Callling all evil geniuses

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Let's just say you happened to get together with some friends last night, had a spectacular time, and ended up staying out until the wee hour of two in the a.m.

And let's just say that at the unholy, dark, evil hour of four-thirty in the a.m., an alarm starts ringing somewhere in your room. It is not your regular alarm clock, and you scramble about trying to find it. After much blind rooting, knee bumping, and swear-word-uttering, you find the source of the awful ringing.

In a pillow. Stuffed under your bed.

You scratch your head, puzzled, wondering how or why it got there. But the comfort of your bed pulls you in as you drift back to sleep, even overriding your slight annoyance at the Husband for sleeping blissfully through it all.

Unfortunately, your regular alarm clock goes off at the usual unholy, dark, evil hour of six in the a.m. You painfully pull yourself to an upright position and wonder if you can bribe the hospital to hook you up with some diet coke intravenously. You stumble in a daze to the bathroom, splash some cold water on your face, and discover that all of your bathroom towels are missing.

And, just when you thought it couldn't get any stranger, you hear your cell phone ringing. You get that heart-stopping feeling of, "Holy frick, something's wrong!" grab your glasses, and put them on your wet face as you fly down the stairs. On the way there, you trip over some toys that you could swear were not there last night. You get to your cell phone, buried in the very bottom of your purse, just as the caller hangs up.

Scratching your head, you wonder what cruel joke the universe has decided to play on you until you walk into the kitchen and see your oldest son, falling on the floor in a fit of giggles. His face is red, he can barely sit up straight, and he utters the words, "APRIL FOOLS!"

Now.

While I love my firstborn more than my own life, at that moment, I seriously considered sending him back to meet his maker. I wondered briefly if they'd let me take a nap in jail.

But instead, I smiled, and told him that he won't know where, he won't know when, but someday I'd be coming for him.

So what I require here is your help, internets. I need your best tricks. I need your evil genius. I need something that he will never expect. Something that will make him think twice before placing that alarm clock beneath my bed next year or stealing my bath towels.

Please help me in my sweet, sweet revenge, won't you?

This troll must be stopped in his happy little tracks.

Some helpful hints for the zookeeper

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Tomorrow morning I am getting on a plane with my People magazine and the Husband, and heading for a little ski getaway. The animals children will be left in the fine care of the Oma, and the kids are dying with excitement for her to get here.

To make Oma's life easier, I thought I would leave some helpful hints about each child, their quirks, and individual needs. You know, things that might help Oma when they have tied her to a chair, built a fire in the living room, and are madly dancing half-nekkid around her.

Or something like that.

Boy number one:



This one likes to be called Mack, Mackey, Dude, and Hey You, but will flip out if referred to as "Bub," (which apparently is a name from the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series that was adopted by Chase and makes McKay crazy with rage).

He will probably be the most agreeable of the bunch and easily gives in for others to get their way. He is flexible and cheerful by nature. He shrugs his shoulders and tries not to smile when attention is on him, which you will probably find utterly irresistible.

He seldom remembers to pick up after himself and will leave a trail of shoes, books, jackets, and musical instruments behind him. He will look around in disbelief at the mention of his discarded items, shocked that he could do such a thing.

His appetite for bread is voracious, but he can be staved off with fresh strawberries. He will not remember to brush his teeth unless reminded. He does, however, remember to wear the deodorant.

Thank goodness for us all.

In case of emergency: Send him outside with a basketball and he will only return periodically for water and fresh strawberries.

Boy number two:



This wily fellow is a clever one. He has been known to wake up the entire house at the crack of dawn and then be slightly annoyed when action is not happening at the dark, unholy hour of seven in the a.m. It will be hard to remain annoyed, however, when he flashes that big, toothy grin, flanked by his lone dimple. He is always happy, and has a tender-hearted soul.

He WILL track mud into the house obliviously, make no mistake about that. He will wander the forest in the backyard for hours, and do not be surprised when he unearths bones of some sort. He will study them and definitely have facts to share when he's done.

He is very kinesthetic. The boy CANNOT. SIT. STILL. When he's telling you a story (as he undoubtedly will 1,549 times per day) he will circle you as though he were a jungle cat and you were his prey. Feel free to read blogs, online shop, or give yourself a manicure during any of these stories. He will not notice and you will be happy for the distraction. After all, there are only so many times one can hear about hobbits, frogs, weapons, and war.

In case of emergency: Tell him there is a dinosaur buried in the sandbox and that he can sell the skeleton on e-Bay once he finds it. You will not see him for hours. Possibly days.

The Girl:


This little munchkin will probably want to be your tiny, talking shadow. Do not be surprised if she offers to style your hair, fix your make-up, and give you a pedicure. She will most likely critique your outfit in such a way that you will second-guess yourself for years to come.

She is happiest when she is baking or cleaning. She can scale the counter tops with the agility of a tree monkey to reach ingredients on the top shelf. She constantly likes to snack, but very seldom eats more than a few bites of any meal. She will pretend she is the boss of you, and no amount of convincing will tell her otherwise.

She is cuddly and will sit happily at your feet for hours listening to stories. She loves movies, and has a penchant for the romantic comedies. A word of warning though: She almost always cries at the end. Be prepared with a box of tissues.

In case of emergency: Tell her you want to have a tea party and she will scamper off to prepare one. This will buy you at least an hour's reprieve, but it will unfortunately require your presence eventually at the tea party.

So, Oma, any questions? If so, you can reach me in one of the following places:

My hotel bed, where I will be napping and eating room service pancakes
The spa, where I will be getting massages, manis, pedis, and facials
Shopping, where I will be spending all of the Husband's money

Good luck. You're going to need it!

Twelve

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Dear McKay,



Today, at 12:33 a.m., you marked your twelfth year in my life. You have been lamenting all week, impatiently waiting for your birthday to arrive. I sarcastically commented each day that had you been born remotely on-time like you were supposed to have done, you'd have already had your birthday.

To which you laughed, smiled sheepishly, and said, "Geez, Mom. I couldn't help it."

You'd think after 12 years together, I'd have forgiven you for being a week late.



But I couldn't help it, you see. I had waited four long years to even have a glimmer of you in my life, and another few days just seemed like torture. I was so ready to meet you, and hold you, and have you in my arms.



You changed me forever, Mack.

You made me a mama.



I was digging through scrapbooks this morning to find old pictures of you, and seeing some of the ones from your toddler days reminded me of what it was like to get you dressed in the morning. You were such a wiggly little thing. It was as though I was asking too much for you to sit still a whole three minutes and put on a shirt. Because those dump trucks, and books, and balls? They just weren't going to throw themselves, you know.

But one day, as we were having our daily wrestling match, I noticed you watching me. You didn't fight or wiggle this time. Your wide, blue eyes just stared at me - taking in my every feature as though you were seeing me for the first time. And then suddenly, and without warning, you threw your arms around my neck and held on tight. Your soft, dimpled elbows wrapped around me, and tears filled my eyes as it hit me.

You loved me.



You know what, kid? I still see that love today. I see it in your easygoing nature. I see it when you cheerfully do your homework and practice your trumpet without having to be told. I see it when you sigh and resign yourself to a game with Hannah, even though you'd much rather do something else. I see it when you let your brother have the bigger half of a treat you brought home in the first place.

You simply emanate love. You open your little heart wide and love everyone around you. It is impossible to resist. You make it so easy to love you back.



So, this morning, when your father pulled that big green gun-shaped case out of the closet, your squeals of glee left us no doubt as to your feelings on the matter. Against my better judgment, I let him buy you a big, scary weapon. Because I know that you are trustworthy. I know that you are responsible. And I know you'll always do the right thing.

Plus, I'm pretty sure this makes us even for any embarrassing stuff I may happen to do in the next five or six years.


Happy birthday, darling boyo. I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for sharing a little bit of heaven with me. And if it's not too much trouble, could you make the next 12 years go by just a little bit slower?

Love,

Mama

another lesson in humility

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My kids leave soggy, wet towels on the floor in their room after a shower.

My kids ignore me for hours, and choose the exact minute I pick up the phone to desperately need all of my attention.

My kids leave a trail of crumbs behind them everywhere they go.

My kids eat way too many pancakes, covered in way too much syrup.

My kids (especially that middle one) track mud obliviously through my just-mopped kitchen.

My kids climb trees and scrape their knees. And then proceed to use no less than 19 bandaids to make it all better.

My kids fight and tease each other.

My kids get their feelings hurt by other kids at school.

My kids somehow always find and consume my stash of the good (and expensive) protein bars.

My kids jump on the trampoline until they are breathless. Then they get up and do it again.

My kids ride bikes in the wintertime with red cheeks and knitted caps.

My kids sometimes make their beds.

My kids love to read.

My kids cannot fall asleep unless they hug and kiss me goodnight.

My kids run hard, play hard, and laugh hard.

My kids do a lot. Some of it gets on my nerves.

My kids have full bellies and rich lives.

Today I was reminded of this as I sat once again in the waiting room at Children's Hospital where McKay goes twice a year for his asthma check up. I sat next to a mama who held a toddler on her lap. The beautiful boy was bald, though not like a newborn - from chemo. She had bags under her eyes and wore her tremendous worry on her sleeve like a thousand-pound anvil. She smiled and thanked me when I handed her something she dropped. My heart ached for this scared little mama and her sick baby. I felt guilty, as I looked over at my robust, healthy boy - totally absorbed in his book and oblivious to the sorrows surrounding us.

Today, once again, my heart is full of gratitude for all the many things my kids can do.

And it aches terribly for the mamas whose kids cannot.

Then and now

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Do any of you remember this?



That was my babies in August of 2006. Here are some tidbits about our lives during that time:
  • We lived less than a mile from the beach in sunny, perfect, warm San Diego
  • The Husband did not ever get on a plane, and frequently came home for lunch
  • McKay and Chase were both in elementary school, and Hannah had just started preschool
  • We were both renting and owning a home at the same time (it wasn't pretty)
  • I had a blog that a few people liked to read
  • Hannah's best friend was Sleeping Beauty (and she was sure to remind us of that daily)
  • I had very little time to myself
  • I made lots of cookie dough
  • I drank lots of diet coke
  • The Husband hated his job and was professionally very miserable
  • My kids went to bed at six o'clock every night
  • Chase spent every waking minute hunting lizards
  • I pushed Hannah in the stroller daily on our walk to pick the boys up from school
Here they are, three years later in August of 2009:


And here are some ways our life has changed in the past three years:
  • We no longer live less than a mile from the beach
  • My three kids are in school all day long
  • The Husband is very happy now at his job
  • We are thankfully owning just one home
  • McKay is in his first year of middle school, and Chase and Hannah are both in elementary school
  • Hannah's best friend is no longer Sleeping Beauty
  • Chase spends every waking minute hunting frogs
  • I am now a small business owner
  • The Husband is once again a frequent flier and is never home for lunch (or breakfast, or dinner, come to think of it)
  • My kids still go to bed some days at six o'clock
  • I still make way too much cookie dough
  • I still drink lots of diet coke
  • I have a blog, and a few people like to read it
  • I no longer own or operate a stroller
  • And I have oodles of time to myself
While I'd probably sell my soul to live a mile from the beach again, I wouldn't trade where we are for the world.

Life is good. And it just keeps getting better.