June Cleaver Nirvana

I have heard it over and over...

and over...

Oh!

and over...

So much so that at dinner tonight I repeated it back to the boys:

First is Worse.

Second is Best.

Third is the one with the Treasure Chest.

Fourth is the one with the Wedding Dress.

Fifth is the one with the Hairy Chest.

I then asked what SIXTH was...

and Reid(5) answered:


Sixth is the one with the CAT.

I may have mentioned that I am raising very sensitive sons.

And by sensitive I mean overly-reactive.

They are sensitive about the dark, being alone, vegetables, anything they don't want to do and bugs.

BUGS pretty much tops the list - the super-frightening, extraordinarily-horrifying, death-defying list.

I am not a big spider fan so I understand that, but the anguish over ants, flies, moths, beetles, June bugs and roly-polies (yes, even cute little roly polies) I just don't get.

And then there is the bug of DEATH...

The bee.

Alias hornet or wasp (please don't get technical here, I know they are different, but the boys lump all the bee-like bugs into the bee category).

Note: None of my boys have ever been stung by a bee, hornet or wasp. To my knowledge they are not allergic to any of these stings so quite honestly they are over-reacting just a tad.

For instance, on the way home from school the other day I saw this gorgeous field of wild flowers. I stopped the minivan on the side of the road and left the field-side door open so I could keep track of the boy that was with me as I grabbed my camera and headed the 15 steps to the flowers.



I got about three shots in before the SCREAM OF DEATH coming from the minivan interrupted my floral photography session.

Crap.

I ran to the van to a panicked child who informed me that a BEE the size of TEXAS had invaded the minivan. I searched high and low for this horrifying species of bee so large that it induced shrieks heard all the way in Oklahoma.

I searched.

and searched.

and searched again.

No bee. I did find a fly...a very freaked out little fly.

Poor fly.

So when we got home I pulled out the Big Book of Insects for a little remedial bee identification training. While reading the Big Book of Insects it became clear that this is not the best book to read to children afraid of bugs. The Big Book of Insects talks about all sorts of rare creepy bugs. The Big Book of Insects shows pictures taken under magnification of bugs that are crawling everywhere on everyone at all times.

Which might explain why I have been answering incessant questions about bugs that are crawling everywhere on everyone at all times since that little lesson.

Sometimes knowledge is NOT a good thing.

Knowledge about super weird creepy bugs may not be good, but knowledge about how they react to the bugs might not be bad...

Yesterday Ryan(8) came to me with a brilliant plan.
Ryan: Mom, I have an idea.
Me: OK.
Ryan: I think I can win a gold medal in running.
Me: Really?
Ryan: Yes, what I need you to do is as soon as they start the race you need to put a bee behind my back. I can run over 20 mph if I am running from a bee...

And that my friends is how you make bug lemonade from bug lemons.

Being a mom means I have the privilege to see the world through my children's eyes. I get to peek over their shoulders and see what they see...until they grow too tall...at that point I will have to carry around a ladder because I don't want to miss the view.

Today we are in for a treat.

I have arranged an interview with world famous Nirvana architect, Rhett.

Rhett is a 3 year old architect out of North Texas. His formal training was in other areas (potty training, pedaling a tricycle and book procurement for story time) and is predominantly self-taught in the field of architecture.

His previous architectural achievements have included unique structures created out of non-traditional building materials such as Legos, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and wooden blocks. He is a master at mixed media and demonstrates a creative streak that is unsurpassed.

Thank you Rhett for joining us today.

Hi.



Rhett, can you please show us your latest work?

Here. Look. It is by couch. DON'T KNOCK IT DOWN!


Inspired! What a unconventional take on a modern town. I am impressed with the traffic flow and advanced planning for population congregation.

No. This is family. Here is mom, dad, Ryan, Reid, Rhett (me), Grandma, Grandpa, Mimi, Bampa, Abby (dog), Scooter (cat), Lauren and Baby Benjamin.


Oh! How unexpected. So this one is your mom?

Yes. Mom.


The tall structure with the wide hips?

Yes. Mommy is big.

And the shorter, skinny structure behind it is your dad?

Yes. Mommy LARGE. Daddy MEDIUM. Rhett SMALL.


I am hoping that you are referring to SMALL, MEDIUM and LARGE in a metaphorical sense of their spectrum of influence...

Huh?

This interview is over.

If one cereal is good,


then five is MUCH better.



And will make you MUCH stronger.



Who said Wheaties ALONE was the breakfast of champions?

It appears that the city in which I live is balancing the budget on the back of its hurried citizens.

It started a few months ago when road construction began...well, not the actual construction, but the cones and warning flags for the actual construction. A new and improved speed limit had been set 10 mph lower than the original with minimal new and improved signs. The way I figured it out was through watching the plight of fellow citizens pulled over with lights flashing in between the cones of impending construction.

I am quick like that.

Since that time the actual construction has arrived and along with it a fleet of enforcement. I feel lucky to drive the road frequently because I now expect dark colored police vehicles with low rise lights tucked away in every driveway, tree cove and blind corner.

I pity our town's unsuspecting visitors.

To give you an idea as to the density of which I speak, I counted 7 law enforcement vehicles in the 3.5 mile stretch of this road between town and my house.

Wow! That is an impressive ratio of public to public safety - especially considering that the city planners have dictated that lot size in this portion of town exceed 2 acres per house. I dare say that the resident population is now rivaled by the law enforcement population.

Obviously, I have slowed down. Not that I ever am INTENTIONALLY non-law abiding, I just get bored driving slow. I am happy to report that my law abidingness has kept me speeding ticketless for nearly 3 years.

Impressive.

Yesterday when I drove Ryan to school I noticed a police cruiser parked in a new location. An area where there is no construction, in fact he was at least a mile from the heavily patrolled construction zone.

Was he lost?

It didn't look like it. It looked deliberate and clever. His black car was disguised in the shadows of a forest on a quiet corner.

The road should go straight here, but it appears years ago someone built a house and then they built the road around it. I drive this way multiple times a day, multiple times a week. All that practice has allowed to me to negotiate the corner without harm.

Repeatedly.

I passed the cruiser and then made a mental note that in 5 minutes on my return trip I would abide by the speed limit.

Which I did.

All 15 mph of it.

The speed warning zone starts 100s, maybe 1000s of yards prior to the actual corner.

It took every ounce of my self control to actually drive under 15 mph for the ENTIRE corner as witnessed by the my city's best.

At first it felt like I was walking.

And then I felt like I was stalled.

And then I actually had the sensation of backward movement.

While rounding the slow motion corner I had time to think...

I thought and thought and thought.

And then it occurred to me. In the history of that corner it is very probable that no car has ever made it completely around within the letter of the law.

I am the first.

I really should get some sort of prize.

A medal.

Or parade.

And then I wondered why would they set a speed limit SO LOW that it is impossible to follow?

Did I mention the city budget issues?

Crap, they probably won't have any money left over for my parade...

It has been a mild Texas spring. We have been hovering in the mid-70s with dips to the high 50s and occasional spikes to the low 80s.

The trees and flowers seem a bit non-committal. The buds open slightly, peek around and then tentatively hang in unenthusiastic bloom. Nature has paused. Quite honestly, I can't really blame nature because it's Mother often punishes spring with an ice storm.

Despite the mildness, spring is one of the few times of year that we actually have WEATHER. You know, the kind that you have to check the news or Google in the morning before getting dressed.

Ryan has complained that whatever I tell him to wear to school seems to be wrong.

Mom, remember when you sent me to school with a COAT when it was WARM and in SHORTS when it was COLD?

Sorry buddy...if weather.com can't get it right, what chance do I have?

And then there was yesterday morning:
Time: 6:34 am
Temperature: 75
Conditions: Thunder Storms with Rain Showers

The boys come tumbling down the stairs reporting sights of lightening and sounds of thunder.

Ryan: At least I don't have to go to school.
Me: What? Of course you have to go.
But it is raining.
They don't call off school for rain.
MOM! Turn on the news and check.
Ryan. They don't call off school for rain.
YES THEY DO! Check the computer.
I am NOT going to check the computer. You are going to school!
Reid: MOM! I just saw lightening! Ryan can't go to school in lightening.

Ryan does not go to school in a pool.

It appears that my three boys are extremely important.

So important that they can't be bothered to stop their important work for something non-important...like going to the restroom.

They play chicken with their bladders to a point that it makes me have empathetic contractions.

It starts out slowly with a subtle groin hold.

Do you need to pee?

NO!

And progresses to a full body stretch on tip toe to allow more room.

Do you need to pee?

NO!

And finally comes the dancing which escalates into a disco beat.

Do you need to pee?

NO!

Of course not.

*wait for it*
*wait for it*
*wait for it*

Once the disco beat pattern is identified it takes approximately 8.5 seconds for the following to happen...

• All movement stops suddenly.
• Eyebrows raise and shoulders are pressed back.
• Entire body pivots toward closest bathroom.
• Full speed run toward closest bathroom ensues.
• Tunnel vision occurs.
• Belt/button undoing may commence.

And what happens when the bathroom door is closed due to prior occupation?

• The dasher screeches to a halt.
• Stares at the door in disbelief.
• Pauses.
• Horrified look crosses face.
• Full brain shut-down occurs.
• No ability to problem solve is present.

And that is why I am needed.

Every day this happens and in this moment I am the most important person in the world. The smartest mom ever to have walked the earth. The wisest sage in the land.

I am Toilet Yoda...

Why don't you use the other bathroom?

Help you I can, yes...

Rhett's recent victory in kicking the binky habit has resulted in an unmasking of the underlying disorder for which he was self-medicating.

Toddlerphrenia.

His 8 days of clean and sans-pacifier have taught me that his self-medication dosing was very effective.

And now?

His current behavior is a wild variation between the toddler extremes of fierce independence and sobbing dependency.

It appears the pacifier was a plug for drama.

POP the plug...

...release the drama.

Rhett will be in the middle of a task - showing competence, exuding confidence - and then without warning, in the blink of an eye, a wind of change happens...

It starts with a whine...escalates to a sob and peaks with a full blown tantrum.

He has a serious case of Toddlerphrenia.

The other night we were all in the living room watching TV. Ryan was laying on the floor, Reid was laying next to me on the couch with his thumb in his mouth and Rhett was on my lap.

Rhett's eyes were fixed on Reid and he kept playing with his fingers.

He fanned his fingers out and deliberately placed his index finger on his lips...

"See mommy, I do what Reid do!" pointing to his index finger in his mouth.

"Reid sucks his thumb" I responded while folding his fingers down in my hand and pulling his thumb out to show him.

He stared at it in wonder.

He looked up with a smile and put his thumb in his mouth. Every once in awhile he would pull it out to marvel at it...

It had been there the whole time...just hiding on his hand.

Thumb...the new binky?

Surprisingly, the initial amazement has worn off. I occasionally notice that he has a finger in his mouth, but it hasn't proven to have pacifier power.

Is it wrong that I am a little disappointed?

I really thought a small daily dose of thumb would help control the acute exacerbation of Toddlerphrenia...

I have mentioned a few hundred times that Rhett(3) has had a bit of an addiction. He could be the poster boy for Pacifiers Anonymous (PA).

It started out so innocently...he cried and we needed a quick fix of peace and quiet so the binky pushing began.

Unlike the other boys, he actually took to the pacifier. It was pure heaven at first, but then he needed more, more, more.

More binkies.
More pacifier time.
More urgent cravings.

It was an ugly out of control spiral...

We had a binky intervention...twice. There are even family members who refuse to associate with him when he is using.

Tough love.
Tough times.
Tough side effects.

At one point I began strict pacifier rehab. He resisted treatment. I caught him stealing moments with his binky. I saw him sneaking hits. I saw him hiding the evidence.

He had to shake this habit before it ruined his life.

Ruined his life?

It isn't like his drug of choice is illegal...

At that point we cut him a little slack.

Enablers.

At that point we decided to ignore the problem and hope it goes away.

Denial.

That was several months ago. We have given Rhett free and unfettered access to a never-ending supply of pacifiers. Slowly the pacifiers have been wearing out. Slowly the highs haven't been as high.

Tonight as Rhett went up to take a bath blog-Stedman asked him if he wanted to take his binkies upstairs while holding out a handful of pacifiers.

Rhett turned and said "no".

I asked him during his bath why he didn't want his binkies.

He said "because I am not a baby".

And he went to bed cold turkey.

He woke up about 45 minutes later shaking from withdrawal, but his resolve was firm. I am scooping him up and taking him to my bed.

This could be a rough night, but it is the first step...

I am starting a new REALITY CHECK series over at Burbmom.net. I am not going to post the follow up stories here, but wanted to let ya know what I was doing over there in case you want to follow along.

For the next month I am going to play THE GROCERY GAME.

The Grocery Game is a website that you join to get specific local information about coupons, specials and freebies at the grocery stores you frequent. It says that if you follow the instructions you can save a lot of money without spending a lot of time devoted to coupon clipping.



The Verdict?

Too early to tell.

The post-shopping Reality Report:

The Grocery Game website is a little awkward, but once I figured out a few things I was able to navigate it pretty easily. I was surprised that when I entered my zip code a whole list of local grocery and drug stores appeared. Once you choose the stores you want to follow the "rules" and shopping lists are available to print.

I will admit to being VERY FRUSTRATED that there were no coupons in the Sunday paper. Since it has been YEARS since I have clipped coupons I wondered if maybe the paper had discontinued them. I Googled and searched and tried to ask a question on The Grocery Game's website (which was closed for Easter) and finally found the no holiday coupon clause on the actual shopping list. UGH.

There are pages and pages of reading on The Grocery Game website that I felt like I needed to review to get started. It is overwhelming at first. I kept thinking that they could give some instructions to ease beginners into the system. I may be more clueless than their average mom in this area, but it does seem complicated.

I am going to keep an open mind since...I haven't even gone shopping yet!

Next time over at Burbmom.net: Shopping trip #1 without manufacturers coupons *sigh*...

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.
Today I would like to give TRIBUTE to a Creative Team that really took it a step further.

Cheers to the Creative Team behind Cheetos!

You looked at the near perfect Flamin' Hot Cheetos and said...

that is not good enough!

We need to look OUTSIDE THE BOX.

We need to improve the size and shape.

We need to supersize the flamin' hot goodness.

And so you created GIANT Flamin' Hot Cheetos:

Because who does NOT want marshmallow size flamin' flavor?

Marshmallow flamin' hot flavor so inspiring, I went out and got a stick.


And then set to roasting - flamin' the flamin'.

Which lead me to the obvious GIANT Flamin' Hot S'more.

Try to do that with the original.

I don't remember what parenting book it was that I read early on, but it made a huge impact on how residents of the Nirvana relate to each other.

The book stressed how important it was for children to have choices. These choices needed to be concrete and age-appropriately narrowed down.

I interpreted that to be a simple question of either/or...

Ryan, would you like to do your math or phonics homework first?
Reid, would you like to stay with your dad or come with me?
Rhett, would you like the blue or yellow cup?

Simple enough.
Effective.
My choice of their choices.

I started noticing that the boys were doing the same thing back to me.
Simple enough.
Effective.
Their choice of thier choices.

They use the technique in completely different ways.

Ryan is a master of the Multi-level Reward-based Either/or:

Mom, would you rather I do my math homework and then play the Wii or do my math homework and then play my DS?

The Extreme Sweeping Statement Either/Either is Reid's favorite:

Mommy, would you rather I never go with you or stay here forever?

What brought this to my attention this morning was Rhett's Non-sequitur Either/or at my bed this morning at 6:15 am with blue power ranger suit in hand:

Mommy I am starving! Would you feed me NOW or put on this costume on me?

I am a little worried that he isn't aiming HIGH enough.
Breakfast around here is a given.
Donning a power ranger suit has high probability.

Every once in awhile he could try for an Either/And...

When you are three you have a sense for what really matters.

Food, clothing and a place to sleep are all secondary to the absolute necessities...

Three rainbow beanie babies - one bear, one teddy bear, and an iguana; a pacifier and a Lego ladder.

These are the essentials.

When you are three and required to leave the house you will get your backpack and fill it with your very important objects.

Three rainbow beanie babies - one bear, one teddy bear, and an iguana; a pacifier and a Lego ladder.

These are the essentials.

When you are three you understand that no backpack is a burden if it is filled with...

Three rainbow beanie babies - one bear, one teddy bear, and an iguana; a pacifier and a Lego ladder.

These are the essentials.

It was a bit inconvenient for me when Ryan(8) learned to read. Blog-Stedman and I had to stop spelling things in public.

We adjusted.
Life went on.

What has been much more difficult to deal with is his ability to understand time.

Not just the time of day.
Not just the day of the week.
Not just the month.

But the date.

The date.

Crap.
Super crap.

He is the date police.

The Barney Fife of expiration dates.

I am not trying to feed my family over-due food. I am very conscientious of expiration dates on dairy and meat products, but I might slide....just a bit on some of the other food groups.

If a bag of chips sits unopened in the pantry for 45 days, does it REALLY need to be wasted?
If a can of pumpkin puree might have been left-over from 4 Thanksgivings ago, can't I sneak it into a 2009 pumpkin pie?
If a jar of pickles has been refrigerated, can't I believe in the preserving powers of pickle juice beyond what a calendar says?

Not according to Ryan.
Nope.
Nada.
Absolutely not!

The first thing he does when he comes into the kitchen is check the date on whatever I am preparing. If the date is overdue, he lays down the law. If the date is coming soon, he leads an expiration interrogation.

If you pour him milk in the morning and then put it back in the fridge, he is going to ask to see it before drinking.

And no amount of my reassurance will suffice.

Recently we went out to eat. We were all sitting at the table eating chips and salsa waiting for our food to arrive. Ryan picked up the chip container and looked at the bottom:

"Where is the expiration date?"

Poor Abby.

She started out as an only child.

Pampered.
The objection of affection.
Celebrated.

She had the run of the house.

I mean she ran the house...


And then a human baby came along.

Poor Abby.

She was fine for about a year.
Continuing as before...
until the human baby started walking.

Then her 50 lbs. of bulldog exuberance became a problem.

She is the most hyper bulldog I know.

She would get excited and jump.

50 lbs. of bulldog exuberance jump.

Poor human baby.

During that first year the human baby seemed to always be CONTAINED in something.
A swing.
A bouncy seat.
A walker.
A bouncer.
A stroller.
A crib.


These were all Abby buffers.
Human baby safety bubbles.

When human baby began to walk.
He walked AWAY from the safety of the buffers.
He walked TOWARD Abby.

It was just too exciting for Abby - she needed to greet human baby with 50 lbs. of bulldog exuberance.

She needed to be put outside.

Poor Abby.

And that is how Abby ended up an outdoor dog.

As she aged she has gotten less hyper. As she aged I have gotten more children.

Abby's clout has dropped. and dropped. and dropped.

Poor Abby.

She is still 50 lbs. of bulldog exuberance when the kids go outdoors to play.

For awhile I put her in a different part of the yard so she wouldn't knock them down. Now that both the kids and the dog are older I figure the kids can outrun her.

Ryan (8) doesn't have a problem with the dog. He just has a problem with not wanting to go outside sometimes. The other day we had friends over and this was overheard:

McKenzie (8): Your dog is so cute.
Ryan: Does that mean you want to go out and see her?
Yes! Let's go out and see her.
You don't want to do that.
Why?
Our dog always bites new people.
Really?
Yes, our dog has bit me several times.
Oh.
Let's go upstairs and play.
OK.

Poor Abby.

To set the record straight - Abby has never bit anyone in her life.

Blog-Stedman addressed the lies immediately. The next morning at breakfast I could not stop thinking about it and brought it up again:

Me: Ryan, why would you tell someone that Abby bit you?
Ryan: Well, she might have tried once.
I would NEVER have a dog around that would bite! Never.
Don't give away Abby! I love her.
Why would I give her away?
Because she bites people.
But she doesn't. Why would you say that when it isn't true?
Please don't give my dog away!

Yes, this argument could have continued in this circular manner for hours. By the end of the conversation I was on the defensive. Assuring him that the dog was going no where.

Poor me.

I say bring the dog inside and put the human out in the back yard...

If you give a Texas Mom a sunny spring day
she will ask you to find her a field of bluebonnets.

If you take her to a field of bluebonnets
she will definitely need her camera.

After she locates her camera
she may even want to make sure her children are in coordinating outfits.

Once her children are in coordinating outfits
she may ask you to help her pose them in the bluebonnets.

After her children are posed in the bluebonnets
she might notice that SECURITY has arrived.

Once SECURITY has arrived
she will probably mention how UN-Texan it is to chase mothers from fields of bluebonnets.

You might want to intervene before she gets carried away
and ask you for a lawyer.

So you will carry her away
to find another field of bluebonnets...

...because it is a sunny spring day.

Ever since Ryan(8) started to talk we have suspected that he has a future in the legal profession. He has shown excellence in the field of debate. He has a passion for justice. He has a gift for finding the loophole.

Should we send him to third grade or law school?

I am now wondering if any sort of school is necessary...maybe we should just send him straight to Congress.

Why Congress?

He has placed earmarks in the Nirvana budget through creative interpretation of the law.

The law: The boys each get a weekly allowance according to age. On each birthday their allowance increases by $1 per week.

Ryan recently had a birthday so his allowance was increased.

Blog-Stedman and I then overheard him calculating new allowance rates for both Reid(5) and Rhett(3) whose birthdays are in June and December. These calculations were made with plans for increased brotherly spending on his behalf.

Me: Ryan! Reid and Rhett's allowances won't go up until their birthday. Only yours goes up this month.

Ryan: *with a twinkle of understanding in his eyes* You said we get an extra dollar on EACH birthday.

At that rate he will be receiving a Congressional salary before getting out of middle school...

Reid (5 almost 6) is the middle child and has always been the forgotten one. From birth he has been my easiest, my most accommodating, my quietly independent child.

The un-squeaky wheel.

Thank God.

He is flanked on either side by brothers with spirits as large as hurricanes. He huddles in the middle to weather their storms.

About 6 months ago he started throwing tantrums* every time we left the house.

I don't want to go to karate.
I don't want to go to my friends' house.
I don't want to go to the park.

Everywhere is bad.

*Let me clarify that a Reid tantrum registers around 1 on the tantrum-Richter-scale. I try not to judge, but really, after seeing his brothers' tantrums I would think by just using pure genetics he could put a little more effort into the show.

One day blog-Stedman watched the pre-karate fireworks as I wrangled Reid into his ghee.

Gee.

We had a chat before I left to take the boys to class about whether it was karate or life that was bothering Reid. We decided it needed further investigation and possibly a change in schedule.

We got to karate and Reid completed his class without incident and with his full participation - as usual.

While we stayed to watch Ryan's class he climbed up onto my lap and we had a conversation...

Me: Reid, you did very well in karate today.
Reid: Yes.
Why the big fuss before we came?
I don't know.
Do you like to do karate?
Maybe.
Would you rather do something else?
Swimming.
OK, we can do that. It will take about a month to make the switch.
I like to swim.
I will talk to the karate class and cancel your lessons here.
Yes.
*we sat quietly for a few minutes while I thought about the details of the change and then thought I might want to ask one more question*
Reid, if I switch you to swimming you may NOT throw a fit before class - do you understand?
*pause while Reid thought about it* Mom, I think I better stay in karate.

My dear friend Marcy is leading the blog-o-sphere in Proposal 2.0. There is a proposal and then she has a long list of really fun stories linked.

So how did Nirvana begin?

On Fridays I only had classes until noon. I usually worked in the afternoon, but this particular Friday I did not. I went over to blog-Stedman's Southern California apartment and promptly fell asleep in his double Papasan - it was the early 90s and he was on the leading edge of decorating style.

While I was asleep he cleaned the entire apartment.

That should have tipped me off right there that something was up.

When I woke up he had started on dinner. As you know I am not a cook, but he is. He makes fine dining restaurant quality food that takes patience and skill to prepare. I hung out at the little eating bar while he cooked.

After dinner he handed me a box of Godiva chocolates and told me he got them for dessert. We were both in graduate school so a large box of Godiva chocolates was pretty rare.

I picked out a chocolate from the box and when I lifted it out of the wrapper a letter floated to the table. A single letter of the alphabet. It was cut out randsome-note style.

Huh?

Being curious, I started lifting all the chocolates and finding various letters tucked under each treat.

I pulled out the letters and started to unscramble them...

W-i-l-l

y-o-u

m-a-r-r-y

m-e-?

The ring was in the special foil wrapped chocolate covered cherry.

There was hugging and kissing and crying and at some point I think he got on bended knee.

When I called my parents to tell them the happy news my dad had the following question...

Are you SURE that is what it spelled?

If it was not it is 17 years too late now.

Now go join in the fun!