Saving Gear for the Next Generation

            My kids are big on conserving and recycling. Not all of that is from me, they learn about it at school too. They are a little too good at wanting to conserve.

One day I was boxing up a pair of boots that I had never worn but absolutely had to have. I had sold them on Ebay and was preparing them to ship when Adam pulled one boot from the box and said, “Don’t you think you could give these to my wife?” Wife? He was five years-old and concerned that his wife might feel slighted if I sold these boots rather than save them for her. I told him that I was not entirely sure that his wife had even been born yet so I was sure that she would forgive me for selling these boots.

Another memorable conversation I had with both of my twins happened a little while later and had to do with their clothes. The clothes Adam and Drew wear were Alex’s clothes. I saved everything that stayed in good condition in case I had another baby someday. Alex had so many clothes that he has single-handedly outfitted my twin sons quite nicely but when they outgrow the things that were Alex’s and if those are still in good condition I send half to my nephew and the other half to a girl who works with my husband. The boys are okay with this but when it comes down to something that was bought for them, they have mixed feelings. They had some p. j. bottoms that had become ever so short on them so I was preparing them for the trip to one of the two designated sites when I was asked why these clothes were not allowed to be held for Adam’s and Drew’s sons. I was surprised and it took me a moment to answer but by the looks on my twin sons faces, I would have no good response except the one I gave.

“Of course we can keep some of these for your sons,” was my reply and that ended that conversation to everyone’s satisfaction. I did keep those little pants; I am not a mother who lies to her kids unless it is about what they are eating or about Santa Clause. I am truthful most of the time.

Swimming Lesson From Hell

            My twins are individuals in every sense of the word. One is left-handed, the other, right-handed. One would never eat peanut butter while the other scorned it and would eat jelly alone. One has wavy dirty blonde hair and the other has straight, dark brown hair. I am certain that there was no mix up at the hospital, they are just different. They are also individuals in the activities that they enjoy...until they decide to trade traits and really screw with me.

For example, I had signed them up for swimming lessons and I was pretty sure that Adam would resist. He is that kid. If you offer or suggest it, he will not want it. I could try to give that kid a puppy and he'd tell me he wanted a turtle so when it came to swimming I knew that Drew, my adrenaline junky, would be hard to keep out of the pool and Adam would probably be questioning the credentials of the instructor. Oh how wrong I was.

The time came to put them into the pool for their lesson; both had their floatation devices on and had been run through the shower by me. Drew did not appreciate the shower and his attitude sucked ever after on that day. Adam got in with no incident which thrilled and relaxed me. Drew, on the other hand, screamed like a little girl and howled and was as mad as I've ever seen him. The instructor taught the other children while holding Drew on her hip as he screamed. She wanted to give him a minute to cool down and see that swimming rocks but that was a lesson that was not to be learned by Drew. Finally I could take it no more and I fetched my ill-mannered kid from the kind, extremely tolerant teacher and sat him, wrapped in a towel, in the parents viewing area with me and the other mothers who were no doubt thrilled that he was done shrieking and also relieved that it was not their child who had had such an incredible meltdown.

After the lesson from hell I called my husband to tell him how things went. I said that one had thrown a fit and the other swam and flopped like a little fish. I knew he'd get it wrong; I would've gotten it wrong as well. He'd assumed that Adam had freaked, as he should have, and that Drew had fought to stay in the pool for the rest of his life. Roger was just as surprised by the events of that day as I was, as all of the family members I told this story to were.

Every week after that when Adam got in the pool I expected Drew to come around and want to swim but that didn't happen. I was sure that I knew these children but they love to be contrary and I'm not entirely sure that they know that they are doing it. Oh sure, sometimes they are argumentative just because they can be but sometimes I wonder if it just sneaks up on them. It surely sneaks up on me and smacks me in the back of the head with a big reality check telling me that I will never have the right answers when it comes to my two.

Life is rarely dull and for that I am thankful.

Birthday Shopping for Big Stuff

     Today is my husband's birthday. Yesterday I had to take my newly tonsil-free child back to the doctor because he decided to start bleeding. He is fine and insists that he did not 'decide' to bleed but that it just happened but he doesn't read this blog so I can say what I want.

    Anyway, after our stop at the doctor we made a few stops before heading back home and becoming hermits again. My husband likes to read and Adam thought that we should get him some books as a gift since we hadn't had the time to get him anything with the surgery and recovery we had been dealing with this week. I agreed and we stopped. We looked at many books. I was looking for Stephen King books that were not in Roger's collection yet and Adam was finding books that were big and fat. I asked him why he was randomly picking books, I knew that there would be some reason to what seemed random to me. He explained to me that his dad has a lot of big books and that that was what he was gathering for us to get. Now, I know that "The Stand" has over a thousand pages but that is by an author that Roger likes, a large book that is about flower care or astrology would not be something that Roger would enjoy so I decided to do a little editing of my boy's choices on my husband's behalf.

    Finally, Adam and I agreed on a really big book, it is about the Americans in the Korean War. I thought that the topic might appeal to Roger since he likes war documentaries and the sheer size of this book met Adam's requirements. I also grabbed a Stephen King book for good measure although it was not as big as the War book. I don't think that Adam was impressed with my selection but he said nothing, he only shrugged his shoulders and continued on.

     A party size bag of peanut M&M's was also on Adam's list of "stuff dad likes" so we grabbed a bag of those as well. Shopping is easier by myself.


Off the subject, Roger had a great-neice born today, on his 51st birthday. Welcome, Etta Maxine Hauenstein.

Corrupting Takes Skill and Foul Language

        As I mentioned in an earlier blog entry, my youngest brother has cancer. He lives in Vermont and I am in Iowa so we don’t see each other much. I wanted to send him a card that wasn’t mushy but had a sentiment expressed none-the-less. I found nothing that was even close to what I wanted. Nothing that was clever or quirky, let alone interesting or funny so I was left with no choice. I would have to find a card and pervert it all by myself. And so I did.

            The first card was paisley covered on the front and said ‘Simply stated…’ and when you opened it all it said was ‘Thanks.’ I had a vision of how to fix that card and so I bought it, took it home and went to work. I extended the one word on the back to read more than just ‘Thanks,’ it now read ‘Thanks for not being a douche bag,’ but I fouled up one of the ‘b’ in bag and then I was irritated and had to extend the sentence to a paragraph explaining that ‘I looked high and low to try to find a card with profanity and I found nothing. Then I go and f—k this card up while trying to be funny and I had to make my own f—king profanity because of that. Enjoy your f—king card. Love, Carol’ I think the beauty of the message speaks volumes.

            I was not done. I needed to find another card and I was going to do the same thing that I had done with plain and unperverted card A. I bought a perfectly nice card and added vulgarity to it with my own special flair. After searching for a card that I could work with I finally came across it. It was perfect. It was red and was embossed and had ribbons and all manner of embellishments. It was ripe for corrupting. It was also completely in Spanish which neither my brother or I speak, to this day I have no idea what the card says and that’s what makes it so funny. I knew he’d open it and take two seconds to start laughing when he realized what I had done. I did need to include a personal message so at the bottom of this lovely card I wrote, ‘Yeah, I have no idea what the f—k it says either. My Kung Fu is strong, my Spanish is not. Love, Carol’ and I sent it on its merry way.

            Creativity comes in all forms and doesn’t have to be typical, it just has to work for you and humor is what works for me just about every single day of my life. If I ever send you a card, hopefully I’ve had a thought of how to make it fun and personalized. What a lucky brother I have.

Breadstick Flambe

          Adam had his tonsils taken out the other day. He was a little confused about what exactly was going to be done so he told people that he was having his nostrils out. Not the case, but it was cute. As of this moment he still has his nostrils but alas, no tonsils.

            I was on the phone with the ambulatory clinic that took care of him after his surgery the other day. I heard the microwave beeping away and I saw that he had put a little something in there for himself. I thought nothing of it, for some reason, and continued to answer questions about how Adam was feeling and how his pain management was going. Just as this phone call ended I hear “Mom! Mom!” and that is usually a bad sign. I bolted to the kitchen to find Adam at the microwave and smoke billowing from it. He had put a breadstick in to warm up and he had microwaved it entirely too long. The remaining time on it said 55 seconds so I can only imagine how long it took to turn that breadstick black and set it to smoking. I tossed it into the sink and turned the water on to try to drown it while explaining that a breadstick could probably be warmed up for twenty seconds and that he should give it another shot.

            I learned that burnt breadstick smells remarkably like burnt popcorn. I have also learned that my boys need a little practice microwaving things but I do appreciate the effort.

Which Twin is Which?

Alex used to go to Sunday school in a different town so when I would take him I would meet a friend and have breakfast, sometimes with both babies, sometimes with neither. One morning only one was awake so I left the other home with my husband. Drew and I went to breakfast with my friend. When I got home my husband was telling me that his boy had pulled himself up onto the couch and that he was no longer afraid of this toy that made lots of noise and on and on and on. I was really confused because Adam had been pulling himself up for some time and had never been afraid of that obnoxious toy and then it hit me, my husband had confused the boys and thought that he had had Drew and that together they had made all of this great progress. Since the boys are not identical I found this to be hilarious.

Crayons Leave Lasting Memories...On the Walls

I recall the day I learned that having a stray crayon on the floor was a very bad idea. Drew found it and as he was looking at it I was looking at him reading his little mind. I headed for him as he looked up at me. It was a race after that. He was racing for the nearest wall and I was running defense for the wall. Needless to say, he got there first and got as much scribbling done as he could in the two seconds it took me to cross the room. This was not the only altercation we had with the crayons. He and his twin are not big into coloring but Alexander is all about artistry so there was opportunity for Drew to find crayons and run to a wall. This went on for months, I would dream about crayons escaping my view and waiting for my boy to find them and deliver them to the wall. And how could he disappoint? I would scour the floors for crayons and to my surprise I would miss one with my eagle eyes and the two year-old would find it. I don’t look at it as my being inattentive to the hunt for crayons but that he was built lower to the ground and was becoming one with the crayon. Finally he stopped coloring on the walls, perhaps he and the crayon community had a falling out, perhaps Hot Wheels became more interesting, perhaps being in trouble and having me losing my mind was getting old with him. I’ll never know but the walls still hold the evidence of this rocky part of our past.