Emoutional Attachments

We were cleaning out the back yard the other day - the weather was sunny and warm with a deliciously cool breeze. I had just drug out a screen tent that was wadded up along the fence to air it out and see what kind of shape it was in when a little brown mouse scurried out. It frantically ran up to the house and proceeded to hide amongst the collection of yard toys, tools and bikes parked under the eves. The kids were enthralled with seeing their mother scream and dart around trying to keep track of the furry little thing.

Katherine was brave and helpful and J.J. was wily and quick. We chased the rodent back and forth across the back of the house for about 10 minutes, all while I explained why we didn't want the mouse to get into the house. We finally got it to go through the lawn, which slowed it down enough so that I could whack it with the kids' baseball bat.

I think I was yelling "AAAAACCKKK" and Katherine was crying at that point. The poor little guy didn't have much chance and there it lay, still and silent...dead in our lawn. Grace came over and stomped on it (I think she was imitating my "I must protect us against this evil invader" instinct). Then she said, "Oh Mommy, why did you kill Kathleen?"

"Kathleen?!?" I thought. We hunted this animal, killed it, and now you're naming it? J.J. piped in, "Can we keep it?" I quickly replied, "Yes, we'll keep it in the garden, buried under my lilies."

And why Kathleen? Grace comes up with the weirdest names for her stuffed animals - she's got a puppy named Avillary, a buffalo named Moose whose brothers are all named Balooka, a giraffe named Giffidia . So why does the lifeless little fuzzy lump get named Kathleen? There must be some psychological significance, right? Who knows what goes through the mind of my 4 year old!

Looking for a good Plumber?

We had a plumber out yesterday - a real nice guy named Brett Torrey, "At Your Service Plumbing" (his number is 503-465-8776 in case you're looking for help). Grace kept referring to him as the "plumper" and J.J. was very interested in everything he did. He came the day after we called and did a great job - even spent time on the phone telling me what parts to get ahead of time. He worked quickly and efficiently (which I was thankful for since he charges $96/hr), and all told we spent over $500 for all the repairs and parts (ouch!). He replaced the upstiars tub drain (without having to cut through the ceiling below) and installed a new kitchen faucet (with soap dispenser - ooh la la!). He also replaced both bathroom sink drains, which took most of the time I think. We had no drain stoppers before, and found out the drains were an odd size - bigger than most. He replaced both, so now we have sink stoppers - yay! - and he even spent 1/2 hour of his own time (free of charge) making sure they didn't leak. I was worried that J.J. was bugging him (for the first hour, I was shoveling bark dust outside with Grace and told J.J. to finish his math work in the office. Turns out he was shaddowing the plumber and asking questions the whole time. But the guy said he didn't mind and was really impressed with J.J. He said, "He didn't ask any dumb questions and was real helpful. I didn't have to simplify any answers either, he really seemed to understand everything I told him." Now J.J. wants to be a plumber when he grows up, along with his ambitions of pastor, army chaplain, fireman and Christian tatoo artist. Hey, at $96/hr, I'd say go for it!

Chef Sovann

It was almost 7pm and we were just driving into the garage after CYT classes. Everyone was tired and hungry and I had no plans or even a clue of what to fix for dinner. The frozen pizzas and fish sticks were long gone - no quick fixes in the pantry. I was relieved that Sovann had gotten home before us and I thought out loud, "I wonder if Daddy already fixed dinner." For those of you who don't know, Sovann's gifting does not exactly include home economics. His talents lie elsewhere, and we all pretty much know and accept this in our family.
Katherine replied, "He probably would if you asked him to, but we have to be willing to eat whatever he fixes."
Later, I told Sovann what she said and he stated, "She's going to make a good wife someday."

Eating Cows

Yesterday, J.J. asked if the Chef Boy-R-Dee ravioli's we were having for lunch had cow or chicken meat in them. "Cow," I said. Then he said in a happy little voice, "Grace, we're eating cows!" Grace didn't even pause but looked at me with a questioning expression and asked, "Mommy, did you pick the cow from our garden?" "No," I said, "Have you ever seen cows growing in our garden?" Again, without missing a beat she said (as if having to educate her mother of the obvious), "Of course! I see little cows that you picked." Well, there was no convincing her otherwise, so I gave up. So much for J.J.'s attempt to enlighten his baby sister.

Recycling Lessons

Dinner was lukewarm, leftover spaghetti scarfed down at 8:30pm after Katherine's band concert (she was great - played wonderfully and sparkled in her fancy dress). She stayed with Sovann to watch the whole CHS marching band show while I brought the little ones home and got them to bed.

At dinner, J.J. said he learned about plastic recyling in science yesterday, and he pointed out the number in the triangle on the bottom of his Red Robin cup. I told him that in Portland, we don't use those codes, that anything with a threaded neck can be recycled. I picked up the salad dressing and said, "threaded neck." J.J. said, "Ooooooooh, so anything with a twisty cap has a threaded neck?" "Yep," I said, "Shampoo bottles have a threaded neck, the mayo jar has a threaded neck..."

"I have a threaded neck," Grace piped in while wiggling her finger around the narrow little area under her chin. J.J. and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. I don't think that was the response she was hoping for, so she said it again, this time with more fortitude. "I have a threaded neck," she said with furrowed eyebrows and determination. OK, so there you have it.

Skeletons & The Orkin Man

OK, this is an old one, but Idon't want to forget it and I don't have any fresh quotes for today. Last Spring we hired the neighborhood Orkin man to spray around our house for wasps and ants and such. He came in and sprayed for some ants we had downstairs, too. J.J. struck up a conversation with him and asked him how the pesticide worked. The man was delighted to share his knowledge with my curious little son, after which, he said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Without batting an eye, J.J. replied, "I want to be a fireman or a police man, or...a Christian Tatoo guy!" Well, the Orkin man was speechless, not quite sure what to make of it, his eyes the size of beach balls. I think he smiled nervously and something like, "Well, that's just great...I think."

To give a little insight into this curious occupational aspiration of our then 7 year old boy, I have to explain that every week we drive by the tatoo parlor on our way to church, which has very bold, eye-catching designs painted all over it of skeletons (or as Grace calls them, "skidiots") and such. Instead of just telling them to not look (which usually just makes them look all the more), I thought I'd capitolize on this "teachable moment" and discuss the tatoo issue.

I said something to the effect of tatoos being permanent, painful and only for grown-ups. I also told them that when they grow up, they might choose to get a tatoo of a cross or some other meaningful/good symbol, but that their father and I have never done this. They didn't reply (that I can remember), but obviously J.J. kept thinking about this for some time (maybe every time we passed by there).

Liking Who We Are

Yesterday, Grace walked into the kitchen and said, "J.J., you're so cool and handsome. I love you." J.J. responded with, "Yeah, I'm cool, but I'm not handsome." I'm not quite sure if that's because he didn't fully understand what handsome means (I'm not sure Grace does, either, but she knew is was something good) or because he doesn't like his looks. He's not usually shy about his feelings about himself or anyone else - he is usually very positive. When I asked him about this he said, "Well, I'm more battle-ish type." I'm not a prince guy; I'm an army commander." OK, I think that explains it.

Along those same lines, Katherine and I watched "stagedoor", a documentary about a primo acting camp in NY called Stagedoor Manor. She was watching one of the kids audition and said, "wow, he's really nervous, huh?" Then I told her that he actually played the role of Simba on Broadway's Lion King and she said, "Really...really?!?! He was on Broadway and on TV and he's that nervous at auditions? Wow, I like myself." She realized how good she really is (at singing/dancing) and how well she handled the auditions last weekend. She really related to one of the girls who got picked on in school for being "different."

Her mom lamented that she wanted her daughter to just be like everyone else. Not me. No way. I'm am thrilled to death with Katherine's individuality and strong sense of self. Just hearing her say that she likes herself was one of my proudest moments as a parent. If we accomplished nothing else in the year and a half we homeschooled her, then it was worth it just for that. Still to this day, I worry about all the shaming messages I have and sometimes still do send her. Do I worry about her being conceited or full of herself? No way - she is full of insecurities and humility and love and selfishness just like everyone else, but she is pretty aware of others and their feelings and value.