Camel Cakes

Our boys love pancakes. Vince is gracious to make them pancakes several times a week. Often, they like to have their pancakes with fresh berries, and as an added treat, we'll put a little whipped cream on top. A few weeks ago (or a few goes a week), it was a grumpy morning. The boys were whining and grumbling about much. In his effort to distract them, Vince made smiley faces with their whipped cream and strawberries... the distraction worked for a bit. As I prepared their next serving of pancakes, I forgot to make a whipped cream smiley face... let the meltdown ensue! As I stared at the whipped cream squiggle on the plate, I said "no, look, look - it's not a smiley face - it's even better - it's a camel!" It didn't look anything like a camel... there may have been a hump or possibly a leg - but it was the first thing that came to mind and the best I had to offer (you know, before my mind got going with the required caffeine jolt of the morning). But it worked.

I had to laugh yesterday morning when Vince made the boys pancakes for breakfast. Ezra said, "I want strawberries... oh, and a camel on mine." For Asher, happiness is still a bottle of ketchup... for Ezra, a camel cake.

The Black Plague

I love being a stay-at-home mom. There's not too much I miss about having a full-time job. One thing I can say I miss, however, are sick days. At my last job in Chicago, I had 12 sick days - that's SO many sick days! After a particularly difficult week in HR, my boss even offered to give me a "mental health day" to recuperate from the trying week we had. That is faaannn-tastic! When I used to get sick while working, I'd call in sick, lay in bed all day, watch TV or pop in a movie, sleep, take long baths, and just rest. Although I never relished being sick, it was always a time to rest and recoup back to full health.

Things are different with kids. We have recently had a plague go through the Black home. It started with the boys. All three of them got bacterial eye infections, and Obed also had an ear infection. Then Vince got said plague and (in his words) "just felt like doo-doo." I got said plague last week. I think one of the difficult things about being a parent is being sick. Even when you feel like doo-doo, you still have to work. I think every morning last week, we woke up and Vince said, "could we rent out the kids for just a day or two so we can rest?" I tried to explain to the boys that mommy and daddy needed a sick day, so if they could just sit quietly for 48 hours, it would be a tremendous help... they didn't seem to really get it.

The above picture is one of the days Vince had the plague. He was feeling lousy and trying to rest on the couch. The boys, being healed from their maladies, decided rather than letting daddy rest, it was much better to play hop-on-pop. And me, being the ever thoughtful, caring, compassionate wife that I am said "boys, you need to let daddy rest - he's not feeling well! But first, let me get the camera!"

The Tornado Strikes Again

Ezra and Asher have entered a fantastic phase of imaginative play. They have a few favorite "games" they play - "going on a trip" which consists of getting every suitcase imaginable out and packing them full of toys, books, animals, snacks, pacis, etc. The other game is church. They find their bibles, their "music" (a karaoke machine), their mini-djembe, and the "watchers" (the animals, toys, mommies, etc. that get to watch them at church).

Today in Nearly, Canada, tragedy struck. The Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head family were at the Black Family church, worshipping God (as the watchers of course).
According to eye witnesses Ezra and Asher, "Mr. Potato Head was worshipping God and Obed just came in and broke him to pieces. That was not kind"

The once happy Potato Head worshippers were dismembered and there were body parts everywhere. Obed the Tornado seems to strike quickly and often these days. He rarely shows remorse. In fact, it seems he rather enjoys his destruction.

The jury is still in deliberation, but I think Obed may be charged with 8 counts of voluntary potato (and spud buds) slaughter. Obed claims he is innocent until proven guilty and he's awaiting further investigation. There is compelling evidence against him... just look at him - he has guilt written all over his face.

Rick the Basket

One thing Vince and I have learned and are learning on this journey of parenting is that there are many, many... MANY times when all we want to do is laugh - but we shouldn't. Asher is the king of distraction during discipline. We'll be talking with him about his disobedience, and he'll say or do something to get us off our game. I think he knows if he distracts us just enough, it makes it much harder for mom and dad to discipline. Ezra tends to over-exaggerate - especially when he's tired. It's hard not to laugh at his drama when he says something like, "Asher is going to keep that toy for fifty hundred years and I'll never, Never, NEVER have a turn!"

There are also times that there are just childish mistakes. For months, Ezra would say "of few goes a week..." it made me smile every time. "Hey Ezra, when did we go to the zoo?" "Umm, a few goes a week mommy." Both Ezra and Asher went through a season where blueberries were called "boobies." Often, we'd ask them to use the word blueberry in a sentence just to hear them say "I want boobie pancakes."

We are currently reading through the gospel of Mark during our morning devotional time. This morning we were talking about John the Baptist. Vince was asking questions like who prepared the way for Jesus to come. Asher answered, "John the Basket." I tried not to laugh... Then Vince asked what John the Basket wore for clothing. Ezra answered "hamel care." We both chuckled a bit at that one. Then Vince asked what John ate and the answer was "grapphossers." The thing that finally got us this morning though was when we were all done reading. Vince asked Asher, "who did we learn about this morning?" Asher thought for a minute. He even did his "ummm," as though he were thinking hard to get the answer correct. And then he said, "Rick?"

I suppose either Asher knew John the Baptist had the nick name Rick... or maybe we need to work with Asher on his listening skills.

The Power of the Middle Name Cont...

Apparently the power of the middle name applies to the canine species as well. Today, as Asher was playing trains, our petite, ever so graceful dog knocked over Asher's train bridge. Asher promptly exclaimed, "Clivey Tobias, be careful!"

The Power of the Middle Name

I think most individuals with a middle name have experienced the "power" of the middle name. As a child, when my parents called "Kirsten," I knew I needed to respond in a normal, obedient time frame. However, when I heard, "Kirsten Erica!" - watch out! The middle name holds a certain power that creates a sense of urgency and often times, a fear, knowing you've really done it now.

Obed (middle name - Elijah) has recently become mobile. He is crawling, rolling and scooting anywhere - and quickly! We call him "Obed the Tornado" because for some reason, when he demolishes anything the boys are playing with, if we call him the tornado, it makes it okay with them.

Today, I was unpacking suitcases and I went into the boys room to quickly put their clothes away. Ezra and Asher (middle name - Tobias) were playing trains in the living room, and all of a sudden, I heard Asher yelling "Obed Tobias, stop!" I guess Asher has learned the power of the middle name... and really, when trying to make a point, any middle name will do.

Every Day Things

I realized on this trip to Missouri that things that are often common to most adults are not so common to children - especially children whose only memory of life thus far is in Small Town, North Dakota. Ezra has been enthralled with two things on this trip... forests and highways. Odd. Every patch of trees we drive past, he asks "mommy, is that a forest?" Any time we travel on a road with more than two lanes, he asks "mommy, are we on a highway?" As we were driving today, I started wondering from where this fascination comes. Then it dawned on me... living in Small Town, North Dakota, forests and highways are things we rarely (if ever) see. I can't say I miss the highways too much - or at least the traffic. But the trees - oh, how I miss the dense forests and tall, beautiful trees! I'm thankful for Ezra's inquisitive nature. It helped me notice and appreciate many more forests that I would probably have just passed by. Thanks son.

High Acheiver

Yesterday, we went to a children's museum called the Magic House in St. Louis. Throughout the museum, there are facts about various child-related items. One of the statement boards said that the average 4 year old asks 437 questions per day. I'm relatively certain that Ezra is above average in this area. A few questions he's asked in recent days: How are bricks made? Do birds eat ice-cream? Why do we sleep with our eyes closed? Do squirrels wear undies? Maybe we could send Ezra to your house for just a few hours so you could field some of the questions... if it were two hours, I estimate you would only answer 1.6 questions per minute (assuming Ezra sleeps 12 hours - that's 36.4 an hour - for a total of 72.8 questions in 2 hours).

Happiness Is a New Bottle of Ketchup

As a child, I had a book by Charles Schultz called "Happiness Is." In it, the famed Peanut's character author laid out simple sketches of Snoopy, Charlie Brown and the whole gang with one sentence statements about what defines happiness... Happiness is a warm puppy... Happiness is having someone who cares...

Last week we were going to meet our friends with two first names at the Zoo. I didn't tell the boys what we were doing - just that we had a surprise after rest. During lunch, Ezra and Asher were trying to guess what said surprise might be. Ezra had several good guesses. "Mommy, are we going to a new park? Do we get to play a new game? Are we going for a bike ride?" After many unsuccessful guesses, Asher chimed in. "Are we going to get new ketchup?" What? To Asher, happiness is a new bottle of ketchup.

Bottoms, Blogs and Boys

Every week Vince and I have an in-house date night. We get the boys down to bed, and then we make a nice dinner and sit and chat for several hours over a meal (I'd highly recommend this practice to any couple!!). We were sitting and talking last night about our boys, and Vince was telling me a story from bath. Obed was leaning up against Asher in the bath tub last night, and Asher was getting visibly irritated by his baby brother using him as a backrest. Just before Asher was about to lose his cool, he looked down in the water and pointed, laughing. He said, "look daddy, Obed has a bottom." After that, there was no more frustration on Asher's part - I mean really, how could one be frustrated when discovering that his baby brother has a bottom? I casually mentioned to Vince, "if I had a blog, I think that's the type of stuff I'd write about." Wrong thing to say. Vince jumped on the blog bandwagon for me. I gave every excuse I could think of... I'm not funny and witty like you... I don't have time... I don't have things to write about. But clearly, none of my excuses worked. We worked together on coming up with a name, and after that, I lost interest - thinking maybe Vince would lose interest too. No such luck. I awoke this morning to Vince walking into our room, grinning, with his laptop. "I've got your blog all ready to go." Gee, thanks. So, for the one or possibly two of you out there that care to read a mom's musings about things that are probably mostly just funny to me, then read away. And in case you were wondering, Obed still has a bottom today too.

Fundie Undies

Last week we were reading through the early chapters of Genesis with our boys at the breakfast table. After talking about the fact that Adam and Eve were naked, Ezra laughed and said "yeah, but they had undies on, didn't they?"