Foot Shootage

So... in a fit of frustration and irritation I totally just grounded the boys from TV for a week. And I have to stick to it, because I really laid it on thick.

This should be interesting.

Secrets of My Three Year Old

Elijah's third birthday came and went with no blog post from me. This has been eating at me since his birthday. Especially because it is Eli. The middle child. I am perhaps overly fearful of the middle child syndrome. I can now see where such a thing is plausible (not inevitable.) I used to think it was an old wive's tale, but now I know better. Don't believe me? Have three kids.

Elijah is a complex being. Yes, my three year old is very complex indeed. Smart. Witty. Eloquent. Mischievous. Daring. Self-aware. He is harder for me to relate to than Braedon. Braedon is very much like me in spirit. Elijah is very much like Jordon. His traits; gifts are powerful ones. I feel a strong sense of the importance in raising him right. Maybe it's too many 80's Saturday morning cartoons, but I very much believe that if his powers fall into the wrong hands... not even the Care Bear Stare could protect the world from what he is capable of. 

Okay I exaggerate. I totally just made him sound like as sociopath. Maybe I should stick to examples.

Example 1: The Situation Spinner Eli has a tendency to wait too long before going to the bathroom. Instead of receiving a lecture from me, he often puts new clothes on himself and hides the old ones. When I finally realized what he was doing, we had this long talk about honesty and telling the truth and why it is important. He understood. A few days later, he came up to me, wet clothes in hand, and a hard-to-read sparkle in his eye. 

"Mo-om," he said sweetly. TOO sweetly. "I waited too long again. Here are my wet clothes. I told you the truth. Now tell me 'thank you, Eli, good job!'" 

Example 2: The Young Leader Eli was told not to have water before bed. I heard him sneak out of his room, snag Coral's filled water cup, and return to the bedroom. I tiptoed down the hall to bust him but stopped short at the door, as I heard whispering coming from inside. 

"Braedon. Tell Mom we are just playing hot lava, okay?"

I open the door, hardly noticing Eli stealthily slip the cup behind his back. Had I not known he had it, I may not have noticed.

"Mom, we're playing hot lava," Braedon announces sweetly, as Eli fades into the background. I confiscate the water cup and close the door, again listening to the whispered conversation on the other side.

"Sorry, Eli, I tried." 

"That's okay. We'll just get the water again. When Mom comes in, we will play lava a lot so she won't see the water."

"Okay," Braedon agrees.

Example 3: The Sneak Eli was told no more snacks until dinner. I realized it had been quiet for too long, so I went to seek him out. He was under his bed with the light off and the door expertly barricaded by their toy cabinet. Snacking on an orange.

Remember, Eli turned three April 9th. He is just three. 

Of course this is just one side of him, albeit a big one. I fail to mention his spontaneous hugs and kisses, his fondness for babies, and his desire to be held like a baby and "petted."

Still, it is a knee-jerk reaction for those around us to say he's going to be trouble... But I don't see it that way.

I think of this inborn nature of his, and I think of all the good it can do in the world. It is up to Jordon and me to provide him with a strong sense of morality, structure, routine, security, and an insane amount of love and affection in order to allow his strengths to flourish into something wonderful and positive. I know we can do it.

I believe we were destined to.

Happy birthday, Elijah. I can't wait to see what your future has in store for you.

Blazing Bromance

Facial hair is hot. I have been trying to get Jordon to grow a beard for a while now, but he gets to the 5:00 shadow length and gives up. He says it's itchy and too hard to groom. 

But... facial hair is so hot!

When we started dating, Jordon couldn't even grow a beard. Not an even one, at least. Now when he gets that grizzly look going, it's thick and manly and rugged and... well, hot. Still, he just can't seem to cross that magical threshold from too lazy to shave today land into yummy beard land. Then a few days ago, he gets a phone call. All I can hear is this.

"Haha, really? Who else is doing it? Word. Yeah man, I'm in. I'll just shave tonight and that's it. No? Okay, whatever. Peace."

I am sure he can feel me staring quizzically at him as he hangs up, but he pretends not to notice. I finally ask.

He tells me that bunch of his work buddies have pledged to grow out their face hair until our local pro basketball team, the Portland Trailblazers, are out of the playoffs. 

"Really? Just like that? Onne of you dudes calls and that's all it takes for you to do something I have been eyelash batting at you for weeks about? "

He shrugs. He said he didn't have enough motivation before. Motivation. I should have given him motivation! In the form of deprivation! 28 years and I still haven't learned how to effectively hone the powers of a woman. 

Oh well. Oh, and GO BLAZERS!!

THE BEGINNING

(Jordon hates getting his picture taken. I had to literally chase him around the house and hide behind corners to get these. Which was actually pretty fun.)

If It Keeps on Rainin'...

Last night I settled in for bed. Jordon had a late meeting so I planned accordingly. Made some tea, made the bed, made things cozy. Relaxed, mellow, tired, I crawled into bed. I quickly slipped into that half-asleep state that I usually love so much. This time, though, every time I breached the realm between asleep and awake, I was taunted with a song that sang so loud in my ears I checked the radio twice to see if it had accidentally turned on.

But no. Metaphorically, literally, spiritually, symbolically, situationally, this song embodies my last few months. Okay maybe not literally, literally. But rain literally. It's funny, too. The last time I even remember hearing this song was over six years ago. I remember because I thought to myself I haven't heard this song in a looong time. And it was raining. Go figure.

Over and over, word for word, note for note. Loud. In my ears. In my brain. In my soul. Suffice it to say, I didn't sleep well last night.

My Master Plan

I was reading an article in my latest Parents magazine about how it's important to be realistic about goals. About how it is not only okay to not be able to do it all, but impossible as well.

This doesn't work for me. I HAVE to do it all or I get depressed. I NEED to live in a clean and organized environment. I MUST have quality chill time with my kids and husband. It's important for me to stay on top of what we eat. On how we spend our money. On my relationships.  On the laundry. On my favorite TV. 

I WILL do it all. 

I will blog, too. Blogging is the only thing I do that really leaves a tangible mark. All of the other things are important too, of course, but in the running-on-a-treadmill kind of way, not in a first-place-in-a-marathon kind of way. So I have devised a plan to be better able to do it all.

First, I will force Braedon to chug a Rockstar. Then I will set him up with an appointment at some kind of clinic where they will take one good look at him and prescribe him Ritalin. Then I will ingest his Ritalin which is known to work like crack in adults. THEN I will do it all.

I considered meth, it's cheaper and easier to obtain, especially in these parts. But I am kind of attached to my teeth. Did you know I don't have any cavities? Fact.

I am a genius. Also fact. 

And, just because it's cute... I present to you an awesome example of my awesome parenting.