The Soundtrack of My Life

Sometimes I feel that the best part of a movie is the soundtrack. It is that little slice of memory that is triggered by a song that is sometimes the most powerful. Who can't whistle along with the tune from "The Bridge on the River Kwai," feel the anticipation and excitement of the Harry Potter music, or sense the impending dread of the two notes that signal "Jaws?" I often think that I only like a movie because of how the music makes me feel.
Which makes one ponder what the soundtrack to their own life might be. Would it be pensive and inspirational, like "Chariots of Fire?" Would it be fast and heavy handed like something from an action film? Would it be similar to the swells of music that accompany a biopic about an historical figure.
As much as I would like for my soundtrack to include great artists, I think that it would run more along the lines of popular kids' artists. I mean, all I hear in the car anymore is High School Musical, Beethoven's Wig, collections of kids' songs, or the sountrack from Spirit (horse movie - imagine that!) Ahhhhh, such is parenthood.
Bingo was his name oh!

"Mama Mia"

Maddie's friend Allie came over today to play. I always welcome the opportunity for Maddie to be with other kids her age because it helps her to learn how to share and play appropriately - something that she will need to learn how to do better before she starts school next year. I'm not saying she's bossy, she just likes things her way...well, I guess she may be a little bossy.

Anyhow, Maddie, Allie, Jameson and I were all playing in Maddie's room. Allie was playing the part of the chef and Maddie was the diner in her restaurant. As they were acting this out, I realized that they were speaking a mixture of bad Italian, English, and some made up language. It was a little bit of "Mama Mia, ciao grazie prego cooke (not a real Italian word) some pizza." I think that would translate to roughly, "Mama mia, hi thank you you're welcome cook some pizza." It was hilarious. To top it off, the two of them were wearing dress up shoes and clomping around the room. It seems that this pair of three year olds is picking up pieces of the language - and sometimes using it appropriately.

A Boy and his Ball

Well, I think there is something to be said for the nature side of "Nature vs. Nurture." Our home is full of toys traditionally considered for girls. We have princesses, dresses, sparkly shoes, a kitchen, a toy stroller, TONS of horses, etc. It is predominantly pink, glitter and fabulous - as Maddie would say. There are some blocks, a Thomas set, and a few balls. And what does Jameson always want to play with?...a ball. Once he finds one he crawls or walks around the room, throwing the ball several feet in front of him and retrieving it. He could do this for hours. But it is never a princess or a sparkly shoe he tosses...it is always a ball. And in this case, he didn't even let go when he napped.

More Mother's Day

Nothing quite compares to the gifts that children give. The artwork is precious, the kisses are wet, the laughs are genuine, and the jewelry is always something that they would like to wear. :) But it is always given with love.

Katie's school had a Mother's Day celebration this last week. The first grade sang songs and wrote poems for their moms, using the letters of each mother's name as the first letter in each line of poetry. Katie's to me is beautiful...

Mommy I love you!
A big kiss and hug
Roses or beautiful like you
Sweet kiss I give you
Horse are sweet like you
A big kiss is a wish

I know that there is love in this poem because she compares me to horses and Katie's love doesn't run much deeper. It is priceless.

Maddie behaved in true Maddie fashion - listening most of the time (with her thumb in her mouth) and claiming starvation the rest of the time. She did take a minute to pose for the camera, though.

It was a great afternoon.

A Happy Mother's Day to ME!

SHE SAID:
Earlier this past week, as Chris was working nights and preparing for another trip to Israel and a trip to Morroco, I reached my breaking point. Sensing my exasperation, Chris cancelled a golf outing yesterday and took all three kids to Naples for a small shopping expedition. I think it was more to be a break for me. And it was a nice day...
Around 10:30 I called Chris to ask him to get something that wasn't on the list. When he answered I could hear Maddie screaming in the background. Apparently she had almost tipped Jameson's stroller over, with him in it, and was being punished in the grocery store. We put off our conversation and I called him back about half an hour later. He was now in the bathroom with Maddie and, before I could get my message to him, he started yelling "NO!" to Maddie and quickly got off the phone. I called back - again - 30 minutes later. He explained that Maddie was putting her mouth on the disabled hand rail in the bathroom. :)
Chris sounded, to put it mildly, frustrated. I inquired what was wrong and he retorted, "What's wrong??? You know what's wrong! You go places with all three kids!" This was followed up with, "I love you so much."
It has been a really good Mother's Day.

HE SAID:
I knew Marsha was about to lose it, so I called off my golf outing, loaded up the kids and headed to the little peice of America in Italy, the US Navy Support Site. On the way down, everything was fine, girls laughing and playing nicely together. . . until Jameson fell asleep and after warning Maddie and Katie, and then Maddie again, to be quiet and not wake him, I look in the rear view and Maddie has her hand on his head and he is awake. Listening, Strike 1. A little while later I look back and Maddie has taken off her shoes and is holding the bottom of the shoe on Jameson's nose and mouth. Yeah, Strike 2.
We get there and Maddie continues not to listen and then nearly pulls Katie and Jameson's stroller over, STRIKE 3, a "wal-mart" spank in the aisle and sitting in the "penalty box" cause her to begin to cry. Marsha calls, I'm assuming from bed. See above.
Flash forward to the second call, Maddie has to go to the bathroom so we go in. I hoist her up onto the handicapped raised toilet. She is facing to the side of the toilet, holding onto the support railing, or as it is now called the "teething rail". As I'm talking to Marsha, calling to have me get some cheese, I see Maddie mouthing the railing like a horse mouths a bit. It rivaled Katie's licking of the tea cups in Disneyland at that age.
The rest of the day was uneventful, and by uneventful I mean stressfull. I have never said that I could do a Mom's job. In fact I admit that men, or most men, can not. That is just a fact of Nature. We don't have the patience, the common sense or the raw talent to care for children. That is why we are called DADS and all you have to do on father's day is get us a bad paisley printed tie. . .

Carrying on a Family Tradition...maybe.

I am sure that somewhere, deep within the reaches of her mind, my mom has always hoped that either myself or my sister, Shelly, would take up sewing and/or quilting. My childhood is peppered with memories of her working on clothing for us kids, quilts for family (I distinctly remember a red cat quilt that she made for her sister that took at least 3 years), or these little old woman heads that she sold at local craft shops in Wichita. She, undoubtedly is very skilled in this type of art. She even made her own wedding dress and is currently making beautiful primitive hooked rugs. Therefore, I have decided to carry on her legacy. No laughing please.

In those deep reaches where I am sure my mom wants one of us to start quilting, I am sure she was also hoping that it wouldn't be me who would want to take it up. I am notorious for starting things of this nature and not finishing them. My mom finally finished a stuffed Christmas tree decoration that I started in Mrs. Frazey's third grade class, as I showed no potential for getting it done on my own. We still talk about this failed endeavor on occasion. Actually, to be more exact, she reminds me of it whenever I entertain the idea of sewing again. And rightfully so.

Lately, however, I have decided that I want to take a stab at quilting. My mom's quilts, especially the spectacular quilt she made for me when I was in school, have always impressed me. I also have a friend who quilts who recently told me, when I inquired if she sold her quilts, that she keeps them for her family's collection. It got me thinking; I would like to make something like that for MY family to collect. So I am going to start - or at least try - to do this.

I am attaching a picture of some of the fabrics I am going to use. Let's hope I don't butcher this. I will keep you all updated as to my progress, or lack thereof...

She Wants What?????

Any mom knows that as soon as your child(ren) can walk and talk they decide that the best time and/or place to talk (but let's be honest...it's really pestering) to you is when you are either on the phone or in the bathroom. All I have to do is dial a number and children who have been ignoring me, even when I'm talking directly to them, suddenly need my undivided attention to answer questions, hear a story about their horses, or stop a fight. The same goes for the bathroom. I look for 2 minutes ALONE to use the restroom, but that always ends up being about 30 seconds alone and 3 and a half minutes telling kids to leave me alone. My children even went so far one time as to tell me that Chris deserved privacy in the bathroom because he had cooked them dinner. If that is the measure, I have earned about 67 years of privacy.
That being said, ever since the little potty incident (see "Pee is Sterile" blog, below) Chris has banned said potty from the house. That means that Maddie has to use the "big girl potty." Those of you who have been to Europe know that the majority of Italian toilets have a very narrow seat. It is more like sitting on the rim of a traditional American toilet. Because of this, there is a high risk of Maddie actually falling into the bowl, so we help her on to the seat when she has to go. She has now decided that we have to leave her alone in the restroom when she is having a bowel movement. This usually involves us standing outside the bathroom, out of view, while she sings a High School Musical song and does her business.
Perhaps if I break into song the kids will leave me alone, too. "Yellow Submarine" anyone?