Webkinz

Last night as we were preparing for bedtime, Victoria informed me that ALL of her classmates have “webkins” and she must have one too! We discussed what Webkins are (since I did not know) and I told her that she has a birthday coming up and that might be a perfect time to seek such a toy. Besides, who are ALL these people with webkins? “Everybody in my class!”

“Like who? Give me names.” She proceeded to name three kids. Out of the 21 who ALL supposedly have webkins, we narrowed it down to three who actually have them.

Fast forward twelve hours. We are preparing to leave for school; Dom has already arrived at work and calls to tell me that there is an accident on my route and to plan a little extra time. I weigh the options of going the usual way, or finding an alternate route to avoid the hassle. I tell the kids that we are probably going to go a different way to school, and that it might take us a little longer than usual. (They are BIG backseat drivers, so I try to give them the gameplan early – saves them from freaking out when I take an unexpected turn.)

As we drive, however, I determine that our original route is unblocked, and we proceed as usual. Still stuck on “it might take longer to get to school,” Victoria complains that all her friends will already be at school by the time she arrives. Oh, please. I ask, “Who will already be there?” She replies, “ALL my friends! Everybody!”

With as much sarcasm as I have ever heard him use, Aaron asks, “Who?! Those three kids who have webkins??!!!”

Good to Go to Mexico (Thanks for the title, Toby!)

In the car this morning, driving to school through thick fog, Aaron asked why it was so foggy. I launched into an explanation of hot-air/cold-air and what happens when they meet. Aaron contemplated my answers, and pondered aloud a new question: "I wonder if it's foggy in Mexico." (I wouldn't know.) And then, as if a new realization had suddenly struck him, "I've never BEEN to Mexico!"

From the sidekick next to him (Victoria): "I have."

Aaron quickly corrected her. "No you haven't!"

"Yuh-huuuuhh. I have TOO been to Mexico!"

Now, Aaron cannot stand to hear Victoria fib, and is quick to call her to task when he senses her losing loyalty for the truth. So, through clenched teeth Aaron reprimands, "Victoria, YOU HAVE NOT BEEN TO MEXICO!!!"

To which she stubbornly replied, "Well, I've been to TACO BELL!"

Why?

A child died this week in our community. His funeral is beginning just as I write this. Through complete accident his little life ended at two years, and though I did not know him or his family, I mourn with them. I know that I have been blessed far beyond what I deserve, and at times like this I wonder why bad things happen to good people. I wonder how on earth his parents and family will ever be able to move forward from his loss. I pray for them that they will find peace and joy again in the future. I pray and cry, and pray and cry, and wonder how many times I could have stood in the shoes of anyone who suffers as much, "but by the grace of God..."
I believe that "all things work for the glory of God." I believe it, but I don't see it. I was driving away from work yesterday pondering this issue, and I thought of Dom's fraternity. They had a t-shirt printed one year with their greek motto emblazoned across the back, and underneath it was the phrase, "We don't expect you to understand." I used to laugh at their arrogance (sorry, guys), but as I thought of this t-shirt in light of all my prayers for this family, I wondered if God wasn't saying the same thing to me. "Lori, I don't expect you to understand." I am not expected to see the inner workings of God among us...I can't possibly identify the good that will come out of this terrible situation. I cannot know each person's heart, each person's struggle, and each person's relationship with God. Suffering brings some people closer to him, and I see some people pull away from him in times of loss. But I cannot possibly understand why this baby died, why his parents have to suffer the enormous tragedy of their situation, and how this is all for the glory of God.
No, he does not expect me to understand. But he does expect me to trust. And, trust I will. I know that he sees far more of this life than I do. So, I have to believe that there is something good that will spring forth from this tragedy. I may never get to see it or identify it, but I know it will be there. Just as he is. I will pray some more, I will likely cry some more, but I will trust.

Reflections from Easter 2006

Just prior to Easter, in an effort to point out that the Easter Bunny's pending visit was not the crux of the holiday, I ventured into explaining the Trinity to Aaron and Victoria - a lesson I knew would be over their heads, but important nonetheless. We sat on my bed talking about how the Three are also One. I admit I did a lot of repeating myself because Aaron was wiggling and restlessly sprawling all over the bed as if to say "yeah, we get it. Can we go now?" Victoria punctuated every sentence I said with, "But why?" and in a feeble attempt to answer her, I kept droning.

When I was finally satisfied that I had said all I could say on the subject, I asked if there was anything they wanted to add about the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit. Victoria replied, "He's on my shoulders."

What?

"He's on my shoulders."

Who?

"The Holy Spirit!" (duh, Mom!) and she touched both shoulders as she completed making the Sign of the Cross. I gazed at her, smiling, and she proceeded to cross herself again, this time saying, "See? Father, Son, Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is on my shoulders!" How amazing, I thought. Is that what it means? Did my four-year-old just educate me on what should have been obvious? The Spirit was left, after all, to continue showing us the way. Is He poised like a protective parent, hands on the child's shoulder to keep the child from straying too far, perhaps leaning to whisper in our ear the way we should choose in our daily decisions?

As I contemplate the Sign of the Cross now, I am renewed with the vision of God in our thoughts, Jesus in our hearts, and the Holy Spirit gently guiding us by the shoulders. Thank you, Vic, for your wisdom. I love learning from you.

Reading with Grandmama

Aaron has reading goals now that he has started Kindergarten, so Grandmama set aside some books on her bookshelf for Aaron's enjoyment. Grandmama was letting Aaron read to her tonight when Aaron started losing interest in the activity. He wanted Grandmama to read more and more of the pages, so Grandmama said she couldn't see the words, in order to make him read it instead. He jumped up and left the room. Grandmama said, "Are you going to the potty?" He replied, "No, I'm going to get your glasses!"

Incentive Chart Part 2

As Victoria had trouble with the incentive chart concept the first day, it's only fitting that Aaron have his moment to bemoan the reward program. They were sitting at breakfast this morning and Aaron had a small craft project going on next to his cereal bowl. What's new? He needed an item (scissors, probably) that Victoria had. Without him really asking for it, I overheard her sweetly say, "Here Aaron. You can have this." I immediately told her how nice it was that she was sharing, and for that sweet gesture she had earned a sharing heart to put on her chart. Aaron thought the heart was so cool, and he wanted one too. He had already grasped the concept that the good deed had to be done unprompted by me, so he suddenly turned to Vic and tried to give her something...something she didn't particularly need right then. I overheard, "Here Vic, you can have this."
"I don't want it."
"But I'm SHARING with you. Here, take it."
"I don't want it."
"Mommy, Vic won't let me share with her!!"
When it starts out like that, it's gonna be a long day.

Incentive Chart

Aaron and Victoria have new incentive charts to keep them on track with daily chores and good behavior. There are 8 things they must do during each day, and they can get extra incentives for good behavior items like sharing, using manners, and being helpful. On the morning that I introduced the charts, Aaron was thrilled to know he could earn a smiley face on his chart if I heard him using his manners. Ever the quick study, he was quite prompt in asking, "Mommy, may I please have something to drink?" I applauded the great use of manners and produced juice and a smiley face for his chart. Victoria, who was having a testy morning, to say the least, quickly shouted, "I want a smiley face!!!" Aaron leaned close to her and advised her to use manners. She responded in a huff, "I want a smiley face PUHLEEZE." The magic word was tainted with exhaustion at having to stoop to such a level, so I maintained my gaze into the pantry as I overheard Aaron instructing, "No, Vic! You have to use your manners and ask for something else." Her reply: "I want SOMETHING ELSE, PUHLEEZE." More whispered instruction from Aaron, "No, Vic!!! Ask for a juice box and use your manners." Victoria: "I want a juice box, and I used my manners!" Not quite, sweetie. Aaron prompted her this time with the entire correct request. Finally she caved, and sweetly asked, "May I have a juice box..." and then "PUH-LEEEEZE!" Close enough.

Loyalty of a Sister

I had taken the children to a local park one sunny summer afternoon to play.  Victoria was 3, Aaron 4.  Aaron was interested in the slide, where two older boys (probably age 6 or so) were playing.  The other boys were putting sand on the ladder of the slide, and when Aaron would try to climb, they would push the dirt onto his feet.  They weren't overly abusive, but I recall wanting to say something to them in an effort to relieve Aaron of the burden.  He obviously wasn't going to speak up for himself.  After about three rounds of sand distraction and bully-laughs from the other boys, Aaron decided playing on the slide wasn't worth all that after all.  One of the boys finally made an offending comment to him, and he just stood there, not sure what to say or do.  As I was just about to spring to my feet, Victoria came from out of nowhere, plopped herself in front of Aaron facing the other two boys, placed her fists on her little hips and hollered, "YOU LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!!" 

I love that girl!!

Training Mommy

This evening I was preparing dinner when Aaron came into the kitchen and asked me to help him pick up his toys. I was up to my elbows in carrots, so I said, "I can't right now. I have to cook dinner." He disappeared. A few moments later he came running into the kitchen, crying that he could not play. What? "I can't play!!" When I asked why he answered, "Because I made a mess in your garden room." I stepped around the corner to investigate and saw nothing wrong. He pointed to the mess...a small toy wheelbarrow filled with toys, and a couple of toys littering the ground beside it. I explained that this was no mess at all, and as I bent down to pick up the few straggling toys, Aaron dumped the wheelbarrow over, spilling all the others onto the floor. "Well, NOW it's a mess," I said. "Can you help me pick these toys up, Aaron?" He answered very matter-of-factly, "Oh, no I can't right now. I have to cook!" and he walked off.

Gossip

It’s very common, when we hear of something happening in another person’s life, to share the information with others. And unfortunately, the bad news spreads just as quickly as the good. In the process of mentally sorting through third-party details, I have to remind myself that I’ve not heard the whole story and am not certain of the validity of what I did hear.
Usually when I finally connect with the grapevine and am shocked by the news I hear, I tend to turn to my husband to relay the message. “Hey, did you know about…” And more times than not, he answers that he has, in fact, heard that news already. That’s when I fly into the Spanish Inquisition with questions like, “How long have you known?” “Who told you?” and “Why didn’t you tell me?!!” Dom is such an amazing man. He calmly gives a half-hearted shrug, glances at me and states simply, “It’s none of my business.” The unspoken part of his answer is: and it’s really none of yours, either. Let’s not judge something we don’t understand. See, God knew what he was doing when he brought us together. Dom keeps me grounded, reminding me not necessarily of my faults, but of my capacity to be better than I am.
So often I have felt an array of emotions over gossip – anger, pity, satisfaction. But have I ever paused to say a prayer for the person who is the subject of the news? And then further vowed not to spread the details of someone else’s trouble? How much better off would everyone be if, when we hear gossip, we simply remembered not to judge something we don’t understand.

Feeding Mommy

Aaron loves fruit chews. We have found Elmo fruit chews, Pooh fruit chews, and the highly-coveted Bob the Builder fruit chews. We ration this sugary snack because Aaron is known to pack them away in his cheeks for too-long-at-a-time. Fruit Chew time is usually spent with me reminding him to chew them up or he will have to spit them out. Today Aaron decided to share his precious Bob fruit chews with me. I was busy feeding Victoria, so I graciously accepted his feeding me the fruit chew and declared it to be the tastiest fruit chew I had ever eaten. Aaron decided then that I needed more. He immediately fed me "anunner" and "anunner" and "anunner" until my mouth was so full of fruit chews I covered my mouth with my hand to prevent the inevitable overload. As I hurried to swallow them down, Aaron showed me the cup of fruit chews he had been feeding me. They were shinier than I remembered them looking in the package. Aaron explained, "See, Mommy? I spit them out!"

Monsters

Aaron has suddenly become afraid of "monsters." I guess this is normal for someone 2½ years old, but I really don't have any source of reference on this, outside of my own paranoia. If you are an expert here, help me out. He loves Mike and Sully from Monsters, Inc., but now every monster is green, and they hide in his bedroom. Yikes! We've done the monster dance to expel them from our midst; we've searched the toybox and evicted a really cute toy bug; and we've tried to understand that maybe the monsters are just as scared of us as we are of them (oh, PLEASE! They're monsters, for crying out loud!!!) You need to know that I am a monster wimp. I don't fear King Kong, Nessie, or Godzilla, but ugly faces, little creepy things, subliminal monsters, and the paranormal REALLY wig me out. So, needless to say, my imagination can send me running for a populated room in two seconds flat. Lately, with Aaron's fear of monsters, I'm afraid (no pun intended) that I'm not as much help as I should be. Especially when Aaron tells me, "There's something laughing in my bedroom. It scares me." Or when he announced last night, "There's a monster in the window." Where, I asked. "In the bushes." Short of putting a For Sale sign in the yard, I don't know what to do. It's very hard to be reassuring when my own heart is about to beat out of my chest. Even typing this is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Someday it will all be a humorous tale. Either that, or I will be so creeped out that you'll be visiting me at the funny farm.

Defining Relationships

Some conversation we were having prompted me to say, "I'm the mommy." Aaron turned to Dom and asked, "Are you the Daddy?" Dom said, "Yes, I am the Daddy. And you are the son." Aaron pointed to his chest and said, "I'm the son." Later, I was standing at the kitchen sink when Aaron walked through and asked, "Mommy, am I the son?" I said, "Yes, Aaron, you are the son." Then he asked, "Mommy, are you the moon?"

Toy Story

One of my favorite Christmas icons is the Old Time Santa. A few years ago, Stacey gave me a large old-world Santa with a flowing beard, dressed in a gorgeous robe and toting garland. He stands about two feet tall, and he has a sweet grandfatherly face (an important feature, given my irrational fear of faces, which Stacey understood.) Each year I stand him in a prominent place, out of the way of children, which lately is in the living room. So, this Christmas, my Santa would be peeking out from beside the Christmas tree. Peeking. Peeking! What the heck was I thinking? The very last thing I need is the thought of something peering at me from behind (or beside) another object! I foolishly dismissed the thought and left Santa by the tree. I did notice that I was not spending much time at all in my living room, a past holiday favorite. In fact, the only time I ventured into the room was when I had to turn off the tree lights, and then I had to lean over Santa, fearing that his face would turn upwards to look me in the eye before he shoved his cane through my lung. I realized my imagination was working over time, so I stepped back to breathe deeply and convince myself there was nothing to fear. Now, Aaron has a Sesame Street alphabet school bus. Big Bird, Elmo, and Zoe call out the letters as the child pushes the buttons on the bus. Cute toy. I couldn't resist buying it. But, as I stood there all alone, calming my own fears, and convincing myself that my two-foot Santa was not going to spring to life and hack me to death, that damn bus started chanting, "U...U...U." I screamed and ran. Santa was in a box the next day.