(sic)

Totally knew it was 2009, not 2010 as posted in my Ode to Summer 2010. Just seeing who was paying attention.

(Thanks for catching my mistake Andi!)

Ode to Summer 2010

Good bye my dear summer of 2010,

I wish we could start all over again.

The visits and parties, and the trips in the car,

With friends, with family who are unfortunately a bit too far.

We had our lessons, oh yes it's true,

Tutoring and karate, piano and guitar too.

These things we enjoyed every week,

To learn new passions of which we seek.

The one thing we enjoyed above all the rest,

Was the one thing we love the best.

The splashing good times at the pool,

Was sometimes the only thing to keep us cool.

And so I bid you a fond departing wave,

This glorious summer I wish to save.

School is starting for another year,

It's sad I know, I may shed a tear.

My children are moving ahead each year,

The memories of this summer I hold so dear.

For soon they will be all grown,

And be out living on their own.

So goodbye dear old 2010,

And although we will never see you again.

We look forward to 2011 summer,

Which may just be even funner!

Summertime Boredom

There are some games which are made to be played by yourself.  Of course there's Solitaire, but if you get some creativity juices going you could play Memory,  Uno, or even Dominoes solo.  And when you're five years-old and you're really bored with no one to play with, despite the plethora of children in our house, your creative juices start flowing!  So you pick up a game and start to play by your self.

Battleship.

He doesn't pick up the electronic bastardization of the original game, where programming the game is about as frustrating as finding that last two-hit ship.  Oh no!  My creative five year-old picks up the the game in which you try to find your opponent's ships by guessing until you score.  Except, it's not guessing when you play by yourself.

Player 1: B - 5

Player 2: Hit!

Player 2: C - 8

Player 1: Hit!

You get the drift.  No challenge, no strategy, just a preoccupation of one's time.

I guess we both win.

Desperate Times Take Desperate Measures

After church today I made a bet with Steve.  The bet was that if the babies took a nap until 4:00 (three hours), I would have every Sunday afternoon off for the rest of eternity.  This was a long shot, I know, but worth trying!  This was after a desperate attempt to flee my chaotic house turned into another day on the job.

So we get home.  We feed the babies and change their diapers, there was nothing standing in the way of a fabulous nap.  They had gotten up early, played in the nursery at church, and were quite tired.  The big boys were occupied with other things (ahem) and were sure to be quiet.  If any day was the day for along nap, today was it!

They slept for about an hour before I heard one screaming baby and then another.  Desperate to save my endless supply of solo Sunday afternoons, I ran up to console everyone.

Now let me tell you about the hardest part about having twins.  It's the inability for me to give all my love, all my attention, all my hugs and kisses to my crying baby when they are both upset.  A crying baby deserves compassion, not a mom trying to juggle another crying baby with a good chance of being dropped on their head.  I do the best I can when this happens, usually reserving my hugs for the baby who is crying the hardest while rubbing the other's hair.  I hate it, and thankfully for us all it happens infrequently.

But I digress....the babies are both crying and I am desperate to get them both to sleep!

I whisk them both out of their beds and do my best to settle them down.  Thankfully I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve.  Kate is a big fan of having the back of her head rubbed, and Luke enjoys a rhythmic tap on the rear or having his back scratched.  Miraculously it works, the babies are asleep!  Unfortunately, they are on top of me and I can't move.  I begin to contemplate the different maneuvers I can do in order to move but I can't think of anything which won't wake up both babies.  And that is not an option.

So I sit there...and wait.

The babies snore and wiggle while I sweat from all the body heat.  I'm not comfortable so there is no sleeping on my part.  I think to myself, "I can do this for two more hours!"

It didn't happen.  An hour later, Steve found me and the babies woke up.

Maybe next week I'll get lucky.  It only takes one Sunday afternoon!

PS Did you notice how many times I wrote the word "desperate"?  Can you tell it's the middle of summer?

A Clog of Blogs

It's summer time!  A time to be carefree and whimsical!  School's out, so let's stay up late and catch as many fire flies as we can.  Let's wait for the ice cream truck for I hear it around the corner.  The sweet smell of a combination of sunscreen and bug spray...how I adore it!

Unfortunately, summer usually is not like this around my house.  I have five children and therefore we spend most of our time in the car, transporting from one activity to another.  Here's an example of my plans for the day, number of minutes to drive the activity is in parentheses:

9:00 drop Trent off at lacrosse camp (30)

10:00 drop Kyle off at tutoring (15)

10:45 pick up Kyle's friend (5)

11:00 drop off Kyle's friend at tutoring and pick him up (15)

12:00 pick up Trent (30)

12:45 drop off wait Trent at guitar lessons (35)

1:15 pick up Trent at guitar lessons (just wait in the car)

1:45 drop off all big boys at karate (30)

3:00 pick up big boys from karate (15)

All of this while trying to keep the babies from their newest favorite activities, including flushing the toilet and dumping out the dog's food and water.  They will be full of energy from sitting in the car all that time.  Good times!

So please pardon my lack of blogs this summer, not that there isn't a lot to write about.  On the contrary, having everyone at home has led to some funny moments.  I'll leave you with this one which happened last night:

Steve got home last night and I suggested going out to dinner.  We packed everyone in the car and headed to a crab shack in the next town over.  We hadn't been there in a while and it was a nice night to just sit out side and get a little messy.  Unfortunately, it was closed.

Now this is the part where my city-girl still lives deep inside me.  I can not imagine going to a restaurant to find it closed!  Especially on a Monday night when I'm still trying to get back in the swing of the week.

Anyway.

So we turn around, en route to our go-to place, and talk about how great the crabs were. "Boy!  I couldn't eat another bite!"  "I'm so full!"  "No ice cream for me tonight, thanks!"  Blah, blah.

Trent pipes in with, "That was the best food I've ever eaten."  Pause.  "I'm being psychotic."

Steve and I turn towards each other and bust out laughing.  Trent says, "What's that word again?"

Sarcastic.

Yes, that's it.

Strange, Rare Thing

Something happened to me this week which has only happened to me once before in my entire life.  Experts tell parents to do it ALL the time, but we never heed their advice.  I've never done it, but know it should be done.  People who do it usually feel very weird about doing it. 

What is this thing?  Talking to parents about guns in their homes.

Twice in my life I've had parents ask me if we had guns in our house.  Each time I am shocked at the courage it took her to ask another me.  Not because I was personally offended, but because I was proud they had the moxie to ask.

We don't have guns in our house.  It's our personal decision.  We know people have them and we are proud to live in a country where that is your personal freedom.  The thing is that people don't talk about guns.  I'm not sure if it is because they are afraid of offending their friends or something else.  Of all of my friends I only know of one family who has a gun in their house, but I am sure there are many, many more.

Every year, children are tragically killed by gun accidents.  Most could have been prevented if parents did a better job of securing the guns.  I consider myself fortunate to not know someone who this has personally affected, but will I be able to say that throughout my life?  I certainly hope so.

We should talk to other parents about guns in houses for the safety of our children, but I'm not sure if it will matter.  Lots of research has been done that parents can talk until they are blue in the face about not playing with guns and children will still do it.  Which leaves it up to the parents to keep their guns safe.  It guess that's where it gets tricky and parents are afraid of offending one another.  What is the definition of a safe gun where children play?

When the mom of one of Lance's friends asked me about guns in our home in an email, I complimented her in person for being so courageous.  She apologized for being "over protective" and even said, "I know you're an Obama girl but I thought I'd ask."  In the conversation, I asked her what she would do if I said I did.  She hesitated for a moment and said she would have asked me if they were safely locked away.

Again, what is safe?

Ultimately it's a matter of comfort for me.  If I am comfortable with trusting the parents with the care of my children, then I should trust them with gun safety in their home.

Does that mean I shouldn't ask the question?  Probably not.  Does this mean I will ask the question? I will try.

This is not meant to be an anti-gun message, for I agree that guns have a place in this world.  I just think there should be a better dialogue between parents about this issue.

Before someone else gets hurt.

Another Lesson Learned

Victorious Kyle!

I take the events in my children's lives seriously.  I revel in their victories and ache in their defeats.  I live vicariously through my children, it's true.  I speak this more as a confession, but know I am in good company.  There are many things in my life I wish I had done differently or had the opportunity to do and so we work hard to expose our children to many things.

I realize today we have gone overboard.  We pushed Kyle to play lacrosse this spring, even though he told us he would much rather play baseball.  We reasoned he has good stick skills and we have good connections with Steve being on the Board.  We didn't think about Kyle.  We didn't think about his lack of aggression in an older age bracket and his sensitivity to failure.  We put him out there on the field with good stick skills, but no drive.  He didn't want to "take the guy out" and sure as heck didn't want to get "taken out."

So he took the path of least resistance, showing up for practices and games but no enthusiasm.  He got beat up by the opponents and by his teammates for being a pansy.  Sometimes he would say something to us and other times he wouldn't.  My heart ached as I watched this, my sweet little boy being bullied by those jerks!

Today it hit me why my I took it so personally, this was my fault.  Kyle didn't want to be out there, but he was trying to please us.  Kyle isn't an aggressive warmonger and that's okay.  Lacrosse may not be the sport for him, he will move on and find his niche.  He loves baseball and will do that in the fall.  He's starting karate and wants to try Cub Scouts.  He's not quitting, just changing.

As a parent, I need to let go a little of living through my children.  It's a hard lesson to learn and one I will need to be reminded of from time to time.  I will always encourage my children to do their best.  For their benefit, not mine.