Turner saunters

Turner doesn't walk.  No, he saunters.  In and out of the classroom, the store, around the house.  He saunters to a rhythm, swingings his hips and strutting, and giving you every indication that he has music in his head.   If you know Turner this doesn't come as a surprise as his personality is one that requires a sauntering.  He is silly and funny and, still, cool as can be.   He is quiet and shy but extremely flirtatious, then in an instant can turn it on to be the life of the party and the loudest person in the room.   Everyone likes Turner.  Everyone knows Turner.  The boys want to be his friend, the girls want to be his girlfriend, and I don't say this because he is my kid, though it does sound that way.

So, yep, Turner saunters when he walks and somehow it is perfectly appropriate.

Saunter is actually an action verb.  Would have been an appropriate name for my son:)

Punch Bug

The game, according to Turner, "is always, always on."  He says it so cute, as only a three year old could, that Chase, Ryder, and I always crack up laughing.  But, this was a surprise reward of teaching the boys the game I grew up playing, Punch Bug.

I am not exactly sure why I wanted to permit "punching" any more than necessary but with all of our car travels, back and forth, I thought it would be fun to have a game that is, well, always on.

The boys have learned to pay attention, to observe their surroundings, and though they don't always play fairly, they do try to.  We don't actually punch, just a light tap, which has yet to get out of control and since I tend to spot most of them I am now giving a throat clearing cough when a VW Beetle is heading my way in attempt to tip off the fastest-to-respond boy.

It's me against them, in most cases, and every time they feel I have too many points they insist I go back to zero.  And, I do.

But, still playing Punch Bug is fun.  And, now there is such a variety of them, not only the colors and the convertibles, but the other day we saw a SOUPED UP BUGGY, fancy rims, racing stripes.  It looked kind of silly with the flower shaped rear lights but it certainly sparked some questions.

Before our next road trip, whenever that may be, I will teach them Padoodle and between the two games (and "Going on a picnic") we should be all set.

And Then God Spoke....

Shady Brook Farm, a local farm that we support, does a really cool thing.  Every Friday night from May- September that host a wine concert.  For free.  Well, the food and wine is not, but entry is.

So, we went.  Although friends of ours have gone regularly for years, we never have, mostly because our Friday nights in the summer have always been spent in Margate.  Until now.  The night was beautiful, the music was good, the wine...well, the wine was not so good but, still, it is better than no wine at all.  Everyone had a blast.  Particularly Turner.   He had about 10 friends there in addition to his brothers and it did not matter.  He didn't pay attention to one of them.  Not one.  Because he never took his eye off the band.  This is how he sat for over an hour, in utter amazement....

He literally didn't move.  Until....

He got up to jam with the band.  Because, yes, we had to bring his guitar with us once he found out there was going to be music.  I didn't actually pull it from the car until the band said he could come up with them.  He strummed and danced and sang some sort of tune as if he really was a part of the band.

Then, this...

Listening as if God had spoken.

Yep, Turner had the time of his life!!


PS:  All the kids had a great time and do we hope to go back again soon

A Cleansing!

Today is my birthday. Another year come, another year gone.  Another year so quick that, frankly, I am surprised I finished last years post in time to start this one.  Last year, I wrote this.


I left for that Jamaican trip unaware, not in my flaky, forgetful way, but in a completely blindsided type of way, that I was amidst what would come to be known as one of my worst years ever!   A series of bad luck that led to bad decisions, peppered with more bad luck, presented us with a year of trials and tribulations. I am not complaining, though it sure sounds like I am, as I am well aware that life can only be called such with a healthy dose of shit. 


But,  did it really all thave to come at once? 


For a while I let it get me down, a long while, as if I was undeliberately asking the black cloud to follow me. Then I took a look in the mirror and said something must change. Change is a funny thing. A deliberate choice to make a change is one of life's most difficult feats.  It requires total self awareness, complete honesty, and a lot of work. 

Many people give up at the self awareness. 


Changing a habit, a lifestyle, an attitude, even a relationship never comes easy and yet while we struggle to alter whatever it is that isn't working we are changing, gradually, with time.  Unexpectedly, and even unknowingly, until we look in a mirror and wonder where the gray hair came from or the crow's feet or the extra pounds.


 Yep, change is funny like that. 

So, here I am a year later, grateful to have overcome a battling time and to be in a much better place.  We are still digging out of last years nightmare's, still treating the wounds to prevent scarring, but we've gotten to a world where the black clouds are just rain clouds.
     
Rain in April seems normal except that we are in the Bahamas and have yet to the see the sun. Vacation is defined in many ways and though I had anticipated sun bathing and body surfing, this vacation offers something different entirely. We are here on a phase trip with Judge. Todd's new and old employer. I think back to our last trip, 12 years ago. I think back to over a decade ago, to the beginning of this millenium, and I am astonished in how much has changed and, yet, how much has stayed the same. I was 25 years old, a kid, wild and carefree. Unsure of myself and the future I would have, though confident it would include Todd. 12 years later I am different, life is different, but amongst this crowd so much seems the same that I reminded that, yep, change is a funny thing. 


On my 37 th birthday I reflect on life's changes. I choose to be grateful for my hardships and the hurdles we've overcome because I am smart enough to know that it could be so much worse. I choose to learn from our mistakes and build my strenghth for when I was weak. I choose to be grateful for my blessings. I choose to be grateful for this trip despite the incessant wind and rain.  I see it as a metaphorical cleansing of my terrible last year and the start of a new and better one. Mostly, I am grateful to have added another candle to my cake.


Happy Birthday to me!!

PS:  Despite the rains, we still had a blast.  My actual day was spent cheering a Flyers victory followed by a dinner at one of the best restaurants I have ever eaten at, The Gray Cliffs.

E.R.

5 Years, 7 Months, 4 days.  

That is how long it took, in spite of the rough-housing that is considered normal in our home, for us to land in the E.R. with a bloody kid.


It is astonishing, really, that it took so long. In those 2044 days my shelves have been used as climbing walls; my living room a dojo; my basement an alternating arena for the Stanley Cup and the World Cup.  My yard has been Gotham City; Metropolis; New York City; and, there, evil villains have been slain by immortal superheroes.

Wrestling matches have been won and lost, as have boxing bouts.  And, my little princes have leapt from the bed to the bean bag, over a bedroom-sized, dragon filled swamp.   My stairs, with help of a quilt, have become the world's fastest luge, and each and every bed in this house is, apparently, a trampoline. My sons have turned games of tag into tackle tag, games of hide-n-seek into wrestling matches, and, somehow, heads and bodies land, crashingly, on walls and floors even from a seated position.

In addition to the (temporary) tattoos and stamps that adorn the boys bodies, there's a scattering of black and blue bruises. None of which the boys can recall how they got. 

So, yes, I do feel a mild sense of accomplishment, pride, LUCK, that it took over five rotations around the sun before staples were needed to seal a 2 inch gap in Turner's head.  Sigh!  The good news is, it was just staples in the back of the head.  No obvious scars, no casts needing to be signed, no plastic surgeon required. 

What Happened?  It's silly, really, any of what is listed above should have, could have, caused much worse injury.  The boys were chasing each other around the circle of kitchen, living room, dining room, as they do every day.  They were laughing.  Turner slipped on some water in front of the fridge and hit the wall with his feet.  This itself was not harmful, at all, and he was still laughing.  But, when he hit the wall, the picture hanging on it fell off and the corner of the frame landed, squarely, on the back of his head slashing it an inch wide.  Lots of blood, fewer cries, and a shocked mommy had us in a moment of disarray.  Todd handled the blood and Turner calmed down.  I took him to St. Mary's, where he managed to charm the nurses and the doctors and not even flinch as they stapled his head.


But, still, I suppose they would be safest encased in bubble wrap.   If only they would sit still long enough to get swaddled.  Hell, perhaps that would protect my walls, as well.

Chase M. Tovsky, Esquire

Lately, it is next to impossible to win an argument with Chase.

I hear you snickering.  "Come on, Wend, you're the parent.  Toughen up!"  I have heard it all before and though I won't argue with you that I can be a bit of a softy with my guys, Chase's skill is beyond my level of toughness, or lack there of.

Since he was in the 3's program at school the teachers have claimed he would grow up to be a lawyer.  Or, a politician.  Aren't they the same, really?  considering MOST people's opinions of both, I wasn't sure I this was actually a compliment, though I think it was said in flattery.

Lately, however, he has proven that, though he may travel down a road of sports super-stardom, he could likely end up near a courtroom.  That boy can argue.  And,  negotiate.  And, charm.  It is an interesting combination.

He is quite capable of not only citing precedence, by remembering, with detail, every prior incident that is closely related to a situation, but also of negotiating a settlement by stating arguments so valid that one is forced to concede.  It is because of my keen awareness that I am, indeed, the parent (see first paragraph) that I refuse such a concession, even if I know he is right.

Don't believe me?  I challenge you to try argue with him why it isn't fair that he only had 3 minutes use of my phone while his brothers, on more than one occasion, have had 5 minutes each.  Or, why I should not have gotten a white car because, in fact, ever since he has known me I have driven a white car, and therefore, I should have let him pick the color.  He can persuade you to play soccer, even if you want to sit on the couch, because we should want him to improve his skills and therefore we should want to work out with him.  And, without a doubt, he should be able to do homework later because he needs time to rest his mind and refresh his brain.

OK, I am off to study torts now so I can try to out lawyer my son.

Tooth Fairy

I had noticed that Ryder looked different. Older.  Something in his face had changed.   Other people were noticing, too.  But we couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.  Then, his tooth fell out.  And, I realized he was just growing up.

It wasn't out of nowhere.  It had been loose for a while.  Much longer than I had expected, actually.  But, as we pulled into the library parking lot yesterday, there it was. Tooth in his hand, blood on his shirt.   He was happy that it didn't hurt.

That night the tooth fairy gave him $5, which was disappointing since he asked for a Power Rangers toy.  He also got money from his grandparents making it a $10 tooth.  He is saving it for said toy.

When he noticed his tooth was loose, months before

The tooth

The letter to the Tooth Fairy!