Wood Boys Chronicles

Cafeteria Concerns

2012-01-31T17:12:00.000-08:00

The boys and I enjoyed a play date with Aunt Heather and cousins Will and Caroline.

The weather has been unseasonably warm. So warm that the boys can run around outside without coats. Of course, Cooper pleaded to throw on his swimsuit.

Caleb had an appointment this morning that took him out of school until lunch time. When we returned, I escorted him into the cafeteria. The room was buzzing with students and activity. We quickly spotted his third grade class in the back of the room. One of his teachers had already unpacked her lunch. An ensemble of girls found seats next to her. The boys gravitated towards the other end of the table.

Caleb took in the scene with much anxiety. He rushed over to the teacher and asked where his friend was sitting. Caleb's friend was absent. Fear seemed to grip Caleb. He quickly zoned in on another familiar face and glued himself to his classmate. They plopped down at the end of the table. Caleb wolfed down his lunch.

I watched the scene with a mixture of sadness and trepidation. Caleb looked like a fish out of water. I wanted so much to encase him in bubble wrap and protect him from all the stings and uncomfortableness of life. I pondered swooping in and returning him to the safe confines of home.

Instead, I left him at the cafeteria table and forced myself not to look back. I prayed let him just make one really good friend today. One friend would make the cafeteria a much friendly place.

Well Loved

2012-01-29T17:45:00.000-08:00

Remembering one of the truly magical moments of parenting!

A few weeks ago, a leaky toilet damaged the floor in an upstair's bathroom. We were forced to uproot the damaged flooring and replace it with brand new linoleum. For the last few weeks, we've admired our new pristine floor... until tonight.

As I was putting boys to bed, I rushed into the bathroom to assist with teeth brushing. I glanced at the floor in horror; navy blue ink spots blanketed the linoleum. One son rushed in behind me and quickly explained his ballpoint pen had exploded all over the floor. He had an "oopsy daisy" sort of expression as he professed his sorrow and assured us it was an accident. It was one of those parenting moments where I really just needed a minute to take a few deep, yoga breaths and count to ten.

After I composed myself, I rushed to the computer. I Googled "How to remove pen from linoleum." (I really wanted to Google, "How to keep calm when your children seem to damage every last morsel of your home.") Google equipped me with remedies and I rushed into the bathroom clutching bottles of hairspray, rubbing alcohol, and nail polish remover. What I assumed would be a minor cleanup turned into an over hour endeavor.

When I first started scrubbing, I was angry. I even questioned what life would be like if we had remained childless. Surely, I wouldn't be huddled over a linoleum floor rubbing out pen marks. I imagined my only stress would be which book to read or what TV program to record. Darn kids, I muttered.

But, as I continued to rub, I really reflected on parenthood. Before I held my first baby, I never imagined parenting to be so messy, imperfect, and hard. But despite all its challenges, I would never trade being a mother for pristine floors or an immaculate house.

As my cleaning supplies dwindled, I glanced at the floor. A few ink spots still dot the linoleum. The floor is no longer perfect. I think I'll refer to it as well-loved.

Boys Club

2012-01-28T16:12:00.000-08:00

Look up...zip liners

The boys had a blast walking around the Super Bowl Village in downtown Indianapolis with some friends.

Caleb modeling his first official shirt and tie.

This afternoon, we took Caleb to buy his first shirt and tie. My husband selected a handful of ties and escorted him into the fitting room. He fiddled with the knot and offered Caleb a couple of tips. I watched my husband's demeanor; he seemed to sense that this was one of those monumental father-son moments and savored their shared experience. I imagined Chris would have lots of these moments with the boys in the future. I envisioned my husband providing teenage shaving lessons, dispensing dating tips, and offering marriage proposal pep talks. As happy as I was for Chris, a little part of me hurt. The advice fathers give their sons often can't be replicated by their mothers. That, I know.

I keep reminding myself being the only girl in a family has its benefits. I avoid the trips with the boys to public potties. I'm not asked to coach the teams. Strangers tell me I'm the "princess" in the house. But the thing is, most days I don't want to be the princess as much as part of the group.

Usually the boys look past my gender and adopt me into their male world, but on a day like today our differences emerge. I stand at the door, looking in, blaming my tiara for blocking the entrance.

The Accomplishments of Parenthood

2012-01-26T17:13:00.000-08:00

Cooper started swim lessons at the high school. He looks so official!

I volunteered in Cooper's preschool class today. I was amazed by how calm he was in the classroom. He must store up all his energy and release it at home.

Yesterday, Caleb looked at me and said, "Mom, your kids are your greatest accomplishments."

I snorted. His comments couldn't have hit me at a worse time. After the last few days, I'm not feeling so "accomplished" as I've hit a rough patch in parenting.

Today was better. I'm feeling a little more "accomplished."

Forgotten Fourth Borns

2012-01-24T16:25:00.000-08:00

Collin's birthday began with present opening. Suddenly, his three big brothers were SO interested in him.

Collin invited three friends over for a pizza and cupcake lunch (two friends brought a big sibling).

In pure-Collin style, we served a Batman cupcake cake.

Little friends hovered around the cake, eagerly awaiting a piece.

The cake was enjoyed and devoured!

Opening a few goodies.

After all his friends left, I took the two boys to the Holliday Park Nature Center. Collin looks a little spooked by the snake (me too!).

I've come to the conclusion, fourth borns have a very different birthday experience than their older siblings.

With my first son, birthdays were such a big deal. I spent more time preparing for his first birthday than I did writing my law school admissions essay. I handmade invitations and delivered them to practically everyone we knew. I whipped up a small feast and ordered a gorgeous vanilla buttercream birthday cake. A crowd packed into our tiny house and hovered around the birthday boy eagerly watching his every move.

Flash forward three boys and almost a decade and birthday celebrating has changed. Yesterday, fourth born Collin celebrated his birthday in a more subdued fashion. With the business of life, I plumb forgot about a birthday party until days before. With no time to make or send out invitations, I phoned a few parents. The night before the party, I searched the house for anything resembling a party craft or game. An hour before the party, I still didn't have a solid plan. The kids mostly played and then devoured a Costco pizza topped off with a Target birthday cake.

Reflecting on the different experiences, I questioned, "Do fourth borns have it worse?" Someday, will Collin lounge on a therapist's couch and lament the fact that he didn't have the same caliber of birthday party as his older brothers? Will he flip through his baby book and gasp when he scans the meager entries? Will he wonder why his photo album jumps from a few baby pictures to his high school graduation photo?

Maybe.

But, I hope one day he'll understand he was loved just as much, cared for just as deeply, but celebrated differently.

I'm imagine when he becomes a parent he'll understand.

Thinking of Two

2012-01-22T17:11:00.000-08:00

Collin and I celebrated our birthdays (two days apart) with one birthday cake. The boys picked out a delicious cake.

Chris and I got a sitter to celebrate my birthday. I love this picture because it shows our laundry baskets in the background. Unfortunately, laundry doesn't take a birthday break!

This morning, I opened his door and peered through the darkness. A little figure shot up in bed. I crept over to his dresser and snapped on the light. I gazed at two-year-old Collin, my baby. He rubbed his eyes, smiled, and then outstretched his hands. He murmured "mama." I scooped him into my arms and stroked his hair.

Today, I lingered over hugs and cuddles as it was the last morning I will hold a two-year-old. Tomorrow, Collin turns three. He'll be a big boy, he tells me. I nod my head in agreement while inwardly grieving the fact he's one year older.

Leaving the twos is hard for me. I'm probably the only mom in the world that absolutely adores two-year-olds. The year a child turns two, the world seems to open up to them. They learn to speak and certainly say the "darndest things." The best is when they say "mama" and later "I love you." Two-year-olds become more aware of the people in their lives. They start to play with other children and even develop favorite playmates. Personalities emerge at two-years-old. They express preferences and obsessions materialize (think Thomas the Train, or in our case...Batman).

Of course, two-year-olds are not without challenges. With a stronger voice and emerging personality, they ensure anyone and everyone is aware of how they feel about anything and everything. They'll wage war on car seats, coats, vegetables, and bedtimes. They'll explore the world, but not in the way envisioned, like by marking up couches with pen and spreading lipstick on mirrors.

At least, that describes my two-year-old.

Just when I'm tired of two-year-olds, he'll outstretch his arms and coo "cuddle me." I'll hold him and whisper "stay two forever."

He doesn't listen.

Suddenly, he's three.

Playdate with Papa

2012-01-20T19:08:00.000-08:00

Since Papa has retired, he's enjoyed some babysitting gigs. Yesterday, he even did it alone. Collin was pleased to have a "play date" with Papa.

Why I Still Love the Christmas Tree

2012-01-18T06:39:00.000-08:00

It's mid-January and our Christmas tree still stands in our living room. The lights still twinkle among the naked branches. The angel perched on top now hangs to the side. It's Chris's job too tear down the tree, but long hours in the ER have left him bleary-eyed with little energy to tackle anything else.

Truth be told, I don't mind that the tree still stands. I'm the sort that never really tires of the Christmas tree. I truly wouldn't mind if come April we were hiding Easter eggs among the branches.

Why I love the Christmas tree, even now, hit me when we took all four boys to a furniture store (a harrowing, not recommended, experience). My blood pressure rose as I ensured little boys didn't dirty pristine furniture or shatter breakable knick knacks. Just as I was starting to sweat, a grey-haired gentleman approached our crew. He smiled and announced he was one of nine brothers. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, "We had crazy times, but the Christmases were the best. They were truly wonderful." His expression softened and I imagined he was reflecting back on happy memories of the Christmas trees of his youth.

That's why I love the Christmas tree. It transports me back to those Christmas Day memories of four little boys darting down the stairs, gazing wide-eyed at a sparkling tree brimming with presents. Then watching as the scenery changes around the tree; the room fills with torn wrapping paper, discarded boxes, unwrapped goodies. Four little giddy boys sit in the shadows of the tree, their smiles sparkling as brightly as the tree.

I know it's time for the Christmas tree to hibernate.

I keep reminding myself the magic of the tree remains whether I see it or not.

Dinner: The Perfect Storm

2012-01-16T16:44:00.000-08:00

Connor was thrilled to have friend, Brock, over for a play date.

The kids enjoyed bowling on Martin Luther King Day.

The boys' latest invention: a bungee cord jump.

It was the perfect storm: four cranky boys converging around the dinner table. A few of the boys were bleary-eyed (one who bypassed a nap and another recovering from a sleepover). And, the son who craves routine survived a day filled with variation. The final son, well, he doesn't require much to enter a fray.

Their moods went from bad to worse when I unveiled dinner: pork roast. One son gazed at the steamy platter and declared it "a giant squid, cut in half and cooked." Another son accused me of inflicting "torture treatments." Just like that, the waves began to crash. It erupted into mischief, mayhem, and misconduct. I could literally feel my hair graying strand by strand during the whole ordeal.

As the meal crashed to a close, I sat hunched over the table with tears of frustration welling up in my eyes. Caleb glanced in my direction and mumbled, "Sorry for being mean and stuff."

I was flabbergasted, how very un-Caleb like. My tears of frustration turned to tears of gratitude. I said, "Caleb, I'm so touched by what you said and...."

He stopped me mid-gush, "Don't expect this to become a routine."

I'll take what I can get. It was the rainbow after the storm.

Brother Slumber Party

2012-01-14T17:42:00.000-08:00

Caleb and friend, Dennis, enjoy spraying the snow with a colored water mixture.

For days, the three little boys begged to have a sleepover. Tonight, I acquiesced. They beamed as each boy tugged a sleeping bag onto the floor. They lined up their bags in one little row with their heads facing the same direction. For some time I heard little voices and endless giggles. Now, the room is silent. I glance at the scene, three slumbering brothers nestled together, and I feel grateful. I'm so glad they have each other.

Precious moments

2012-01-12T17:12:00.000-08:00

Connor's Boys and Girls' Club Team poses after their last game. Connor proudly displays his new trophy.

Tonight, Connor pulled me aside and asked if we could go to the store. When I questioned his request, he whispered, "I want to go get Collin a birthday present. I'll use my allowance."

It really touched me. So many times, I referee their squabbles and then nurse physical and emotional wounds inflicted by an angry sibling. Those moments where they are tender towards each other are truly precious.

Coat Conflict

2012-01-11T17:04:00.000-08:00

Caleb's third grade class is required to learn guitar. Perhaps the next Jimi Hendrix?

It's going to be a long winter. We barely have a toe in January and I'm ready for spring. I suppose my biggest frustration is my daily battle between the boys and their coats. It's funny, I have one son that refuses to take it off, and three others that refuse to put it on. As the weather has chilled, it's the three abstainers that provide me with the most grief.

I've tried everything. I've tried to give them a little control, letting them select which coat they'd like to wear. Of course, they picked the lightest, most inappropriate jacket possible. While everyone else was wearing parkas, they were clad in breezy raincoats.

Then, I tried logical parenting: they'll realize it's cold without a coat and put one on without my intervention. The thing is, they never seemed to get cold. Really, I think they'd rather have a full blown case of hypothermia than confirm their mother's right. So, they pranced around outside, clad in skimpy t-shirts and light weight pants. They smiled and act as if it was downright tropical. I cringed my teeth.

Finally, I decided coats were not optional. They looked at me as if I just declared war. Battle lines were drawn. Alliances were formed. Both sides stood ground. Finally, mom victory was had. Three little boys surrendered and pulled on their coats. Clad in winter gear, they begrudgingly piled into the car. Within seconds, they were shedding their jackets.

One broke the silence, "You didn't say how long we had to wear our coats?"

Did I mention it's going to be a long winter?

Cooper: One of a Kind

2012-01-09T17:17:00.000-08:00

The little boys and I made homemade cookies today. Our sole goal was to make more than we eat.

Recently, I was asked to write about one of my sons. Here's what I wrote about Cooper:

When I first gazed at my third son, Cooper, I was shocked. He looked nothing like his two older brothers. The most striking difference was his full head of jet-black hair. He arrived looking a bit like Don King with unruly tresses that seemed to defy gravity. Despite all our attempts at proper primping, his rebellious locks always seemed to fan out from his scalp in a peacock like fashion.

He was also smaller than his older siblings: the tiniest in birth weight and the shortest in stature. At first I worried that his more petite physique could prove to be his handicap, especially in the inevitable scuffle with his older brothers. But as his personality emerged, I realized his innate moxie more than made up for any physical shortcomings. Cooper exhibited a fearlessness, curiosity and ingenuity on par with the likes of Evil Knievel or a Flying Wallenda. He’s what strangers refer to as “spirited,” “all boy,” or “spunky.”

He’s the one that taught me to quit asking “Why?” He’s the one that hurled a golf ball into a one-week old plasma TV. He’s the one that dove into the wishing well at the park. He’s the one that propped the skateboard on the top of the play set slide. Then as my heart skipped a beat, he whizzed down the slide screeching in pure delight. He’s the one that created the human pinball machine by convincing his little brother to stand at the base of the stairs, while he stood at the top clutching my large plastic exercise ball. Then, he erupted into giggles as the ball plummeted into his unsuspected brother. Need I go on? I didn’t even mention the homemade zip lines or the creation of the world’s largest sling-shot. Another time, perhaps.

And, just when my fingers are inches away from wringing his neck, Cooper breaks out into his signature fifty-watt smile. It’s the sort of smile that radiates from his mouth and lands in the twinkle in his eye. Then, he erupts into giggles, the sort of full belly kind that’s highly contagious.

I smile, then giggle, and then question, “Now, what did he do again?”

Lessons in Self Control

2012-01-08T17:02:00.000-08:00

Collin taking advantage of one of the particularly warm days recently.

The boys and I exited from church. As we meandered across the parking lot and into our car, their behavior began to unravel. First, one boy snatched a book from another brother's hand. Then, angry words were exchanged. Finally, threats were uttered. I raised my voice in a volume only appropriate for a crowded nightclub. I sighed and glanced through my windshield at the church's steeple just inches away.

Caleb, engrossed in his own book, yells, "Mom, did I tell you Sunday School was about self control today? They suggested taking deep breaths."

I busted out laughing and thanked Caleb for the tips.

Sunny Days

2012-01-07T17:44:00.000-08:00

For January in Indiana, the weather has been downright tropical. The temperatures rose past 50 degrees with blue, clear skies.

Cooper said, "It feels like we're at the beach."

I suppose after experiencing snow and frigid temperatures just days early, it certainly felt sultry.

The next question came at no surprise. Cooper pleaded "Can we get out the pool?"

No, the boys weren't wearing swimsuits, but they enjoyed spending lots of time outdoors. Today, the sunshine provided a wonderful backdrop for a day trip to Columbus.

We keep crossing our fingers that this weather lasts.

Winning Skills

2012-01-05T17:14:00.000-08:00

Collin put his own winter hat on.

Connor participated in a basketball game tonight. From the beginning, the matchup seemed uneven. Should the score have been announced, it would have been a slaughter.

The opposing team played as if they moonlight for the Pacers. They shimmied down the basketball court, dribbling with ease. They seemed to have plays and know positions. They understood offense versus defense. They always shot at the proper hoop.

Connor's team was another story. Their bunch had a bad news bears sort of feel. They defended anyone and everyone, even their own teammates. They shot at whichever hoop was closest. They dashed down the court, dribbling was optional. They only truly livened up when the post game snacks were distributed.

As I escorted Connor off the court and into the parking lot, I imagined he would have been distraught. Instead he announced, "Did you see me dribble?"

I certainly did. Connor may not have made any baskets or guarded his opponent properly, but he learned to dribble. It had taken two basketball seasons to perfect and now he finally got it. He was so proud, and I gushed over his new found skill.

Connor's team may not have won, but he walked off the court a winner in my eyes.

Twenty Questions

2012-01-04T17:01:00.000-08:00

The boys had a blast at the Children's Museum.

I've become keenly aware that finding out any morsel about Caleb's day involves at least twenty questions and a whole heap of good luck.

Here's how my fact finding mission went this evening:

Me: Caleb, how was school?

Caleb: Grunt.

Me: I couldn't understand your response. How was school?

Caleb: I'd like to leave it a mystery.

Me: At least tell me one little thing about school.

Caleb: I read a book.

Me: What book?

Caleb: I can't remember.

Me: What was in the book?

Caleb: I don't know.

...and on it goes until I finally just give up.

Chris comes home shortly thereafter.

Me: How was your day?

Chris: Grunt.

Me: Did you have any interesting patients?

Chris: Not really.

Me: Anything funny happen?

Chris: No.

Me: Do you want to talk about anything?

Chris: Not really.

I'm starting to see a pattern.

A Silver Lining

2012-01-02T17:01:00.000-08:00

The temperatures turned frigid today paired with falling snow. We eyed the beautiful, warm weather at the Rose Bowl Parade and thought, "Maybe we should move to California?"

A few weeks ago, I was contently folding laundry downstairs as the boys peacefully played upstairs. Right in mid-fold, I heard Connor and Cooper shriek. In chorus they cried, "That's disgusting." Warning bells blared in my head. Those two have witnessed more than their share of truly repugnant things and never once batted an eye. For this sort of reaction to spring from their lips shot panic straight into my core.

I took my time, bracing myself for the worst. As I gazed upon the scene, it certainly didn't disappoint. I'll just say my newly potty trained son is still working on his proficiency with the commode. I'll also say, I've never so wished my wardrobe included a hazmat suit.

Fast forward two weeks and our family is beset by a nasty stomach bug. The last few days have been full of those memorable mom moments (to put it kindly). During those times, I'll think, "It could be worse." Then, I'll reflect on what happened just weeks ago.

The silver lining, I suppose.

Happy 2012

2012-01-01T16:07:00.000-08:00

A mystery virus has swirled around the house with three Wood boys succumbing to its effects. As such, New Year's Eve was sedate. We were up late, but not toasting in the New Year. Instead, we were nursing the latest sick little one. Party hats were still distributed and our annual balloon drop off the balcony continued, but the festiveness of New Year's diminished by illness.

Here's to a healthy (hopefully soon) and happy 2012!

Priorities

2011-12-30T16:41:00.000-08:00

Caleb displaying one of the goodies he purchased with his Christmas money (caught him in a particularly disagreeable moment).

Much better!

This afternoon, I landed at Pottery Barn in search of master bedroom curtains. I wondered aimlessly around the store, becoming more and more apparent of my deep inadequacies in all things home decor. I meandered over to the curtains and fingered fabric panels. Twill or sailcloth, I pondered, feeling like the weight of my decision held as much significance as naming a child.

In the midst of my confusion, a young twenty-something salesclerk strolled over and offered her advice. I explained my desire to buy master curtains.

She chirped, "Oh, did you just move in to a new home?"

"No," I replied. "Actually, we've been there for six year."

She looked perplexed.

I started to explain my answer, but stopped. I suspected the young salesclerk wasn't a mom. She didn't understand yet just where the money for master bedroom curtains can go when four young children roam the house. If I had continued my answer, I would have explained the money for curtains was used for:

-habitual carpet cleaning to mop up all the remnants of four young boys,

-exorbitant amounts of gasoline used to shuttle four kids to school and a myriad of other activities,

-continuous replacement costs of worn out shoes, sweat pants, jeans, sports equipment, coats, and socks,

-massive amounts of food to fill four (seemingly) little tummies,

-library fees for overdue books,

-xray costs and dental charges,

-repair fees for battered walls, well-loved electronics, and defaced home decor,

-Christmas gifts, birthday parties, and Easter baskets,

-plumbing charges to fix a toilet stuffed with matchbox cars and car repairs when the DVD player gets doused with juice,

-private school tuition and preschool fees....

and on and on.

I'm imaging if I unloaded this list, I'd spook the salesclerk. So for now, I'll merely say curtains were not a priority. I'm guessing someday she'll understand.

Wonderlab with Friends

2011-12-29T16:37:00.000-08:00

We headed down to Bloomington with our friends, the Coreys and Hermacinskis. The boys had a great time at the Wonderlab and McDonald's (twice!). I thoroughly enjoyed being with such amazing moms and friends.

I have great pictures of the boys with Emma. I wish I snapped photos of the Corey crew and Annabel too!

With outdoor temperatures surpassing 50 degrees, I insisted that the boys run off some energy at Bryan Park. In the above photo, Cooper asked if he could jump into the creek. I wasn't surprised.

This morning, I was roused by Caleb standing in my bedroom door.

He cleared his throat and announced, "I've thrown up four times. The good news is the last one finally hit the toilet."

Of course, his comments begged the question: "What happened the first three times?"

When I dashed into Caleb's room, it was just as I expected. As a courtesy to all readers, I'll spare the details. Of course, Caleb was darting around the house within minutes, engaging in brotherly hijinks with vigor.

Kuddos to my sweet husband for insisting I go out for a run, and he clean it up!

Snakes, alligators and frogs! Oh my!

2011-12-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

The boys enjoyed seeing all the animals at the Alligator Aaron show. Caleb and Cooper were even picked to handle the snake and frog. We enjoyed having Erin Miller and her girls accompany us to the show and a play date!

Christmas continued

2011-12-27T18:40:00.000-08:00

My extended family landed at our house for our annual Christmas dinner. After eating, we played a gift card exchange game.

We met cousin Brad's new fiance, Kathleen.

My dad, his sisters and spouses.

Cousins, siblings and spouses.

A rash of illness swept through some family members. We missed those that could not attend.

A truly wonderful night with family!

What Not to Do the Day After Christmas

2011-12-26T17:02:00.000-08:00

The boys model new hats and gloves gifted to them from Grandparents Wood.

This morning I had a return at the sporting good shop. For some insane reason, I pondered exchanging the too big running gear for a swim suit. I meandered into the dressing room, clinging to a handful of swimsuits, tags swishing against my legs.

As I yanked the lycra material over my fleshy thighs, I realized what a truly dreadful mistake I was making. After all, I've spent the last six weeks eating like I'd never wear a swimsuit again. October whizzed by in a flurry of Halloween candy. November was spent "trying out" Thanksgiving dishes and then feasting on that one glorious day. The month of December was a feeding frenzy. I didn't think twice as I gorged on handfuls of mini quiches and cheese dips at Christmas parties and downing fistfuls of delicious baked goods, compliments of my generous neighbors.

But, the swimsuit certainly displayed exactly what I'd been up to the last two months. It seemed to suction in my midsection and squeeze the insubordinate flesh into my extremities. I noticed even my knees and elbows began to look robust.

At that point, I peeled off the swimsuit, acknowledging there's a right time to try on swimsuits and today wasn't the day.

I'm going to spend the next few weeks working on my swimsuit ready diet, but wondering how I will celebrate Valentine's Day?

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-26T04:11:00.000-08:00

Cuddling at Christmas Eve service.

The boys eagerly awaiting present opening.

Caleb received his number one coveted item. He was SO excited.

It was a Batman Christmas for Collin.

A special Christmas morning breakfast.

Jesus birthday cake was served at breakfast, per our family tradition.

Collin thought it was great!

Later in the afternoon, we headed to Grandma and Grandpa's house where we met up with the cousins. All the cousins tried to pose together in front of the tree.

My niece Caroline clad in festive attire.

My brother and his daughter, Caroline.

Siblings and spouses.

Yesterday morning, Connor rushed out of his room and yelled, "It's Christmas." Within seconds, a stampede of boys rushed to the Christmas tree with wide-eyes and big grins. At that moment, I thought how wonderful it is to see Christmas through the eyes of children. Of all the times I wish they'd get just a tad bit older, yesterday I hoped they'd stay that age forever.

Merry Christmas!

Dear Santa: Fill 'Er Up

2011-12-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

Took a sweet trip to the Flying Cupcake yesterday.

Cooper admires a Christmas book from his preschool teacher.

The Wood boys are anxiously awaiting Christmas. With so much excitement, the energy level is high. I imagine if we harvested the energy radiating from my four boys, we could power a small village. How the excitement/eagerness manifest itself in each boy is different.

Cooper has turned into an insomniac. He's on high alert for the arrival of Santa. He fears succumbing to a little shut eye could make him miss reindeer hooves on the roof or Santa whizzing down the chimney. So, he's up anywhere between the 11p.m. and 4 a.m. range doing anything and everything to prevent sleep. This morning, I heard quite a crash at 5:30a.m. I ran into Cooper's room to find him sprawled on the floor with a trail of toy boxes strewn all around. Evidently, he was trying to reach the top of the closet with his homemade ladder.

I've stopped asking why.

Caleb has taken to feverishly compiling and revising his Christmas wish list. Today, he announced his list is trimmed to his 15 most coveted items. He admitted he only expects to receive 9 or 10 of them. Hope Santa can live up to such lofty expectations.

Caleb also asked if we could place a sign under the tree that reads, "Fill 'Er Up."

As for me, I'm just trying to diminish the energy level while maintaining the excitement (and all the while keeping the meaning of Christmas at the forefront). No small task!

The Particular Sadness of Motherhood

2011-12-22T14:40:00.000-08:00

I volunteered at Connor's school Christmas party. I informed Connor it was dress up day at his school.

He said, "Great! I think I'll be Batman."

I gently informed him dress up day meant church clothes, not costumes. He shot me a look that said, "Who in the world would think that was fun?"

Yesterday, Caleb was teased and called a few names (nerd being one of them). He came to me in tears, devastated by the entire interaction.

After he recounted all his grievances, I asked him how he handled it.

"Well, I ran to Connor and asked him what to do," he replied.

I questioned, "What did Connor tell you to do?" I imagined Caleb's younger, more sensitive and socially savvy brother provided some splendid advice.

Caleb continued, "He told me to hit them."

Clearly, not what I was thinking.

Note to self: Talk to Connor about his advice.

Fortunately, Caleb left the group of boys unharmed, but walked into the house in tears.

He still wallowed in sadness after his brothers were fast asleep. I pulled Caleb up into my bed and we talked. I opened up about my own childhood memories of rejection and humiliation. Many decades later, talking about some of those stories still uncovered a twinge of hurt. Feeling old stings magnified my sadness for my son. I imagine few things are worse than experiencing sadness through the eyes of your child. I told Caleb God made him an individual and not everyone understands or appreciates that, but that really isn't our problem. Caleb's job is to be the best Caleb he can be.

Caleb's tears dried and he retired in slumber shortly thereafter.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't greet me as quickly. Nothing breeds insomnia like motherhood.

Physician by Osmosis

2011-12-21T17:21:00.000-08:00

The Zionsville Fire trucks ran through the neighborhood tonight with Santa on top. The kids all congregated on the corner and enjoyed watching Santa whiz along.

A friend called tonight. She wanted medical advice from me (not my physician husband). I'd find the call odd if it hadn't happened so many times before. Quite frequently, I'm the recipient of a call from a friend seeking medical advice. All phoning friends are well aware that I hold no medical licenses nor any degrees even remotely related to the medical career. In fact, I had to pray my way through each and every science course I was forced to complete.

Nonetheless, I suppose these friends think I should have learned a thing or two about medicine after being married to a physician for over a decade. As the marriage ages, does a spouse earn a physician degree by osmosis? That seems to be the theory.

Although my medical opinions are not backed by any degree or schooling (and Chris would be completely mortified to know I'm dispensing any sort of medical advice), I know enough to triage neighbor calls.

Bad fall?

Blackouts or vomiting?

Deep cut?

How deep and how long did it bleed?

Weird rash?

Tell me more.

Of course, the best advice I can provide:

I'd go to the ER.

What's one more?

2011-12-20T17:21:00.000-08:00

Caleb examines the "snowballs" at the Indianapolis Children's Museum.

Caleb had a play date today. What started out as a short get together, turned into an all day affair. As the play date was winding down, I called his friend's mother to coordinate a pick up time. I casually mentioned taking my boys to get a haircut later in the afternoon.

The mother interjected, "Great! ______ needs a haircut too."

At first I thought she was joking, but after several additional comments (and a few instructions), I knew she was serious. She wanted me to take ______ to get a haircut too.

"Sure," I piped in. "I'll take him for a haircut. What's one more?"

As I hung up the phone, I grew anxious about the whole ordeal. Controlling the hair fate of someone else's son seemed a little risky. Suppose the stylist cut it too short or made it too long. Could he possibly end up with a mullet? Would this mother blame me for years to come as she gazed at her 2011 Christmas photos?

Then, I reflected on how many times others (or I) have thought, "What's one more?" It seems if you surpass some childbearing threshold, the general population views your vehicle as some sort of public transport and your activities as a sort of community service.

Going to the dentist?

Why not add two neighbor kids.

Flu shots at Walgreens?

Surely Connor's bus mates can snag a ride too.

An outing to purchase Christmas presents?

Remember to bring the preschool carpool.

I suppose when you're outnumbered as much as I am, you really think, "What's one more?" The chaos seems to stay the same even when adding a few.

A Twist on the Advent Story

2011-12-19T12:04:00.000-08:00

Years ago, we purchased a Fisher Price nativity scene playset. The set contained a manager with plastic figurines and barnyard animals. Each Christmas, the boys have a blast reconfiguring the scene and making up stories. I noticed Fisher Price advertises the product in this way: Children love retelling the story through play. I admit my children love retelling the advent story with the help of the set, but I've noticed they've added a few modifications and additional participants.

A few days ago a handful of matchbox cars arrived at the stable. Cooper worked with precision to position each and every vehicle in just the right spot around the stable perimeter. Gazing at the scene, the cars appear to have traveled a distance just to gaze at the Christ child.

Yesterday, a pack of dinosaurs descended on the stable. Joseph held strong against a Tyrannosaurus, but fell victim to a Pterodactyl. Wisely, the wise men were nowhere to be found.

This morning, Batman met up with Mary and Joseph. Everything was going fine until the three wise man arrived at the stable. All of a sudden, a ninja fight broke out: Mary, Joseph and Batman versus the wise men. Peace on Earth was yet to be found.

Right now, baby Jesus is missing. Wondering if he took cover?

How to Be a Millionaire

2011-12-18T17:24:00.000-08:00

Collin looks so big compared to his little one-year-old friend, Mia Brinkruff. Enjoyed a fondue night with our friends, the Brinkruffs.

This morning, Connor announced he planned to be a millionaire.

I questioned how exactly he expected to make his fortune.

He described creative "money-making" inventions he planned to create.

Caleb listened to Connor's monologue. Finally, he interjected, "Why don't you just inherit the money. That's what I'm going to do."

Lego War

2011-12-17T15:09:00.000-08:00

My dear husband turned 40 on Thursday. We celebrated with his work friends at an ER Christmas party. They added a few birthday cupcakes and sang a round of "Happy Birthday."

The next day, I attended Caleb's school holiday party.

The boys visited Santa today at the Indiana State Museum. Most of the other kids waiting in line were clad in cute Christmas sweaters and velvet dresses. I was just lucky to get them all there, they picked their attire. All the boys told Santa their "wish list." Connor asked for a dog. Glad Santa didn't commit on that one!

After a series of late nights, I snuck in a nap during "quiet time." As expected, quiet time was none so quiet. Pretty soon, I heard angry rumblings from the boys. Quickly, I ran to the commotion. Cooper sat in a room, surrounded by an overturned Lego box. Every Lego we own was strewn across the floor. The multi-colored pieces looked like confetti moments after a New Year's Eve countdown. There were so many I could barely spot the carpet.

"What happened?" I asked, questioning the obvious.

"Cooper dumped the entire bin of Legos," Connor quickly piped in, all to eager to finger his little brother.

I informed Cooper he'd need to clean up the mess and could not leave the room until it was finished.

A few minutes later, Cooper stormed out of the room and marched right up to me. He puffed out his chest and held his head high. He said with as much gumption as he could muster, "I've made a decision. I'm not going to clean up the Legos."

I met his glare and replied, "It's not your decision to make."

Reluctantly, he retreated back into the room, but continued his campaign against the Lego cleanup. He employed a civil disobedience tactic: sitting in the room for an hour and a half, refusing to pick up one single piece.

During this time, I tried my best to make staying in the room as painful as possible (in the nicest way). I offered the other three boys snacks, and they feasted on fistfuls of goldfish just feet away from Cooper. Cooper eyed his brothers longingly, but didn't budge.

Finally, after one hour and forty-five minutes, he caved. He began scooping up Legos by the handful. Within minutes, the war was over. He had officially surrendered. The room was clean, peace was had, and an extra snack was served.

What it takes to be the best mommy

2011-12-14T17:46:00.000-08:00

Collin fully enjoyed his role as Christmas cookie tester!

This evening, Cooper sustained a particularly nasty scrape. I'm sure it was uncomfortable, but I'm also sure he discovered an opportunity to snag a heaping of attention and sympathy. As tears streamed down his face, I pulled him into a bear hug and then planted two bandaids on his wound.

He looked into my eyes and said, "You're the best mommy in the world."

Connor, listening to the conversation, interjected, "She's not really the best mommy in the world."

He continued, "Can she do acrobatics?"

"Can she shoot a gun?"

"Has she been in the army?"

"Can she fight like a ninja?"

And on and on he peppered us with a litany of questions. Pretty soon, my "best mommy status" seemed shaky and undeserved.

Cooper listened and then piped up, "She puts bandaids on."

Isn't it great when that's all it takes to be the best.

Advent Expectations

2011-12-13T16:49:00.000-08:00

A beautiful Christmas gift from Chris's work.

It's advent season again. Each year, I enter into this season with great expectations. I imagine weeks worth of meaningful advent preparation. I envision four little boys eagerly attending family devotions: soaking up scripture, reciting verses, and singing beautiful Christmas hymns as a group. Alas, if history has taught me anything, it's to set my expectations low.

As in years past, tonight's advent devotional was anything but peaceful. I read the prepared lesson with accompanied scripture. The boys teetered between fidgeting and completed zoning out. At one point, I could feel my pulse quicken and steam rise from my ears as I shouted something like, "Can't you see the love of Christ?" Even as I said it, something felt wrong.

When I wrapped up the passage, I followed up with some questions.

Me: What is grace?

Connor: She lives in our neighborhood.

Me: Where do we get grace?

Collin: From Batman.

Me: How should we respond?

Cooper: Clearly not listening to my question, responds to Collin's thoughts on Batman.

The conversation steers quickly towards a dissertation on Batman and his religious beliefs.

Me: Clearly frustrated, vows to just give up.

Then, I think about the words offered to me by an older, wise mother. She said sometimes it's not what you say, it's what they see you do. I suppose at this stage of our life, they're seeing our family's importance on advent, even though the words are yet to sink in.

For this year that's enough; there's always next year.

Silly Supper

2011-12-12T17:10:00.000-08:00

Caleb adores reading books to his doctor's dogs.

For the many blogs I've posted recounting dinner frustrations, this blog chronicles the lighter moments of tonight's supper.

Cooper opened the meal in prayer. He bowed his head and said, "Dear God. Thank you for the holy bread. Amen." We gently explained that he meant the Holy Spirit.

At the end of dinner, Cooper's plate sat completely clean. I eyed it with suspicion, and quizzed him on the whereabouts of his dinner. He insisted every morsel of dinner rested in his belly.

Caleb also eyed him with skepticism. He turned to me and said, "I'd check his pockets."

Good call.

Dunk Tank

2011-12-11T17:10:00.000-08:00

Today, it became apparent to me that Cooper and I don't look at life the same way. I see objects and think of them in just the way they were meant to be used. Cooper looks at those same objects and sees possibilities.

This afternoon, I watched him transform regular household items into something magnificent, at least in his eyes. He first used our entry way rug coupled with some exercise equipment and created an elaborate racing track for his match box cars. After he tired of that, he headed outdoors.

This time, he snagged two metal buckets sitting in our garage (new handy-me-downs from my father) and filled them with water. Then, he perched a flimsy styrofoam snow sled over the top. He arranged a few other "finds" around his latest invention.

He motioned his brothers and me around the bucket. Then, he announced he made a dunk tank. He motioned to the sled, and indicated that one brother would need to sit on the sled and then he'd be dunked. Cooper added: the lucky brother had to be clad in a swimsuit.

Without hesitation, Connor bolted for the house, eager to be the first one to slip on a swimsuit.

That's when I intervened. I reminded the boys it was December and the temperature barely exceeded freezing. Perhaps the dunk tank was better suited for the summer.

Four boys sighed.

Then, I watched Cooper scanning the garage, trying to discover his next creation.

Celebrating at the Great Wolf Lodge

2011-12-10T18:03:00.000-08:00

Caleb's birthday treats for school.

Birthday cupcakes served that night to celebrate.

Instead of birthday parties, we took the boys to the Great Wolf Lodge in Cincinnati to celebrate. Uncle Matt, Aunt Heather and cousins met us for dinner.

The boys had so much fun splashing around in the water. They really enjoyed their birthdays.

When we got home, we celebrated Connor's birthday with Memaw and Papa. He enjoyed having a celebration just for him.

Thanks to Memaw and Papa for watching the two little boys overnight. The big boys had a blast at the Great Wolf Lodge!

Birthday Boys

2011-12-08T16:53:00.000-08:00

Three dozen cupcakes rest on my kitchen island, smothered in green icing with plastic lizards perched on the tops. Tomorrow, they'll be served to Caleb's third grade class as birthday treats. In just a few hours, Caleb turns nine. Just writing it chokes me up. It forces me to reflect on the last nine years.

Caleb arrived in the world in his way, on his terms. Right off the bat, his authentic personality emerged. He was smart. Enamored with letters while still clad in diapers. An early reader that touted an advanced vocabulary and unique obsessions. But, he also had strong opinions and multiple sensitivities. We've spent the last nine years building on his gifts, while managing his challenges. He continues to move forward and is maturing into a well-mannered gentleman.

Caleb's changed our world for the better. He's taught us it's ok to be a distinct individual. He's inspired us with his love of learning. He's humbled us as parents and pushed us to love deeper and better.

Happy Birthday sweet Caleb. Hoping for many more joyous celebrations to come.

Connor's turning seven on Saturday.

Connor made a more demure entrance. He arrived just when he was suppose to, with enough manners to make his appearance right before lunch. We gazed at our new son with surprise. He looked little like his older brother. His skin was rosy, and his hair a mixture of reds and blondes.

From the beginning, Connor loved to be held. His little body quickly molded to the curves of my arms. I held him so much I began to treat him as an added appendage, and learned to cook and clean with him curled in my arms. (I suppose, this explains why he had the most difficulty giving up his "seat" when two younger brothers made their entrances in subsequent years.)

From an early age, Connor exhibited empathy and kindness that must have been planted in his DNA. As such, Connor's always been a good friend. It also means he's deeply impacted by the sufferings of the world, and convicts us about our giving to the needs of others.

Connor is smart. His humbleness mask the full extent of cleverness. But, he wows us with his speedy mathematical mind and love of reading.

Connor's brightened our world. The kindness and love he exhibits to others and us is heartwarming. His sensitivity to the needy is inspiring.

Happy Birthday dear Connor. We hope for much happiness and many wonderful future celebrations.

Show Down

2011-12-06T17:12:00.000-08:00

Collin and I cuddled up with some Christmas books this afternoon.

It began in the way all really good disagreements start, centered on something as substantial as a veggie pot pie. It all started when I placed a piping hot pot pie onto the center of our dining room table. I stepped back to admire my culinary handiwork, a product of a hefty amount of afternoon preparation.

The boys crowded around the table. I watched as their smiles faded. Grumbles filtered out of four little mouths. But with deep resignation, they fell into their seats and begrudgingly accepted child-size portions of the entree. Slowly three boys began eating, but one held firm. He would not be eating pot pie, no ma'am.

Battle lines were drown: one stubborn son versus one equally bullheaded mother. We each stood firm. Threats were launched and punishments were served. In the end, a miniscule portion of pot pie was consumed and two family members were still at odds.

Said son went to bed shortly thereafter with tension still hovering.

I ducked into my bed and curled up with a book, seeking respite in the quiet of my adult sanctuary. A few minutes later, that son appeared at my door, clutching his old photo album. He asked if we could look at it together. I nodded, and he crept into my bed.

We flipped through the pages and smiled as we reflected on old memories and sweet moments. With each turn of the page, two moods softened and affection bloomed.

As we turned to the final page, my son looked at me with soft eyes and said, "Will you still sing Happy Birthday to me on my birthday?"

I smiled and said, "Of course I will. I just won't serve pot pie."

The show down was over.

Airing Out Boys

2011-12-04T17:19:00.000-08:00

This weekend we enjoyed several Christmas parties. The first party hosted by my childhood friend, Erin. Her family puts on a beautiful Christmas open house. My boys love running around with the kids and devouring all the Christmas goodies and punch.

Second Christmas party was hosted by my running friend, Marie. Enjoying some time with running buddies. Bummer the picture didn't come out better!

Finished the celebrating with a little birthday dinner for Chris. In a few weeks, he'll be 40 years young. We celebrated his youth with a few of his friends (mostly from work and residency).

A friend once said, "Boys need to be aired out every day." What she meant was: boys need a physical release of energy or they'll drive you and themselves batty.

With time, I've seen the truth to her words.

As the weather has cooled and daylight has shorted, I've prepared myself for the inevitable. It happens every year, right around this time. The boys transition from frolicking outdoors for hours to engaging in more sedate indoor play. The transition is never smooth. The boys seem physically unable to hamper their need for an energy release. As such, they treat the indoors like the outdoors for awhile. They race through the halls, dash up the stairs, and bounce balls over any and every surface. When they're not running around, they're messing around...with each other. Pretty soon, they resemble a cadre of professional wrestlers more than a friendly cluster of brothers.

On a day like today, I tried to give them a little grace and understanding. However, when I heard Connor tell his brothers, "Let's play Destruction downstairs," limits had to be set.

Time to do some airing out.

Taking Off the Coat

2011-12-01T17:01:00.000-08:00

Connor spends yet another day frolicking in the snow remnants.

A few days ago, I retrieved Caleb from school mid-day. I entered his classroom smack dab in the middle of indoor recess. The kids milled around the classroom. Some boys sat on the floor tinkering with Legos. A group of girls huddled around art projects. A few children clutched books, and sat in a corner.

Despite the activity, Caleb was easily spotted. He was the one (the only one) clad in his winter jacket with the hood up. I wasn't surprised. Caleb adores his winter coat, and spends 95% of his waking time snuggled within its confines with the hood nestled around his face. His teachers and I have allowed this fashion statement to continue. He's pleasant and happy burrowed in his coat. Why change what's working?

I mentioned Caleb's affinity for his coat and hood to his doctor. She listened and then questioned why he places his hood up. Was he blocking out sensory stimuli? Shielding his eyes from luminous indoor lighting? Muffling loud noises? Or, was he using the hood as a sort of buffer between he and any social contact? Did it protect him from scary personal interactions and uncomfortable conversations?

As we talked, I thought about how handy a hood could be. Wouldn't it be nice to carry a shield of sorts against the more intimidating aspects of a day. Unpleasant conversations and disagreeable people could be avoided merely by snapping up the hood. But, I (and most) don't use hoods. Instead, I just learned to function during moments of comfort and distress.

Caleb's doctor and I agreed he needs to reduce his wearing of the coat and the hood. He needs more exposure to life, minus his self-made blinders. We agreed to remove the hood for little pockets of time, during meals first.

Today, he removed his hood during dinner. I gazed at his tufts of sandy blond hair with admiration.

It's a start.

Contradictions

2011-11-30T17:20:00.000-08:00

Remnants of snow still dotted our yard. There was not enough snow to cause problems, but just enough to add to little boy fun.

Lately, I've been thinking about all the contradictions I face as a mother. It seems all my boys are working on something, and it's the opposite of what another brother's working on.

For instance:

One boy needs to talk more, one needs to talk less.

One needs to venture outside more, one needs to stay inside more.

One needs to slow down, one needs to speed up.

One needs to be more serious, one needs to lighten up.

One needs to be more afraid, one needs to be less afraid.

One needs to be more attached, one needs to be less attached.

One needs to care less what peers think, one needs to care a little more about his peers.

Sometimes I think wouldn't it be easier if they were all the same, with the same challenges. But, their differences bring richness to our family, and gray hairs to one mother.

The Euphoria of Snow, a Child's Perspective

2011-11-29T18:04:00.000-08:00

The last few days, rain plummeted from the sky. The boys and I darted between rain pellets during our rare outdoor excursions.

This afternoon, the rain transformed to white flakes. This time, the flakes accumulated, blanketing our yard in ivory. The two youngest boys bundled up in wool hats and mittens, snow boots and puffer jackets. They dashed between the flurries, turning their heads towards the sky with mouths opened wide. They caught flurries on their tongues and devoured the slippery flakes.

My day unfurled in a flurry of errands and appointments. While they raced between flakes, I drove through them. While they devoured ice, I purchased groceries. While they smiled at the weather, I cringed.

I eyed the boys with a mixture of jealousy and admiration, remembering the euphoria of being a child on a snowy day.

Weekend Recap

2011-11-27T16:33:00.000-08:00

The boys and I took a weekend excursion down to Evansville. They loved the Children's Museum of Evansville (cMoe).

The boys decorated the Christmas tree with much enthusiasm. They enjoyed looking at old ornaments and talking about the memories tied to each special one.

Caleb's Christmas List (sorry it's sideways). Obviously, we won't be lacking for ideas.

Christmas Questions

2011-11-25T16:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Today, it feels like we woke up to Christmas. This morning, we began to unpack the Christmas decorations. The whole process inspired my MOPs article of the month.

Here's what I wrote:

The boys and I unearthed the Christmas boxes, buried deep within the recesses of our basement. We spewed the contents on the floor. The boys eyed the evergreen wreaths, nativity scenes, and peppermint scented candles. They inspected each item, tossing out Christmas memories as they played.

My two-year-old son Collin picked up a nutcracker. It looked regal, clad in a deep purple jacket with crimson cuffs. A bejeweled metallic crown perched on its head.

Collin gazed at me and said, “Is this Jesus?”

I smiled, and shook my head.

“No, that’s not Jesus,” I replied.

Then, I picked up a Fisher Price plastic baby Jesus, part of a children’s nativity set. The baby figurine lay in a wooden box, nestled among the plastic hay strands.

“This is Jesus, “ I said as I pointed to the baby.

Collin looked perplexed, and insisted that the regal nutcracker was Jesus.

I understood his confusion. I’m sure he’s heard about this majestic Jesus, “King of Kings, Lord of Lords.” Certainly, this tiny baby didn’t fit his mental image of a savior. Wouldn’t Jesus look more like a king?

It got me to thinking: Why did Jesus come into Earth in such a humble fashion? Couldn’t He have chosen a more regal entrance, a more dazzling form?

But, his entrance to the world, in a form of an infant, showed his humanity and humility. As John Saward said, “The Son of God became little to make us great, and yet He also became little to help us to be little, to be high in sanctity by becoming low in humility.” How grateful I am that He came as He did.

Two-year-old Collin won’t understand all this quite yet.

I gathered Collin onto my lap and pulled out a Christmas picture book. We read about Jesus the infant, born in a stable, placed in a manager.

Right now it’s just a story to him; someday it will be more.

We celebrated Grandma's 90th birthday and my niece, Savannah's first birthday.

During the party, Caleb kept busy working on Lego creations.

The Sounds of Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T17:10:00.000-08:00

A mom of an only child told me her son begged for siblings for years. Then, he visited a home with five kids. Her son was so overwhelmed with the commotion that he ran around alone outside just to find some solace. After that, he never asked for a sibling again.

I suppose I can relate to that little boy. There days I'd love to run around outside, hiding from the clamor and commotion that flows from a big family. At those time, I understand the phrase, "Silence is golden."

But, on Thanksgiving, the sounds that radiates from a house full of family is divine. The cries and coos of babies. The giggles of cousins. The laughs between siblings. The stories from grandparents. The praises of parents.

Although I spent the greater part of the last two days preparing and cooking, I think the food was secondary to the sounds of family.

No sweeter sound.

Thanksgiving Eve

2011-11-23T15:22:00.000-08:00

Caleb showing off turkey cookies.

The Thanksgiving tables all dressed and ready for tomorrow.

With the tables occupied, the boys enjoyed a picnic dinner on the floor.

Tomorrow, I'm set to host my first Thanksgiving meal. Thanks to the help of my mother and mother-in-law, I think we're ready. The boys (and I) are very excited for Thanksgiving.

Cycles of Frustration

2011-11-21T16:56:00.000-08:00

Collin and his friend, Nora, play with the parachute during library story time.

Caleb was particularly edgy this evening. As we clicked down the minutes until bedtime, he's inner irritation began to bubble to the surface. Feeling frustrated with my son, I finally blurted out, "Why are you on the edge? Why are you so angry?" As the words tumbled from my lips, I felt convicted. I began to wonder who exactly I was talking to: him or me?

The last two days, my own fussiness festered, the product of four lively sons, bickering siblings, one busy husband, and household woes. Did my cantankerous disposition trickle down to the boys? I pondered the old chicken and egg argument. Did Caleb's anger lead to mine, or mine to his?

The truth is it really doesn't matter where and why the anger originated, as long as it's removed. I stopped lecturing and gazed into Caleb's eyes and said with all sincerity, "I'm sorry."

The house fell silent, peaceful even. The tension flew from the space. Caleb calmed, and so did I.

Someone had to stop the cycle, and I'm glad it was me.

Wasted time?

2011-11-20T16:50:00.000-08:00

This evening I disciplined Cooper. Mid lecture, Cooper interjected by saying, "You're wasting your time." After a little prodding, he meant, I'll probably do it again.

I ruminated on his words and thought how well that summed up my general feelings from the day. It was one of those days where I questioned whether I was wasting my time.

I disciplined boys, just to turn around and discipline them again..for the same offense

I picked up rooms, and then spotted the same rooms, just minutes later, completely unraveled

I taught the boys important lessons, like placing dirty clothes in hampers, just to spot dirty laundry spewed all over the floor

Wasted time indeed, I huffed.

Entrenched in self pity, I put Collin to bed. I plopped down on his quilt and heard him whisper his bedtime prayer. With chubby hands folded, he said, "Thank you God for mommy."

I realized today was hard, but not wasted.

Wood Boy Ingenuity: A Zip Line for Stuff Animals

2011-11-19T10:20:00.000-08:00

The stuffed animal zip line concocted by the boys.

The battle scene. The boys explained it was the army versus the navy. I informed them those two groups fight on the same team. Chris interjected, "Unless you're talking football."

Mix a little free time with one distracted mother. Add four young boys with vivid imaginations. Stir well and, viola...ingenuity, Wood boy style.

This morning, I primped in the bathroom, checking periodically on the boys. Again, those familiar warning bells blared when silence blanketed the house. I peeked downstairs and noticed the boys had rigged a ball of yarn between door handles and banister knobs. Petrified looking stuffed animals, attached to paper clips, dangled from the string. Connor manned one end of the string and maneuvered the stuffed animals along with a rigged pulley system.

I scanned the living room, criss crossed with blue yarn, and asked the obvious, "What are you doing?"

To which the boys eagerly replied, "Making a zip line for our stuffed animals."

Of course they are.

I suppose I should be happy their creative juices flow so freely, especially when working as a group. Haven't other inventive brothers revolutionized the world? Think Wright, Manning, Bush, and Jonas (to name a few).

But I'm wondered why creativity isn't synonymous with tidiness.

To play with the big boys, you have to be a big boy

2011-11-18T17:03:00.000-08:00

Unbeknownst to me, Cooper snagged my camera and snapped a few close ups.

I washed dinner dishes in the sink, grateful that for once the house was silent. The boys had all filtered upstairs and were quietly playing together.

How nice, I thought. They're playing so well together.

Then it clicked, They're playing together...so well......what's wrong?

Just then the silence was pierced with giggles and squeals that cropped up from the upstairs bedroom and meandered down the stairs.

Warning bells blared in my head.

I bolted into the boys' room, and spotted two-year-old Collin gripping the railing and dangling from his older brother's top bunk. His feet sliced the air and his face radiated pure joy. Older brother, Connor, sat Indian style directly under his airborne brother. Connor outstretched his arms, anticipating serving as the landing gear for the inevitable plunge.

I cried, "What are you doing? He's only two? He could get hurt."

Then, I snatched my fearless toddler and placed him on the floor.

Both boys scowled at me with a look that said, "Safety's such a downer."

I gave them a swift talking to, and prayed that from now they'd play with two feet firmly planted on the ground.

As I resumed dishes, I thought about how different Collin probably plays from the average two-year-old. As the fourth son of four boys, he learned early: If you want to hang with the big boys, you better play like a big boy. So, he bypassed the baby pools, Sesame Streets, and blocks for deep ends, Star Wars and Legos. While other two year olds skimmed down the slides, he whizzed along on skateboards. While many two year olds soaked in the alphabet, he learned about superheroes.

As much as I'd like Collin to fit that stereotypical toddler mold, I have a greater desire for him to build strong relationships with his older brothers. Building those relationships require gumption and endurance, hopefully common sense too.

Thankful List

2011-11-17T17:08:00.000-08:00

I've had a couple of rough days with Connor. His typically pleasant temperament has turned disagreeable. I began to worry about his future. Was this a little taste of things to come? Will he transform into a hideous teen? A miserable adult?

Mid fret, Connor unpacked the contents of his backpack and scattered his school papers on the counter. I picked up the above paper: Connor's thankful list. I read the words in pure amazement and joy. Connor crafted an incredibly thoughtful list (even added six more items than required).

I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he really will be o.k.

Breakfast Date

2011-11-16T17:05:00.000-08:00

A cute picture of the boys from a few days ago.

We pushed our trays into an empty booth at McDonalds. He unwrapped his breakfast sandwich and I nibbled on my oatmeal. The restaurant was humming with the voices of regulars. An entire section of the dining room was filled with blue haired retirees. Their conversation meandered between local politics to hunting techniques. They sipped black coffee and gazed out the window between swigs.

Connor and I sat in silence. He woofed down a biscuit, crumb parcels dripping from his chin, littering the tabletop.

I cleared my throat, “So, how’s it going?”

"Good," he announced, barely looking up before offering his perfunctory response.

Grasping for more, I peppered him with more questions about everything from school lunch to his school bus companions. For me, our breakfast was not a social occasion, but a fact finding mission. Connor had been shutting me out from his little world. I thought a date over a breakfast sandwich could reopen that door.

As the morning progressed, I'd say at least the door is cracked. Connor divulged a few tidbits from school and a some silly anecdotes. I soaked in all his words, trying hard to focus on all the details.

As we walked out, I draped my arm over his shoulder, grateful for a start.

Releasing Batman

2011-11-15T17:47:00.000-08:00

Caleb adores going to his doctor because her dogs hang out in the office. Today he asked if he could read them stories. It melted my heart when he sat by the dogs and read them a book.

Collin has an affinity for all things Batman. His admiration transcends mere delight to outright obsession. Batman attire fills his wardrobe. He carries a Batman backpack to school. He sleeps on Batman sheets. He clutches three pint size Batmen everywhere he travels.

Tonight, Collin pulled out the Batman cave. He maneuvered his three Batmen around the perimeters of the cave, mumbling stories about the bad guys and menacing weapons.

Older brother, Cooper, gazed at Collin and asked, "Can I play with your Batman?"

I held my breath, fully anticipating an explosion.

Collin stared at his most valuable possession, and then eyed his brother. Without hesitation, he planted his Batman into Cooper's hands. I observed the interaction with utter amazement. Collin just handed over Batman, no tears, no hysterics, no questions. He released it to his brother merely because his brother asked. Amazing!

It made me think about my morning's Bible study. We discussed how God wants us to release those things that hold us captive, meaning separate from God. I mulled over how that applied to my life and wondered if I had the strength to let go of the things I hold near and dear. Could I hand over my "Batmen" merely because He asked, without tears, theatrics, or hesitation?

Truth is, I'm not sure, but I'm learning a lot from my two-year-old.

Skater Boy

2011-11-14T17:03:00.000-08:00

Cooper convinced me to take him to the skateboard park. We were the only ones there, and had a blast "learning" to skateboard. We ended the afternoon without injury. I'd call the trip a success!

A Lesson in Cinnamon Rolls

2011-11-13T16:44:00.000-08:00

Some of my fondest childhood memories stem from big family holiday dinners. My Grandmother Joseph whipped up wonderful holiday dishes, but none more memorable than her homemade cinnamon rolls. She always timed it just right so the rolls popped out of the oven just minutes before saying grace. After the amens, I'd rush towards the rolls and toss one onto my plate, still warm. I'd quickly smother my Aunt Linda's homemade strawberry preserves on the tip. Within nanoseconds, it was devoured and I was back for more.

After my Grandmother passed, my aunts and my mother carried on the tradition, with a modern twist. They introduced a box mix to the recipe that eliminated a few steps, but still required loads of TLC. Today, my mom passed the baton to me, the next generation of family cooks. She taught me the skill of making (practically) homemade cinnamon rolls. It felt like a rite of passage in some ways. Like, I'd officially graduated to the big girl table.

Our lesson began this afternoon. My mother waltzed into my kitchen, clutching two box mixes and a bag full of kitchen utensils and supplies. We both pulled on kitchen aprons as she strewed the staples across the counter. We chatted in between mixes, rolls, kneads, and cuts. At the end, 24 perfect cinnamon rolls lined two metal pan. We covered the pans in aluminum foil and placed them in the freezer until Thanksgiving.

As we pulled off our aprons, I couldn't help thinking about my Grandmother. I imagined she'd be tickled to know cinnamon rolls still grace the holiday table. But, I suppose she'd be most pleased to hear the table was surrounded by family.

Swapping Stories

2011-11-12T15:08:00.000-08:00

Boy Scout Camp

South Bend

Tonight, we congregated around the kitchen table. A pizza box sat in the center, and the six of us eagerly devoured the slices. It was a reunion of sorts for our family, as the whole of us was split down the middle for the last 24 hours. Chris whisked the older boys down to southeastern Indiana for Boy Scout camp. I escorted the little boys to South Bend to visit Chris's parents.

We swapped memories of the weekend:

Grandma Wood's chicken tetrazzini

Sloppy Joes in the mess hall

Notre Dame Basketball Game

Twillight Nature Hike

Popcorn at the game

S'mores around the fire

Sleeping with mom

Sleeping in a yurt

South Bend playground

Climbing Wall

South Bend's Healthworks

Bow and Arrows, BB guns

Exhaustion

Exhaustion

Happy

Jubilant

Together.

It's Back...

2011-11-10T17:06:00.000-08:00

Late afternoon, I peered out my window and gazed at a sight I hadn't seen for months: snow. It was faint, and made me even question it's true identity. But, as it continued to fall, all doubts withered away. I was witnessing this season's first drops of snow. It drifted briefly, and then disappeared just as quickly as it arrived.

I stepped out of the house, walking towards the bus stop. Wet leaves crunched under my shoes. Grey clouds blanketed my head. I landed at the Johnson's house, and found my place among other parents anxiously waiting for the bus. We bemoaned the weather and the snow.

Within minutes, Connor's bus slid into the stop. As if on cue, the skies opened up again, and a fresh fleet of snowed poured from the clouds. Connor walked off the bus at the exact right moment for a new batch of snow.

The school children pressed their faces against the bus window. They gasped and ecstatic squeals whisked through the bus and flowed out to the stop. "Snow," they cried and the entire bus seemed to rock with jubilation.

Connor danced among the flakes, raising his head towards the heavens and pulling his mount into an O. He devoured the slippery flakes and smiled, perfectly content. Then, he rushed home, snow flakes drenching his coat and satchel.

I said my goodbyes to the other parents, but I noticed how our conversation about weather had ceased. The complaining halted when we watched the effect on our kids.

In a matter of minutes, the snow was gone. The white pellets melted to liquid puddles. Gazing at our backyard, one might never know snow ever landed. But, take one look at Connor, beaming, radiating, joyful, and you'd know.

Rolling Downhill

2011-11-09T16:58:00.000-08:00

Collin and I visited Daddy joined Chris for lunch at work.

As a parent of an autism spectrum child, I've learned life is quiet frequently a roller coaster. Just when you think the ride is easy, you hit a sudden drop. We've had weeks of blissful behavior. Successful play dates. Stellar report card. Pleasant demeanor. Even in the midst of the delightful, I fully anticipated life would not continue in such a copacetic fashion. We were bound to hit a bump or two.

Tonight, we seemed to have derailed. My spectrum kiddo crumbled. He wrestled some formidable foes, anxiety being his fiercest opponent. I stood on the sideline, helpless to break the bonds that pulled him under.

By the end of the night, I sat on his bed, tears running down my cheeks. He buried his head under a blanket, and wrapped his body tightly around the covers. I stroked his back, and said his bedtime prayers. I uttered the only thing I can say sometimes, "Help him." Then, I turned out his light.

I exited the room and whispered one last prayer, "Help me understand."

Christmas Questions

2011-11-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

A perfect rainy day activity: embellishing an inanimate Turkey.

The finished product.

Connor snuggled under the covers, readying himself for sleep. Minutes away from slumber, he suddenly jerked up in his bed.

"Mom, did you know some people don't get Christmas presents," he exclaimed with a hint of anxiety.

He continued, "They're even good kids and they still don't get Christmas presents."

He eyed me, eagerly waiting for my response.

I pondered how to answer.

From a series of Connor's recent questions, it appears he's comprehending some of the more grievous aspects of humanity. Poverty exists. Life isn't fair. Heartbreak happens. (And, throw in a couple of questions about Santa Claus too!)

I wanted to chirp back a rosy answer, a happy ending, a funny story. But, to provide truth, meant reveling the more morose aspects of life (in a manner best fit for a six-year-old). I acknowledged that some children don't get Christmas presents, but we could try to help. We brainstormed a couple of ideas.

He buried his head in the pillow. I turned out the light, wondering if there's really ever a good answer to his questions.

A Sunday to Remember

2011-11-06T15:05:00.000-08:00

We seemed to collect children today. Neighbor kids and school chums congregated in our home (eight at one point). Was it the fresh baked cookies or the company? Here's hoping it was the latter.

What better to pair fresh baked cookies than hot cocoa...perfectly served with friends.

This morning I tried to reflect on Christians persecuted for their faith. I thought about how difficult it must be in certain patches of the globe to actually attend a religious service. I tried to keep these thoughts in the forefront of my mind as I struggled to ready four squirmy boys and one filthy mama for church services. Did I really have room to bemoan my efforts to dash out the door with four little ones in tow?

As I coiffed and primped, I'd check in on the little boys. At one point, I caught Cooper looking particularly sheepish.

I asked, "Cooper, what are you doing?"

"Dangerous stuff," Cooper replied without hesitation.

I wasn't surprised.

Despite all the morning hiccups, we arrived at church on time (no small miracle). I slipped each son into his appropriate classroom and slid into a seat in the rear of the sanctuary.

The service started and the pastor announced it was Baptism Sunday. The pastor stood in the baptismal, standing by an eager parishioner (and several more waiting in the wings). A pre-taped video began in which those to be baptized offered their testimonies.

I don't know what it is about sitting in church, but it seems to strip me emotionally. My soul sits naked, exposed and raw. As the words flowed from the screen, my eyes watered and my throat lumped.

I watched the pastor immerse each parishioner in a liquid basin. Each individual arose dripping wet, hair matted, shirt soaked, mascara running. But, a glow radiated on each saturated face and a smile emerged. They were lovely.

Almost a decade ago, I too was baptized. I remember emerging from the water, exhilarated and reinvigorated. That fervor seems to have withered with the passage of time and life circumstances. Can it ever be reclaimed?

I sat there grateful for a morning to remember and renew.

Play Set Club

2011-11-05T17:14:00.000-07:00

Joined some friends in running the Monumental Mini. Beautiful weather. Good course. Great friends.

My friend, Miranda, and I strike a pre-race pose. She completed her first marathon today.

Keep in mind, we're completely landlocked! Caleb insisted on wearing this life jacket all afternoon.

Keep in mind, it's November. Cooper's wearing shorts.

A few neighbor kids congregated on our play set today. The boys eagerly joined the group. From the kitchen window, I gazed at the scene. The kids selected an eclectic mix of items to place in and around our play set. An umbrella. Bike helmets. Life jackets. Squirt guns. The group played contently and worked together.

Word spread into the kitchen that a club had been formed outdoors. Club members were requesting snacks. Snacks were delivered. I watched as all the kids grazed on snacks and chatted with friends.

A few minutes later, Caleb meandered indoors. He became my informant on club activities. Evidently, club members were plotting an excursion to McDonalds. Caleb, the voice of reason, reminded the group they lacked funds and transportation. According to Caleb, the kids conjured up all sorts of schemes to arrive at their coveted destination.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall!

Serenity

2011-11-03T17:05:00.000-07:00

From yesterday:

I was perfectly content inside the confines of the kitchen. I stood near the sink, slicing a plump butternut squash into big chunks. Light jazz (a new favorite) floated through the house. Sunshine streamed through the kitchen window. The house was peaceful. How rare! How delightful!

As I savored those few serene moments, I gazed out the kitchen window. A mass of neighbor kids landed on our play set. My four boys appeared delighted to play host to the crowd. Joyful squeals swirled through the yard and into my kitchen. My quiet was shattered, but the clamor was pleasant.

I began to feel a magnetic pull towards the great outdoors. I resisted with all my might. Why would I even consider leaving such peaceful surroundings? But, then I saw my boys, and their friends, and the smiles.

I dropped the squash and stepped outdoors... into the sunshine and delight.

Post Candy Syndrome

2011-11-02T08:13:00.000-07:00

Connor works hard at basketball practice.

I've seen all the signs:

Irritability.
Sudden bursts of tears for no apparent reason.
Moodiness
Lack of focus.

I can only come up with one conclusion for the changed behavior: PCS (Post Candy Syndrome). Unfortunately, it appears that all four boys are suffering under it, and I know exactly when it started: Halloween night.

The symptoms first appeared when my boys returned from their trick-or-treating excursion. Between the four of them, they had collected enough candy to last them through adolescence. We allowed each boy to eat two pieces that night, but I strongly suspect a few boys may have fudged the rules.

The next morning, still clad in pajamas, they searched for their candy bags. They seemed disappointed (shocked even) that Snickers bars would not accompany their breakfast cereal. As the morning progressed, I noticed little boys continually sneaking off to clandestine locales within the house. When found, they'll swirl around in a panic, clutching empty candy wrappers and wearing a sheepish-chocolately stained grin. The boys began to resemble addicts, looking for their fix. Changes had to be made at fast.

After discussing my dilemma with friends, I've found a couple of good "homes" for our candy. Yesterday, the hard candy and gum was shipped off to my friend, Melinda's house. She plans to add them to Operation Christmas Child boxes. I'm planning to send more candy bags to a local dentist collecting them for the troops.

As I've thinned out our stash and added distance from Halloween, I've seen slivers of the boys I knew before. I'm hoping they're on the road to recovery...until next Halloween.

Halloween Recap

2011-10-31T16:48:00.000-07:00

Getting into the spirit of Halloween, thanks to some "goodies" from my sweet neighbor, Michelle.

Mrs. Borgmann, Headmaster at Caleb's school, kicks off the school Halloween parade in style.

Caleb gears up for his school Halloween parade.

Caleb and pal, Gus, enjoy the school party.

Counting down to Trick or Treat.

Emma shares her Halloween map with Caleb and friends.

Caleb, Emma, and friends enter into a huddle/pep talk seconds before trick or treating.

Cooper and pal, Annika, strike a menacing pose.

The neighborhood kiddos pause for photos before they dash door to door.

It's become a tradition. Every Halloween, the neighborhood kids congregate at the same location for the annual Halloween parade. Kids and parents alike collectively march down the block. The intent is for the parade to be a slow promenade, but it rapidly transforms into a dash. (Who knew Caleb could move so fast when motivated by candy?) Once they arrive at the stop sign, the kids know to pause and humor mom and dad with a few photos. But, the minute the last camera flashes, the group disperses and it because every man for himself when candy's involved.

This year, we let Caleb trick or treat alone with a friend. At the parade, he met up with Emma, his seven-year-old friend. Emma clutched a homemade map of the neighborhood. She held it up, and explained to Caleb and others that it plotted the way to hit every single house in the neighborhood by 7 p.m. Caleb's interest piqued. He listened to her presentation and invited himself along, hoping to reap the benefits of Emma's well-thought out plans. Just for good measure, minutes before the parade, Emma and Caleb gathered neighborhood kids into a huddle. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Emma offered a pep talk and loads of encouragement to her friends. The kids placed their hands in the center and shouted on cue, "Halloween." With that, the parade began.

A little before 7, Caleb strolled into the house, lugging a plastic bag loaded with goodies. He declared their Halloween mission a success, insisting they visited practically every house in the neighborhood. He even recounted which houses (by number, thanks to Emma's map) distributed the best candy. Yes, some houses actually give out king-size candy bars! Caleb was delighted and delirious at the same time.

The other boys made out well too. Connor spent much of his time trick or treating with school friends and their parents. He enjoyed the camaraderie as much as the candy. Cooper treated the evening more as a sport, than a holiday. He spent much of the night dashing between houses with Chris trailing behind. Collin didn't adore the holiday, and much preferred passing out candy with me from the comforts of a warm home.

By 8, we ushered the boys to bed, patting them down to ensure no contraband candy landed in their beds. They went to bed happy, and full.

Fantastic Fifth Birthday

2011-10-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

Our weekend was full, but with the good stuff, like...

carving pumpkins with Dad, and...

watching Connor play in his first basketball game of the season, and...

enjoying Caleb's fall break with a trip to the Fort Wayne Children's Museum.

But, the best part was....
celebrating Cooper's 5th Birthday.

He opened presents with breakfast.

Then invited a few school and neighbor friends over for a dinosaur birthday party.

They decorated gift bags and..

played dinosaur balloon stomp, then...

walked like dinosaurs in handmade dinosaur feet, while carrying an egg on a spoon.

Finally, Cooper and friends feasted on dinosaur birthday cake.

Cooper insisted on inviting his babysitter, Trisha. He calls her his "big friend" and seems a bit in awe of her teenage status. She was sweet enough to come!

Cooper was heartbroken that his good neighborhood pal, Annika, was not able to attend his party. So, she (and her family) came over for a celebratory pizza birthday dinner. Cooper was so happy to see her.

We're so blessed to have five years with Cooper. He radiates joy with his contagious smiles. He awes us with his sense of adventure. He's sweet spirit melts our heart. Happy Birthday sweet boy.

Back to School

2011-10-28T09:29:00.000-07:00

Three grandparents attended Grandparent Day at Caleb's school. (My mom wasn't able to attend as my brother had already booked her for his own babysitting needs...bummer!) The proud grandparents beamed as Caleb performed on stage. Then, the group wandered around the school and engaged in such fun activities as making puzzles and answering trivia questions. Caleb seemed pleased that his grandparents spent the morning with him.

We're thankful for each grandparent taking the time to attend. For the Woods, it required time off work and a drive of two plus hours. My Dad also had a commute during morning rush hour traffic. We appreciate all their efforts!

Today, I served as Mystery Reader in Connor's class. I positioned myself in a rocker, clutching a picture book. A slew of first graders huddled around the chair, Connor among them. The book was silly, and I hammed up the nutty parts. My first grade audience exploded in giggles making me feel like the Jay Leno of the classroom.

When the last page was read, Connor's teacher opened up the class for questions..of me. I think the same question was asked about 20 times, "What do you like to do?" Fortunately, I came up with about 20 different answers, my favorite being: spending time with Connor. Upon hearing those words, he beamed.

After reading came lunch. I followed him into the school cafeteria. We plunked down our lunches at an empty table, and slid into our seats. Pretty soon, a team of first graders accompanied us.

The conversation was silly, and age appropriate. I was the most tickled about their discussion of "Say No to Drugs Week." Today, the students could support the cause by wearing caps. One little girl told me, "I can wear a Hello Kitty cap because kitties don't do drugs." I couldn't suppress my smile.

At the end of lunch, Connor was selected as clean up helper. With much enthusiasm, he snagged a wet sponge and doused the tables. I stood there speechless, and wondering why he didn't exhibit that same level of eagerness with household chores.

We said our farewells after lunch. Connor pulled me into a bear hug and planted a kiss on my cheek. I smiled, grateful for the memories.

Karaoke Machine

2011-10-26T07:11:00.000-07:00

Cooper still enjoying new beloved hand-me-downs from our tween neighbor.

Connor had his very first sleepover with his friend, Ethan.

The boys spent Connor's last day of fall break frolicking around a playground in 70 degree weather!

Karaoke Machine: Day Two

The moment the boys awoke, they made a beeline for the karaoke machine. Before I had a chance to snatch the microphone, Cooper was belted out tunes at a volume only appropriate for a crowded nightclub. My poor husband, slumbering away upstairs, awoke with quite a jolt. I snagged the microphone and explained to the boys the karaoke machine's appropriate hours, in the least after breakfast. Forlornly, they separated but not without a great deal of protests.

As the day progressed, I allowed them back on the machine. The boys soon discovered echo mode and realized it would be "super fun" to say all those taboo terms/phrases into the microphone. With the added volume and cool sound effects, saying things like "stinky head" and "fluffer head" seemed so much funnier to the boys. To me, it sounded much like nails sliding down a chalkboard.

They also discovered, they could utter their demands/wants of their mother into the microphone, and I'd hear it anywhere around the house. They quickly concluded the karaoke machine was much more effective in getting my attention than simply shouting it out, or maybe even ringing a bell. Throughout the day, I would be peacefully be performing some form of housework around the house, when I'd hear things like, "Mom, where's my snack? " or "When's dinner?" At the volume the words were disseminated, it almost sounded like the voice of God booming through the rafters. But then I realized, it was merely the karaoke machine..again.

I finally concluded as owners of the karaoke machine, additional rules would have to be set on the content disseminated from the machine (via the boys). We established the house rules for speech and actions applied with or without a microphone. Enough said.

As much as I initially loathed the karaoke machine, I'm developed a warmth for our new electronic addition. Watching the boys playing with one another and giggling uncontrollably makes me smile. Perhaps I can live with the noise as long as the laughter comes with it.

Fall Break Fun

2011-10-24T17:01:00.000-07:00

The weather hovered in the 60s today, swimsuit season for the Wood boys. The two middle boys easily shed more season appropriate attire for barely there swim trunks. Then, they dug into the pool toys and pulled out the garden hose. It was a party, and they enjoyed every minute of it.

I watched the spectacle from the kitchen, pondering whether I should insist they pull on more practical garments. My physician husband pushed my concerns aside and advised me to let "boys be boys." And so, they continued to frolic.

Just as the outdoor play peaked, my generous neighbor, Michelle, approached the boys clutching loaded trash bags. She placed the bags on our deck, and let the boys peruse the contents. They squealed with delight when they discovered the bags were packed with toys donated by Michelle's rapidly growing son.

To the boys, it was as if St. Nicholas himself had descended on our house, and they treated the rest of the day like Christmas morning. They were having so much fun, I barely heard a peep out of them the rest of the afternoon. That is, until the karaoke machine was unearthed.

Among the cars and games nestled a karaoke machine. Cooper was in love. He soon realized by using the microphone, his voice got EVEN LOUDER. Genius, he thought. He clutched the microphone and belted out "We will Rock You" and "Break Your Heart." He'd alternate between solo performances and duets (Chris being his most frequent vocal partner). As deafening the sound, I couldn't help but giggle. Cooper threw so much gusto into his performances, pairing his vocal talents with some shimmies, wiggles, and twists. A star was born, at least in his mind.

The boys ended the day happy, and Cooper had a twinkle in his eye that wouldn't go away.

Muncie Children's Museum

2011-10-23T17:24:00.000-07:00

The boys selected another fall break excursion. Today, we headed to Muncie and hit the Muncie Children's Museum. The boys really loved the museum, but specifically the Garfield exhibit (Jim Davis was a Ball State grad after all).

On the way back from Muncie, I noticed Cooper tugging on his ear. Then, he began to whimper. Soon, the truth came tumbling out of the backseat (with all the brothers providing additional information). Cooper stuck a pebble in his ear that became lodged within the ear canal.

We drove immediately to the ER where Chris plopped him on the gurney and handed him a sucker. Just as Chris pulled out a long metal instrument and moved towards the gurney, Cooper was able to wiggle the pebble free.

As we left the room, I told the nurses Cooper could turn into an ER regular. They laughed, but I didn't.

The Beginning of Fall Break

2011-10-22T15:27:00.000-07:00

It's fall break for Connor. We're planning to make it a staycation, filling our days with dear friends and local fun.

Last night, we headed over to our friends, the Maxwells, to enjoy a pizza dinner topped off with s'mores for dessert. In between bites, the boys had a ball jumping on a bounce house rented by the Maxwells (the Dads even got in on the fun).

We finished the evening with the kids nestled on the couches watching a movie. The adults snuggled under blankets, huddled around their outdoor fireplace. We enjoyed spending the evening catching up with such dear friends.

Day two of fall break was spent with our friends, the Brinkruffs. We attended Mia Brinkruff's first birthday party. The boys adored running around with the other kids, and I loved catching up with Claudia. It was fun watching Mia daintily graze on our birthday cake (no huge fistfuls for Mia, just ladylike bites). After cake, I squeezed in a few hugs and snuggles with my little friend, Mia.

Where I found Cooper.

After the party, the boys and I stopped by Fort Harrison State Park. The glorious weather and multicolored foliage provided an excellent backdrop for lots of outdoor play.

The boys ended the day tired, but happy.

More to come....

Cooper's Contraband

2011-10-20T17:08:00.000-07:00

Caleb proudly displaying his Japan project.

When I picked Cooper up from preschool yesterday, his teacher pulled me aside. She whispered, "Do you know what Cooper brought to school today?"

My heart dropped and I racked my brain for all the possible items he could have brought to school. A living creature? Explosives? Priceless Antiques?

She continued, "He had these scissors in his backpack." Then, she displayed full size, super sharp adult scissors.

My face went pale. How could this happen, I wondered? I placed his lunchbox into his backpack just seconds before he entered the carpool car. At that time, his backpack seemed completely free of any contraband. Did he really find the time to sneak in a pair of scissors?

The teachers admitted Cooper didn't use the scissors for any malignant purpose. No one was hurt, including Cooper. They said Cooper seemed very eager to share the contents of his backpack with teachers and students alike. (And, I heard the word spread like wildfire among the staff.)

I gushed with apologizes and professed my complete ignorance on the matter. Then, I glanced over at Cooper. He beamed and stared at the scissors with pure admiration.

I scooped up my son and rushed him into the car. I demanded to know why on Earth he would bring scissors to school.

He smiled and then answered, "To open my chip bag at lunch."

I sighed and said, "You can just ask your teacher to help."

He contemplated the possibility, but seemed less pleased with the alternative. I imagined he was thinking, "But where's the sense of adventure in that?"

Serving

2011-10-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

Connor's first basketball practice. He was so excited that he learned to run and dribble.

Connor engaged in a wee bit of misbehavior recently. Tonight, I sat him down and we dissected his recent actions. I imparted all my parental wisdom and then pushed the conversation deeper. I told him one of the reasons we're here on this Earth is to serve others.

He pondered my comments, and then said, "You don't serve others."

I gasped as I contemplated all the moments I served he and his siblings just within this particular day.

He continued, "When we went to Chicago, there was a mom and a baby asking for money. You didn't help them." Then, he started to tear up.

Even though we traveled to Chicago months ago, I remembered that mother and child. Chris and I were shuffling all four boys along Michigan Avenue when we glanced over at a disheveled mother, clutching a baby and a homemade cardboard sign. I clutched my boys hands a little tighter, and looked away. Connor stared at someone in need, while holding the hand of one with plenty. The contrast was not lost on him.

After Connor made his remarks, I first felt convicted. The phrase, "Do as I say, not as I do," kept running through my head. Then, I was confused. How do I explain to my six-year-old who you decide to serve? Can he understand that you can't serve/help everyone? Finally, I felt proud of my son. Connor shows a level of compassion that awes and inspires me.

I never fully answered all his questions, but I'm more aware of the little eyes that watch and learn from what I do and don't do.

My Nemsis: Batman

2011-10-18T16:48:00.000-07:00

Enjoyed a birthday dinner with my friend since childhood, Erin. Had a great girls only dinner!

He's supposed to be the good guy. His heroic exploits are legendary, and chronicled on the pages of countless books and magazines. He's Bruce Wayne by day, Batman by night. Clad in superhero garb and a cape, he acts as a savior of sorts to those in distress.

But, he's no hero to me. In fact, Batman has become my nemesis. Before you grow concerned, I'll clarify: a Batman Imaginext toy has become my nemesis.

You see, Collin has grown extremely attached to a Batman Imaginext toy. In fact, it's so frequently in his hand that I'm wondered if it will somehow morph into an extra appendage. Collin loves it so much, that parting with it has become unthinkable. Tiffs over where Batman is (and is not) welcome are frequent.

Batman sleeping in Collin's bed.
OK.

Batman riding with him in the car.
Fine.

Batman going to preschool...or church.
No.

Collin responded as if his little world was crashing down. In every which way possible, he showed us his displeasure.

As I listened to the wails, I cursed Batman.

Today we realized his one special Batman toy is MIA. I can honestly say it was not the victim of any sort of foul play or sabotage. But, I can also say no tears were shed by this mother.

The celebrating didn't last too long before I eyed him clutching another Batman toy.

And, it continues...

Bromance

2011-10-16T14:52:00.000-07:00

The fact that there is four of them means the alliances and divisions change by the day, sometimes the minute. In general, I know which combinations of brothers tend to get along best. But some days, even those individuals just don't mesh.

Then, there are days when two seemingly different brothers get along famously. Today was one such day.

Almost as soon as they awoke, Cooper and Collin gravitated towards each other. Many a day, those two emerge as compatible as participants on your average reality TV show. But this morning, they eyed each other with pure affection and adoration.

They woofed down breakfast and then meandered into the basement, arm in arm. I busied myself in the kitchen, a little surprised (and disarmed) that the only sound I heard was silence. Periodically, I'd peek downstairs, gazing at two brothers pleased as punch to be playing with each other.

"What are you doing?" I'd asked.

Cooper replied with a grin, "We're having a play date."

I'd sneak back upstairs and enjoy something I haven't done in a long time: actually get a few things accomplished.

A little later, Cooper asked me if they could continue their play date at Chuck E Cheese.

"You can drop us off!" he proposed in all sincerity.

I smiled, imaging my two and four year old prancing around Chuck E Cheese sans mom.

Nice try, I thought while still basking in the serenity of the morning.

Redneck: A Sticky Situation

2011-10-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

There are many a day when all I really want to know is "why."

Why would you consider placing (or rather grinding) gum all around your neck?

To which, Cooper had no reply.

Good old soap and water wasn't making a dent in the adhered gum. So, I took to the internet, in a hunt for the best homespun remedies.

Who knew peanut butter was the most recommended remedy?

I slapped a spoonful onto his neck (with the remainder falling into his mouth). Then, I ran a wet washcloth over the sticky surface. Most of the gum easily pulled away from the skin.

To remove the last pesky morsels of gum, I splashed hairspray on his neck (another Google recommendation). The last standing bits of gum fell away from the skin. Cooper's neck was finally plucked free of gum, but retained a crimson color from all the irritation and rubbing.

Cooper didn't appear the least bit upset about the turn of events. Rather, he seemed giddy, even basking in all the drama. He thought eating peanut butter by the spoonful during bath time was simply divine. And, hairspray on the neck seemed to be a real treat.

Despite my best efforts to discourage and discipline, Cooper retained a twinkle in his eyes that's left me wary.

Pajamas Day

2011-10-14T17:09:00.000-07:00

The evening view from our back porch.

Connor and his friend, Nick, participated in pajama day at Stonegate Elementary School.

It was pajama day at Connor's school. Connor was very excited to participate, and selected his very best jammies for the occasion: a Spider-man barely there, super snug, short set (sans underwear). After some prodding, he was convinced to ditch Spider-man and pull on the more modest Lego Star Wars pajamas (with underwear). Wise choice.

The little boys didn't want to miss out on the fun; so, I enacted pajamas day at home too. It seemed a little decadent to lounge around the house in pajamas all day, but it was fun for the little boys and bred a feeling of rest (while encouraging more sedate play!).

With the mellower house vibe, I tried my darnedest to convince Cooper to nap. We sprawled out on his bed, laying cheek to cheek. I closed my eyes and teetered on the verge of slumber when Cooper jumped up on the bed and screamed, "I'm a rock star. Na Na Na Na," as he strummed his air guitar. My eyes would flash open just in time to watch him barreling down, full force, onto my stomach. Then, he erupted into uncontrollable giggles. Such was the cycle for awhile, until I got the hint: Cooper was not one bit interested in a nap.

Fortunately, Cooper could be convinced to do quiet time. As the house fell silent, I sneaked into my room and crawled under the sheets. Rarely have I indulged in a midday siesta, but today sleep came quickly and easily. I slumbered for less than a half an hour, but it was enough to lightened my disposition and brighten my mood.

I'm thinking we'll enact pajamas day more often!

Stockpile

2011-10-13T17:18:00.000-07:00

Collin's new big boy Star Wars pajamas.

Buried deep within the recesses of Connor's room, I unearthed his private "stash." The contents included:

two mini pumpkins
a handful of acorns
unopened snack bags
fistfuls of silly bands
mounds of Legos
..and on and on.

I pondered why my six year old needed to accumulate such an eclectic stockpile. Was he preparing for an apocalypse? Should we be concerned?

Connor revealed his true motive for amassing his "goodies." As I suspected, he was hoarding his most beloved items away from the hands of his three pesky brothers. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.

Although I fully understood, the heap had to be moved. I instructed Connor to place only his favorite inanimate, non-food items into a special box that he could keep on his bed. It was Connor's sophie's choice: Legos versus Pokemon cards? Silly bands or Superheroes? Erasers versus pencils?

Finally, Connor dwindled his goods into the confines of a small plastic box. He actually seemed pleased with his smaller, more organized stash.

Let's hope this continues.

Den Dad

2011-10-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

As if it's not loud enough already, we added a full boyscout den to the mix this evening. Den two, lead by Chris, congregated in our basement. The scouts mixed with our boys and raised the noise level several decibels.

When the meeting went into full swing, I escorted Connor's siblings upstairs. I could still hear the laughter and merriment two stories up. The sign of a good scout meeting, I suppose.

After the last scout left, I asked Chris about the meeting.

"Well, no one got hurt," he responded and left it at that. I noticed his eyes appeared bloodshot and he looked beat.

Who knew watching just four boys could look easy?

Bedtime

2011-10-11T17:15:00.000-07:00

This is where I found Collin and his neighbor friend, Allyssa.

I suppose at two years old you can get away with it.

In a little over a decade, it might need to be squashed.

You see, my adorable two year old, Collin, has been luring his (mostly) female companions into the house with the line, "Do you want to see my bed?"

Then he adds, "It's a Batman bed."

His two year old admirers eagerly accept his offer, and toddle right behind him up the stairs and into his room. Inevitably, I'll discover he and his companion nestled among the Batman sheets. They'll both giggle and appear pleased as punch.

At his age, there's no romantic notion to it. He merely adores his Batman sheets. More importantly, he's proud of his newfound big boy status.

For now, I'll let him parade his big boy bed among his companions.

When he's truly a big boy, we'll have to talk.

Happy Columbus Day

2011-10-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

This morning, Caleb came bounding down the stairs. He was beaming as he announced, "I don't have school today."

I looked at him with bewilderment.

He continued, "It's a holiday, we don't have school."

"Holiday, what holiday?" I questioned.

He seemed visibly irritated at my ignorance, "Columbus Day, of course."

I smiled and gently explained that Columbus Day may be a holiday of sorts, but it wasn't a holiday that preventing him from attending school.

His smile faded, and a scowl appeared.

It seemed the Columbus Day excuse was contagious.

Connor told me he didn't have to read, due to the holiday and all.

Cooper thought it inhuman to demand chores on such a momentous day.

With each protest, I stood firm. Columbus Day or not, life would carry on as usual.

Sighs. Protests. Frustration. Acceptance.

I'm bracing myself for Halloween.

Beautiful Birthday Weekend

2011-10-09T15:26:00.000-07:00

My entire family congregated on the grounds of the art museum. My mom's one birthday wish was to have her entire family photographed. She arranged the photographer and location. Our job was to bring four clean, happy children (a feat in itself). Amazingly enough, it went really well. Bribery does wonders!

Cooper potting tangerine mums.

Connor participating in his last flag football game.

Connor's football team celebrated their season with a cookout at a teammate's home.

We celebrated my Mom's 65th birthday over an Italian dinner and a vanilla buttercream birthday cake.

We spent much of Saturday celebrating my mom's birthday. The family congregated for pictures, and then the adults enjoyed a celebratory dinner. At the dinner, my siblings and I (and our spouses) wrote letters to my mom expressing our appreciation for her on her special day.

Thought I'd share some of my letter:

Dear Mom:

Twenty years old, I proudly wore the Perry Meridian powder blue cross country uniform. Each race, I nervously took my place at the starting line. With the sound of the gun, I’d race through the course, huffing, puffing and desperately trying to maintain my momentum. As I darted around the course, inevitably I’d whiz around a bend, and glance over to see my mother pacing me from the side. You’d stride along side and yell, “Keep going. You can do it.” Then, you'd dash off and locate me along several other portions of the course, often at times when I most needed the encouragement. Looking back, I’m still not sure what made me run faster: hearing your words or wanting desperately to run faster than my mother.

As I reflect back on these memories, I’m cognizant of how you’ve been running by my side since the beginning. You were the one who taught me the fundamentals of running a good race. You taught me to run with a purpose, keeping God first and others (family most importantly) second. You warned me of hazards along the course. You instilled in me a belief that I could run as fast as I wanted, as long as I ran the right way. You taught me by example the fruits of finishing the race strong.

You’re still maintaining your role as cheerleader. I can still feel you striding along side of me shouting words of encouragement. You lift me up and propel me forward. You push me to finish well.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Love, Becky

When I finished reading the letter, Mom said, "I always knew you could fly."

I can because of her.

Pumpkinfest

2011-10-07T17:11:00.000-07:00

We piled into the school bus, three to a seat. The girls occupied one row, and the boys snagged the space behind us. Connor sat squarely between his two friends. I snagged a seat with two of his female classmates.

The bus peeled out of the parking lot, and headed north. We meandered through cornfields and country roads until we landed at our field trip destination: Pumpkinfest at Zionsville's Country Market.

The first grade students raced out of the bus and enjoyed the next several hours touring Pumpkinfest. The kids loved on farm animals, raced through a corn maze, and hopped onto a hay ride. Finally, they each selected a pumpkin souvenir to carry home.

At the end of the afternoon, the kids piled into the bus, equally exhausted and elated.

I was just grateful to have spent the day with my son.

Happy Birthday Mom

2011-10-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

I had a blast celebrating my dear friend, Cara's birthday over a vegan lunch. It actually was very yummy!

My hunky husband clad in his official Den Dad Boy Scout gear.

A very happy birthday to my mom. She spent her day gazing at the multicolored fall foliage in southern Indiana. Sounds like a delightful celebration for a delightful mother!

Delightful day, delightful mom

2011-10-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

The weather was absolutely gorgeous. The boys and I were in such good moods today. Cooper's preschool teacher passed on glowing comments about his day. Collin was a dream child all morning.

The pleasantness of the day brought out the pleasantness in this mom. Isn't it so much easier to be a delightful mom on those delightful days?

The bad days, well....

****************************************************************************

Cooper's birthday is within a matter of weeks. This morning, I requested his birthday wish list. Without hesitation, he shouted out his choices (exact words):

1) Bounce house,
2) Skateboard,
3) Skateboard ramp, and
4) Actual car.

Then he paused and said, "I crossed off the actual house from my list."

Whew.

******************************************************************************

Cooper said the bedtime prayers tonight. He said, "Dear God. Please have the holy bread help us to be good at school tomorrow."

Remembering Applesauce

2011-10-03T17:10:00.000-07:00

The little boys visit Stuckey's Orchard.

Ever since I eyed a magazine spread on apple dishes, I've yearned to whip up a truly amazing fall apple concoction. This afternoon, fresh from the orchard, I eagerly entered the kitchen, ready to create.

I sprawled a bushel full of Cortland apples onto my kitchen counter. Then, I began making my very first batch of homemade applesauce. I peeled, chopped, boiled, and stirred. Still questions lingered about the recipe, so I phoned my chef-extraordinaire mother to gather a tad bit of cooking advice.

My mom answered my questions with great vigor, even jumping on the internet at times to gather more information. As we talked, she intersected cooking advice with personal memories. She reminisced about whipping up batches during my childhood. Then, she reflected on her grandmother's homemade applesauce. As she spoke, her tone grew softer, and I imagined she was being transported back into another kitchen and another era.

Homemade applesauce doesn't hold as strong memories in my childhood. But, my grandmother's homemade noodles remind me of Christmas gatherings with a whole cluster of family members. My mother's lasagna brings back fond childhood memories of special birthday celebrations. I smiled and pondered whether I could recreate these fine dishes for my family.

Then again, I'm not sure I want to mimic the flavor as much as the memories.