Archive for the ‘boys’ Category

Pants Not Optional

An actual conversation which occurred earlier today at my house:


The boys are laying around in their underwear. It is 12:30pm.

Me: Boys, get dressed. We’re going to the store.

Gideon: Yes, ma’am.

A minute later.

Gideon: Do we have to wear pants?

Me: Yes, we’re leaving the house. You have to wear pants or shorts. And a shirt.

Gideon: Do I have to wear shoes?

Me: Yes, you have to wear shoes!


In his defense, Wash has been sick and we have been in the house since Monday afternoon. Still, pants are not optional.


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I battle a special kind of kryptonite. My weakness is small boys in the night time.

They come, sometimes sneaking and sometimes padding on quick feet, to my side of the bed. If I know they are there, I lift the covers and invite their warm sleep bodies in. Often, I will feel their warmth on my back or their breath in my face after they are already snuggled in deep and back asleep.

The youngest one is still soft in the way only young children and babies are. That intoxicating smell of infancy clings to him with a fierceness and I breathe it in every chance I get. The oldest one is lanky already, but his cheeks hold kisses as easily as ever.

I never have the heart to send them back to their bed, with tears in their voices and Momma on their lips. I make their dad do it. His heart is harder than mine. I would rather wake with a crick in my neck and an ache in my back then send them back to their own room.

One day soon, they will sleep all night and never make the journey to my bed. They will grow to be taller than me and only kiss me when prompted. When they lean down to kiss me, I will breathe deep and remember what they smelled like when they were small in the night time.

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I’m Batman

There has been a rash of sickness at our house. We have all been trading a sinus infection around like baseball trading cards. Wash was the last one to be sick.

I indulge the boys more than normal when they are sick so I let Wash stay in his Batman shirt for three days. It could have been more, but honestly, I lost count.

He slept, ate, and even left the house multiple times with that shirt on. No, I did not wash it in between wearings. Yes, I took my sick child out of the house.

On Sunday, he wanted to wear it to church, so I told him he could wear it under his dress shirt.

Me: You can wear this shirt over your Batman shirt. It’s your secret identity.

Wash: I’m Batman.

Me, buttoning up his shirt: Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.

Wash: I’m going to tell everyone my secret identity. I’m Batman.

Me: I think you’re missing the point.

Once at church, he unbuttoned his shirt to show everyone.

I’m Batman.

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We like to play games at our house. Ries and I have always liked games, but some friends of ours introduced us to the world of Euro and Indie games a few years ago (Thanks, Robin and Philip!). If you are stuck on Monopoly and Life, you need to do some searching around.

We started building our game collection. It is nothing fancy, but we have some great games: Munchkin, Rukus, Ticket to Ride, Lords of Waterdeep, Odin’s Ravens, and Cards Against Humanity are favorites. If you want to watch some of these games in action, I suggest watching some episodes of TableTop. With some birthday money, I added The Resistance and Zombie Dice to our collection.

I bought Zombie Dice because I thought it would be a game the boys could play and I love zombies (who doesn’t?). I was gone last night to a women’s dinner at church and the boys played with the Zombie Dice.

After the game, Zombie Wash caught Gideon and the following happened:

Wash, chewing on his brother’s leg: I am a zombie, I am eating your braaaaaains.

Gideon: That’s my leg, not my brain.

Just another night at our house folks, where dice games degenerate into the flesh eating zombie horde.

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Having children is a life of moments strung together. The moments are sweet, happy, sad, hilarious and they all combine to make parenthood what it is, a crazy rollercoaster with no exit.

Some moments are sweet.

Every night, while Ries reads to the boys, we are currently on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I lay with Wash in his bed. He is too young to be still for 30 minutes of reading, so I snuggle with him and that keeps him in his bed, most of the time.

Last week, he placed his little hands on my cheeks and turned my head towards his. He turned those big hazel eyes on me and said, “Mommy, Jesus yuves you. God made you.”

Of course, I completely melted and replied, “Jesus loves you too. God made you too. And Mommy loves you.” And then I kissed his chubby cheeks all over, inhaling his little boy smell while my heart burst.

It is moments like that, these tiny glimpses of his loving soul, that I have to remember when I try not to strangle him as he elbows his brother repeatedly in the face at the grocery store while the deli ladies laugh.

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I recently shared with you that Gideon believes that Mom does “all the things.” I have further evidence to support this idea.

Wash is an adorable 18 month old chap. He does everything his brother does (no matter how naughty), eats like a man determined to gain weight (he IS growing), and still only has 5 teeth (though he is working on two more). What he does not do yet is talk. Much.

He says some words: Ma. Da. Daw (dog). Mo (milk). Sna (snack).

Every once in awhile, he will say a word, like “down’ or “papa”, but then not repeat it again for a week or two. What is the most amusing, is his use of the word “ma.”

“Ma” means a lot of things. It means Mom, obviously, but it also frequently used to indicate the following:

  • Hey, look at me.
  • Look over there.
  • Put on my shoe.
  • Put this sock on my foot.
  • Gideon won’t stop laying on me.
  • Gideon won’t stop tackling me.
  • I want some milk.
  • I’m hungry.
  • I want a bath.
  • I’m ready for bed (this is accompanied by him man-handling my chest since bedtime is the only time he is nursed).
  • I’m excited! And yelling!
  • I peed in my diaper, please change me. Also, there may be poop.
  • My hands are dirty because I got tired of using my spoon for the yogurt.
  • My water is gone, please fix that.
  • The TV is not on. That needs to change.
  • Look at the ridiculous thing this Elmo kid is doing! Mr. Noodles is an idiot.

Ma can mean many things. Why? Because Mom does all the things.

This would be sad and tragic if I had a husband who was uninvolved in the house and our boys. That could not be farther from the truth. I am blessed with a man who does many, many things around our house and who adores spending time with his boys.

It has become the family joke, that I do all the things.

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I can’t tell you what happened at the Bachelor party, but I’ll show you.  We wanted to make sure to kill as many brain cells as possible for Y’s bachelor party so we headed to high altitude where we would get less oxygen.  A bunch of the guys flew on over to Colorado and met for some general naughtiness.  Good stories, none bad (except the 3 hour delayed flight, boo!), but my man card prevents me from divulging any of them.  Regardless, here is one of the many amusing pictures from the river portion of our adventure.

Rafting (or is it swimming?) in Idaho Springs, CO

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