Living with Chase

You know you're living with Chase when...



June 6th is celebrated with all the fanfare of a national holiday.

And in spite of yourself, you know exactly what Operation Overlord is referring to.

You know you're living with Chase when you spend your Sunday morning listening to facts about the D-Day invasion, with him not sparing any of the gory details.

No matter that you're eating breakfast.

You know you're living with Opa's Mini-Me Chase when a first-edition book by Bill Mauldin shows up on your doorstep from the Opa. And is immediately devoured by a blue-eyed boy who treasures it with a reverence not usually seen in kids his age. Especially when it comes to things like old books.

You know you're living with Chase when you are encouraged forced to make a flag cake in honor of the fallen heroes.

And you are told that it must have no more than 13 stripes and no less than 50 stars. "Because anything other than that would be an insult to our country, Mom."

You know you're living with Chase when the phone rings early Sunday morning and it's Opa calling to wish your son a happy D-Day. A call which leaves him beaming from ear to ear, proud and thrilled to know that someone out there feels the exact same way that he does.

And, finally, you know you're living with Chase when you realize six months ahead of time that the next important holiday in his world will roll around on December 7th.

So you'd better get working on your stars. We can't have crooked stars on the flag.

Even if it's only a cake.

We've come a long way, baby

They wandered up and down the aisles of the large gift shop, their eyes roving happily over the shelves around them. Their salty, red cheeks beamed with smiles as they found things that struck their fancy.

The middle boy had already decided on his souvenir. Decided before he even stepped foot outside the airport doors when he saw a large, taxidermied crocodile head. A quick check of the white price tag on the bottom confirmed that it was within his grasp. A wide grin spread over his face, revealing the lone dimple that I love.

As we towed our suitcases and headed for the door, I knew that the return trip through the airport on our way home would be forefront in his mind for the next five days.

I shadowed the other two through the hotel gift shop, always nervously mindful of breakables in little hands. The woman at the cash register made friendly chit-chat as she kept a sharp eye on her wares, as well. Eager to get back and shower the sand and salt from my body, I made helpful suggestions. Pointed out things that I knew they would love.

Each in their turn, they smiled, inspected, and then politely rejected each item I offered. They did not reach out with grabby hands for cheap, plastic toys. There was no whining and pleading for everything in sight. No rough examinations of delicate glass pieces.

They simply shopped, content.

Finally, the perfect mementos were selected and we approached the cash register to pay. The baby girl had (of course) chosen yet another stuffed animal to add to her already too-vast collection, and a pretty notebook depicting the very beach scene we were loathe to leave in the morning.

The oldest boy took a longer time deciding and chose a large starfish and a conch shell - one big enough that we could take the ocean home with us. He hesitantly lifted a third item up, seeking my approval and pleading with his eyes. When I glanced down and saw the title of the book, I knew I would buy it for him - no matter the cost.

My motherly pride practically spilling out of my heart at the decorum and class displayed by my children in a store full of toys and breakables, I could barely see through the tears to sign for the purchase.

The saleswoman had noticed it all, too. She praised me for having such polite, thoughtful children. She complimented their restraint and good manners - remarking that she had not ever seen such calm and unspoiled children in her store in the 10 years she had managed it.

As we walked out, purchases in hand, I looked at the three little heads - eagerly bent over each others bags examining the spoils - and I had to agree with her.

I think they are pretty freaking fantastic myself.

Rockin' the 'Hawks

The last week of school in the Casa de Stie signals more than just the beginning of summer. It has come to mark what I have finally accepted as an inevitable tradition, four years running now.

It began three years ago as a test of my marital patience, which you can read about here. This severe trial of my patience was revisited for the next two years, which you can see evidence of here and here, if you're so inclined.

This year, I took matters into my own hands (after listening to the begging, pleading, and sheer desperation from the boys, of course) and took them in for the deed myself.

And without further ado, I bring you this year's Mohawks:

We are pleased, but slightly shocked, that McKay decided to participate this year, potential middle school harassment notwithstanding. Every year, he's talked a tough game, but has always chickened out in the barber's chair at the first sound of the clippers roaring to life.

This year, he ponied up and just went for it. I think the Hawk goes nicely with his broken finger - makes him look like he maybe did get into a fight or suffer a wicked skateboard injury (instead of the unsightly fall during P.E. that really caused it.)

Chase, as ever, makes the Mohawk seem natural and right at home on his head. His hair was shorter this year due to the flaky chick at Super Cuts who was unable to follow the simplest of directions -- which just means we can't spike it up quite as high.

[He kind of reminds me of Puck from Glee. Which I secretly think is pretty cool.]

So here's to keeping traditions, the start of summer, and sun, glorious, sun.

Ahh, summer. Nice to see you, old girl. You've been sorely missed.

These I love

I love it when they sometimes crawl into bed with me first thing in the morning, the smell of sleep still in their hair. They curl their warm, lazy bodies next to mine and together we talk and dream of what the day will hold.

I love it when they turn up the music loud and entice me away from the computer or the dishes to dance and sing with them at the top of my lungs. More often than not, it is music from my era, and part of my soul rejoices in knowing I have brainwashed them into loving the 80s.

I love it when they give me hugs. For no reason at all.

I love it when they surround me for a family movie night. Feet and legs tangled beneath blankets, we watch and laugh together. Popcorn or cookies are shared. It's times like this that I can even pretend I don't mind the crumbs.

I love it when I see that their pants are too short or notice wrists and forearms sticking awkwardly out of shirt sleeves because that means they have grown. And it makes me so happy when they do what they're supposed to.

I love it when they dance and laugh in the rain because daddy said yes after I said no.

I love it when they look me in the eye and ask my opinion on something because they think I'm an expert. Even when it's math that totally goes over my head.

I love it that they love me.

I love them with every particle of my being.

And every night when my head hits the pillow, I thank God for trusting me with these three perfect souls.

Happy mother's day, indeed.

Some helpful hints for the zookeeper

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!

Then and now

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.