren't set up to deal with repair of lungs or esophagus.
Amanda rode on the plane with Russ, while we scrambled to pack up their necessities and get their kids down to the valley before Johnny would need to nurse again. My mother pointed out that the only hope for keeping these kids asleep was to drive them in separate cars. So Katelyn rode down with Joe and Kayela, while Johnny went in the van with my parents. Thanks to divine intervention, both kids slept the whole way!!
The following morning my boys and I headed down with only the things we would all need to stay there for a few days. This meant that we Reeders left almost ALL of the packing and cleaning to you Jackson girls! I will always be grateful to you guys for facilitating our hasty exit. I know some of you delayed your own departure in order to complete the work load. And thanks to those of you that dropped everything and took care of us during our time in the valley! We are the luckiest people in the world to call you family!
The next miracle occurred when Russ was examined in Pheonix. After all the hurry and stress to get Russ to the valley, they found absolutely no burns in his throat! The lining of his esophagus was irritated, but any burns had healed through the night! And, although his skin continued to burn for days (which is to be expected) as time passed, his other burns appeared to be LESS concerning than before--not more. It's just incredible!
On Friday it was determined that Russ could be transferred to the care of the U of U burn center in SLC. So Manda-Lou's mother flew Russ, Manda-Lou, and Johnny to SLC that night, and Katelyn rode home with Grandpa and Grandma Reeder. Russ is home now and just visiting the burn center for outpatient checkups. At this point, there are some concerns with the injuries on his hand. The tip of his thumb sustained the worst damage, due to a band-aide he was wearing. There's also some concern about how tight his wrist is becoming as it heals. He may need some grafting there. We will find out tomorrow at his next checkup.
Obviously this has affected my family. Will's biggest shock came right after the accident when his curiosity lead him into the bathroom where he saw Russ in full glory. So that night we did some crying and talking and praying. We figured out how this situation could have been avoided and what we could do to help now--pray for him and the family.
It also helped that Kayela was brilliant enough to ask my boys to keep little Katelyn busy while everyone was tending to Russ. They had both taken that job very seriously during the moment and, as we were talking later, it was comforting to feel that they had made a real contribution in some way.
Howie's big shock came when we saw Russ in the hospital for the first time. He was all wrapped up like a mummy, and even though Howie wasn't afraid to hug him or interact with him, I think it finally set in how big Russ' "owies" actually were. So we cried and talked and prayed some more. In fact, many times over the next few days, at seemingly random times, Howie would stop us dead in our tracks and ask us to be reverent while he prayed for Russ, Manda-Lou, Katelyn, Johnny, and Grandpa and Grandma Reeder.
Howie also got a fear of lighting all wrapped up in this too. I'm not sure how that worked out. We did have some pretty impressive lightning storms in the days preceding the accident, so all I can figure is that maybe he caught a flash of light through the window (the boys were in the house at the time of the accident) and decided it was lightning that caused the fire.
On Sunday after we returned to Utah, Grandpa and Grandma Bardwell hosted us, my parents, and Russ and Manda-Lou's family for a "get back on the horse" weenie roast. Howie was just a little hesitant at first, but soon got into the spirit of things. Will struggled a bit more. When it came time for him to cook a 'mallow for a s'more, he was firing out all kinds of activities he wanted to do instead of interacting with the fire. Usually he pesters and nags us all the way through dinner to get let him make a s'more, so I figure this was still a bit troublesome. But he did finally give in, and he seems much better for it.
All in all, I am deeply grateful that this whole thing wasn't so much worse. I'm still amazed at how well Russ is doing! He's an amazing example of inner strength. He's never had anything but a smile and a positive attitude. And his biggest concerns have always been how this affected everyone else. I guess when Will saw him that night, freshly hurt, Russ still tried to call out to Will and tell him he was going to be okay. Russ has asked me a few times about "Will's recovery."
He's done a lot of joking about it all too, which keeps us all upbeat. When he R.S.V.P.'d for Sunday dinner, he offered to bring "grilled me" as a side. I told him no, I preferred him really, really rare; like wave-a-match-only rare. No more flame-broiled stuff!
Well that is it for me. If you're still reading, thanks for your interest and well-wishes. You are all such lovely people, and I'm glad to be in your family! Thanks for your prayers. They were most-definitely heard and answered in the form of direct blessings for Russ and his family.
May Heavenly Father bless you all for you goodness!
Much love,
Lynners
A few days after this letter, Will caught a bit of sunburn while swimming. We discovered it while getting him ready for bed. Will was smart enough to remember that Russ' burns kept on burning for a while. He immediately expressed grave concerns about what the morning would bring for his body. More tears and praying. Sweet thing. It was a fairly torturous night for him. He would not be calmed. Only the truth by morning light assuaged his concerns.
But all is well now. The boys have moved passed their fears. Russ has surprisingly few scars on his face and neck. He still wears a compression glove on his hand and a few wounds in his heart, but he will recover. It could have been so much worse. We have a lot to be thankful for!
Russ' shirt and garments. Absolute miracle.
At the ShowLo E.R.
Wrapped up and ready to travel
Day 2, swollen mummy, in the Maricopa Burn Center
Days 3 and 4, looking better and better.
A few weeks later--out of the hospitals and safely recovering at home. Thank Heaven!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Monday, November 12, 2012
Smarty's First "Real" Concert
For Smarty's birthday, we took him to the Piano Guys concert last Saturday.
We had the best time! Smarty thinks these guys are rockstars, and often points out--most emphatically--that Jon Schmidt "knows all the keys!" (On the piano, that is...unless he's a locksmith on the side, and I just don't know it) Smarty ate up all of their silly banter and fabulous music. Ben spoiled him with treats and a poster and CD, which Smarty loved.
About halfway through the concert, Smarty was getting tired and asked about how long the concert had left. I told him we had while yet, and he repiled, "Then I'm seriously going to need another soda and treat!" Haha. What a nut! He knows how to milk it! Luckily his favorite songs were in the second half, and they soon drew him back into the show.
Sweety spent the night at Grandma R's, and a trip to McDonalds for dinner has him convinced he got the upper end of the stick. ;) I'm glad he didn't miss us!
If you aren't already in love with these guys, you must go find them on YouTube. Just recently they were signed with some big-name label and have been appearing on Jay Leno, Katie Couric, and lots of other fancy-schmancy talk shows since. I'm just happy they've been having some success. They are the nicest guys and totally deserve it!
We LOVE just about everything they've done, but you really must see: Code Name Vivaldi, Peponi, and Rockelbel's Canon if you haven't already (Click on the name).
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Halloween Costumes
I was having trouble convincing him to let me spray his hair with brown hairspray. He kept telling me that hairspray is for girls. But, as soon as Dad told him he thought the brown hairspray was cool, Sweety was on board.
A few days later, when we were getting ready for a family picture, Sweety was not in the mood to wear the required shirt, so we compromised by letting him control his hairstyle. His request? Brown hairspray. Luckily it's a pretty subtle look for him. ;)
Smarty's dream, for a few years now, is to grow up to be a fighter pilot. So this year, when this fabulous flight suit was handed down to us, the Halloween costume choice was obvious...at least it was to me. Smarty needed a little convincing, but he finally came around.
Smarty's pilot outfit went through several different variations. He went back and forth between sunglasses, ear coverings, helmets, and masks. But he had a good time imagining himself saving the day.
Ben chose to embrace his unruly hair and inner quirkiness...
Not bad, if I may say so myself!
I'm so wishing I would have put together Newman to go with. I can totally do short and stalky!
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Escalators Are Evil
This story actually happened in early June, during my father's heart-valve replacement surgery.
This story takes place in a setting very much like the one pictured here, but without the little cardboard soldier barricade. Further research into this picture choice reveals that the cardboard soldiers are in place, here, because a little boy's toe was severed in this escalator. This is the ghastly photo accompanying the news bulletin. And here I am, telling my little boys that escalators are nothing to fear. I can totally feel a parent-of-the-year award in my future soon!
Picture this: My boys and I are navigating the bustling foot traffic of a main-floor lobby in a university hospital. We have a certain amount of time to get down to the cafeteria for some lunch before our next obligation. Note: a time-crunch should have been the first indication that something traumatizing was going to happen. These sorts of things typically only happen when there's no time to handle them.
I am not at all concerned (another indication), about getting my sensory-sensative boys on to the escalator, because we've done them before. On our bucket list of quirky and/or bizarre things to accomplish, we conquered and crossed-off escalators a long time ago. And frankly, what's scary about an escalator, right? They're just fancy stairs. Note: admittedly, looking back to my early youth, I can remember worrying that the glowing light and disappearing floor just might grab my shoes and drag me through the shredder-like teeth at the end of the line. But at the time of this story, I wasn't musing on my childhood concerns.
After all, at least you can see where you're going to and coming from, when on an escalator. Personally, I think elevators offer a lot more in the way of nerve-inducing terrors--stepping into a little window-less box suspended by a string, closing the door, hurdling straight up, and landing who-knows-where.
Any-hoo, I figure my guys might need just a bit of help getting on, so as we step into the escalator line, I position the little one in front of me and the bigger one in back. By holding one hand apiece, I think I can help them both on with me. But as the threshold looms, both boys suddenly realize where we're headed and simultaneously begin their famous panic routine. As they move, flawlessly, through the first movement of the piece, my stomach sinks. But after a very brief, and uninformed, pow-wow with myself, I decide I can muscle them on and all will be well (yes, I can be that naive). So I pick up the hyperventilating 4-year-old and plunk him down on to the step in front of mine. I attempt to pull the 7-year-old on behind me, but encounter resistance.
I turn to access the situation behind me, and in a move that can only be executed by the best of professionals, my 7-year-old slips his hand from mine and locks his grappling-hook fingers into the space between glass panels. By now his squalling has reached pitches and a volume that must surely be at the limit of human capability. And, as this is not my first rodeo, I'm unconcerned, and only vaguely aware of the molten stares from the dozens of over-worked, under-paid CNA's, clerks, and stressed-out patient family members all around us, who are only trying desperately to get some nourishment on their all-too-short lunch breaks. What are ya gonna do?
So in a last ditch effort to 'keep swinging as I go down for the count,' I grab whatever clothing I can and hang on for dear life. I grapevine up a few stairs before I realize the younger screaming kid is rapidly descending and will need some assistance at the bottom. So I stop grapevining, yank desperately on the older screaming kid's ankle, suspending him laterally--Superman style--until his shoe pops off in my hand.
I reach down and pick up the younger screaming kid, who suddenly goes crazy ape all over me, in an attempt to get to his brother, meanwhile the older screaming kid scrambles back up to the top of the escalator and begins his best forsaken-orphan routine. As I float away down the stairs, manic child in one hand, size 12 sneaker in the other, he stretches out his arms and yells, "Mom, no!!! Don't leave me! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Mom! NOOOOOO!!!!" or some such. I desperately try to reassure him that this is not our final parting, and I will come back for him.
I'm certain you would have thought we looked every bit as romanic and tragic as Nicole Kidman and that sweet little boy in Australia.
Well, due to our amazing floor show, the line up for the opposite escalator is every bit as paused as the line behind the forsaken orphan, so the manic child, the sneaker, and I all cross over to the ascending escalator and get on immediately. (So fun to jump to the front of the line every once in a while.) Soon enough, we move into the fabulous reunion scene, and I pull both kids aside, so that traffic can resume unhindered. Note: we put on a heck of a show, and that stingy crowd didn't give us an ounce of applause! Can you believe it? I sincerely hope that will be the last time we ever perform at that venue!
It is at this point that some well-meaning, and timely, woman comes up and says, "Can I help? Here, let me put his shoe back on for you." So the 4-year-old and I sit there and watch as the 7-year-old is shorn. Happily, it didn't take long for the boys to recover and work through the mechanics of riding an escalator. We were able to get lunch and returned to the site for several more successful escalator experiences that day. These boys really are champions in my mind.
Lest you think this story is all done, let me brief you on the finale of this escapade. Late into the evening, when all was still and quiet, I approached the escalators, once more. My mom and I were en route to the exit and parking garage. We shared a laugh as I told her all about our funny little adventure (don't worry, the boys had already left for the day). She, thinking it would be hilarious to throw a mock fit of her own, stood at the threshold, called out something silly, and flung her arms into the air.
Apparently she didn't have a firm grasp on her keys, because they launched into the air and came down, directly onto the book of the studying student on the floor below. They made an impressive sound, even from our vantage point, and I'm very nearly sure that poor student needed a change of clothing after that. Unlike me, Mom hasn't had so much experience with this sort of thing and was
quite embarrassed. ;)
Oh, what a day. At least it makes a good post, right?
This story takes place in a setting very much like the one pictured here, but without the little cardboard soldier barricade. Further research into this picture choice reveals that the cardboard soldiers are in place, here, because a little boy's toe was severed in this escalator. This is the ghastly photo accompanying the news bulletin. And here I am, telling my little boys that escalators are nothing to fear. I can totally feel a parent-of-the-year award in my future soon!
Picture this: My boys and I are navigating the bustling foot traffic of a main-floor lobby in a university hospital. We have a certain amount of time to get down to the cafeteria for some lunch before our next obligation. Note: a time-crunch should have been the first indication that something traumatizing was going to happen. These sorts of things typically only happen when there's no time to handle them.
I am not at all concerned (another indication), about getting my sensory-sensative boys on to the escalator, because we've done them before. On our bucket list of quirky and/or bizarre things to accomplish, we conquered and crossed-off escalators a long time ago. And frankly, what's scary about an escalator, right? They're just fancy stairs. Note: admittedly, looking back to my early youth, I can remember worrying that the glowing light and disappearing floor just might grab my shoes and drag me through the shredder-like teeth at the end of the line. But at the time of this story, I wasn't musing on my childhood concerns.
After all, at least you can see where you're going to and coming from, when on an escalator. Personally, I think elevators offer a lot more in the way of nerve-inducing terrors--stepping into a little window-less box suspended by a string, closing the door, hurdling straight up, and landing who-knows-where.
Any-hoo, I figure my guys might need just a bit of help getting on, so as we step into the escalator line, I position the little one in front of me and the bigger one in back. By holding one hand apiece, I think I can help them both on with me. But as the threshold looms, both boys suddenly realize where we're headed and simultaneously begin their famous panic routine. As they move, flawlessly, through the first movement of the piece, my stomach sinks. But after a very brief, and uninformed, pow-wow with myself, I decide I can muscle them on and all will be well (yes, I can be that naive). So I pick up the hyperventilating 4-year-old and plunk him down on to the step in front of mine. I attempt to pull the 7-year-old on behind me, but encounter resistance.
I turn to access the situation behind me, and in a move that can only be executed by the best of professionals, my 7-year-old slips his hand from mine and locks his grappling-hook fingers into the space between glass panels. By now his squalling has reached pitches and a volume that must surely be at the limit of human capability. And, as this is not my first rodeo, I'm unconcerned, and only vaguely aware of the molten stares from the dozens of over-worked, under-paid CNA's, clerks, and stressed-out patient family members all around us, who are only trying desperately to get some nourishment on their all-too-short lunch breaks. What are ya gonna do?
So in a last ditch effort to 'keep swinging as I go down for the count,' I grab whatever clothing I can and hang on for dear life. I grapevine up a few stairs before I realize the younger screaming kid is rapidly descending and will need some assistance at the bottom. So I stop grapevining, yank desperately on the older screaming kid's ankle, suspending him laterally--Superman style--until his shoe pops off in my hand.
I reach down and pick up the younger screaming kid, who suddenly goes crazy ape all over me, in an attempt to get to his brother, meanwhile the older screaming kid scrambles back up to the top of the escalator and begins his best forsaken-orphan routine. As I float away down the stairs, manic child in one hand, size 12 sneaker in the other, he stretches out his arms and yells, "Mom, no!!! Don't leave me! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Mom! NOOOOOO!!!!" or some such. I desperately try to reassure him that this is not our final parting, and I will come back for him.
I'm certain you would have thought we looked every bit as romanic and tragic as Nicole Kidman and that sweet little boy in Australia.
Well, due to our amazing floor show, the line up for the opposite escalator is every bit as paused as the line behind the forsaken orphan, so the manic child, the sneaker, and I all cross over to the ascending escalator and get on immediately. (So fun to jump to the front of the line every once in a while.) Soon enough, we move into the fabulous reunion scene, and I pull both kids aside, so that traffic can resume unhindered. Note: we put on a heck of a show, and that stingy crowd didn't give us an ounce of applause! Can you believe it? I sincerely hope that will be the last time we ever perform at that venue!
It is at this point that some well-meaning, and timely, woman comes up and says, "Can I help? Here, let me put his shoe back on for you." So the 4-year-old and I sit there and watch as the 7-year-old is shorn. Happily, it didn't take long for the boys to recover and work through the mechanics of riding an escalator. We were able to get lunch and returned to the site for several more successful escalator experiences that day. These boys really are champions in my mind.
Lest you think this story is all done, let me brief you on the finale of this escapade. Late into the evening, when all was still and quiet, I approached the escalators, once more. My mom and I were en route to the exit and parking garage. We shared a laugh as I told her all about our funny little adventure (don't worry, the boys had already left for the day). She, thinking it would be hilarious to throw a mock fit of her own, stood at the threshold, called out something silly, and flung her arms into the air.
Apparently she didn't have a firm grasp on her keys, because they launched into the air and came down, directly onto the book of the studying student on the floor below. They made an impressive sound, even from our vantage point, and I'm very nearly sure that poor student needed a change of clothing after that. Unlike me, Mom hasn't had so much experience with this sort of thing and was
quite embarrassed. ;)
Oh, what a day. At least it makes a good post, right?
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Playmates
Between bikes and wiggle cars, our boys are constantly driving up and down our neighborhood sidewalks and driveways and such. I love all of this outside time! Our friends and neighbors are now referring to them as "kings of the sidewalk." Too cute.
Notice their matching All Blacks shirts? We've gotten a TON of mileage out of those shirts. Thanks, hander-downers!
Here they are proving that, even though they're 'big boys', the box is still every bit as fun as the actual toy!
Notice their matching All Blacks shirts? We've gotten a TON of mileage out of those shirts. Thanks, hander-downers!
Here they are proving that, even though they're 'big boys', the box is still every bit as fun as the actual toy!
Friday, October 19, 2012
One Last Mud Day
We've had a lot of fun with our mounds of dirt this summer. With mixed feelings we're celebrating Ben's hard work to shape and mold those mounds into our landscape plan. He's done a gorgeous job, but we're all a little sad to see it change.
Happily, the Dyson boys came over for one last mud day, before everything was beautified. I think this was about six weeks ago.
As much as I love my gently-sloping backyard, I hope these mud parties are a tradition that will return, at least in some form, for summers to come.
As much as I love my gently-sloping backyard, I hope these mud parties are a tradition that will return, at least in some form, for summers to come.
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