Sammy Sez

So, the little one is THREE now, and boy is it fun to hear him chatter.  Sometimes we can make sense of it, sometimes not.  JimDad is actually the best at interpreting, followed by big brother K, and then me.  The little prince appears to be a man's boy, after all.

He likes to chime in at dinner.  We start the conversation by asking each other how was your day.  If Jim asks him, he just rolls his eyes and says: I was with you, Daddy.  This is not exactly true:  Jim does do chaffuer duties, but isn't with him all day long.  So either K or I pick up the slack, and ask the exact same question.  And, every single time, he tells us:  Good.  I went to Froggies.  (his nickname for his class).

Sometimes he tells us stories.  I'm not sure which parts actually happened, but I'm fairly sure of what didn't happen.  Like, if I ask how he got a bruise on his leg, he'll say   Brantley rode the giraffe, and it kicked me, and I fell, and the elephant sat on my leg.   So, definitely a fall of some sort.

If someone does actually hit him, we DO hear about it.  It doesn't happen often, but he is indignant that one of his friends would do that.  He has an incredulous tone when he tells us their name.

Sam Quotes

He's almost 3, our little Cub.  He's talking up a storm lately.  Sometimes you know what he means, sometimes you don't.   Sometimes he yells at you.  Sometimes he's really sweet.

A few good quotes lately:

The day before Thanksgiving, he got afraid of turkeys.  So on the holiday, we referred to "the meat" or "food."  At the end of dinner, I had lost my patience with his fid-faddling around, pointed to his plate and told him to eat his turkey.

"That's not a turkey," he said, "that's FOOD."

Another day, he was carrying on because he wanted some (more) candy.  Pulling out the love and logic technique, I was very sympathetic and said, "I know you really want some candy, and it's hard when we don't get what we want."  He got close up to me and yelled a few words, "YOU! NO! TELL! ME! ITS! HARD!"    Onto parenting technique 3,498.


Today the still 2 year old was wrestling/attacking his 8 yr old brother.  He was basically hanging off K's back.  So when JimDad told him to let go already, Sam yelled back:  BUT I LOVE HIM!
 "Well, sure, you love him buddy, but you need to let go of his neck!"    #brothers

A Tiny Home, a Large Storage Shed, and Advent

A few weeks ago, we went to a Tiny Home Festival.  It was both really awesome and really boring.
 There were SO! MANY! PEOPLE! and lines everywhere, for everything.  But it didn't feel crowded.   A study in contradictions, really.

Then we came home and I tackled our "bonus" room, which currently functions as a storage unit.  Well, started tackling it.  Got rid of a few boxes of stuff, to a St. Vincent de Paul store and to the garbage.  Put a few more books on the shelf.

Then I found a three inch binder:  a photo album from my college graduation.  THREE INCHES! I huffed and puffed to myself, sure that an event 20 years ago, no matter how momentous, was not worth a three inch album (especially considering there's more memory books buried in there).

I opened it to the first page, and saw my godmother and her daughter, who surprised me by driving from NJ (after flying from FL).  She wouldn't miss it, she said.  Then I saw my independent-minded brother, and remembered when I was just a kid and we DROVE around the Gulf of Mexico to attend his graduation in New Orleans.  There were my parents, looking more or less the same as I think of them,  Even though they looked... younger.    The next page was both of my brothers and I - with my oldest brother having an uneven haircut.  And then I remembered- this was only a few months after he had fallen off a staircase and cracked his skull about halfway across.  He recovered quite well, except his hair hadn't yet recovered from the surgery scars.  And then I realized the first few photos, of my family in the chairs, waiting for graduation to begin:  all that was because of Steve.  He was the rabid photographer.

That's when I realized I was attached to my stuff.

The Winnie the Pooh book in Scots is so much fun to read aloud (almost impossible for me to read silently).  It reminds me of the trip we took, the people we met, the culture(s) I began discovering.   The three inch album says more than the photos inside:  it reminds me of the brother who's since died, and the irrepressible joy for family that he had (he sparked a few other irrepressible emotions- we were siblings, after all).

It's not all that emotionally laden, of course. And there's a few tough decisions I can make about paring down the over-abundance I have.  Now that I'm in my 40s, I've got a bit more history behind me.  But I've realized a lot of what I own is about what COULD be:  what kind of life or hobbies I could have, what kind of person I want to be.  I think letting go of that and accepting what my life currently would be a giant step toward the simplicity I crave.

I don't generally think of Advent as simple...  It's generally a little frantic and a little overwhelming with the preparations, the fun stuff, the church stuff.   Daily devotions feel more like an "ought to" instead of a "inspiring" habit.  This year, I was trying to psych myself up for all that, as usual.

Then I realized the family devotional I bought only has 4 WEEKLY reflections.  And the first Sunday was about all the empty spaces in Advent:  empty stockings and trees, and homes not yet decorated.  And how that emptiness is really about HOPE.

So that's what I'm focusing on.  What can I empty from my stuff, in a way that gives me HOPE for new life?      And maybe even a tiny home with a big storage shed nearby :)

of Giraffes and Loud Noises...

Howdy!  We now return to our regularly scheduled programming...

During that break, the kids had the audacity to keep growing.  They're both at fun ages, but for different reasons.  The 8 year old is a full "big kid" and stretching his wings with learning how to do more complex tasks (organizing!  setting priorities!  pocket knives!).  He still has that truthful observation talent...

such as this afternoon, when we driving home, and I didn't see a guy on a bike crossing the road.  Well, at FIRST I didn't see him, but stopped in plenty of time to wave him across. We watched him pedal awkwardly, and then realized it was because he was carrying signs for the presidential candidate that is my least favorite.  So I muttered:  "Oh, he supports THAT one.  I guess I should've hit him."  Kaden laughed, but I immediately corrected myself:  "No, that isn't right.  We are one country and need to treat each other with love and unity.  I shouldn't say things like that."   Kaden laughed again, and said, "Yeah, that's Dad's language!  You know better..."   Then it was my turn to laugh.  (disclaimer: it's the middle of football season, remember, so language can get salty around here!)

The two year old is entertaining in other ways.  Mostly when he's not being exasperating.  Every day at dinner, we ask each other "how was your day" and take turns listening to news or feelings.  And every single solitary time, he calls out "MY TURN.  I went to froggies."  (The nickname for his class.)  No other information, but he looks you straight in the eye and nods when he says it.

Lately, though, he's been adding more details.  Like when I asked him how he got the bruise on his shin (he climbs *everything* so I'm fairly certain it's an innocent mark!).  He looked at the leg, looked me in the eye and said, "giraffe."  What? Is that on the playground?  He nods and says yes..  I'm imagining an animal themed slide.  Then he elaborates, "giraffe hit me.  then we went under water."    I have no idea what he's talking about.

Which is fairly typical.  he talks A LOT, but we're rarely 100% sure that we're all on the same conversation.  He's also taken a liking to dinner prayers.  When one of us starts, he shouts MY TURN.  GOD.  FOOD.  AMEN.  THANK YOU.  AMEN.   Or he mutters it softly, all as one word:  Godfoodthankyouamen. 

Other times, he rolls his eyes and runs away when we try to talk to him.  Toddlers!  And he's screaming less these days, but occasionally one comes out that's particularly funny.  Last week, we were talking about Halloween costumes, and Kaden said "I'm going to be Batman,.  You can be Superman."   Sam replied by yelling:  NO! I - BAT - MAN!   He actually sounded a wee bit like Michael Keaton...