Wednesday, January 30, 2013

School days

I miss my children when they are away from me. I'm not talking about when I am out of town but every single day they have to walk out the door and head to school. This goes against so many stereotypes of stay at home Moms. You know the cartoon of the kids getting on the bus and the Mom behind the closed front door jumping up and down. Not me, I watch the clock. I wonder what they are doing. I look forward to hearing all about their adventures that day! I set alarms on my phone so when it rings I know they will be home soon. I get excited every time I see them walk up the steps and come through the front door. Now don't confuse this enthusiasm , I do plenty to pass the time while they are gone but in the back of my mind I am always looking forward to when they are back in my arms. Once in a while one of them will walk in the front door and say or do something that makes me wish that they were gone again and that I could go right back to missing them.

I have told this to some who have suggested I homeschool my children. My fits of giggles that follow let them know how ridiculous of a thing this is for them to have suggested. Homeschooling is one of those fantastic feats I know better then to try. In this same category is cliff diving wearing one of those wing suits or jumping over a moving car. These activities should remain in the hands of experienced professionals. Many of my friends homeschool their children and I admire them as someone who cant carry a tune looks up to an opera singer. My feelings are that if I am already screwing them up emotionally why would I want to mess with them educationally? Plus I could not spell myself out of a hostage situation.

"Ok Faith we will let you and everyone here go if you can just spell the word...."
Interrupting I'd say: "everyone get comfortable.."

The bar has been set so high by my friends that do homeschool I could never keep up anyway. My best friend Kimberly post pics of a lot of the activities she does with her boys. Things like fashioning a cave out of the dining room table and letting them crawl in and create cave drawings. I would like to go to her school. I know she could teach me things I did not retain my first time through. Another family learns and memorizes almost everything to music. You walk into their house and hear in the background the tune of yankee doodle but the words are a timeline of Egyptian kings. I need to do this with my internet passwords.

I remember the first time I overheard Larry at preschool age singing a song I know I did not teach her. My heart broke just a little and Mr. LbF had to console me. But that was just the beginning of the things they would come home having learned. The first day of 1st grade Curly came home and I over heard her singing "Copulation means one-two-three". I quickly corrected her to say "calculation". Being Curly she tried to argue with me. So I explained calculation was to add and subtract, copulation was just to add and not till you're married.

Every year they learn things I could never teach them. And Larry is pretty close to figuring out I could not pass her 4th grade spelling test. But for now I will revel in the fact they think I have all the answers  as soon as they pass through the door!

Friday, January 25, 2013

Big decision, tiny incision

Today Moe was playing sweetly singing a song about her vagina and came to ask me a question. After already living through 2 other four year olds questions I was not surprised to hear her ask "girls parts is called a Gina what is boy's called?" I answered as I always have. "It is called a penis". You will get nothing but the truth when it comes to this area around here. I have 3 daughters that are being taught that God gave them the gift of being girls. That means they have come with certain parts called vaginas. With this gift we must take very good care of it by keeping it high, tight, and clean.  I have never wanted to confuse them with silly names like who-who, or titi. You can't push a human out of a peepee! There is power in the parts so Vagina it is!
When it comes to boy parts I am sure we will follow suit and use the dictionary name. I have however taken a poll on what my friends who have boys call it and not two family's use the same name. Junk, pecker, nuts, willy, wammers, po po. No wonder boys have their hands in their pants so much. When you say there is a ding ding and apple bags down there I want to play too!

Boy parts proved to be a mystery to me right away. Mr. LbF changed Shemp quite often in the beginning so by the time I came face to parts with him in broad day light he was a few days old. Does that sound a little braggy? Well, so be it... Anyway there I was, tiny man parts staring up at me. As I went to wipe his undercarriage I was startled by an abnormality. My perfect child had a very distinct line running from his ball sack to his brown eyed monkey. Scared, I called to my husband. He came running and joined me eye to eye 3 inches from the horizontal concern. As soon as he saw what the worry was over, he had a chuckle and said "honey that is his taint".
"Oh my gosh he is tainted? What do we do about it" I asked.

"Nothing, it is supposed to be there, all guys have it."

"Prove it." I demanded.... so he did. And then he said "All the time you have spent down there you never noticed?" Not to be out done I answered "Well excuse me for being a lady, I keep my eyes closed."

Just to make sure I called my friend and neighbor Kim who has 3 boys and she informed me that yes every boy has one and not only that but there is a song her teenager could recite to me if I would like. I declined but remained curious.
Then she said "all the time you have spent down there and you never noticed?".

What is it with these people?....

My very good friend, lets call him Jon not because I am trying to mask his identity but because that is his name went into grave detail explaining his vasectomy to me. Moments of this story could have scared a 17 year old boy into putting off sex for years. But all I felt after he was done is that I could most likely pull one off myself. Mr. LbF insisted that the issue was not up for discussion as a DIY project and would remain off my pinterest board of "must try's".
The big day for the little incision came on a Friday of a long weekend. We had discussed the choice till we were both blue in the balls... um face. All the necessary preparations were done. Our good friends Anne and Clint even brought Mr. LbF a sympathy card and gift bag filled with frozen peas. He unwrapped 2 large family pack bags and I turned to him and said "look Babe Anne thinks very highly of you."

Another close girlfriend warned against the use of frozen corn. Apparently when it thaws out fiesta mix and flaccid is a wicked combination.

I did not get to hold his hand during the procedure because they have these poor guys in and out in under 20 min. They told us they do 3 to 5 every Friday on post.
Recovery went smoothly and after his first day back to work he hobbled in the front door walked straight to the freezer and shoved a bag of peas down the front of his pants. On day 2 of this routine as he closed the freezer door he looked down at  Moe who had a look of shock on her little face. "Daddy did you put peas into your pants?". I quickly explained it was for him to get all better from the Dr. visit he had. By day 4 he had recovered. When he got home from work and was standing in the kitchen filling me in on his day. Moe came running in and asked "Daddy do you need to put peas in your butt crack to feel better?"

I am sure someday my sweet angel of a boy will sing a little song about his parts as well, I just pray it is not the Taint song.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Let the Battle begin

Every so often the evils of the world come slithering up the front steps of my house and I am reminded that I am at war, in a vicious fight for my children's innocence.

When the world fights with words that pierce, I heal with whispers of how proud I am of who they are.

When they are drilled at school how to hide from the "bad guys" by covering the light censer with paper and pulling their feet up on the toilet and hugging their knees, I arm them with the shield of Christ and teach them that they are protected no matter where they are.

At every step in the outside world they are targeted by commercials to consume. So we show them the value in an act of kindness.

When on tv they are exposed to violence, I hug them close and show them how our hands were made for holding not hitting.

I do not hide to kiss my husband for they need to see how a real man treats his wife.

We teach them to be proud of who they come from so that when called names because of their skin, they know that the truth runs through their veins. Prejudice and skin color change with the seasons, blood is always red.

I teach them to take good care of their body so when they are berated all they hear is a lie.

I speak the truth so they learn to trust.

I show compassion so they are compassionate.

I hold my head high in the face of change so that they are resilient.

I allow them to see me cry so that they learn there can be power in tears.

Every battle will not be won, but that does not show weakness. It shows that this is an on-going war.

My children are already armed with the the greatest weapon I can give them right now, they have my time.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Beautiful Soul

We closed out 2012 in true Military Family style, we moved... again. No matter how organized you plan on being during the move, there are always those moments of not knowing, where that one thing that you need most in all the world is.
Working my way through the cardboard jungle I come up for air to eat, pee, and nurse. I am an unpacking machine and Mr. LbF knows to just slide the tray under the door and back away. The older children have learned to let me do my thing and stay far away from "scary Mommy". The little ones are still in the trial and error phase. Moe was following close behind me as I worked and making the most annoying sound with her mouth. I shot around and through gritted teeth said "what in the world are you  doing?" she responded "speaking lawnmower". There was no arguing with her, that is just what one might expect a lawnmower to sound like if found in conversation.
Our brave big girls took the news of starting a new school with grace well beyond their years. They had just finished all the holiday parties at their old school and figured they could get a few more candy canes stockpiled if they hit the last days of school on this end. Smart kids we are raising. We took them shopping for a 2nd first day of school outfit so they would go in feeling their best! I think I was more nervous then either of them. The whole family walked them into the school and waved at them in there new classrooms. Then Mr. LbF insisted we leave. My head hung low as we made our way back to the car. Low enough to notice that the black fleece coat I was wearing had been used very recently as a bed for our white cat. In the shuffle to get out the door I did not bothered to look at myself. I quickly pointed out my "crazy cat lady" attire to my husband and asked him "don't you ever look at me, why would you let me walk around like this?".  Without skipping a beat he replied "when I look at you I don't see the outside, I look into your soul". How the hell is someone supposed to respond to that. I laughed and brushed my coat leaving a white hair trail on the sidewalk.

Right before christmas we cleared out enough boxes to put up a tree and hang our stockings. The girls worried Santa would not be able to find us so I promised to send him a text before I went to bed. Christmas Day went as most do, filled with excited squeals and near ER visits. Shemp got into the left over peanut butter Santa cookies and broke out in hives from head to toe. Took Mr. LbF over and hour to find an open store with children's benadryl. The medicine box being the one thing we needed most in all the world and of course the one box I had not found to unpacked yet.