If I have not mentioned it before, Noah is a little bit crazy.
I suppose it is the typical third kid syndrome, but wow-he is just full of energy and opinions, much more than the other two. Maybe it is because we are older as he goes through the two-year old phase, but sometimes I just look at him and wonder what on earth possessed him to do what he just did.
I wonder this when I see him standing upstairs in the loft...on the top edge of the recliner...close to falling over the railing. I wonder this when he flat out disobeys us even though he knows what will be coming to him. I wonder this when he runs out the front door, toward the street, laughing hysterically the whole way, as I chase him in my pajamas.
I really wondered this last night. We were at Abby's soccer game and as they were warming up, the boys were playing on an empty field. As Caleb walked over to watch the game start, I went to get Noah, who was preoccupied. As I got closer, I saw him standing right by a drain pipe than ran into the hillside, like a tunnel.
As I wondered why he was just standing there, it dawned on me that he was just playing with Caleb's soccer ball. And I did not see the soccer ball anywhere in sight.
When I asked him what he did, he said, "The ball is in there!" pointing to the dark tunnel. Awesome.
I got down on my hands and knees and looked in, but could not see anything. I suppose I could have stuck my head in further, but yeah, no, that was not going to happen.
I went back and told Caleb the bad news. He and Nick checked it out and took along a golf club (from Nick's trunk) to see if they could reach it. Caleb, of course, could see the ball (because he has no fear about sticking his head in a dark drain pipe, which should probably concern me) and kept telling Nick that he was so close to reaching it.
They finally gave up and asked me to try, since my arms are longer. I went back at halftime (because we wanted to watch the game, the actual reason we were there) and I could finally see the ball, but it was waaaaaay back in there. I tried in vain, but that bright orange soccer ball was going to stay in the drain pipe. Maybe someday it will lose air and be swept out to the pond, but for now, its home is there.
What is ridiculous is that Noah has no clue that he did something wrong. It is not like I can say, "The new ball we have to buy is coming out of your allowance" to a two-year old.
He is actually quite proud of what he did. A stranger walked by as we were trying to get the ball out and when she looked at us with a questioning look (what, you have never seen a grown woman, laying flat on the ground with her arm in a drain pipe, holding a golf club?), I quickly said we were getting a soccer ball out. Noah yelled out proudly, "I put it there! Me!"
The kid is never boring. I could write more about him, but I have to go rescue him. He turned a laundry basket upside down, stood on it to reach the basket of fruit and is now stuck, hanging on the side of the counter.
Two soccer games to watch today-let's see what kind of adventures we can find today.
The Kids
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
A New Title
Last June I signed up to sell bags and totes with Thirty-One Gifts. I knew I liked the products, I knew that I wanted more for free, and figured, "Why not give it a try?"
So, flash forward a year and two months and I find myself a Director with the company.
Um, what? This stay at home mommy is a director of something?
Apparently. And I absolutely love my job. I still get to be home with my kids, but then go out and have my "me" time with my job. And did I mention that my job is going to parties where women talk about bags? Pretty sweet.
It is still hitting me that this is what I do. When I am introduced to new people and someone asks me what I do, I have to catch myself from saying, "I stay home," and can now say, "I'm a director with Thirty-One."
NOT that saying, "I stay home" is anything to be ashamed of. Hello-my entire blog is based on how thankful I am that I get to stay home while my kids are young. But, I have to admit, it is fun to state that I do something else as well.
Maybe it is because I have felt lost during the past nine years-lost of who I used to be. I used to be fun and felt like I made a difference in people's lives. I had more adventures and ideas. I look at my pictures from college and our first couple of years of marriage and I think, "Wow, where did that woman go?"
Yes, I know how important my past nine years have been-taking care of my children and spending quality time with them is more important than how I feel about myself. I know that shaping them into the people that they are becoming is a thousand times more important than my ego. And I would never trade it for anything. The sacrifices have been worth it.
I just really appreciate being able to interact with other women and help them reach their goals. And setting my own goals and working hard to reach them (this is when my stubborn personality helps me succeed). And I love being able to contribute financially to our family budget. It has been a blessing to work for a company that lets me set my own hours, gives me chances to move up and earn more, all while allowing me to stay home with my kids during these precious few years.
So, this mom will continue to change diapers (really need to get on potty training Noah, right?), clean the house, make meals, carpool to school and soccer and baseball, discipline, do laundry, pay bills, and generally keep our crazy family of five somewhat sane. But, this mom will also schedule parties, keep up with customers, train a team of fabulous women, and sell bags and totes to anyone who is interested.
And will have fun doing both things at the same time. Bring on the chaos.
So, flash forward a year and two months and I find myself a Director with the company.
Um, what? This stay at home mommy is a director of something?
Apparently. And I absolutely love my job. I still get to be home with my kids, but then go out and have my "me" time with my job. And did I mention that my job is going to parties where women talk about bags? Pretty sweet.
It is still hitting me that this is what I do. When I am introduced to new people and someone asks me what I do, I have to catch myself from saying, "I stay home," and can now say, "I'm a director with Thirty-One."
NOT that saying, "I stay home" is anything to be ashamed of. Hello-my entire blog is based on how thankful I am that I get to stay home while my kids are young. But, I have to admit, it is fun to state that I do something else as well.
Maybe it is because I have felt lost during the past nine years-lost of who I used to be. I used to be fun and felt like I made a difference in people's lives. I had more adventures and ideas. I look at my pictures from college and our first couple of years of marriage and I think, "Wow, where did that woman go?"
Yes, I know how important my past nine years have been-taking care of my children and spending quality time with them is more important than how I feel about myself. I know that shaping them into the people that they are becoming is a thousand times more important than my ego. And I would never trade it for anything. The sacrifices have been worth it.
I just really appreciate being able to interact with other women and help them reach their goals. And setting my own goals and working hard to reach them (this is when my stubborn personality helps me succeed). And I love being able to contribute financially to our family budget. It has been a blessing to work for a company that lets me set my own hours, gives me chances to move up and earn more, all while allowing me to stay home with my kids during these precious few years.
So, this mom will continue to change diapers (really need to get on potty training Noah, right?), clean the house, make meals, carpool to school and soccer and baseball, discipline, do laundry, pay bills, and generally keep our crazy family of five somewhat sane. But, this mom will also schedule parties, keep up with customers, train a team of fabulous women, and sell bags and totes to anyone who is interested.
And will have fun doing both things at the same time. Bring on the chaos.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Cherish My Time
Since I have so many things to catch you all up on, the following posts will be in no particular order. I shall write today, try again later this week and so on. Forgive my lack of things in the chronological order, but I will start with what is on my heart right now.
This summer, our school community lost two women in a tragic way.
One woman was Julie Willard. She was a mom of two boys, one already grown and one still in high school. I was blessed to know her because Nick taught her boys and she heard that I was a Thirty-One consultant. She opened up her home last fall and hosted a party, in which I was able to meet many of her friends.
What I noticed about Julie at that party was that she was always making sure that everyone was comfortable and happy. As I got to know her more and hear others mention her, I realized that she was a very charitable person who always gave of her time to step up and help anyone in need.
This summer, Julie passed away suddenly. And by suddenly, I mean she was texting a friend about a random thing one minute and 15 minutes later her son found her unconscious on her bed. She never woke up.
I cannot imagine the pain her family is still going through. No chance to say good-bye, words let unsaid, future plans left unmade. She will not see her boys get married or have children or see them find their dreams.
The second woman was Lisa Heath. From the moment that I met her, I always loved her name because my best friend's maiden name was Lisa Heathcote. Lisa Heath had battled cancer for a few years so her death was not a surprise, but rather a long, drawn out tragedy that still left the same results-she will never see her kids graduate, get married, have children...it is unfathomable to me.
Last summer, Lisa was told she wouldn't live much longer, but was miraculously healed. She was able to have another year with her family. She knew the cancer was back this past spring and just a few weeks ago, she went into liver failure. Yes, she had that extra year, but it was never enough.
I missed both of their funerals. Julie died on July 4th and her funeral took place while we were at camp the following week. Lisa died on July 26th and her funeral was while we were on our family vacation. I received the text from her best friend (also my good friend) while I was in the midst of the Thirty-One Conference. Everyone was around me, "Woo Hooing" about the new purse line and I looked at my phone and read, "She is in Heaven now in the arms of Jesus."
Have you ever been in one of those moments where your world stops while everyone else's keeps going? I sat there, stunned, tears rolling down my face while 16,000 other women kept laughing and smiling over bags with their friends.
I tried to get out. I left the room and tried to find a space where I could be alone to call my friend, but everywhere I looked there were people. In those moments, it suddenly becomes a mystery to how everyone can be so happy and not realize that you are screaming inside.
My heart is still hurting for her husband, who lost his partner in life. And especially for her kids, twins, who are in Abby's grade. They are too young to lose their mom. Although, is there ever an age where we are old enough?
I have no explanation for why these things happen. All I know is that it makes me appreciate the time that I do have with my family right now. So when I am getting frustrated because I have been interrupted ALL DAY while trying to write this (seriously, every time I sit down to type this, I get about a sentence in and one of my children needs something-and this is the girl who wrote two 10 page papers in one night in college and received awesome grades on them), I need to keep my attitude in check.
I am here right now. I am with my children. I am seeing them grow and reach milestones. I do not know how long I have left, but I want to cherish it all. We are given a sliver of our time here compared to what lies ahead.
And what lies ahead will be oh, so glorious. Julie and Lisa already know. They are not asking the questions or wondering, "Why God?" They are with their beloved, waiting for everyone else to taste what they now know.
To quote from one of my favorite passages in the Jesus Storybook Bible (not just for kids, people), "And the King says, 'Look! God and his children are together again. No more running away. Or hiding. No more crying or being lonely or afraid. No more being sick or dying. Because all those things are gone. Yes, they're gone forever. Everything sad has come untrue. And see-I have wiped away every tear from every eye!'" And then a deep, beautiful voice that sounded like thunder in the sky says, 'Look, I am making everything new!'"
This summer, our school community lost two women in a tragic way.
One woman was Julie Willard. She was a mom of two boys, one already grown and one still in high school. I was blessed to know her because Nick taught her boys and she heard that I was a Thirty-One consultant. She opened up her home last fall and hosted a party, in which I was able to meet many of her friends.
What I noticed about Julie at that party was that she was always making sure that everyone was comfortable and happy. As I got to know her more and hear others mention her, I realized that she was a very charitable person who always gave of her time to step up and help anyone in need.
This summer, Julie passed away suddenly. And by suddenly, I mean she was texting a friend about a random thing one minute and 15 minutes later her son found her unconscious on her bed. She never woke up.
I cannot imagine the pain her family is still going through. No chance to say good-bye, words let unsaid, future plans left unmade. She will not see her boys get married or have children or see them find their dreams.
The second woman was Lisa Heath. From the moment that I met her, I always loved her name because my best friend's maiden name was Lisa Heathcote. Lisa Heath had battled cancer for a few years so her death was not a surprise, but rather a long, drawn out tragedy that still left the same results-she will never see her kids graduate, get married, have children...it is unfathomable to me.
Last summer, Lisa was told she wouldn't live much longer, but was miraculously healed. She was able to have another year with her family. She knew the cancer was back this past spring and just a few weeks ago, she went into liver failure. Yes, she had that extra year, but it was never enough.
I missed both of their funerals. Julie died on July 4th and her funeral took place while we were at camp the following week. Lisa died on July 26th and her funeral was while we were on our family vacation. I received the text from her best friend (also my good friend) while I was in the midst of the Thirty-One Conference. Everyone was around me, "Woo Hooing" about the new purse line and I looked at my phone and read, "She is in Heaven now in the arms of Jesus."
Have you ever been in one of those moments where your world stops while everyone else's keeps going? I sat there, stunned, tears rolling down my face while 16,000 other women kept laughing and smiling over bags with their friends.
I tried to get out. I left the room and tried to find a space where I could be alone to call my friend, but everywhere I looked there were people. In those moments, it suddenly becomes a mystery to how everyone can be so happy and not realize that you are screaming inside.
My heart is still hurting for her husband, who lost his partner in life. And especially for her kids, twins, who are in Abby's grade. They are too young to lose their mom. Although, is there ever an age where we are old enough?
I have no explanation for why these things happen. All I know is that it makes me appreciate the time that I do have with my family right now. So when I am getting frustrated because I have been interrupted ALL DAY while trying to write this (seriously, every time I sit down to type this, I get about a sentence in and one of my children needs something-and this is the girl who wrote two 10 page papers in one night in college and received awesome grades on them), I need to keep my attitude in check.
I am here right now. I am with my children. I am seeing them grow and reach milestones. I do not know how long I have left, but I want to cherish it all. We are given a sliver of our time here compared to what lies ahead.
And what lies ahead will be oh, so glorious. Julie and Lisa already know. They are not asking the questions or wondering, "Why God?" They are with their beloved, waiting for everyone else to taste what they now know.
To quote from one of my favorite passages in the Jesus Storybook Bible (not just for kids, people), "And the King says, 'Look! God and his children are together again. No more running away. Or hiding. No more crying or being lonely or afraid. No more being sick or dying. Because all those things are gone. Yes, they're gone forever. Everything sad has come untrue. And see-I have wiped away every tear from every eye!'" And then a deep, beautiful voice that sounded like thunder in the sky says, 'Look, I am making everything new!'"
Monday, August 5, 2013
Busy Much?
Oh. My. Word.
I used to be a blogger. When I had thoughts about something, I wrote them down. When my kids said something funny or profound, I wrote it down. If I had a brilliant picture of something, I shared it.
What on earth happened?
Um, summer.
It is amazing how little time I have to myself when everyone is home from school. You know all of those moms who home school their children and have time to write about it? I swear they write in place of sleeping.
I cannot blame it all on the presence of my children (and husband) being home. I have gradually been increasing my hours with Thirty-One. I never dreamed this little job "selling bags" would turn into an actual career. Not only has my calendar stayed full of parties, but I keep adding team members. Out of nowhere. I actually just promoted to Director this month, which is just amazing to me. God has truly blessed this and I love every part of my job.
So, between the constant chaos of my house (I can literally hear the boys fighting in their room when they are supposed to be sleeping-wish I was kidding), my job taking off, and the constant traveling in July, I am justifying my lack of blogging based on all of these excuses.
However, after numerous complaints over the lack of my writing (did not realize there were so many of you readers out there), I am determined to keep up. Prepare yourselves for stories of humor (mostly from the kids that I usually claim are mine), sadness (our school lost two dear women this summer), and encouragement (after all, I work for a company that loves to "Woo Hoo!" each other).
I would write more now, but Noah screams are now reaching a level to which the neighbors might be calling the police on us.
I used to be a blogger. When I had thoughts about something, I wrote them down. When my kids said something funny or profound, I wrote it down. If I had a brilliant picture of something, I shared it.
What on earth happened?
Um, summer.
It is amazing how little time I have to myself when everyone is home from school. You know all of those moms who home school their children and have time to write about it? I swear they write in place of sleeping.
I cannot blame it all on the presence of my children (and husband) being home. I have gradually been increasing my hours with Thirty-One. I never dreamed this little job "selling bags" would turn into an actual career. Not only has my calendar stayed full of parties, but I keep adding team members. Out of nowhere. I actually just promoted to Director this month, which is just amazing to me. God has truly blessed this and I love every part of my job.
So, between the constant chaos of my house (I can literally hear the boys fighting in their room when they are supposed to be sleeping-wish I was kidding), my job taking off, and the constant traveling in July, I am justifying my lack of blogging based on all of these excuses.
However, after numerous complaints over the lack of my writing (did not realize there were so many of you readers out there), I am determined to keep up. Prepare yourselves for stories of humor (mostly from the kids that I usually claim are mine), sadness (our school lost two dear women this summer), and encouragement (after all, I work for a company that loves to "Woo Hoo!" each other).
I would write more now, but Noah screams are now reaching a level to which the neighbors might be calling the police on us.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Two-Year Old Perspective
Our family has gold passes to King's Island. For the non-Cincinnati folks, KI is an amusement park, which is conveniently 20 minutes from our house. The beauty of these passes is being able to go over for a couple of hours, ride a few rides and head home for my-I mean Noah's-nap time.
While everyone was still in school, I took Noah for his first trip of the season.
He had a blast.
Sure, the rides were fun. But, his favorite thing to do? Splash in puddles.
As I called his name to get in line for the next ride, he kept running toward the signs and the puddles. All he wanted was signs and puddles. He was perfectly content to stand next to a sign and splash in a puddle.
It took me back to the day when we went to KI when Abby was a toddler (in our pre-gold pass days, where we felt we had to stay the entire day to make it worth our money). While everyone was impatient, waiting in lines for rides as the rain fell, she loved it.
I could use that lesson quite often in my own life. While I keep waiting for the next best thing, and being impatient with my current circumstances, I should just stop and enjoy what is around me.
While everyone was still in school, I took Noah for his first trip of the season.
He had a blast.
Sure, the rides were fun. But, his favorite thing to do? Splash in puddles.
As I called his name to get in line for the next ride, he kept running toward the signs and the puddles. All he wanted was signs and puddles. He was perfectly content to stand next to a sign and splash in a puddle.
It took me back to the day when we went to KI when Abby was a toddler (in our pre-gold pass days, where we felt we had to stay the entire day to make it worth our money). While everyone was impatient, waiting in lines for rides as the rain fell, she loved it.
I could use that lesson quite often in my own life. While I keep waiting for the next best thing, and being impatient with my current circumstances, I should just stop and enjoy what is around me.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Silence Is Not Golden
Why silence is not golden in my house...
If I am home with Noah and it is suddenly too quiet, I know something is wrong.
While putting away laundry today, I noticed that my shadow was not right next to me and that I did not hear him playing downstairs. When I found him, he had taken all of the toilet paper rolls out of the new package of toilet paper and was tearing them apart.
My frustration was split evenly between the mess and the money going down the drain on what I paid for the 2 ply necessity.
By the way, if you come to my house and use the downstairs bathroom in the next few days, you will see a mound of toilet paper scraps sitting on the shelf. It will be used up and will not be thrown away.
Yesterday, after changing Noah's dirty diaper in the evening, I let him be diaperless for a few minutes. After all, it was almost bath time so why waste a diaper?
Um, yeah, I should have wasted a diaper.
It only took a few minutes for me to hear, "Mommy, my finger is wet with poop." Excuse me?
I found him upstairs, standing near my desk, with poop on his fingers. My eyes then drifted to my desk chair, where there was a pile of soft feces.
I wanted to scream and run out the door, and never come back.
Instead, I pulled it together and cleaned up the little monster. And my desk chair.
Tonight was a memorable one. Noah came out of his room, saying something about having to use the bathroom. Because he never means it and because I was distracted helping Abby finish up her final book report (last 2nd grade report-hooray!), I did not really pay attention. Within seconds I heard a crash, followed by a scream. Then I heard Caleb yell, "Mom, Noah slammed the toilet seat on his penis!"
Are you freaking kidding me?
Images of blood and tips being broken off and a life with no grandchildren filled my mind as I raced up the stairs. My poor little guy was in so much pain (no kidding) and it was not a pretty sight. After much calming down and a little ice, I think he is okay. Time will tell how he heals.
I really hope this does not affect his future potty training issues.
Oh Noah, life is never boring with you.
If I am home with Noah and it is suddenly too quiet, I know something is wrong.
While putting away laundry today, I noticed that my shadow was not right next to me and that I did not hear him playing downstairs. When I found him, he had taken all of the toilet paper rolls out of the new package of toilet paper and was tearing them apart.
My frustration was split evenly between the mess and the money going down the drain on what I paid for the 2 ply necessity.
By the way, if you come to my house and use the downstairs bathroom in the next few days, you will see a mound of toilet paper scraps sitting on the shelf. It will be used up and will not be thrown away.
Yesterday, after changing Noah's dirty diaper in the evening, I let him be diaperless for a few minutes. After all, it was almost bath time so why waste a diaper?
Um, yeah, I should have wasted a diaper.
It only took a few minutes for me to hear, "Mommy, my finger is wet with poop." Excuse me?
I found him upstairs, standing near my desk, with poop on his fingers. My eyes then drifted to my desk chair, where there was a pile of soft feces.
I wanted to scream and run out the door, and never come back.
Instead, I pulled it together and cleaned up the little monster. And my desk chair.
Tonight was a memorable one. Noah came out of his room, saying something about having to use the bathroom. Because he never means it and because I was distracted helping Abby finish up her final book report (last 2nd grade report-hooray!), I did not really pay attention. Within seconds I heard a crash, followed by a scream. Then I heard Caleb yell, "Mom, Noah slammed the toilet seat on his penis!"
Are you freaking kidding me?
Images of blood and tips being broken off and a life with no grandchildren filled my mind as I raced up the stairs. My poor little guy was in so much pain (no kidding) and it was not a pretty sight. After much calming down and a little ice, I think he is okay. Time will tell how he heals.
I really hope this does not affect his future potty training issues.
Oh Noah, life is never boring with you.
 |
| After he broke the blinds on the back door |
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Boys
Anyone who has a boy will love this story from W. Bruce Cameron...
Someone once asked me, "if you could be any person in the world, who would it be?" To which I responded without hesitation, "my eleven-year-old son."
My boy's life is one where the less pleasant elements of reality rarely intrude. His eyes unfocused, his mouth emitting sound effects, he drifts around in serene oblivion, almost never concerned about anything.
Last Saturday I interrupted his reverie and asked him to check to see if the mail had arrived. He responded agreeably enough, though it took several reminders before he actually was out the door. I went to the window to observe his progress. He made a strong start, striding purposefully toward the mailbox at the end of our driveway. Then something caught his eye and he stopped, frowning. He bent over and picked it up: a stick. It fit into his hand like a Colt pistol, and he swiveled, eyeing the trees for enemies. He spotted a couple and dove for cover, firing as he rolled. Airplanes swooped down and he switched to ground-to-air mode, jubilating when the missiles hit their targets. He spoke into his radio and did something to his forehead, probably putting on his night vision goggles. I lost sight of him as he snaked around the corner of the house.
Half an hour later he tromped in, exuberant over his military victory. I stopped him in the hallway. "Did you get the mail?"
He stared at me blankly, and I wondered whether he even knew who I was. "You were going out to get the mail," I reminded him.
His focus cleared. "Oh, yeah."
"Did you get it?"
His expression indicated he wasn't sure.
"Why don't you try again," I suggested.
Back out the door. I winced as he glanced at a tree branch, but he didn't appear tempted. His eyes acquired radar lock on the mailbox, and I sighed in relief.
Lying next to the mailbox was a football which had drifted there at the end of a neighborhood game a few weeks ago. He scooped the ball up in his arms and swerved, dodging tackles. Touchdown! I put my hands on my hips and watched him toss the ball into the air, calling for a fair catch. First down. He took the ball, fading back, out of the pocket and in trouble. I shook my head as I was treated to the spectacle of my son sacking himself for an eight-yard loss. He jumped up and shook his finger, urging his blockers to stop the blitz. They seemed to heed his admonitions*on the next play he rolled left and threw right, a fantastic pass which found him wide open thirty yards downfield. He trotted into the end zone and gave the crowd a mile-high salute.
When I checked back at half-time to see who was winning, mankind was on the brink. The football was jammed up inside his shirt, and he was struggling forward on his knees, looking like a soldier crawling through the desert. He had pulled the lawn mower out of the garage, and as he fell toward it, gasping, he pulled the sacred pigskin from his shirt and, with the last reserves of his strength, touched it to the engine. He died, but civilization was saved by his heroic efforts.
No word on whether, with this triumph, mail would be delivered.
I met him at the door, pierced through his fog, and asked him to get the mail. He agreed in such as fashion as to indicate this was the first he'd heard of the subject. There was a skip in his step as he headed down he driveway, and he was making so much progress so quickly I felt my hopes growing, particularly when he reached out and actually touched the mailbox.
Alas, he was only stopping to talk to it. Conferring in low tones, he nodded, squinting into the distance. He raised the mail flag, igniting the retrorockets strapped to his back. He throttled to full power and then dropped the flag, firing off into space with his arms outstretched like Superman.
He was nowhere in sight when, half an hour later, I went out to get the mail.
This is totally my Caleb. Whether the task is to get up, get dressed, eat a meal, get your backpack ready, get your baseball bag ready, get your shoes on, clean up your mess...there are so many adventures between what I say and when he actually does it. After reading this, I no longer feel like I am raising a child that ignores me or will be lazy-he is simply a little boy.
Someone once asked me, "if you could be any person in the world, who would it be?" To which I responded without hesitation, "my eleven-year-old son."
My boy's life is one where the less pleasant elements of reality rarely intrude. His eyes unfocused, his mouth emitting sound effects, he drifts around in serene oblivion, almost never concerned about anything.
Last Saturday I interrupted his reverie and asked him to check to see if the mail had arrived. He responded agreeably enough, though it took several reminders before he actually was out the door. I went to the window to observe his progress. He made a strong start, striding purposefully toward the mailbox at the end of our driveway. Then something caught his eye and he stopped, frowning. He bent over and picked it up: a stick. It fit into his hand like a Colt pistol, and he swiveled, eyeing the trees for enemies. He spotted a couple and dove for cover, firing as he rolled. Airplanes swooped down and he switched to ground-to-air mode, jubilating when the missiles hit their targets. He spoke into his radio and did something to his forehead, probably putting on his night vision goggles. I lost sight of him as he snaked around the corner of the house.
Half an hour later he tromped in, exuberant over his military victory. I stopped him in the hallway. "Did you get the mail?"
He stared at me blankly, and I wondered whether he even knew who I was. "You were going out to get the mail," I reminded him.
His focus cleared. "Oh, yeah."
"Did you get it?"
His expression indicated he wasn't sure.
"Why don't you try again," I suggested.
Back out the door. I winced as he glanced at a tree branch, but he didn't appear tempted. His eyes acquired radar lock on the mailbox, and I sighed in relief.
Lying next to the mailbox was a football which had drifted there at the end of a neighborhood game a few weeks ago. He scooped the ball up in his arms and swerved, dodging tackles. Touchdown! I put my hands on my hips and watched him toss the ball into the air, calling for a fair catch. First down. He took the ball, fading back, out of the pocket and in trouble. I shook my head as I was treated to the spectacle of my son sacking himself for an eight-yard loss. He jumped up and shook his finger, urging his blockers to stop the blitz. They seemed to heed his admonitions*on the next play he rolled left and threw right, a fantastic pass which found him wide open thirty yards downfield. He trotted into the end zone and gave the crowd a mile-high salute.
When I checked back at half-time to see who was winning, mankind was on the brink. The football was jammed up inside his shirt, and he was struggling forward on his knees, looking like a soldier crawling through the desert. He had pulled the lawn mower out of the garage, and as he fell toward it, gasping, he pulled the sacred pigskin from his shirt and, with the last reserves of his strength, touched it to the engine. He died, but civilization was saved by his heroic efforts.
No word on whether, with this triumph, mail would be delivered.
I met him at the door, pierced through his fog, and asked him to get the mail. He agreed in such as fashion as to indicate this was the first he'd heard of the subject. There was a skip in his step as he headed down he driveway, and he was making so much progress so quickly I felt my hopes growing, particularly when he reached out and actually touched the mailbox.
Alas, he was only stopping to talk to it. Conferring in low tones, he nodded, squinting into the distance. He raised the mail flag, igniting the retrorockets strapped to his back. He throttled to full power and then dropped the flag, firing off into space with his arms outstretched like Superman.
He was nowhere in sight when, half an hour later, I went out to get the mail.
This is totally my Caleb. Whether the task is to get up, get dressed, eat a meal, get your backpack ready, get your baseball bag ready, get your shoes on, clean up your mess...there are so many adventures between what I say and when he actually does it. After reading this, I no longer feel like I am raising a child that ignores me or will be lazy-he is simply a little boy.
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