Remind me again why I'm working so hard for these people....

Plenty of Potatoes, Extra Gravy

When I got word that I'd be going to D.C. for several weeks to study, we set up a little trip for Cari to visit Nikki. As we though over how this would work, it seemed like it would be great for everybody. Nikki would have company while her husband was deployed, Cari would pass time with her sister who she has'nt seen in quite a while, the boys would play with thier cousin Michael, and I could come over and enjoy being with my family on weekends.

This would have worked perfectly, but we didn't factor in one critical piece of information: boys express thier love through violence.

Kade is three, Luke is one, and Nikki's son, Michael is two. There's no way that I could have known beforehand, but according to Little Boy Law, boys are required to hit someone every ten minutes. The only time when hitting is not required is while asleep, though it is still highly encouraged. Three-year olds are also required to submit a "tattle-tale" report for each hitting incident. This is a lot of work, and it's easy to see why little boys need naps and extra dessert to help keep the energy levels high enough to meet the rigorous requirements.

Our boys are nothing but patriots, and in keeping with Little Boy Law, they all three did their best to hit someone every ten minutes. As the adults were generally larger than the children, the boys chose to hit eachother most often, though not exclusively.

Often Luke would hit the Jax, the two-month-old baby. He also fulfilled the hitting requirement on my bald head several times. (I'm not sure what attracts him to my noggin, but he loves to smack my freshly shorn head. He giggles uncontrollably whenever he gets a chance to do this, which incidentally is usually when I'm sleeping or attempting to do so.)

Kade put most of his energy into hitting Luke and Michael equally. However, he's just recently learned the power of the lie, so if you ask him, he'll tell you that he never hit a soul, and that if there's any hitting going on, he definately wasn't involved.

Michael had to put a good portion of his hitting towards building up a good defense. With Kade being slightly larger, and Luke being somewhat unscrupulous about actually waiting 10 minutes before hitting again, Michael's tactic was something like the "Shock and Awe" concept from the Second Gulf War. He would wait until things reached a critical point and suddenly drop a slapping on the head of either Kade or Luke with perfect precision. It was truly a sight to behold.

None of the boys was seriously injured, though there is some speculation that Luke's nose might not heal straight. (Kade has no idea why there is a Lego-shaped bruise on Michael's forehead, the committee is still investigating the situation.) And even if someone had really laid a beating on someone else, that's not the point of this little story.

It was beautiful to watch them beat the tar out of each other. It was hectic and stressful as well, but it was worth it. I'll explain this:

I grew up without any brothers. This is not my parents fault, as they tried (unsuccesfully) four more times to produce a staggeringly attractive male heir like thier firstborn. They did their best, and I love my sisters. But I always wanted a brother. I always thought it would be fun to have someone to confide in and fight with and grow up with. I've got friends that are as close to brothers as is possible, and I love them both as much as I ever would love a brother, but it's just not the same.

Watching my boys beat the living tar out of eachother (or thier cousin, or their mother, or the freaky rabbit toy that sang some unrecognizable song) makes my heart feel light. Knowing that for all the hitting and pinching and fighting, they'll still grow up to have eachother as brothers is worth every smack on my sleepy head. Knowing that they'll have cousins their age who they'll love and miss when they're apart is worth every second I spent cleaning macaroni and cheese from off the ceiling (no, I'm not kidding...all over the ceiling).

It was nothing less than joyous to watch them play and laugh and run, and seeing them reminded me of what an amazing blessing it is to have them all in my life. It was a crazy couple of weeks, but I'd do it all again.

LUKES 3rd WORD, "BATMAN"



DADDY DINOSAUR

Happy Father....???

Nov. 2006

I'm working at nights right now, so I usually sleep from about 9 in the morning to two or three in the afternoon...and I use the term 'sleep' in the most general of senses. Yesterday 'morning' (about 1 p.m.) I woke up to the sounds of the three year old in the bathroom. I congratulated myself on having such a competent kid, all going to the bathroom by himself and what, and rolled back over. Then I hear this, "I poo'd on the floor."
As you can imagine, this made me more than just a little curious. Leaping from the bed like a cat...perhaps a cat who has just recently been placed in a burlap sack and beaten senseless, I stumbled to the bathroom to find, you guessed it. Poo, right there on the floor where he said it was going to be.
I proceeded to interrogate the accused, asking questions like, "Kade, how did the poo get on the floor?" To which I would get answers like, "It came out of my bum."
This went on for about 10 minutes, like a watered-down Guantanamo QandA session. I would try to rephrase my questions so as to properly project my message, which was 'how did the poo get on the floor.' Alas, all I got from the three year old, who might I mention was not bothered in the least by the fact that there was a poo on the floor, was the obvious chain of events answer. 'It came out of my bum. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.'
"This kid is good," I thought to myself. So I gave up. I cleaned up the poo, with the assistance of my staff of highly trained home sanitation specialists (Cari). I've not had to deal with the problem again, though I doubt very much that this will be the last death match between our floor and some poo that I will ever referee.
As best as I can figure, I have two options as a father. The first would be to develop a bi-lateral parenting plan in which Cari and I would tackle the problem based on the strengths that both of us bring to the relationship. I would maybe play some fun imagination games about traveling through a poo jungle and not stepping on the dangerous poo-traps on the ground, which of course I would segue into a lesson about not putting dangerous poo-traps on the floor of the bathroom. Cari could use her mothering instict to express our love as parents but in no uncertain words let Kake know that if he ever poos on the floor again we will chain him in the basement for the rest of his childhood and adolescent years, and that he'd better hope that we either remember to throw food down the stairs every once in a while or that we suddenly develop an infestation of fat, slow, easy-to-catch rats that he can eat or he will starve to death down there.
The other option is to coat the entire house and everything we own in Teflon. I would install a drain in the lowest point in the house and just hose the entire place down once a week. I would probably even get one of those hose add-on things and put a little disinfectant in the mix. "Any job worth doing is worth doing well," I would tell myself.
I've been thinking about which one would be more effective, and based on the fact that I'd dealing with a three year old, and the accompanied threat of dealing with a rash of three year old's in the future, I'm currently looking for a good Teflon dealer. If anybody knows one, lemme know...

Not only is Jess busy at work--what with doing his part saving the world from terrorism..but he's also in charge of the Newsletter for the Air Force here. It's been great for him to try something new, and something he loves! Not to mention he's great at it. That boy can write. It has also been a fantastic tool for allowing him to get to know his superiors. The Commander of the base knows him personally and has thanked him on a few occasions for his great work.

D.C.

D.C. was soooo much fun. Jess was able to take a dialect course up at George Washington University that lasted for 6 weeks. After he'd been there for 2 of those, Cari and the kids drove to D.C. to visit with her sister Nikki for almost 3 weeks. It was the perfect amount of time. The kids all got sick the first week but after that it was smooth sailing. Kade loved going downtown and seeing the dinosaurs, playing at the park like everyday, he even liked the fireworks this year!
Luke and Michael got along so adorably. They seem to just have the same spark of independence and playfulness...cute kids. They all wrestled, and ran and ate and--didn't eat, and had such a great time.


Jess in the meantime was hard at work...He did so well in his curicullem (smart kid that one!) and feels so much more confident in his understanding of the language. Jess' class was quicker then they had expected and the teachers ran out of curriculem a little early. They then filled their time with real learning tools like...making Hummas, and field trips to Arabic restaraunts and book stores, and museums...he loved every second of it. We were able to spend the weekends and the 4th with Jess and loved every second.


Cari and Nikki caught up on our scrapbooking, scrabble playing, and eating big people food (as opposed to mac and cheese and hot dogs for dinner). Not to mention had a great time laughing together while watching our children laugh and cry and be absolutely crazy together.


Our trip was awesome!

Boys at the pool

This summer has been awesome so far. Kade has learned to trust his floaters and now adores the pool. He's jumping in and dunking and being thrown around without a care. Luke's been watching this and never wants to be sitting down in a baby floatation. So now he too has his own floaters and is loving them. (it's so cute to watch his little 1 year old body just floating around in the pool. He still has mom right by his side when he decides he really is only one and would like some help. But we're so grateful for the pool in our complex! Plus, it's a great tool for Cari when she want the boys to go to sleep well--they're exhausted and are almost excited to go to bed.