Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Never Play Possum

So, Trevor and Devin, it is important to never play possum. You might end up hurt...

Let me tell you why.

When I was a kid, living in the middle of Wynona, we had chickens. They spent most of their time in the chicken yard and slept inside the chicken house. Because we had chickens, we also had chores. The chickens had to be fed and watered, and their eggs had to be gathered.

I was afraid of chickens. It was Chad. He told me about cockfights and how those things (spurs) on the back of the chicken's leg could tear you up bad. I was especially afraid of roosters, but I didn't like being around hens after Chad told me all about the secret history of cockfighting.

I was chicken of chickens.

It bothered me. We had chickens. We had chores. And, I was afraid of those chickens, and it made it hard to do my chores.

Chad. I need to call him soon.

Anyway, although I may be remembering incorrectly, I didn't shirk my chores despite my fears. I remember trying to face my fears as much as I could. One thing that really freaked me out was the thought of reaching underneath a hen to gather her eggs. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. Not at all. I thought that maybe when I was all grown up I might be able to gather eggs from beneath chickens fearlessly. But if I was going to get from afraid to fearless, I was going to have to start small.

The very day that I was ready to start small and stick my little hand beneath a chicken, the very first "chicken" I tried to gather eggs was a little dark brown chicken. The hen house was dark-ish inside. I approached the chicken, reached out my little hand, and when I got close (which was probably 2 feet away) I realized that there was a possum playing hen in our hen house, and I was just about to stick my hand underneath her!

Actually, I don't think I knew it was a possum. I only knew it was a scary looking thing that wasn't a chicken and that I had come *this* close to sticking my hand underneath that thing!

I ran back to the house and told Mom about the non-chicken in the hen house.

She got Dad's rifle.

She went back to the hen house.

She fired.

She missed.

Thankfully, she also missed Mr. Gatewood who lived behind chicken yard.

My memory goes blank after that, but I assume that possum got up and ran away, and I know Mr. Gatewood lived another day, too.

I never did stick my hand underneath a chicken.

So, boys, never play possum in a hen house. Memaw might get her gun...

Friday, February 23, 2007

More than meets the eye...

I can not be around Trevor's little transformer without singing, "Transformer! More than meets the eye!"

Trevor has noticed this, and surprisingly enough, the Transformer now inspires him to sing as well.

His song is a little different than mine, though. It goes something like this:
Some have guns!
Some don't!!
Some have missiles!
Some don't!!
Some have torpedoes!
Some don't!!
Some have bombs!
Some don't!!
Some have flaming guns!
Some don't!!

It's an awesome song. And, Trevor came up with it all on his own.


Coming Soon:
Transformers Movie

Thursday, February 22, 2007


On the way to school yesterday, in between talking about words that begin with P, Trevor talked about dying. He doesn't want to do it. Conversations like these make me want to hurry him along to adulthood so that I can quit explaining that he's not going to die anytime soon, and he can just understand what the risks really are without me having to do any of the talking. Because, on topics like this, I just talk myself in circles.

After a plaintive, "But I don't want to die!" this child asked me how he gets married and have babies.

I don't want to die, where do babies come from and words that begin with P. All of this before 8:00 A.M.


Wednesday, February 21, 2007

"P" Week

Trevor's classroom features a letter of the week every week. This week is P week. Highlights of the week include listing words that start with the letter of the week on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and then bringing in an object that begins with the letter of the week on Thursday.

On Monday in the car on the way to school, Trevor and I talked about some words that begin with P. On the way home from school, he told me that his words included Piggy and Puppy.

Daddy took them to school yesterday, and I took them today.

I reviewed the list of all the P words his morning, and I discovered the teachers list the child's name and the P word that he or she came up with. Sure enough, beside Trevor's name were the two words he told me about: Piggy and Puppy.

But, there was one more word, too.

Can you guess what it is?

It is PEN*S!

(I don't want any per*erts or p*d0philes to google this post accidently, so please fill in the blank.)

Please note, I am not a Prude. In fact, I am Proud that my boy is comfortable enough and smart enough to know this is real word and that it's a real word that begins with the letter of the week.

I'm not sure why Trevor didn't tell me about the third word he had come up. I really think he ought to be Proud, too.

As I walked out of Daycare this morning, one of Devin's classmates stopped and said excitedly to me and his mommy, "Devin's Mommy, Devin's Mommy!" I didn't really recognize this little guy, so I was a little surprised that he recognized me. But, his mom had an explanation. You see, I have a yellow car. I think kids like that. One day, her little one saw me and my little one get into our yellow car. Now, Devin's chum talks about Devin and his mommy's yellow car all the time. We moms introduced ourselves, and as I walked away, I heard her little one saying "Devin" and "Car."

It's not just my kids who are cute and clever...

(Who knew?)

Monday, February 19, 2007

Things I've learned from Chinese Fortune Cookies

(that I'd like to pass on to Trevor, Devin, and maybe even Barack Obama if he's going to be our president).

When one cannot invent, one must at least improve.

One can never consent to crawl when one feels an impulse to soar.

You can't solve problems for those people who don't want their problem solved.

Yield and prevail.

If you blame someone else, you will never stop blaming.

If a problem has no solution, it may not be a problem, but a fact--not to be solved but to be coped with over time.
--Shimon Peres (and not from a fortune cookie, but certainly in that same vein.)

I'm going to throw away these fortunes now. I hope that's OK with everyone...


We went to see MONSTER JAM! yesterday. And, it was AWESOME! It makes having boys and no girls all worth it! I get to be a big fan of Monster Trucks! Gravedigger is the most popular monster truck in the world for a reason. He waited until the very end of the show to CRASH! (I'll post pics later). Superman was my second favorite. Maybe even my favorite. I haven't decided. Forget about Batman. He broke his truck without even crashing.

We went to Target and picked up a Blue Thunder for Trevor. I tried in vain to get a Silver Gravedigger for Devin, but Daddy thought he didn't seem all that interested. Pshaw! Monster Truck is one of Devin's new words as of yesterday. Monster Jam is another!

Trevor went through the house and gathered up all of our doorstops to use as ramps and spent the rest of Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! putting on Monster Jams complete with his professional announcing voice.

Of course, his announcing voice made us laugh. He told us to stop laughing. Why? Because he's clever, not funny...

Tonight, more Monster Jams are expected.


Sunday, February 18, 2007

Trevor is clever, but not funny

Trevor is so very clever. Long time readers know this. At school, they have a program called shoiw and share.
They bring an object from home that starts with the letter of the week. This week, the letter was O. He brought in an Oscar puzzle.

Well, T week is not too far away now. I am really looking forward to it. I had hoped Trevor would bring in his new transformer (more than meets the eye!) But, he has other plans. His name begins witb T, so he's just going to bring himself in.

Dad got quite a chuckle out ot this. I also found it funny. Trevor told us to stop laughing because it wasn't funny. Ok. He's clever. But, he's not funny...

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Letters from Barack Obama

I just created a new blog with my letters from Barack.

Letters from Barack Obama

I had to retype 3 of them because they were stuck on my old computer. I added links in there myself.


More stuff and stuff and stuff

First off, I think I am done posting about Devin's language acquisition. He still has words to learn and we hope that someday he starts calling Trevor by a name that SOUNDS more like Trevor than like Treasure or Tricia, but he gets it. He has inflection, he can speak in sentences, he is quite funny (and he's the funny police, too, often commenting on what is and is not funny), and he can tell me pretty plainly what he wants.

He likes to ask things like, "What Doing?" (What are you doing?) when I am doing things that would cause a toddler to ask such a question. Or, "Mommy, WHERE YOU?" Or, "FIRETRUCK, WHERE YOU?" He often asks "Where You?" when he is looking for me, Daddy, Trevor, or a lost toy.

My point is, I think he gets language. So, I won't post about it as often as I used to. Or, maybe I will. Who knows? I like having no rules...

What I do want to post about when it comes to Devin are the other things he's learning (or not, as the case may be.)

He is in the process of learning colors at school. Right now, everything is BLUE! My yellow car is blue. That plate is blue. His fork is blue. YOU are blue. If I ask "what color is this?" He answers, "BLUE!" with great enthusiasm. Fantastic. I just love it.

He's getting better at counting, but for the longest time, here's how he counted to 3:
1, 2, 2! And, that second 2 had the same inflection as would a three if you or I were counting to 3. Funny, Funny.

On Obama, I will look for letters. The ones I want to post are those that are very obviously not form letters. Those were exciting to me. The one I have found so far may actually be a form letter. I was sad one day about the state of the country, so I sent Obama a letter asking him to run for president. I like to think it was my encouragement that helped him decide to run. This letter (and I'll post it letter) seems like it might be a form letter thanking me for my encouragement but giving no indication that he would make a bid for the presidency.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Just in case you're wondering...

THIS makes me happy.

I've written to Mr. Obama several times over the last couple of years. He's always very responsive, and I just like him.

If you're interested, I'll post his responses to my letters.

Otherwise, I'll try really hard to keep my blog a-political...

Snow Stinks

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale
A tale of long commute
That started from the snow bound house
At the end of the route
The end of the route

The mom was a mighty driving woman
Inside her yellow bug
The dad was a patient man indeed
The kids, they were snug
Like 2 bugs in a rug.

Two cars it took to get to work
Dad had a conference call
The work, it never really stops
The Q is a ball
Never miss a call

The plows, they worked awfully hard
But it was not enough
Those 2 hours are gone you know
Lost time is always rough
I could have been doing stuff

Next time I think I’ll work from home
The technology exists
It’s better than the salt and slush
Long Commutes are a *itch.
No kiddin’, a real *itch.

(Sorry about *itch. I couldn't find anything else to rhyme with exists. And, anyway, it really fits.)

Monday, February 12, 2007

Toys. We all love toys.

Here's a picture:

And some words to a song:

I hope it sticks in your head. Remember the toy from childhood? (or parenthood as the case may be). Then remember the cartoon that came after the toy? Then, remember the theme song to the cartoon? Is it stuck in your head, yet?

Yeah? Good...

With that in the background, did you know transformers are back? It's so exciting. I LOVED Transformers when I was a kid. I think I even loved the cartoon and its theme song. Fantastic! I'm so glad they're back. We went to a birthday party this weekend, and Trevor picked out a Transformer for his friend. As soon as he saw his friend, he said, "HI J! I got you a TRANSFORMER!!" He was so excited about the transformer, he really wanted one for himself (and then later for his daddy and his brother.) He's been good, so after his haircut, we picked out this raft. It transforms into a Robot with missiles. This morning, he sang a song about its muscles and its missiles, and it was a darned good song. I wish I could remember the words.


Saturday, February 10, 2007

Photo Blog

After Trevor's spectacular fall where he landed on his lips, we took pictures. We took several, in fact...

He's OK now. Check these out. He got a haircut today. The stylist said, "what do you want?" I said, "Short." She said, "what number?" I said, "HUH?" We settled on 4. I'm pretty happy that I didn't settle on 1.

It is as short as it looks. More than ever, this kid looks like MY kid. As she shaved his head, I got flashes of Austin, Stephen, and Cecil.

I miss his messy long-ish red hair a little bit. If hair didn't grow back, I would cry myself to sleep for the next week, and maybe even the next month. But, Trevor likes it. In fact, as I realized how short it was, I think I blanched, then I and crowded out the stylist for a closer look. She stopped shaving. Trevor said, "it's OK, mom." Later, he told me he liked his hair because it's a "rocker hair cut."

This one was NOT staged.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Language Acquisition, Part 52

One night, I was sitting on the couch with Devin, and he said to me, "Dee Yi Ah."


"Dee Yi Ah!"

I don't get it.

At that point, I think he got up and went over to the light switch, and turned the light off.

OH! Dee (Turn) Yi (Light) Ah (Off or On).

Now, when he wants to dee yi ah, he grabs his little stool and does it himself. He's our lights police.
Not my blog, but awfully funny

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Ah, Comments!

Getting 2 comments is nice! Especially when one isn't from me. So, to my Chinese reader, here's how you comment:
MOM said...

Maybe some people do not know how to leave the comments.
I showed your Aunt Mary how to leave a comment the other day. We have to put in the letters that look funny then when we choose an identity we have to choose OTHER,because we are not registered google/bloggers. then we can put in a name. LOVE MOM

My mom wrote that.

I can't think of anything terribly interesting or even remotely minute and delightful only to me to blog about today. I read a sad story on MSNBC today, and it's kept me sad all day (and, it's not Anna Nicole Smith, though her passing so soon after having a new baby is sad, too).

I'm not going to write about that story. It would just make me sad all over again. Instead, I'm going to write about the time I jumped out the station wagon, on purpose, and let Dad think it was his fault (and it probably was at least partially his fault.)

This one truly is a Trevor and Devin story. I have told Trevor this story, and he asks me to tell it again and again. It's a real cautionary tale I have shared with my boy...

Back in the day, we had an old green station wagon with fake wood sides. I think it was a Buick. The back seat smelled like old gasoline fumes, and I remember talking or thinking about how easily it would be to die of carbon monoxide in the back of that car. Sindy drove it in high school, if I remember right. I suppose it was a righteous party wagon for her. I'm not sure. To me, it was a wagon of DEATH!

Once when I was 12 or 13, I was riding in the back of that station wagon on the tailgate. No seatbelt. Can't wear a seatbelt on the tailgate of a station wagon. Just not possible. We were only driving through Wynona, and it was a short ride, so the risk of hitting a big pot hole and getting knocked out of the car onto the road and into the path of oncoming traffic was pretty small. One of the first times I rode on the tailgate of this car, as we got close to home and slowed down, and because I thought we were pretty close to stopping, I hopped out. I must have held on, and I got a little jolt out of running faster than I normally could behind the quickly decelerating car.

Another time, probably that same week, we were going across town to visit Aunt Opal. As we slowed down in the approach to her house, I decided to try it again. I may have even said to whoever was sitting next to me, (Chad, maybe??) "Watch this!"

As before, I hopped out off the tailgate and held onto the car. Unfortunately, we weren't really anywhere near Aunt Opal's house. Well, she was one block over. What I thought was deceleration in advance of stopping at Aunt Opal's house was only a brief slow down as Dad approached an intersection. So, when I hopped out of the car and held on, I ended up getting dragged a couple of feet before Dad realized that he had lost one of his tail gate riders.

I don't think I ever told Dad that I jumped off the tailgate on my own. I just let him think it was his fault. And, I know it was 1980 something or other and in a small town in the middle of a rural county in a mostly rural state where kids still ride around in pickup beds in 2007, but I think he still deserves a little of the blame...

Let's say 20% for old times' sake.

When I tell this story to Trevor, the moral has always been "DON'T BE STUPID! YOU COULD DIE JUST LIKE I ALMOST DID WHEN I WAS STUPID! SEE!"

Maybe someday, I will tell you why I'm chicken of chickens and how I didn't learn to waterski one day. But, that will have to wait until I can figure how out how to make these cautionary tales for Trevor and Devin.

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

A Note on Comments

Thanks, Aunt Mary, for leaving a comment! Truth be told, I'm quite hungry for comments on my blog. How to get more comments keeps me up at night. That's why I recently tried to trick and then just demanded that Mom leave a comment.

So, just in case you're wondering....

I am totally OK with comments. Leave them. If I have a regular reader in China, I want to know about it! If you are someone who isn't my boys' grandparent or Aunt, I would love to hear from you. I've been hearing a lot of people comment on how their status as middle children has left them starved for attention. I've denied my inner middle child for a long time. But, she's alive and kicking, and she would really like more comments.

Thank You...

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog...

I'm thinking of changing the name of my blog to something like The Minutia of My Life. The fact that I post tiny little details that delight me at the time of posting is perfect proof that this is nothing more than a Mommy Blog that Real Bloggers make fun of. I don't mind, though.

Anyway, Trevor suffered the worst injury of his life last night. I wish I had gotten it on video.

He was racing through the house pushing a little dump truck. Devin has a little train. They got these toys from Christmas from their Great Grandma in Florida, and they love to race them through the house. It's one of the activities they love to do together.

He had raced from the living room to the kitchen around the table and back to the living room about 6 times when IT happened. His dump truck stopped suddenly on the area rug, but he had a lot of forward momentum built up from several circuits around the house. He dump truck wasn't going anywhere, but he was. Still holding on to the truck, his body gracefully arched over the yellow toy. Since he was still holding on to the truck, his hands weren't available to break his fall. Instead, he broke his fall with his upper lip.

Daddy was closest, but he didn't get up to help Trevor at all. This was one of those moments when everything slows down. I think I probably got up and ran to Trevor in less than half a second or so. But, I had time to think, "well, if Daddy won't help, I guess I will." And, I feel bad about that. The accident really did happen in slow motion. It looked like fun. Neither one of realized his upper lip was the only thing that broke his fall.

It bled and bled and bled. And, he cried and cried and cried. I gave him Tylenol. We pressed frozen brussel sprouts to his face. I made him look at his funny face in the mirror. We covered him with a blanket and turned on Meteor and the Mighty Monster trucks. The show finally calmed him down.

He feels a lot better this morning. We thought we should submit an incident report to daycare since they give us incident reports when the kids get hurt (or hurt someone else) at school, but the end, we decided that didn't really make much sense.

I hope he embellishes the story for his friends.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Stuff and Stuff and Stuff

At this point in his life, Devin prefers me over his dad. I think it's because I'm softer and a lot more like a pillow than his daddy.

So, the other night, I was holding Devin, and his Daddy wanted to hold him. He had just taken over diaper duty and felt like Devin owed him a good cuddle. But, Devin would have none of it. He only wanted me. To soothe Daddy, I asked Devin, "who is your daddy?"

Devin replied, "best friend."

That just tweaked my heart strings and made me smile.

I asked about me and Trevor. We're his best friends too. Then, I named off his classmates and our neighbor. All Best Friends. But, Daddy was the first best friend, and I think there's something to that.

Now, even though Devin prefers me now, it will not last forever if Trevor is any indication. Why, Trevor told me no less than 3 times on Sunday that he hated me. He also tells me to stop talking with I start lecturing him, and I'm sure that his command to "Stop Talking!" originates from the same place that his "I hate you"'s do.

And, the mystery of Trevor's preference for the Colts over the Bears has been revealed. He likes the magnet (horseshoe) on the Colts' helmets. The Bears' helmets just had writing on it. Just writing is so boring compared to magnets. What a silly 4 year old...

Monday, February 05, 2007

da Bears, II

Me and Daddy watched the entire football game last night. Thank goodness our Big TV was returned to us the previous Friday in working order! The boys, surprisingly, had no interest in the game at all and stayed in the basement watching Playhouse Disney, instead.

So, I was surprised when Trevor came up after the game was over and announced that he liked the Colts better because the Bears are boring.


I tell you, this is the only football game I've ever watched on TV in its entirety. We have watched the superbowl before, but we always fast forward through the game so we can watch the commercials. I enjoyed the game. I felt invested. I wanted the Bears to win. (I wonder if Lovie Smith will stay loyal to Rex Grossman next year??)

And, Trevor likes the Colts because the Bears are boring? He was born in Bear territory, and he likes the Colts because the Bears are boring? We certainly didn't give him any reason to prefer the Colts over the Bears, and I'm sure we told him we were cheering for the Bears.

I just don't know what to say...

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Kids say the darndest things, II

Trevor was asking questions about dying yesterday. Dying is the topic of conversation about once a week for the last 4 weeks or so. At some point in one of our conversations about death, he asked if he would die, and we answered him honestly. We told him that he would die when he was really old and already had kids, like us, grandkids, like his granma, granpa, memaw and papaw, and probably even great-grandkids, like his great-grandmas. He doesn't want to die. And, he didn't seem to be getting it that he wouldn't die until he was pretty old. So, I told him that it was my job to worry about whether he dies or not and that he doesn't have to worry about it for now. As long as he follows the rules of common sense and Mom and Dad, he is probably in no danger of dying anytime soon.

Later that day, I asked him where is dad was. He said, "Oh, I think he's dead. Let me go check."

When I was a kid, I kept a mental list of things I would never do to my kids that my parents did to me. Like, I would definitely allow my kids to eat cool whip straight of the bowl whenever they wanted. That I couldn't do this as a kid was another reason I couldn't wait to live on my own.

I wonder if answering questions about death and warning him that he could die if he breaks certain rules (like NO PLAYING IN THE ROAD) has already made the mental list of things he will never do to his children...

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Big HUGE thanks to Uncle Jim!

This morning, Trevor got in bed with us at 6:15. He rested awhile. An hour later, Devin joined us. There was no rest after that. Immediately, the boys started play-hitting each other complete with sound effects. It started out with Boing-oing-oing-oing as their fists bounced off of me and each other (and every now and then Daddy who was doing his very best to sleep). Then progressed to tchoo-tchoo-tchoo. It ended with several hi-yah kicks. Well, actually, it ended with a big, "THAT'S ENOUGH!" from Daddy, and everyone got kicked out of bed.

At Christmastime, Uncle Jim introduced the boys to the fine art of play-wrestling complete with sound effects. He taught them tchoo-tchoo-tchoo (the boys' sound effects aren't quite as realistic as his, yet, but getting there!). I'm not sure where the hi-yah kicks came from. TV probably. That's probably also the source for the Boing-oing-oing.

So, big thanks Uncle Jim. Without you, our boys play-fighting would be a whole lot less fun to watch. It probably wouldn't even be play-fighting. It would probably be real-fighting. It's a building block in their relationship, and I appreciate it. A lot.