First off, to be clear, there is definitely more than one gray hair. And it's not gray. It's white. I skipped right past gray and beautiful silver and started growing me some great-granny hairs. Fortunately (?!) I'm not graying in any one particular area, but quite randomly and all over, but I won't/can't complain because my sisters would kill me. :)
Back to the story. A couple weeks ago at church, BoyTwo suddenly gasped (quite irreverently) and stared at me, mouth gaping. He looked truly shocked so I asked him what the matter was. He replied,
'Mom. You have a gray hair!'
To which I smiled, slightly amused, and said,
'BoyTwo, I have LOTS of gray hairs.'
Sadly, he actually looked a little distraught. In the end I discovered that he saw gray hair as a sign of aging (don't we all...) and was concerned that I may not be around forever to take care of him! Did you all grasp the magnitude of that??? In his state of shock, he revealed to me (in a round about sort of way) that he was planning on me being around to take care of him forever. Not only that but was upset at the idea that this may not be the case! Huge, people. Huge.
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Recently, when Huz delivered a store-bought tin of cookies to take as a holiday treat to a neighbor, said neighbor commented to him that she remembered back when we first moved in and how his wife (me) used to bake treats to bring to the neighbors. hahahahaha
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Sickness is going around which is a bit of a bummer, but inevitable and I'd rather get it over while the kids are in school than have them be sick during the holiday break. Two weeks ago it was me, followed by BoyTwo, followed by One, followed by Three, followed by (and currently) BoyOne (who had to be comforted today because he thought that if he was sick he would simply MISS Christmas. How sad is that?! But I guess in an orphanage, if you are sick and at the 'hospital' for Christmas, you just miss getting your two pieces of chocolate and extra piece of fruit and then the day is over and done and you've missed it. He was relieved to find out that in a family, even if you are sick and in the hospital-which he is not, you would still get Christmas.), Two and Four. Huz never gets sick. Seriously. He's never had strep throat or an ear infection (according to him. I should check this with his mother). The one time in our nearly 15 years of marriage that he ever had the stomach flu, he threw up three times and went to play basketball for four hours. So, we're not really worried about him.
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a text I just found that I sent to Huz recently:
'your daughters are farting to warm their butts'
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Huz is about to begin construction of his man house in the backyard. The girls are EMOTIONAL!! It's quite entertaining if you can stand the volume (both sound and quantity). Examples:
from one unnamed daughter to another:
'You are the bossiest kid in the whole world!'
which resulted in bossiest kid in the whole world running into the bathroom, slamming the door and sobbing for 45 minutes.
example 2:
'Great! I think Santa's going to put me on the naughty list because I called ______ the i word!' followed by complete and utter devastation manifested in unconsolable tears. (on the upside this provided a great learning moment and discussion about saying sorry and asking forgiveness)
*by the way, the i word is idiot for those of you who, like myself, have no idea what the i word is*
example 3:
I recently had 'the talk' with one of my daughters. And by 'the talk' I mean the one about the jolly red fellow who has a magic sled that flies through the sky and then manages to fit down everyone's chimney in one night bearing gifts for all. I also recently had 'the talk' with another daughter and by 'the talk' this time I mean how she and other babies came to be. Both talks ended with each child saying the same thing, disgustedly: 'What?! Are you kidding me?! You and dad do that?!' lol.
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Because a post wouldn't be a post without a couple BoyTwo stories, here you go:
Last night, BoyTwo forgot how to eat. I made sloppy joes (which I know sounds super disgusting, but it is a family favorite and everyone who tries them is truly surprised. in a good way. season and brown 2 lbs ground turkey with some onions, add a bunch of ketchup, 1/4 c water, 1/4 c brown sugar, 2 t worcestershire sauce, and some chili powder. mix it all together and add more of whatever it needs. it's good. i promise. and quick and easy and we have it at least every 10 days) and he could. not. figure out how to eat it. First he sat and poked it with his finger while his mouth hanging open as if he expected that the mere act of poking one's food would catapult it up into his mouth. After about ten minutes of this, he picked it up at the very top (remember, these are SLOPPY joes??) and shook the insides out the bottom, again with his mouth hanging open as if he expected the food to fall out and up into his mouth instead of out and onto his plate, table, floor and self. He then proceeded to pull it apart, or as I told Huz, who was fortunate enough to miss this blessed event, mutilated it. All the while his siblings could hardly handle themselves or refrain from giving him the attention (although negative, he does not care, attention is attention) he was hoping for. At one point I caught him watching me with a smug smile on his face. When he saw that I was looking at him, he hurried and changed his expression to confusion and began poking his food again.
I know, I know. Take the plate away. But I actually think he was trying to get me to do that this time, so I didn't. He was trying to push buttons and it was SO obvious. Finally, as we began to clear the table, he shoved, literally, the sandwich in his mouth in three bites. Gross. Then he got to clean up the mess he had made. I was annoyed and so was he. I because I seriously cannot figure out how and why in the world he comes up with these random games (maybe that's a poor choice of words, but it's what comes to mind each time something like this happens), and he because he was so hungry, had wasted time trying to control us (not sure if it was me or his siblings he was after or all of us), ended up eating a very cold favorite dinner of his, had to clean up his disgusto mess, and didn't get the reaction he was looking for.
and from today:
He got to school at nine and when I arrived back at the school at 10:45, his teacher had a 'sad' story to tell me. She says sad when it's something that he did that wasn't terrible but that resulted in a consequence. Evidently, he had been kicking the chair of the girl in front of him, and happened to kick her a few times. When he wouldn't stop, she went to get help from the teacher. Teacher removed him. When she began to speak to him about school work, he promptly covered his ears and glared at her, so she gave him two options. 1) uncover your ears or 2) go to the office. He chose the office.
Which I thought worked out perfectly because he was only punishing himself, only he has this one figured out because once he got to the office (I later found out) he told them that he had become embarrassed in class and had come here for a break. So, not quite a consequence.
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Huge thanks to the dialogue of comments from the last post. I checked out the resources suggested and they are great! Sometimes it helps to just know that there are other people out there that have kids with 'invisible' problems or disabilities and that there are others out there who can offer hope.
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Last, but not least, I do believe that BoyTwo is recognizing within himself, somewhere, that he is becoming attached and has expectations of us that are positive and it's freaking him out a little bit which manifests itself in quite lovely behavior. It's okay. We can take it. Sometimes (okay, frequently) I may need to vent, but we can do it, Huz and I. We can trust that somewhere, beyond the behavior and the little boy who has been so hurt and left to his own devices for too many years, there is a little boy that God knows and is familiar with. A little boy that He has a plan for and that He made in His image. While I'm here, I might as well mention that I don't have a perfect faith. I wish I did. It's really more like I can't see how in the world this is all going to end up pretty, but I'm willing to believe that it can and to trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus that it will because, frankly, They've never let me down before. I wish that every time Mr. Crazy came to play, I could remain calm and unfazed, serene and loving ON THE INSIDE (I do a pretty decent job of portraying this on the outside, but often I'm like 'what the crap?!' in my mind). I wish that I could see the end result. Right now. So that I knew where and when the end was and how it would all work out. But that's not really how it works, is it? I believe that the outcome is only part of the test. The other part? How you GET to the outcome.
