Training Your Kids NEVER Ends!

My 18-year-old son, Keeve, did not get my storytelling-gene… at all. I feel I have not trained him in good faith as his mother in this area. #momfail2277  I offer this story as evidence and my solemn vow to work with him on his retelling abilities. Pinky swear.

(Photo credit: Monica Hortiales, Youth Pastor and fine storyteller)

Our tale begins with some backstory: it was a Wednesday night. Keeve left for church at 4:45. Nora and I left at 6:00. Rick was supposed to leave at 6:20. Austin went straight from work to church.

Upon arrival at church the sweet greeter lady hugs my neck and relays, “Your son handled that like a trooper!” I smiled. I had no idea what she was talking about… nor which son she was referring to.

Nothing else was mentioned until we were getting in the van to drive home. My husband reached down between the front seats and grabbed a piece of paper and scotch tape, saying, “I’ll be right back.” I still didn’t know what was going on… OR if this had anything to do with the other stuff I didn’t know was going on.

Upon Keeve’s arrival home that night, his dad asks him, “So, what happened?” Here is Keeve’s entire story, “I got pulled over. The license plate on the car was stolen.” THE END. I inquired a bit further and discovered the paper and scotch tape were for the temporary plate that Rick printed off at home and brought to the church.

FOUR DAYS LATER…. we had our youth pastor over for lunch and got the whole truth. She was in the church, looking out the windows when Keeve pulled in, followed by, not one, but four police cars. Keeve was told to stay in the car as one cop approached his side of the vehicle. Then SEVEN MORE armed officers of the law got out of their vehicles and surrounded my innocent baby boy in his car…. in front of the church! Yeah, he forgot to mention backup.

The officer at the driver’s window asked if Keeve knew why he was being pulled over. NO! He proceeded to explain that the license plate on the car was a stolen plate and he needed to see Keeve’s license and registration. Another officer was removing the hot plate as they spoke. The remaining officers were casing the joint, because our church is in an industrial strip-mall of sorts…. perfect cover for a chop-shop to steal cars and paint them and switch out license plates and deter the law.

At this point, the youth pastor came out of the church and was waving her cell phone, mouthing to Keeve, “Do you need me to do anything?“ Keeve simply smiled his shy smile and shook his head back and forth.

Next the kind officer asked Keeve, “What is this place?” My Keeve… hahaha… “It’s my church!” More inquiries, “Why are you at church at 5:00 in the evening on a Wednesday?” My son explained, “I’m in the worship band and we have practice right now.”

Eventually they let him get out of the car, and questioned Keeve about the damage on the driver’s side door handle. He explained the vandalism that had taken place in October when someone tried to break in. Made me think we should possibly visit a chop-shop???

“Do not move this vehicle until you get a 3-day temporary license plate,” the cop instructed Keeve. Hence, the call home to Dad, that I didn’t know about, and the printing of the temporary plate, and my husband’s late arrival at church.

Who knew thugs steal license plates? Now we know. And storytelling lessons will commence with embellished details as a side option.

 

Keeve the Thirteen-Year-Old

Today, my baby boy turned 13, and despite all the warnings…. I wasn’t quite ready. He’s my baby boy for goodness sake. He is our only child, out of four, who was born in the USA. (We have two Canadians and one Colombian.) I felt the need to display the American flag picture for all to see.  He was so darling…. and the sole child with an American photo shoot.

We also tried to take a NICE family photo during his birthday party… but I guess I didn’t stress the word NICE loudly enough.  Believe it or not, THIS is the best one we got…… (sigh)

Yes, the birthday boy has his eyes crossed.  Typical.  Why am I surprised???  I don’t know.  He does bring lots of laughter and joy to our home, for which I’m thankful.  Keeve was our easy child.  From birth, every time anyone looked at him he couldn’t help but smile.  See?  Darling. 

I tried to liven up the party and did a little jig for Keeve…. he picked up one of the birthday cards he had just opened and held it up to me.  It said, “WOW!”… then he turned it over so it said, “MOM”  Hahahahaha.   Then I stopped dancing.  If every kid was as mild-mannered and sweet as Keeve, this world would be a better place… albeit moving at a MUCH slower pace.

Happy Birthday, to my little sunshine huggy buns. (Oops, did I type that out loud?)

 

A Windfall of Thoughts

The email last week announcing our forthcoming adoption referral has sent me into a tizzy of excitement. It is a rare night when I’m not asleep within nano-seconds of my head resting on the pillow…. but now I lie there in the dark with questions running amuck in my mind. I got out of bed last night at midnight and sent an email full of questions to our case worker. It’s nice, because they are two hours ahead of us, so I awake to answers!

In two weeks, one of my college roommates (and bridesmaid) is coming for a five-day visit with her hubby and three kids all the way from Manitoba. We have not seen them since their wedding day…. it must be about 21 years ago now. We are bosom friends and a fabulous time will be had by all. But I looked around my very lived-in and loved house and thought to myself, “These walls were white just five years ago!” So, with that bit of inspiration, and company coming, decorating and redecorating has commenced.

Our family room is not large and we have had a very large oak computer desk in there for the same five years when my white walls changed colors. A friend came up with the brilliant idea to cut the back off. Duh! Why didn’t we think of that five years ago? So, with skill saw in hand, my husband cut 15 inches off the back of the desk and added over a foot to our living space. YAY! (Really, I know it sounds ghetto, but even Larisa thought it turned out great!)

Then I noticed these dated lamps and too many end tables, and too many chairs…. and a garage sale was born, organized, conducted and finished in two days. $280 raised for paint and valance fabric! Yes! I’ve decided to break out of the white all mode and ….. brace yourself…. pale lime green will go up on these walls on Wednesday. I hope I don’t regret the bold move.  Of course, pictures will follow.

And Keeve, …. Keeve, Keeve, Keeve.  My 11-year-old son has been living in Zaza’s yellow room with a purple bed and lime green accents for over two years.  There are bunk beds in the boy’s room, but he gravitates to solitude.  So, today is the day!  He is moving out for good!  I have little wooden butterflies, dragonflies, flowers, bird houses and the smiling sunshine to hang up around the border of the room.  There are shelves to hang and the hand painted tea-table and chairs to move in there.  The antique gold trim on the dresser needs to be painted purple.  The legos and foam swords need to BE GONE!  I have two weeks until company comes, and then school starts the next week.  Then our referral comes… then we travel to Colombia.  So today is the day!  Wish me luck!

“It’s Keeve again!”

That’s my boy signing his name on the wall at the Shelby plant in Vegas…. circled blue ink… “Keeve #5 Crosby” with a thumbs-up drawing!

Rick and I went out to lunch today (to Chipotle, if ya had to know.) While we were there Keeve called us four or five times.  He was supposed to be doing his math, piano and chores.  He was a bit distracted by the thought of us being across the street from Walmart…. where so many of his immediate needs could be so easily met.  We bought him blank DVDs last night, but alas, we got the wrong ones.  So he needed the CD-R kind.  Fine.  That was Call #1.

Call #2 was because we are fresh out of fresh strawberries… which Keeve uses every single day of his life to make fruit smoothies.  (See this post for more smoothie news:  https://mysistersjar.wordpress.com/2009/05/15/bonus-points-for-kid-3/ (Jennie, you need to teach me how to do the CLICK HERE links.)  So strawberries were added to the list.

Call #3…. “Moooooom, do I have to do my spelling today?”  (which requires mother’s assistance).  “No, we’ll do it tomorrow, son.”

Call #4…. “Daaaaaad, when we were in Walmart in Las Vegas, Mom said I could get a plastic blue pumpkin head to keep my candy in.  Can you please get me a plastic blue pumpkin head?  They are only $1.”  I verified the story and the plastic blue pumpkin head was added to the list, which by this point had actually become a written list.

Call #5 was received in Walmart, just to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything on Keeve’s all important, I’ll-just-die-if-you-forget-something list. 

Sadly, Walmart was out of plastic blue pumpkin heads… but not strawberries or CDs.  WHEW!  What in the world did we do before cell phones?

Keeve is TEN! (double digits!)

A very Happy Birthday to my boy Keeve.  He is the youngest in our family until Zaza gets here.  As most parents with multiple children know, EVERY kid is so different from his siblings.  No exception here… at all. 

Keeve has various aliases used on the computer and on his grammar sheets.  Hey, when you’re homeschooled, your mom knows your hand writing, so you can make up a new name every day.  :o)  He is called DigDog, Q, and Fever on the computer.  Here is the name list from his school sheets: Fire, Kiss the Cook, Bob, Fred, Space Man, W, Crosby #5, Sleepy, Slow Poke, Ferrari, Cool Dude, Mario and today was Birthday Boy!  It makes me smile every time I read a new name.

Keeve is our relaxed child. Take’er easy.  Chillax.  Go with the flow.  But lately a new, livelier personality has emerged.  He’s not taking a beating from his older brother any longer.  One or two purposefully planned retaliations, and he’s holding his own now.  Keeve has soaked in the prophecy from the pediatrician that he will be 3 maybe 4 inches taller than his older brother.  He asks frequently, “How much more than Austin do you think I will weigh when I’m taller than him?”  What do you say to that?  WAY more, honey, WAY more.

He has also started answering my questions, which is not good.  I don’t ask questions to be answered.  I ask questions to make the kids feel like they have a choice in doing what I say… but they really don’t. He’s the only one who caught on to this.  “Would you like to empty the dishwasher now, or after you eat?” I ask.  “I don’t like to empty the dishwasher,” comes a sweet voice with a naughty smile on his freckled face.  I’ve had to rephrase things for him…. “It’s now you’re turn to empty the dishwasher.  NOW means NOW,” said in a sweet voice to my boy with a knowing smile on my face.

Keeve is our most compassionate child.  He prays for those who don’t have homes to get one, and for those who are sick to be healed.  It’s truly heart warming.  He gathers up hockey cards and sticks of gum and mails them to his friends and cousins.  He always licks the envelopes before I see what is inside, but I know he writes letters and includes them too.

So, Happy Birthday to my boy!  What a strong and brave son you are… and double digits too!

What do Homeschooling Mothers Do ALL Day?

They shred old dust-ruffles so their children can mummify Barbie.  What do you think we do all day???  I have a few words of advice for future dust-ruffle shredding moms:  #1.  Don’t wear black.  It looked like I dusted a haunted house with my front side when I was done.  #2.  Wear a face mask.  Seriously.  I just finished reading a novel about girls who were getting sick working in the cotton mills…. NOW I understand.  I’ve blown my nose 27 times since the shredding.  #3.  You only need the frill of a single size dust ruffle to mummify at least 8 Barbies.  I did a queen size ruffle and we did 6 Barbies…. I have enough left over to do 12 more.  See?  This is such helpful information for future moms of mummifiers.

Why all the mummies when Halloween is over?  You ask.  We are studying Ancient Egypt.  The younger kids are doing the same topic as the high schoolers right now and we will be culminating the unit with Egyptian Night.  You know, phun, phood and pharaohs.  There will be an embalming demonstration with live volunteers from the audience, costumes, reports and of course, ancient Egyptian food.  (Not surprisingly, Katie “found” an Egyptian chocolate cake…… hhmmmmmm.)

Here is a photo of Keeve practicing the mummification process.  He figured out that Barbie wouldn’t fit in her sarcophagus without a haircut first.  That was yesterday.  Today six homeschooled children were given permission to cut off Barbie’s hair.  You should’ve seen the smiles!  Then they dipped the strips of cloth in papier mache so everything would dry in place.  What a mess, but it was fun.

The boys were with me in Goodwill when I purchased the dolls.  They asked what I was up to.  I said real loudly, “These Barbies are for YOU!  Which one do you want?  I’m not joking!  Come over here and pick your Barbie.”  They looked from me to each other and back to me and then ran toward electronics.  :o)

Keeve-Q

We’re not sure when it started.  We’re not sure why it started.  We’re not even sure what it means. For years our son has been signing his name Keeve-Q.  Q… why?  We don’t know.  His middle name starts with a K.  It has been his signature mark … even when his name doesn’t show up, the Q is there.  I asked him why he writes Q… he said, “Because it’s cool.”  I’m sincerely hoping he doesn’t think that Q is the first letter of the word Qool.

So why was I surprised when I saw the gigantic Q  in the lawn after Keeve mowed?  I don’t know.  Maybe the size of it?  Maybe the amount of time it would have taken him to move the mower in and out of the Q?  I don’t know.  There it was staring Q-ly at me … and even in the right direction to read it from the kitchen window.  He’s so thoughtful.

We’re trying to channel his creativity into music at present.  His piano lessons started last week and he has mastered Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”  (The one-hand, one-note-at-a-time version.)  He is truly a gifted child.  (Typed with tongue in cheeQ.)   Q.

(Note my bougainvillea that was flung from the wall during the horrific wind storm a week back.  There is a yellow-flowered bush under there.. well, there was last week.  I need to go tie those back up but they are SOOOO pokey. Sounds like a good chore for someone named Q.)

This is what I love about motherhood.  You never know when you’ll find Q surprises waiting for you to see the spunkability hidden inside your kids.

McDonald’s is a Dangerous Place

Minding my own business…. (isn’t this how most horror stories start???) … Keeve and I were at Micky D’s this morning shoveling hotcakes and sausage and breaky burritos.  We had two hours to KILL (maybe not the best choice of words here) while Larisa was at a drama meeting.  So I brought my Coupon $ense box and was the psycho with the scissors in the corner of the dino-playland.  Keeve was running in and out of playland with 5 or 6 little kids who only spoke Spanish.  Isn’t childhood great?  You don’t even have to speak the same language to play together. :o)  While darting in and out of the yellow tubes, my son got a straw jabbed in the back of his mouth.  The pain made his eyes water and the taste of blood lead him to the napkin dispenser. 

So as I’m locating W232 a $1.50 coupon off Doritos Salsa (which is on sale at Safeway for $1.69!!!) Keeve shows up beside me with a rolled up bloody napkin in his mouth.  This first thing I thought was he pulled a tooth out.  Nope.  With napkin wad filling his mouth he pantomimes the straw going in and the tears started.  I did look in his mouth, but I looked at his cheek and saw a little dot…  a microscopic dot.  He continued to change the medical gauze for ten minutes until it stopped bleeding.  I thought he was fine.

We ventured off to Safeway and saved $119 while only spending $53. Thankyouverymuch. Then to pick up Larisa and on to home.  We unloaded groceries and Keeve poured himself a bowl of Trix, because Trix are for kids. The first bite brought on more tears and I wondered if he needed a nap.  Mothers are tele-pathetic sometimes, able to determine the needs of their children with precision.  He said it REALLY hurt.  So I looked again to see if the teeny dot had grown.  Then I saw IT!

OK, I probably should not have yelled, “OH MY WORD!” But I did.  (spoiler warning for those with squeamy stomachs)  There is a 3/8 inch hole in the back of his mouth.  I remembered the over-sized straws at McD’s.  No wonder he cried.  I called the 24-hour nurse… who called back in 78 minutes.  Let’s just refer to her as Speedy.  Speedy said there is nothing that can be done if there is no bleeding.  It will heal on its own.  I told her that it hurts when he eats.  Speedy said to give Keeve pain reliever, jello, milkshakes, pudding and ice cream.  You know, the little poke might be worth THAT diet plan!?!?  Just a thought.

Keeve is on the couch full of banana pudding and blue jello… watching his third movie. He says his throat is “a little better.”  Maybe a milkshake and a few more movies will help.

Kids Do the Funniest Things

Yesterday, I was cooking dinner and behind me at the kitchen table was Keeve, our youngest son.  He had the gallon of milk out that was down to about 1 1/2 inches left.  Instead of pouring it into a cup to make chocolate milk, he was squirting the Quick straight into the gallon container.  He then replaced the lid and gave it a good shake.   Sadly resulting in tan colored milk.  So he squeezed and squeezed the chocolate syrup until it was dry.  (I hid the bottle in the garbage, so Rick wouldn’t add water to it and put it back in the fridge.)  Shaken again…. not the desired color. 

So ingeniously, Keeve went back to the fridge and found the Nestle strawberry syrup and proceeded to add it to the beige milk.  Unfortunately, it was also almost empty.  But the remains were mixed with great vigor and a slightly-sunburned-flesh color of milk was the result. 

At that point Keeve poured it into a cup and drank the whole thing down in one bottoms-up.  I inquired about the taste… he said it just tasted like normal milk.

That was a lot of work for milk that tasted normal.  But there is now free space in the shelves of my fridge.  :o)

Protestant Faux Pas

A couple years ago we were studying a Konos Unit on Courage and spent many days reading about Martin Luther (Not King, the original one.)  The children were shown the various parts of the movie Luther that would not cause nightmares, or create the desire to make weapons of torture.  Many questions were asked regarding the dress and “donut” hair-do of the monks.  We tracked Luther’s travels on our wall map.  We took turns quoting from his famous speech at the Diet of Worms in Germany that shook the Holy Roman Empire to its core and thus began the Reformation.  (Side note: I am learning so much while teaching the kids.  If nothing sticks with them, at least my Trivial Pursuit knowledge base is expanding.)

During our study, we traveled to the oldest mission in the West, San Xavier del Bac down near Tucson, AZ.  It is a gleaming white building with twin bell towers (one remains unfinished) that sticks out like a giant marshmallow trying to hide in the flat brown desert.  My children had never crossed the threshold of a Catholic church and we wanted them to see the pride and beauty of the historic 200+ year old building. The original solid, carved mesquite-wood doors are still holding in the interior coolness…. even in the summer.  Breathtaking.  That’s the only word that comes to mind to describe the paintings, not only framed and hanging, but on all the walls and the ceiling.  Frescoes, statues, mock-rope trim, all reminiscent of another place (Spain) and time (1800s).  End of history lesson.

The three kids were admiring all the candles and the hundreds statues of saints, monks and holy men adorning the altar.  We were among many silent visitors and solemn parishioners at the front of the church, when my seven-year-old son, Keeve, yelled excitedly while pointing to a specific statue of a monk, “Hey, Mom! There’s Martin Luther!”  No one laughed except me, and it was one of those burst out blasts-of-a-laugh that you can’t control, and is really loud especially in a quiet, echo-y place.  When I recovered, I whispered, “No, honey.  There’s no staute of Martin Luther in THIS church.”  We left rather quickly and discreetly.

Hey, I wouldn’t have even known why it was humorous two months previously.  I just LOVE innocent, politically incorrect errors!