Wednesday, March 31, 2010
To The Beat Of His Own Drummer
I really enjoy the peace and quiet that comes after all the kids are put away for the night. Sometimes I just sit and listen...to nothing at all. The white calm rejuvenates me and I feel the stresses of the day slip away. I begin to breath deeper, and the "Amazing Race" going on in my brain slows. Ahhhh.........
Then, in the back of my mind I am disturbed by the tiniest sound; a rhythmic tapping that rises above all the other quiet thoughts. It moves rudely to the front of my mind and I can't seem to push it back down. Soon I am no longer blanketed by a peaceful calm. I am mind-searching for where the sound originates. Is it external? My senses kick in and my ears guide me...
I tilt my head up and to the left (my good ear). Curses fill my mind, taking the place of all the peace and quiet in less than a second.
"Jasen, STOP DRUMMING!!!" I shout through the ceiling. My peaceful moment shatters!
Jasen has a drummers heart. He carries drumsticks and taps incessantly. When I take the drumsticks away he uses his fingers or his feet or ANYTHING he can get his hands on. I imagine most of the time he is unaware...as he does it regularly during family prayer, Sacrament meeting and Math class. He is actually quite good, and carries a rhythm for long periods of time. Unfortunately, regardless of his intent or talent, it is driving me CRAZY! A majority of the time I can tune it out, but lately...I feel like I am treading on the brink of insanity.
I have tried to come up with solutions:
*cut off his hands
*duck tape him to the wall
*Chinese water torture
None of which will sit pretty with the Department of Social Services so...I think what I will do is:
*buy him a drum set and set it up in the garage...after all, once legitimate practicing comes into play he will quit.
Then, in the back of my mind I am disturbed by the tiniest sound; a rhythmic tapping that rises above all the other quiet thoughts. It moves rudely to the front of my mind and I can't seem to push it back down. Soon I am no longer blanketed by a peaceful calm. I am mind-searching for where the sound originates. Is it external? My senses kick in and my ears guide me...
I tilt my head up and to the left (my good ear). Curses fill my mind, taking the place of all the peace and quiet in less than a second.
"Jasen, STOP DRUMMING!!!" I shout through the ceiling. My peaceful moment shatters!
Jasen has a drummers heart. He carries drumsticks and taps incessantly. When I take the drumsticks away he uses his fingers or his feet or ANYTHING he can get his hands on. I imagine most of the time he is unaware...as he does it regularly during family prayer, Sacrament meeting and Math class. He is actually quite good, and carries a rhythm for long periods of time. Unfortunately, regardless of his intent or talent, it is driving me CRAZY! A majority of the time I can tune it out, but lately...I feel like I am treading on the brink of insanity.
I have tried to come up with solutions:
*cut off his hands
*duck tape him to the wall
*Chinese water torture
None of which will sit pretty with the Department of Social Services so...I think what I will do is:
*buy him a drum set and set it up in the garage...after all, once legitimate practicing comes into play he will quit.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Spray Paint
I just sprayed black spray paint into my face! I know what you are thinking. What the heck?! Let me explain...
Tomorrow is Jasen's play. It is entitled "A Musical Disaster." The plot revolves around Dorothy being blown away from the land of Oz by a tornado, only to find herself being chased by a winged monkey through many different musicals. I will post video later...that is if I dare step foot into public later.
I realized that we hadn't finished the tornado portion of the props and so, even though it's super late and I am a little bit drowsy, I went into the garage to finish spray painting the tornado...I am just good like that.
Well, I sprayed a little black and then I sprayed a little tan. Then I decided it needed more black, so in a rush to be done I picked up the can and pressed the little blue button on top. PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!
I took a shot straight to the face! I gasped, dropped the can(which by the way, sprayed my bare foot as it hit the ground)and ran into the bathroom praying the damage would be limited.
I swear on everything holy, I looked like I had a full moustache and beard. BLACK, I might add. I threw off my glasses, also now speckled black, and began scrubbing my face with a hand towel and water. My new color didn't budge. Whimpering, I scrubbed harder and slowly the black began to fade. I grabbed a bottle of nail polish remover and wet the towel. After 10 minutes of serious exfoliation my face and neck seem to be mostly normal.
If you see me in the next few days and notice a dark tint to the lower half of my face, just please ignore it. If I rudely run into you or ignore you all together just chalk it up to the fact that I am out of contact lenses and I just spray painted my only pair of glasses black!!
Yeah, me!!!
Tomorrow is Jasen's play. It is entitled "A Musical Disaster." The plot revolves around Dorothy being blown away from the land of Oz by a tornado, only to find herself being chased by a winged monkey through many different musicals. I will post video later...that is if I dare step foot into public later.
I realized that we hadn't finished the tornado portion of the props and so, even though it's super late and I am a little bit drowsy, I went into the garage to finish spray painting the tornado...I am just good like that.
Well, I sprayed a little black and then I sprayed a little tan. Then I decided it needed more black, so in a rush to be done I picked up the can and pressed the little blue button on top. PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!
I took a shot straight to the face! I gasped, dropped the can(which by the way, sprayed my bare foot as it hit the ground)and ran into the bathroom praying the damage would be limited.
I swear on everything holy, I looked like I had a full moustache and beard. BLACK, I might add. I threw off my glasses, also now speckled black, and began scrubbing my face with a hand towel and water. My new color didn't budge. Whimpering, I scrubbed harder and slowly the black began to fade. I grabbed a bottle of nail polish remover and wet the towel. After 10 minutes of serious exfoliation my face and neck seem to be mostly normal.
If you see me in the next few days and notice a dark tint to the lower half of my face, just please ignore it. If I rudely run into you or ignore you all together just chalk it up to the fact that I am out of contact lenses and I just spray painted my only pair of glasses black!!
Yeah, me!!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Resilience
Resilience…resilience….I have been thinking a lot about the word this morning.
Yesterday I went to a FOCUS “counseling” session with Ben. FOCUS (Families OverComing Under Stress) is a program designed for military families and children facing the challenges of multiple deployment stress. It is an eight-week, instructional….well, for lack of a better term… intervention that addresses difficulties that families may have when facing the challenges of military life, particularly deployments. It was recommended to us by a friend and, while not fully convinced that we REALLY needed it, we made an appointment.
The session was interesting. We talked about our children and their reactions to this up and coming deployment. We talked about ways we have adapted our lifestyle to be in symmetry with military life. We talked about ways we have learned to cope with stress or emotional situations. Ben and I described our “emotional thermometer” over the last 8 years, specifically during times or events that impacted our family as a whole. We talked and talked…for 2 hours we talked.
When we were wrapping up the session one of our instructors said, “I am so impressed by how resilient you are…and how resilient your children seem to be.” It was intended as the highest of compliments, I think they were wondering if we REALLY needed their services as well, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.
Resilience means to me:
Strong
Enduring
Adaptive
While all of these characteristics are desirable, even awesome, I can’t help but wish that my children could be described by more child-like terms like light-hearted, joyful and carefree. Can ‘resilient’ coexist with ‘carefree?’ Can ‘enduring’ coexist with ‘light-hearted?’
I want to find a way to teach my children that when the winds of trial blow their way they can not only bounce back, but bounce forward. But, I also want to teach them how to make spit balls and play MASH. I am in a thoughtful and slightly discouraged state. I suppose resilient children grow to be strong adults…that’s awesome…but is the emotional trudging through childhood worth it?
I am certain that my emotional thermometer is peaking near red today, the eve of Ben’s departure, and next week ‘resilient’ may not seem so bleak or cold, but today…today I don’t want to be resilient. Today I want to feel light-hearted and carefree. Today I want to skip across a sunshine washed field of daisies and then spend my evening wrapped in a blanket kissing my sweetheart under the stars.
Resilient? I suppose so…I mean, we don’t really have a choice. Joyful? Well, I think I might be able to pull off the “kissing under the stars” bit! I will have to get back to you!!
Yesterday I went to a FOCUS “counseling” session with Ben. FOCUS (Families OverComing Under Stress) is a program designed for military families and children facing the challenges of multiple deployment stress. It is an eight-week, instructional….well, for lack of a better term… intervention that addresses difficulties that families may have when facing the challenges of military life, particularly deployments. It was recommended to us by a friend and, while not fully convinced that we REALLY needed it, we made an appointment.
The session was interesting. We talked about our children and their reactions to this up and coming deployment. We talked about ways we have adapted our lifestyle to be in symmetry with military life. We talked about ways we have learned to cope with stress or emotional situations. Ben and I described our “emotional thermometer” over the last 8 years, specifically during times or events that impacted our family as a whole. We talked and talked…for 2 hours we talked.
When we were wrapping up the session one of our instructors said, “I am so impressed by how resilient you are…and how resilient your children seem to be.” It was intended as the highest of compliments, I think they were wondering if we REALLY needed their services as well, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.
Resilience means to me:
Strong
Enduring
Adaptive
While all of these characteristics are desirable, even awesome, I can’t help but wish that my children could be described by more child-like terms like light-hearted, joyful and carefree. Can ‘resilient’ coexist with ‘carefree?’ Can ‘enduring’ coexist with ‘light-hearted?’
I want to find a way to teach my children that when the winds of trial blow their way they can not only bounce back, but bounce forward. But, I also want to teach them how to make spit balls and play MASH. I am in a thoughtful and slightly discouraged state. I suppose resilient children grow to be strong adults…that’s awesome…but is the emotional trudging through childhood worth it?
I am certain that my emotional thermometer is peaking near red today, the eve of Ben’s departure, and next week ‘resilient’ may not seem so bleak or cold, but today…today I don’t want to be resilient. Today I want to feel light-hearted and carefree. Today I want to skip across a sunshine washed field of daisies and then spend my evening wrapped in a blanket kissing my sweetheart under the stars.
Resilient? I suppose so…I mean, we don’t really have a choice. Joyful? Well, I think I might be able to pull off the “kissing under the stars” bit! I will have to get back to you!!
Monday, March 22, 2010
"5" Changes Everything
The advancement from 4 years old to 5 years old is remarkable at the Dawson home. Everything from clearing off the table to proudly announcing a perfect hiney wipe is followed by "'cause I'm 5 now!" This morning he asked if he could have a facebook account and drive himself to pre-school..."'cause I'm 5 now!"
Just imagine what he will ask for when he turns 6!!
Just imagine what he will ask for when he turns 6!!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Suction Cup This!!
I know that it is the nature of children to be curious, to experiment and to create. I appreciate this...most of the time. In fact, I have outfitted my own children with lots of "tools" for such things. We have drawers full of glue sticks, rubber bands, tape and scissors. There are Legos, blocks and books galore around our home. There are even pulleys, wheels and suction cups available for the dedicated creator moments. I have tried to create a fertile environment for young minds to plant and take root...and then, please forgive the lame analogy, BLOOM!!
This weekend, two of my sons...one using ingenuity and one not using much of anything, but both wielding the same lovingly gifted "tool", have made me reconsider my desire to nurture such growth. And so I begin...
Jasen walked downstairs Saturday evening, bantering on about the "fabulously lame" SyFy Channel movie he had just endured...or enjoyed (I am unclear.) The closer he got, the harder I strained my eyes, focusing on his face...his forehead to be exact. Something was different...even wrong.
"Jasen, what did you do to your head?" I interrupted him. He stood puzzled for a beat, and then a light went on behind his eyes and they grew wide.
"What do you mean?" He threw his hand to his forehead, coincidentally over the exact spot that had drawn my attention, and rushed into the bathroom, and the mirror. He moaned.
"Oh, Mom. What am I going to do?" He walked out of the bathroom, hand still covering his forehead.
"What did you do to your head? Are you hurt? Come here and let me see." I spewed.
He stepped closer and removed his hand. There in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple, perfectly circular, ping pong ball sized hickey. I gaped. I gaped some more. I stammered something similar to, "howwwwww...wha....you...ohhhhhhh", and then sat back, silent. He spoke.
"I found this suction cup and I was watching that show and I got bored I guess. It was so cool that it stuck to my skin. I pulled it off and re-stuck it, like...10 times. I didn't even think about it leaving a mark."
Suddenly I was overcome with a wicked wave of hysteria. I tried to be an adult, I mean the responsible, teaching and loving kind, but...well I failed. I laughed. I laughed until tears spilled. I grabbed my boy and hugged him and laughed into his shoulder. I pulled back to see that he was laughing to (thank goodness.)
"Well, I am not sure what to do for this. I am sure it will be lots better by tomorrow (when you have to pass the Sacrament to the entire ward.) Take some Advil to help out with the swelling and go to bed." He smiled, having perfect faith in my medical advice, took his Advil and went to bed.
It is now Tuesday. Jasen passed the Sacrament with pride, and a huge hickey. I allowed him to skip school yesterday, my penance for the laughing, but today he went, head held high. The greenish yellow circle in the middle of his forehead only a shadow of what it was just 60 hours ago.
Over the past few days I have asked myself, and many others, what he could have possibly been thinking. After all, he is 12 years old, which in my book seems 'old enough'. The consensus...he wasn't thinking at all.
Spencer got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday. He loves it. He is especially pleased that his sister runs squealing every time he enters a room armed. GREAT!
The cool factor of the dart gun increased when Spencer realized that the darts were tipped with suction cups (yeah, I know...seriously? More suction cups?) He has shot every piece of glass in this house, and I have the little saliva laced circles on all of my windows to prove it. Unfortunately for him, the darts won't stick to anything but glass, even with additional licks. Our walls are to textured and I guess his forehead is to hairy.
He has tried and tried to get a dart to stick onto the ceiling over our stairs. It is high, perhaps 20 feet high and of course, the desired location for a suction dart. Yesterday, he spent an hour laying on his back on the stairs firing up, over and over. The dart would hit, but never stick. Finally he gave up...or so I thought.
Last night, on my way down the stairs for dinner a flash of color caught my eye and I glanced up. There was a dart stuck to the ceiling. I was shocked. Not only did I think it wasn't possible, but I was sure that Spencer had been playing Legos downstairs for that last hour, at least. Surely, enough time had passed since the dart was shot that the saliva would have dried and the dart fallen free.
"Spencer, did you shoot that dart up to the ceiling?" I asked. He jumped up and ran to the stairs.
"Yep, awesome, huh?!" His face was shiny with pride and joy.
"Yep, awesome. So, how is it sticking up there so well?" I asked...not wanting to burst his bubble but still cautiously curious.
"Oh, I stuck my gum to it and shot it up. The gum was really, really sticky. It worked! YES!!" He pumped his little arm in victory. I closed my eyes and counted to 10...twice.
After I burst his bubble, quashed the victory dance and grounded him from gum until he turns 6, I pondered how I would get the gum enhanced dart from my ceiling, over 20 feet out of reach.
Still pondering...
Have a great day and get rid of all your suction cups!!
This weekend, two of my sons...one using ingenuity and one not using much of anything, but both wielding the same lovingly gifted "tool", have made me reconsider my desire to nurture such growth. And so I begin...
Jasen walked downstairs Saturday evening, bantering on about the "fabulously lame" SyFy Channel movie he had just endured...or enjoyed (I am unclear.) The closer he got, the harder I strained my eyes, focusing on his face...his forehead to be exact. Something was different...even wrong.
"Jasen, what did you do to your head?" I interrupted him. He stood puzzled for a beat, and then a light went on behind his eyes and they grew wide.
"What do you mean?" He threw his hand to his forehead, coincidentally over the exact spot that had drawn my attention, and rushed into the bathroom, and the mirror. He moaned.
"Oh, Mom. What am I going to do?" He walked out of the bathroom, hand still covering his forehead.
"What did you do to your head? Are you hurt? Come here and let me see." I spewed.
He stepped closer and removed his hand. There in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple, perfectly circular, ping pong ball sized hickey. I gaped. I gaped some more. I stammered something similar to, "howwwwww...wha....you...ohhhhhhh", and then sat back, silent. He spoke.
"I found this suction cup and I was watching that show and I got bored I guess. It was so cool that it stuck to my skin. I pulled it off and re-stuck it, like...10 times. I didn't even think about it leaving a mark."
Suddenly I was overcome with a wicked wave of hysteria. I tried to be an adult, I mean the responsible, teaching and loving kind, but...well I failed. I laughed. I laughed until tears spilled. I grabbed my boy and hugged him and laughed into his shoulder. I pulled back to see that he was laughing to (thank goodness.)
"Well, I am not sure what to do for this. I am sure it will be lots better by tomorrow (when you have to pass the Sacrament to the entire ward.) Take some Advil to help out with the swelling and go to bed." He smiled, having perfect faith in my medical advice, took his Advil and went to bed.
It is now Tuesday. Jasen passed the Sacrament with pride, and a huge hickey. I allowed him to skip school yesterday, my penance for the laughing, but today he went, head held high. The greenish yellow circle in the middle of his forehead only a shadow of what it was just 60 hours ago.
Over the past few days I have asked myself, and many others, what he could have possibly been thinking. After all, he is 12 years old, which in my book seems 'old enough'. The consensus...he wasn't thinking at all.
Spencer got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday. He loves it. He is especially pleased that his sister runs squealing every time he enters a room armed. GREAT!
The cool factor of the dart gun increased when Spencer realized that the darts were tipped with suction cups (yeah, I know...seriously? More suction cups?) He has shot every piece of glass in this house, and I have the little saliva laced circles on all of my windows to prove it. Unfortunately for him, the darts won't stick to anything but glass, even with additional licks. Our walls are to textured and I guess his forehead is to hairy.
He has tried and tried to get a dart to stick onto the ceiling over our stairs. It is high, perhaps 20 feet high and of course, the desired location for a suction dart. Yesterday, he spent an hour laying on his back on the stairs firing up, over and over. The dart would hit, but never stick. Finally he gave up...or so I thought.
Last night, on my way down the stairs for dinner a flash of color caught my eye and I glanced up. There was a dart stuck to the ceiling. I was shocked. Not only did I think it wasn't possible, but I was sure that Spencer had been playing Legos downstairs for that last hour, at least. Surely, enough time had passed since the dart was shot that the saliva would have dried and the dart fallen free.
"Spencer, did you shoot that dart up to the ceiling?" I asked. He jumped up and ran to the stairs.
"Yep, awesome, huh?!" His face was shiny with pride and joy.
"Yep, awesome. So, how is it sticking up there so well?" I asked...not wanting to burst his bubble but still cautiously curious.
"Oh, I stuck my gum to it and shot it up. The gum was really, really sticky. It worked! YES!!" He pumped his little arm in victory. I closed my eyes and counted to 10...twice.
After I burst his bubble, quashed the victory dance and grounded him from gum until he turns 6, I pondered how I would get the gum enhanced dart from my ceiling, over 20 feet out of reach.
Still pondering...
Have a great day and get rid of all your suction cups!!
Monday, March 8, 2010
USMC Rollercoaster
February 22-We just recieved word that Ben's name is on the short list to join a team leaving for Afghanistan on March 24th, for three months. I am shocked and...well just shocked. It seems like he just got home from his last deployment...oh, because he did. I dread telling the kids.
February 26-We just recieved word that Ben's name has been removed from the list. Evidentally, "the list" didn't leave any leadership behind for those not going. I am so relieved, happy...and a little frusterated that we already told the kids he was leaving and had to watch them deflate. There is a piece of me that doesn't believe it is true. I think I will wait a week or two before I tell the little kids...just in case.
March 3-We just recieved word that Ben's name is back on the list. I am so angry. I understand that it's his job but...the back and forth stuff...it's so hard on me and the kids. We just told them that he wasn't going. How am I supposed to tell them that he is?
I told Ben that if they change their minds again he better just get a barracks room for the next three months cause these poor kids are so confused and messed up. He is pretty sure they are not going to change their minds again. He is going to Aghanistan.
February 26-We just recieved word that Ben's name has been removed from the list. Evidentally, "the list" didn't leave any leadership behind for those not going. I am so relieved, happy...and a little frusterated that we already told the kids he was leaving and had to watch them deflate. There is a piece of me that doesn't believe it is true. I think I will wait a week or two before I tell the little kids...just in case.
March 3-We just recieved word that Ben's name is back on the list. I am so angry. I understand that it's his job but...the back and forth stuff...it's so hard on me and the kids. We just told them that he wasn't going. How am I supposed to tell them that he is?
I told Ben that if they change their minds again he better just get a barracks room for the next three months cause these poor kids are so confused and messed up. He is pretty sure they are not going to change their minds again. He is going to Aghanistan.
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