The Magic in the Mundane

After school today, I took Liam and only Liam to the mall to buy him some clothes. We stopped at one place because I wanted him to check out their pants and he stood in the doorway moaning and groaning until I told him that my wallet and I were not going to the store he wanted unless he tried on the pants at this place. So he tried on the pants but we left the store empty handed. We went to his store where he picked out a shirt and some skater socks which he explained to me again for the fiftieth time were clearly skater socks and not basketball socks because the pattern continued uninterrupted all the way around the sock and they had no level of compression. Then we went back to my store because he decided he did in fact want the pants I picked. I held my tongue the whole time I was paying for them but I may have danced a little while he wasn't watching. 

After that, we decided to grab a bite to eat. He wanted a steak finger basket at Dairy Queen but I wanted salad with quinoa at Panera. After explaining to him that because he had Whataburger last night (it's been a busy week...don't judge me) that he really needed to make a healthier choice, we compromised with Chipotle. While he was struggling to bite off more than he could chew, he kept mumbling something about not looking at him while he eats. I then explained that not only is it customary but it is also common courtesy to look at someone while you are talking to them and that yes, dinner is the perfect time for a little conversation. 

After dinner, Liam and I went to Jacob's orchestra concert. Okay, so I forced him to go to the concert because I didn't want to drive the 20 minutes home just to turn around and head straight back to the high school. Oh and did I mention that when we got to the school, I had to threaten him with grounding to get him inside the auditorium because he wanted to sit in the car and listen to his music, which lately consists of Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones? With a groan and a sigh, he followed me inside and we found what we thought would be great seats but turned out to be kind of lousy seats as we could really only see half of Jacob's forehead and his right foot. Liam was relieved to see that each division of the orchestra was only playing three pieces until halfway through the second division's performance he realized there was a third division. During one of the pieces, at a quiet moment just before a crescendo, a baby sneezed loudly breaking the silence and thereby lessening the effect of the impact of the music and Liam and I both suppressed a giggle and then we shot each other an appreciative smile acknowledging our similar senses of humor. 

After we finally made it home, Liam asked me trim his neck...something he never asks me to do between his haircuts...so I jumped at the chance to clean him up a bit. Now as I am thinking about the events of the evening...Liam insisting on some new clothes and caring about his grooming...I am suddenly aware that there just may be a girl behind all of this. 

Once he was satisfied with his neck trim, without prompting, Liam, began diligently working on English homework (yes, Liam...yes, diligently...and yes, English). He hunted me down for some new pencils and after he sharpened several of those, he decided he needed to show me the erasable pen his friend gave him as he has never seen anything better suited for English class. I told him that in fact erasable pens have been around for a long time and I offered to grab him some next time I am at the store. Several minutes later, he came back into my room to ask my advice on how to write something. This was the perfect butter cream icing on the Liam and Mom Spontaneous Date Night Cake. Of course, he hates when I call it a date night, but you mamas out there know these are special dates, indeed.

It's The Circle of Life, Buttercup

A few weeks ago, I took a laundry basket filled to the brim with white socks needing to be sorted, paired, and put away in their respective drawers upstairs to the game room where 2 of my boys were watching TV. Folding socks is a group project in my house because frankly, the thought of matching on average 224 individual socks every two weeks is mind numbing at best. Yes, 224 individual socks. Trust me, I have done the math and it includes our fearless leader's habit of changing his socks multiple times a day...something George vehemently denies but piles of socks don't lie so he must be doing it subconsciously. Maybe he changes socks in his sleep...maybe he's a sleep socker!

So on this particular Saturday night, my laundry basket and I joined Jacob and Nathan as they were watching Life Story on the Discovery Channel. In case you missed it, Life Story is a BBC production that follows a variety of individual animals and the challenges they face just to survive. I can tell you right now, this was a Nathan pick. That boy loves him some nature shows...especially ones that focus on marine life...but on this particular night, the focus just so happened to be on a leopard. I can also tell you that Jacob was only in the room in an effort to outlast Nathan so he could get on the PS4 and lose his mind in the realm of video game wars. So there we were on a Saturday night, the three of us, sorting and pairing 224 socks (not to mention any tighty whities that were in that load) and watching a BBC production about a leopard and her ability to survive. Yep, I think it's fair to say we know how to party like rock stars.

As fascinated as I am with nature and wild animals, I struggle with these wildlife shows. I explained to Nathan that I remembered watching Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom as a child and how sad I always felt when the lion went in for the kill. Nathan is by far more practical than I was at that age reminding me that the big cats also need to eat. It was as if the stage lights dimmed and the backdrop changed from our game room to the scenic views of the Serengeti. In the distance I could hear the low chants and drum beats of  "The Circle of Life." I thought to myself, "You are a grown woman. Suck it up, Buttercup. Let the boy watch his show."

Before I knew it, I was engrossed in this leopard's life and it certainly didn't take long for the program to focus on her need to hunt for food. There she was, this magnificent creature designed by God to chase and overpower her prey, on the tail of some poor less agile antelope. I watched with sheer fascination right up until the moment it was certain the antelope was doomed and then I covered my eyes in anticipation of the horror to come, but my sweet Nathan was keenly aware of my distress so he flipped the channel just in the nick of time, and he said in his tender and protective tone, "We can just watch something else." To which I replied, "Well, maybe for just a moment so we can miss the actual kill scene."

After a few minutes passed and we felt sure that the antelope had indeed met her untimely demise, I told Nathan to flip it back to the nature show. Jacob teased me a little about whether I could handle the show as we watched this amazing creature drag the antelope carcass to safe keeping so she could continue to feed. I dug deep because I wanted to show the boys I was tough enough to watch the show without crying and at this point, it was easy to pretend the carcass was just meat plus the soothing tones of  Sir David Attenborough's narration provided ample distraction. What is it about a British accent that seems to lessen the brutality of nature? Suddenly a pride of lions showed up on the scene and my heart began to pound. Jacob laughed, mocking me again, and asked if I could really handle this. If I am anything at all, it is stubborn. The fastest way to get me to do something is to tell me you think I can't do it. Nothing lights up my competitive spirit faster than for someone to question my capabilities...especially if it is something that I know I can do. So with my heels digging into the carpet, I assured him I was just fine. As the lions approached with hopes of stealing the antelope carcass, the leopard dragged that dead animal up a tree going to the highest branches that would support her and the carcass all the while one lion tried repeatedly but unsuccessfully to follow. Just then part of the carcass' internal organs fell to the ground resulting in a bit of a feeding frenzy among the lions.  The 3 of us watched in awe but then Sir David informed us that what we thought had been the antelope's stomach or lungs was actually her uterus and apparently it had been clear to everyone but us that the uterus contained a fetus. Well, that was it! My heart sank, I yelled, "NOOOOO!!!" at the TV, and threw my teary face in my hands all the while Jacob was laughing at my response because I thought we had just avoided the fateful undoing of the leopard only to discover the antelope had been pregnant. Nathan instinctively turned the channel and began patting my back. Not that Jacob isn't a sweet and loving kid but he's 16 and Nathan, well, he's 11 but he has always been my little protector whereas Jacob is good at helping me laugh at myself.

After stomaching some random Disney tween comedy for several minutes, we decided we were pretty curious to see what happened with the leopard so we returned to our wildlife program. Things were looking up until Sir David mentioned something about our leopard girl being in heat. Now, George and I have had "the talk" with all 3 of our boys but we never used the phrase "in heat," so although I know Nathan loves a good nature show, I also thought he would be clueless as to what that phrase meant. Clearly, I underestimated my city boy, because as soon as Sir David said those words, I looked at Nathan who was in turn looking at me with shock and embarrassment all over his face. Without hesitation he flipped the channel back to Disney and the canned laughter. Jacob had been momentarily lost in a text and had missed the clear warning Sir David had given us so he told Nathan to turn it back to our leopard which he did before I could even utter my protest. What unfolded after that happened in just a matter of seconds but it played out in slow motion. Nathan flipped the channel to our leopard girl who had clearly been discovered by a male leopard who was well...let's just say getting familiar with her in the biblical sense. Just at that moment, Liam walked into the game room to see this all going down on the big screen, and yelled rather than asked, "What are you guys watching!" Jacob then looked up from his phone to witness the on screen shenanigans and I may have overreacted as I screamed, "CHANGE THE CHAAAAANNNNNNEEELLLLL!!!!" Nathan, was already a step ahead of me, fumbling with the remote as he aimed it at the screen and landed us back on the Disney Channel. There we were, the 4 of us....Jacob, Liam, Nathan, and I....all of us a little red cheeked with slight embarrassment at what we had just witnessed in the company of each other. Awkward silence filled the air for a split second until Vivie...sweet, innocent Vivie...shattered the silence with her quiet little voice startling us as we all turned around to see her standing behind the sofa where unbeknownst to us she had witnessed the whole event. She then simply asked, "Why did you turn it from the leopard?" The boys and I erupted in laughter falling to the floor with tears streaming from our eyes. This awkward family moment was brought to you by Discovery Channel, BBC Productions, and the soothing tones of Sir David Attenborough.

Takin' It To The Streets

Because we are shoulder deep in this little project called Raising 4 Human Beings, my husband, George, and I steal away nearly every evening for a quick jaunt around the neighborhood. This is our time to debrief, decompress, and just stay connected. About 2 months ago, our little rendezvous was put on hold for about a month as we received more rain in a month's time than I can scarcely recall. There was one night, amidst all those other rainy nights, where the rain subsided for the evening so we jumped on our chance and escaped the usual chaos for a bit. With flashlights in hand, we were giddy to get away if only for a short walk.

Our neighborhood is in a relatively rural area so we get a small taste of country living with ducks occupying the community lakes, toads inhabiting flowerbeds, snakes making an appearance from time to time, and the distant howls of coyotes piercing the night sky.  With the recent rains causing some area flooding, George and I were on the lookout for snakes that night. As we cut through the main park located next to the community pool, we heard some faint squeaking sounds coming from a hedgerow somewhat in the vicinity where our mama ducks nest. We shined our flashlights into the shrubs but couldn't see anything through the dense branches and leaves. I told George that it sounded like little ducklings gasping for air but there was no mama duck in sight. We just had to save the ducklings! As George continued to shine the light, I leaned in closer, squatting lower, nearly placing my face in the shrub but all for naught. The sound stopped so we decided to continue our walk.  As soon as we went a few feet farther, we heard the same squeaking sound coming from another area of the hedgerow and from the same spot where we had originally stopped. There were at least two ducklings stuck in that hedgerow, separated from their mama who clearly was eaten by coyotes because she was nowhere to be found. I ran back to the original spot with George trailing close behind. I was determined to get my hands on those ducks and rescue them. I crouched even lower and made kissy sounds trying to coax the ducklings out of the bushes, because we all know wild ducks come waddling as fast as they can when they hear kissy sounds. I all but put my whole head in the shrubbery getting as close to the sound as I could when George said, "Hey, look at that big fat dead mouse over there." All at once everything I ever learned in preschool came flooding back to mind stopping with the knowledge that ducks quack and mice SQUEAK! And just like that, I sprang to my feet and we were out of there! Mice, of course. There wasn't a nest of abandoned ducklings...it was a nest of mice...and I'm not talking about cute little Cinderella mice with their tiny little clothes and eagerness to do chores...these guys were big fat country corn-fed naked mice! Why else would there be snakes in our neighborhood if not to eat those big fat mice?! At that point, I was no longer walking but rather high stepping it as fast as I could lest those critters tried to grab hold of my shoelaces! 

On side note, when I was a small child, my family had a friend, an older woman named Mary Lou, who had grown up on a farm. She told me that when she was young girl there had been a night in which she had awakened to find field mice in her bed chewing on her toenails. Can you just imagine?! I give this precious woman credit for my fear of all rodents and for my absolute need to sleep with my feet under the covers. 

As we continued our brisk walk, we found ourselves on one of the streets that outlines the perimeter of our neighborhood and therefore backs up to a lake and a wooded area. Making our way down the sidewalk and dodging the low hanging tree branches, we heard that now familiar squeak again, but this time it was coming from the midsection of a live oak tree thick with leaves and branches. I looked at George, my eyes wide with fear, "Do mice climb trees?" To which he replied, "I imagine so. How else are they going to eat the bird eggs?" Are you kidding me?! 

This whole experience has rounded out my fear of rodents, so not only do I always sleep with my feet under the covers but now when George and I walk in the evenings, I walk in the street, avoiding the tree lined sidewalks because frankly, I don't think I would survive a mouse falling from the tree and landing on my person. No, thank you! 

Pop Tart Wrappers, Dr. Pepper, and The Force

I was gathering a load of dirty laundry to throw into the wash as is customary for me to do several times a day on any given day, when I discovered a crumpled shiny Pop Tart wrapper in the pocket of a pair of shorts. Having 4 children in the house, 3 who are increasingly becoming more and more mannish in size and appearance and 1 who is still my somewhat Tiny Princess Warrior, I find myself laughing in these moments when I know, without a shadow of a doubt, the culprit before I even have all the facts. Liam is the number 1 suspect when food wrappers are left in pockets, on the floor, on the counter, in the car, in his bed, under his bed, stuffed between the sofa cushions...you name the place, that boy has left his food wrappers there. What gets me is that sometimes the effort he takes to hide the food wrapper is greater than the effort it would have taken the boy to throw it in a trash can, but I digress. As I reached into the other pocket to empty it, I found yet another Pop Tart wrapper. This time my amusement turned to frustration as I realized that boy of mine had devoured at least 1/2 of the box of the Limited Edition Grape Flavored Pop Tarts in one day...probably consuming both packages within mere moments of each other, and most likely finishing off the entire box before calling it quits.

It's probably my fault as I'm sure his future therapist will tell him. I try to keep healthy food choices on hand all the time. Most days, there is somewhat fresh fruit in the fruit bowl...although today, the bananas and nectarines are looking a little past their prime. There are whole grain breakfast bars and crackers in the pantry and natural peanut butter and real fruit preserves in the fridge. Kale and quinoa make regular appearances on the menu as do spinach and broccoli...but yes, I also keep a small stash of junk food available. We always have chips, popcorn, and pretzels...and I wouldn't dare let us run out of chocolate milk because then what kind of monster...I mean mother would I be? On the other hand, things like Pop Tarts, novelty ice cream bars, and soda make less frequent appearances. Because of this, Liam has developed a Sneak and Destroy Method of snack consumption which he rounds out with the widely practiced Hide and Save-It-For-Later Method.

Just the other day, I found a lone frozen angus cheeseburger in the back of the freezer, past the frozen blueberries, behind the Costco packs of chicken breasts, further back than the icebergs and penguins, all the way back to the way way back where forgotten items are sure to die an unseemly death brought on by freezer burn. This cheeseburger had scarcely been in our freezer for a week and it was already hidden waiting for later consumption. I assumed this was Liam's doing as was the lone can of Dr. Pepper which had been strategically hidden behind the Costco pack of unsalted butter and chocolate milk boxes. As it turns out, I was wrong about the Dr. Pepper. Nathan, young sweet Nathan, it seems is learning the ways of the Junk Food Jedi, and while he hasn't taken on the same Sneak and Destroy Method of his predecessor, I see the Force is quite strong with this one. Liam did find Nathan's Dr. Pepper and yes, he drank it heartily right in front of him as he boasted about knowing all the hiding places. Nathan didn't show any signs of aggravation but I could see the wheels were turning in that clever mind of his. Liam may have met his match with this one because I know something that Liam does not. Nathan has formed an alliance with the Tiny Princess Warrior. Together, they may just change the climate of the Junk Food War. Time will only tell, and since all is fair in love and war, I have those kids convinced that my Healthy Choice Greek style frozen yogurt and my Skinny Cow fudge bars are for adults only. Little do they know, I am the Junk Food Jedi Master.

Every Breath You Take...

Each night when Vivie goes to bed, she walks all around her bedroom and lays down her "people" toys as if they too are going to sleep. The first time I saw her do this, I thought, "Oh that sweet girl is tucking all of her dolls and figurines in for the night." So I sat ever so patiently on her bed watching her make the rounds and after she crawled under her covers, I leaned over her and told her how precious I thought that was for her to tuck in all of her "people." Her eyes widened as she very soberly whispered in my ear, "I wasn't tucking them in bed. They don't sleep. I lay them down so they won't stare at me while I sleep."  Before I could even respond, she jumped up out of her bed, ran over to the shelf where one little friend remained standing, and laid it down on its back. Looking at me, she said, "Whew! I almost forgot one!"

Why, pray tell, are kids so creepy? I know it all comes back to an active imagination...at least for most. Of course, I reassured Vivie that her toys weren't watching her. I didn't bother asking her why she would even want to play with anything that she thought was watching her while she sleeps. I also didn't school her on the proper bedtime closet light and closet door situation. I don't want to scare the child, but she insists on leaving on her closet light and keeping the closet door open all night. This, I'm afraid, is a rookie mistake. Whatever it is that lives in the closet doesn't need a light shining on it making it all the easier for it to escape, and everyone knows it can't open a closed door, but it will however, take full advantage of an open door. I also haven't told her of the importance of keeping her feet covered at all times during the night lest The Under The Bed Trolls should come out and scrape the bottoms of her feet with their spoons. Clearly, I have some residual issues from my early exposure to scary movies.

The other day, Vivie brought home her self-portrait that she made in her pre-k class. She was so proud of it that she insisted I allow her to hang it on her bedroom wall. I asked, "Are you sure you don't want to hang it on the refrigerator door so everybody will see it?" She insisted that her masterpiece hang on her bedroom wall. She picked a prominent spot on the wall just left of the head of her bed. She smiled as she taped her picture onto the wall and then she stepped back and admired her work. I have to tell you that hanging artwork on my children's bedroom walls stretches me as a mom. Their rooms typically are somewhat messy and I have just preferred to keep the clutter at a minimum. Before you start bashing me as an unfit mother who doesn't know how to encourage self-expression and creativity in her children, I do keep some of their art and I display some from time to time on the refrigerator. Also, in my defense, I recognized how important this was to Vivie and I let her tape that picture to the wall and made my peace with it.

At bedtime that night, Vivie stuck to her normal routine of laying down all of her "people." She crawled into bed and as I leaned over her to pray, she told me to take down her picture and hang it on the wall inside of her closet. I took it down but I told her that between the bookshelf and all of her clothes, there wasn't a great spot on the wall in her closet so I hung it on the inside part of her closet door. She then started shouting, "Not on the door! Not on the door! Stick it on the wall! On the wall, Mommy!" Funny thing is, I knew she was worried that picture would either close the closet door or open it up wider at some point during the night. Again, I stopped myself from asking her why she would want something that she thinks is up and about in her room while she is sleeping.

Originally, I thought Vivie's little creation was just so precious but the girl has ruined it for me. She has turned it into Gladys and as far as I am concerned, that drawing needs to be tightly sealed in Vivie's keepsake box where it won't cause any trouble. 

Slice Me Up a Fat Piece Of Humble Pie

A few months back, I submitted a couple of articles to HomeLife Magazine and earlier this week, I received an e-mail from one of the editors informing me that he wants to publish both of them. The first one will appear in the February issue and the second one will be in the September issue. As you can imagine, I am downright giddy with excitement.

When I shared my big news with Jacob, he said, "That's just how Mark Twain got started. Hey...you could be the next Mark Twain." Y'all, I nearly wrecked the car. My sweet kid likened me to Mark Twain. Mark Twain. For the briefest of moments, I latched onto that comparison. Me? A great American novelist and humorist extraordinaire. Wow. I felt my head swell so quickly that it made me dizzy. I looked at Jacob and asked, "Mark Twain? You really think so? That's high praise!" Jacob in all the frankness he inherited from his father said, "I just mean he wrote short stories and stuff before he began writing books. You could write some short stories and stuff and then maybe a book." So he let a little helium out of my overinflated balloon of a head. In this particular moment, I chose to have selective hearing. Any way you slice it, my son compared me to Mark Twain...he just didn't necessarily mean to compare our talents.

Speaking of frankness, while Vivie and I were sitting in my car this morning waiting for Jacob's cross country practice to end, she reached over and grabbed my arm right on that spot all of us women just love to be grabbed. You know the spot....the spot where if you were to morph into an animal based on your physical traits, you would turn into a bat. Just as she squeezed my arm, her sweet smiling expression changed to one of slight horror and concern. She looked at me and said, "Mommy, you are squishy right there." Why yes, yes, I am a little squishy right there but it's because my guns are of the Nerf variety. There is no shame in Nerf.

Because I just can't leave well enough alone and I wanted to reassure her that Mommy's arms are not always squishy, I gave her a ticket to my gun show, flexed my arm and said, "Look at Mommy's arm now. See that line and my muscles?" Vivie promptly reached for that same spot and gave it a squeeze. She smiled and said, "I see your muscles and your arm is still squishy." So trying to show her that we are all a little squishy, I asked to see her muscles. She proudly flexed both arms and noted that her muscles are smaller than mine but only because she is smaller than I am. I reached out and pinched her bat wing only to come back empty handed. She smiled in a way that made me think she knew I was a little disappointed that her arms were lacking in the squish. I said, "Vivie, you don't have any squish on your arms." Girl fell out laughing and said, "Noooo! That's silly, Mommy!" I don't know what I was thinking. My 5-year old daughter is exceptionally beautiful but make no bones about it, the girl is built like a freak of nature. From the time she was old enough to walk, she was climbing. She never really had that toddler softness about her. She looks like she is ready for a starring role in a DC comic. Why on God's green earth would I even think to compare my squish with hers?! I blame it on the deliriousness that stems from early morning cross country practices.

No one will put you in your place quite like your children. God love them.

Mom Fail #76,893

George and I have been teaching a Sunday school class for 2-year olds at our home church for 9 years. Nine. That's a lot of changing poopy diapers all in the name of Jesus. Seriously though, we love it. Every week, we teach Bible stories, make crafts, and get our toddler fix all without having to increase the size of our own family. We have already been there and done that 4 times over (13 really if you count all the fosters we have welcomed into our home and I count them).

At a recent appreciation luncheon, our preschool minister awarded us with a gift certificate to Olive Garden. We'd been planning to use it for a much needed date night and I decided tonight was going be that date night. With Jacob being 15 and really a pretty responsible kid, we have allowed him to earn his keep by babysitting Vivie once in a blue moon so that his parents will be able to remember why they like each other so much. It's a win-win if you ask me. We get free babysitting and Jacob gets parents who still want to be married to each other.

Well, it's cross country season which means it is Team Spaghetti Dinner Season as well. Jacob's team had a meet today and a team dinner tonight which he told me about after said meet. He spends so much of his school year training for his sport and studying for all of his pre-AP and AP classes that on the rare occasion when he asks to do something social, I am hard pressed to say no...as was the case tonight. I told George that our dinner plans had been sauced and he said let's just take Vivie and whomever else wants to go with us. Liam opted to have the whole house to himself for a bit (classic middle kid who shares a room with his younger brother move if you ask me), but Nathan, on the other hand was so excited to try a "new place." Because we have 4 children, 3 of which usually order off the adult menu, we don't eat out often and when we do, 9 out of 10 times we choose Mexican fare. So yes, my soon to be 11-year old son had probably never had Olive Garden. I don't know if I'm sad that he was so stoked about Olive Garden or if I'm grateful that he is so easily pleased. I'm leaning toward grateful.

So our party of 2 was a party of 4 tonight and it was really a precious night of being able to just really focus on the younger 2 for a change. After dinner, we allowed the kiddos to order dessert and both Nathan and Vivie decided on the ice cream sundae. When the server put the ice cream sundae on the table in front of Nathan, my sweet boy looked at me with his dancing blue eyes and said, "Wow. I have never had chocolate sauce on my ice cream!" I looked at him in utter disbelief and said, "Sure you have." He promised me that no he had not. Chocolate sauce on ice cream was a new and exciting development in his experience with desserts. George just shook his head and said, " This is Jacob and the gum all over again."

Confession time: I abhor gum chewing. I think it is just disgusting and even more so if you smack your gum. Because of this, I was never one to buy gum for the kids. If anyone will smack gum, you know kids will. If anyone will get gum stuck in her hair, it will be a kid or at the very least, because of a kid. If you ever find gum smashed in your carpet, you know it's because a kid did it. In my world, gum + kids = mess waiting to happen. So yeah, I tried to keep gum on the streets and out of the mouths of my kids.

When Jacob was 5, he played t-ball. One of the moms (the dealer, as I like to call her) brought gum as part of the team snack. Gum. Seriously? Was gum on the list of approved snacks? Baseball moms are like the honey badger...they don't care about any such list of approved snacks. Maybe soccer moms do, but baseball moms are perfectly content to shove one of those plastic squeeze type bottles filled with nothing more than red dye #40 and high fructose corn syrup into the right hand of your precious little slugger and a Little Debbie Star Crunch into his left hand.  So the snack mom handed Jacob a piece of gum and my little guy held it in his sweet little hand with uncertainty written all over his baby face. He looked at the gum then at George and then at the gum again. All of the other kiddos were standing around smacking their gum like professional baseball players and then there was our sweet innocent Jacob, sheltered from this oral vice, standing there simply dazed and confused. George, embarrassed for Jacob, jumped to his aid immediately and explained the whole nonsensical chew-chew-chew-but-don't-swallow-it concept of gum. On the drive home following the game, I got an earful from George about how embarrassing it was that our kid was the only kid who had never even seen gum. It was done, It was over. My gum-free world was now a world of gum smacking bubble popping and sticky spots on the floor and furniture chaos. From that moment on, George took it upon himself to enlighten our kiddos in the ways of gum chewing when they were no more than 2 or 3 years old. He vowed never to have another incident of gum incompetency in our family again.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not as uptight as it seems. I try like most moms to ensure that my kiddos are eating a varied diet with lots of healthy choices from all the main food groups but I also let them enjoy some fun foods, too. For instance, when Hostess scared us all by going out of business, I bought some Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies so the kids would know what a loss the No Nutritional Value This Can't Be Real Food World was experiencing. And just this summer, when Jacob asked about getting some Pop Tarts. I casually mentioned that when I was a kid, the frosted grape ones were my favorite. He said, "You know what's sad? I have not had enough to know which ones are my favorite." So I spent the next several weeks allowing the kids to try a wide range of Pop Tarts. I haven't bought any in weeks and weeks and you know what, they don't seem to miss them. I also bake cookies (and by cookies I mean real cookies with 2 sticks of butter and too much sugar to acknowledge) nearly every single week of the school year. So don't tell me I'm the food police just because I reserve soda for special occasions and I refuse to buy fruit snacks because their sugar bugs make cavities like rabbits make bunnies.

All is now right in the dessert world as Nathan has experienced the thrill of chocolate syrup on his ice cream.