Remember that game every kid plays? Bad guys v. Good guys? Or some version of it -- i.e. cops v. robbers, cowboys & indians, etc.
Anyway, Andrea has her version that she wanted to play this morning: the Stripling Warriors. She was one of "Helaman's boys" and told me I was to be Ammoron. Great. Thanks, kid. I guess we know how this role-play is going to turn out...
Andrea: "Mom, I like you."
Mom: "I like you, too, Andrea."
Andrea: "But sometimes I don't."
Lacie is currently running around the house yelling, "Fire! Fire!" waving a tree branch with one of Hyrum's socks on the end.
Not sure what that's all about.
Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree-top,
when the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
and down will come baby - cradle and all.
Anyone else wonder what a baby is doing up in a tree? Or how they got the cradle up there? Not to mention what ever happens to the baby when he plummets to the earth?
After years and years of hearing/singing this seemingly sadistic lullabye I have finally figured out the hidden meaning - the analogy behind it that makes sense of it all. And I happened upon it under the very circumstances it of which it speaks.
Picture with me if you will:
It is 4:40am. I went to bed at 2am, yet here baby is -- crying and fussing again. So I feed him. Burp him. Change his nappy.
Still awake.
So I rock.
Rock and rock. And bounce. Bounce and rock. And rock some more. And bounce more. Bounce and rock. Rock and bounce. And bounce. And rock. And rock. And rock.
And finally his eyes close. So I gently stand up. But his eyes flutter open. So I rock again. And rock and rock. Finally his eyes close again. Now I ever so carefully, ever so slowly stand up. Eyes are still closed. Good. I step towards his crib. Eyes pop open.
I start furiously rocking. Rocking. Bouncing. And now shushing. Maybe shushing will help. No. Back to rocking. Rocking and bouncing. Now swaying. Now swaying while bouncing.
Slowly his lids start sagging. He fights it. But my rocking is persuasive and he succumbs. I keep rocking. I've learned. I rock as I walk - slowly, slowly toward the crib. His eyelids flutter -- I stop and rock harder. Eyelids stop fluttering. I continue creeping towards the crib. Made it. Now to lay him down...
I start lowering him: eyes open.
Rock, rock, rock.
I set him down: eyes open.
Rock, rock, rock.
I get him down, eyes closed, but now I have to get my hands out from underneath him: eyes open.
Rock, rock, rock.
I get him down, get my hands out from underneath him, eyes are still closed, but then I stub my toe. And even though I make a Hurculean effort not to curse out loud, the stubbing of my toe jostles the crib: eyes open.
Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock.
Last attempt. I'm impatient now. I rock until his eyes close. I keep rocking while carefully lowering, but I already know it's no good. I'm not going in slowly enough. His eyes are going to pop open any second. I go for it anyway. I lay him down. Eyes open. I pull my hands out. I don't care. The bough has broken.
I realize now that the lullabye craftily conceals from the child what the parent is really saying. And they must be a nicer parent than I, because my lullabye would go like this:
I'm holding you, trying to get you to sleep.
Every time you whimper I rock you like mad;
Finally I've had it, so I just set you down,
And whether or not you cry, I'm going to bed.
I've lived in Texas long enough now that I don't remember quite how it is in other places - if the business center street corners are constantly filled with people employed to hold signs and/or banners all day. Here in Irving, TX it seems to be a very popular job. I've never seen the appeal, personally, but the corners never seem to lack for a dancing Statute of Liberty or Darth Vader announcing the next big sale.
However, in all my hold-a-sign-on-the-street-all-day job observing time here I'd never seen anyone get into a fight with a passing motorist until the other day when Weight Watchers apparently did not well enough screen their employees for hidden aggression issues against trucks. I'd also never seen a 'SALE!' sign used as a weapon before.
Too bad the light turned green before a clear winner could be declared.
... when you only make it half-way through your ascent up the hearth before you poop out and fall asleep mid-climb.
(yes, she really is passed out asleep)
On her tricycle, Andrea pedals up to Mark, stops, and exclaims,
"What a machine!" then pedals off.
Normally I'd post this in my Political Arena, but for fear of it getting overlooked I thought I'd make it into a regular post.
So Barack is anti-gun. Fine. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion... except that he's our President. Not so fine anymore. And he's wanting other anti-gun people in office. Really not fine. Especially when considering just who it is that he wants. I'm speaking of Eric Holden - our President's nominee for Attorney General.
Consider this:
last year there was a an attempt to ban all handguns in the city of Washington D.C. Holden was a major player in pushing this ban. Naturally there was an out-cry citing our 2nd Amendment right. The anti-gun-pushing response to this was that the 2nd Amendment was intended as a collective liberty, not an individual liberty.
Holy twist-and-misconstrue-our-founding-fathers'-words-from-the-documents-that-established-our-country-and-freedoms Batman!
Seriously. Regardless of your personal opinion about guns, would you really feel safe knowing that the person in office is someone that tries to misconstrue the wording of the Bill of Rights to serve his own agenda? How 'bout the Constitution?
Even if you agree with him on this particular issue, what about the next time? What if you don't agree?
AM I THE ONLY ONE ABSOLUTELY FRIGHTENED AT THIS POSSIBILITY?
So here is the purpose of this post. Normally when I hear political stuff like this I get all fired up but then don't know what to do about it. Then I feel helpless and insignificant, then frustrated, then doomed, then I just want to cover my ears and hide. This time I found a way to take action and feel like I'm doing something to voice my beliefs. I emailed my senators to vote against Eric Holden as Attorney General. And I'm urging you to email your senators as well. One way or another. Obviously I'm hoping you'll agree with me and ask your senators to vote against him. And if you don't happen to have your senators' names and email addresses on hand you can go to the site I used
http://gunowners.org/activism.html
(unless you are anti-gun -- in which case you'll probably want to find your own site).
You put in your address and it finds your Senators' info and emails it to them.
Cool, huh? So go do it.
Now.
If you want.
In conclusion, I'd like to leave you with a thought from a show I don't actually follow, but happened to watch one night. It's called The Eleventh Hour and this particular episode was all about a company that would decapitate people once they were dead and freeze the head so that in the future when there was a cure for their disease they could be brought back to life. (Think Walt Disney)
So at the end of the show the one FBI agent asked the other if he thought it should be outlawed. His response was this:
"While the science is flawed and the ethics are questionable, if you outlaw immortality then the only immortals will be outlaws."
How Mark spent New Year's Eve...
a "Hula Girl" outfit of Andrea's own design. Yeah, just tell me I'm not in for some big trouble when this kid hits 16...
To merely state that Lacie "got into" the cake would be a little misleading since it was only the top portion of the cake that she went after, and it would fail to include the best part - that she did it face first.
I told her I was going to take a picture of her to show Daddy when he got home so he could see how naughty she'd been. Her response?
"CHEESE!"
In case you can't make out the lettering on his shirt, it says
"Mommy's Little Man."
So true, so true.
Our first family pic in years:
I've ever heard is my 2 month old son literally laughing out loud in his sleep.
Ironically, one of the most wretched sounds I've ever heard is my 2 month old son crying while I sleep.
We were all watching an animated version of "David and Goliath." As the credits started rolling at the end Andrea, looking quite thoughtfully, said,
"I wish Goliath was a blueberry pie."
apparently.
Cos you wouldn't think looking at 5'8" Mark or 5'4" me that we'd have really big kids. Not fat; big. 95th percentile big. Mistaken for a couple years older than they are because they're so big.
And Hyrum is following suit. At his 2 month check-up he measured 24" long. Which isn't incredible unless you consider that he was 19" at birth. So that's what, 5 inches in 2 months? Sheesh, no wonder the kid cries at night - he's trying to set a record with his growing pains.
in case you missed my Christmas Eve post titled "Uncle" or did not take it seriously, I am again appealing to your sense of mercy and/or compassion and again crying, "Uncle!"
"UNCLE!"
No really, I can't take it. I can't do it anymore. I give. I stupidly told someone that I figured 3 kids was manageable -- that 2 kids was a harder adjustment for me. And I fear that my self-assuredness was taken as cockiness or arrogance or whatever and I am being punished 10 fold.
So I take it back. I'm sorry! Forgive me! I rescind my earlier statement and any statement that could have come close to resembling it. I apologize. I'll repent. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Please, please, pity me. Take back the wrath bestowed through the mischievous doings of 3 & 4 yr olds! Stop the chaos envoked through their terribly creative little minds! Show mercy!
Please...
please...
