Mama, I shrunk myself!

The other day while ignoring my children practicing hands-off parenting, I was interrupted in my reverie when a vehicle ran over my foot.

I looked down and this was the sight I saw:

Closer examination revealed an important message on my cell phone:

[In case you are blind], it said:

"Dear Mom, I am now the size of a pea. I had to duplicate myself to drive this car. Use this controller to change me back by pushing the stop button. Then count to twenty so the uv rays don't blind you. Thanks, Chase P.S. The tape doesn't hurt the phone"

I thought long and hard before making any decisions. After all, a pea-sized child might not be such a bad thing. Lower grocery bills, someone to spy on any conversation I want to listen to, less pants to grow out of.

But then I envisioned my rather sumptuous rear end accidentally sitting on the poor kid. Or accidentally sucking him up with the vacuum.

And that made me cry.

So I decided I better bring him back to normal size. I obeyed the instructions, keeping my eyes shut tight to protect me from the deadly UV rays.

After the longest twenty seconds of my life, I opened my eyes, and this was the sight I saw:

I guess now would be a good time to return that pea-sized dollhouse I bought him to live in, eh?

On humor and cannibals

The other day I had a very memorable conversation with Chase. It went a little something like this:

Me: Ha ha hee hee ha ha ho!

Him: Hey, Mom, what's so funny?

Me: I'm just reading a really funny blog post.

Him: Is it about man-eating sharks or cannibals filled with bacteria?

Me: Umm, no.

Him: Oh. [Shoulders shrug in disappointment]

Although, had I been reading a post about either of those topics, I'm sure it would have been hilarious.

"I'm just walking like it's a park, without a shirt on"

Yesterday afternoon I was folding the laundry. Movement out in the backyard caught my eye, and I looked up in horror at the sight.

My second born son was roaming the backyard in nothing but a pair of shorts and sneakers. Keep in mind that it was LITERALLY FOUR DEGREES OUTSIDE.

That's right, I said four. Not fourteen. Not forty. FOUR FREAKING DEGREES.

He had the Flipshare video camera in his hand, and was talking to it, filming himself as he went.

I knew immediately what he was doing.

He was living out his own version of Survivorman. My boys are both big fans of the show and have watched and re-watched every episode at least a dozen times. Were I to give the approval, they would immediately be off the grid, living off the land -- no food, no shelter (and no fun, if you ask me).

It boggles the mind. Truly.

Here is our very own Survivorman, Chase. Best part about the video is around 0:59 when he says, "Well, I think I'm going back in. Not because I'm cold, but because I think I might be getting yelled at. Better get it over with."

How well this child knows his mother.

I am...

I am the kind of mom that says yes to yet another package of silly bands.
But says no when they want to play in the muddy rain puddles.

I am the kind of mom that always says yes when they beg for a treat at the store.
As long as that treat is not the Skittles.

I am the kind of mom that likes to read a story out loud to them.
But seldom finds the time to to do it anymore.

I am the mom who hugs and squeezes their dad in front of them.
Even when they pretend to be thoroughly grossed out.

I am the kind of mom that gets frustrated and cleans their rooms when they're at school.
But I never tell them what I throw out in the process. (And they almost always never miss it anyway).

I am the kind of mom that takes time for my own hobbies, dreams, and needs.
And I think that's extremely good for them.

I am not the mom who sits on the floor and plays legos or does puzzles with them every day.
But I am the mom that sits and listens, then dries their tears with encouragement and support.

I am the mom that has fresh-baked cookies and milk waiting when they come home from school.
I am not the mom who buys the Oreos.

I am the mom who loves these three with a fierce intensity that goes down to my core and sometimes nearly consumes me.

I am their mom.
And they are my heart.

Dear Chase

Dear Chase,

Please forgive me for the fact that this letter is two weeks late. What can I say? Life has not been on our side lately and it's been tough to fit it all in.

You had a great birthday this year, though your wish list was a bit tough for me initially. You did not ask for easy gifts like Legos or Nerf guns. Oh no, not you. What you wanted was a real lighter used by a soldier on the beach at Normandy during World War II. And armor from ancient Rome.

Not necessarily items one can pick up at the local Target, if you know what I mean.

But I did surprise you with those old magazines and an antique camera, as well as a few more modern delights. The look on your face when you opened them was priceless. Your joy was evident and I have caught you several times tinkering and exploring your new toys. I still shake my head in awe that an 11-year-old boy would ask for such antiquities, not to mention be thrilled to death to receive them. Man, I love your individuality, kid.

Speaking of your quirks, when I went back through my photo archives to find some pictures for this post, I noticed that you are wearing the same shirt in practically EVERY. SINGLE. PICTURE I have taken of you in the past year. I know I wash that shirt twice a week, but that's because you wear it twice a week. It's your favorite and the new shirts in your closet can never match up. First thing out of the laundry, that shark-caging souvenir tee from Hawaii graces your bony shoulders.

You are who you are.

And I wouldn't trade your quirks for all the riches in the world.

You make our life very interesting, Chase. You keep us on our toes with your wit and intelligence. It is never dull around here because of you. One of my favorite things to see is your one, lone dimple, lit up by a huge smile, topped off with your sparkling baby blues. Your happiness is contagious. Your laughter fills the room and spreads to everyone around you.

You inspire me to be a better mom. May I one day be worthy of the gift that is your incredible spirit.

Love,

Mama

Further proof of our Napoleon obsession

Last night, I had a friend coming over to get some updated corporate head shots. With the backdrop and lights set up, I snagged the first kid I could find to pose for a few shots while I tested the lighting.

With no staging or awareness of my Kip post yesterday, this is what he gave me:

Remind you of anyone?

And, yes, I do believe he was imagining himself weightless in the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses.

That was it. That was the one. I think that's going to come out real nice.