I don't think I've posted since we got to Missouri, meaning it's been a while and lots of things have happened/are happening. Our lives have changed a lot for the better, and we're still adjusting but overall things are going well.
This past Sunday (Easter), Chris's brother Stephen passed away. Since this is a blog about the boys, I won't even attempt to go into how that has affected anyone else, which is fine because it's near impossible to articulate that anyway. On the drive out here, Chris and I did our best to explain to the kids that Stephen was sick and tell them what they could expect from living in the house with him. We were worried they'd be nervous about it. But they are some pretty easy-going kids and it turned out to be a non issue for them. In the first few days, there were some curious questions about Stephen and his care, but other than that it didn't affect their lives in any way.
When Stephen went into the hospital, we again did our best to explain what was happening mostly because it meant Grandma Sue and Auntie Andrea weren't around the house like usual. And then a few days later, we had to explain to them that Stephen wasn't going to come home and everyone around the house was going to be sad for a little while and the best things they could do were give lots of hugs and say nice things to people. The boys were sitting on Declan's bed playing Nintendo at the moment, and they sat there listening while we explained what we could. They each got these really sad, heartbreaking looks on their faces - Logan looked down at his lap solemnly and Declan pushed out his bottom lip. And about 30 seconds later it was over and they were on to thinking about the Mario race game.
We told them what to expect at the wake and the funeral, and gave them the choice of going or staying home with me, and they chose to go. At the wake they hung out in the back for a while and slowly worked their way up to viewing Stephen. Logan was shy about it and wouldn't ever walk up to him - he'd just walk by and glance at the casket surreptitiously. Declan, however, kept walking up and standing next to people, and he'd look at Stephen a minute. When Chris was there with Stephen, Declan looked up and grinned hugely at him, completely unphased by all that was going on as usual. The funeral itself was long and boring for them, but the best part was the police escort to the cemetery. The boys watched intently while the cops held up the traffic for the procession and they squealed with excitement each time one of them zoomed past us to get ahead to the next intersection. They were completely impressed by the motorcycles.
Ed, like a good father, has been asking how the boys are handling it emotionally, and all I can tell him is that they're doing fine. They're both too young to really understand the gravity of the situation. They know it's sad and they know the basics of what's going on, but it's not affecting their moods or lives. I think the best way to describe it is they're sad for us, but they themselves aren't sad.
Chris's family has told us a few times how nice it's been to have them around, even in such a difficult time. No one can dwell too long in the sadness of a moment because it gets broken by a loud laugh down the hall or one of them zooming into the kitchen asking for a treat or Declan yelling from the bathroom for someone to wipe his butt, please. Meals need to be made, bodies need to be dressed, hands and faces need to be washed, and through all the things that go into caring for the boys, a sense of normal is brought back into the home.
Last night, before the boys went to bed, we had a chat with them about leprechauns and how mischievous they are and how they like to play fun tricks on people on St. Patrick's Day. This morning, the kids woke up to things like our milk and chicken salad in the fridge turned green. We had green scrambled eggs for breakfast (with regular-colored bacon). And the boys are loving it all. For good measure, here's a short video of the boys talking about the morning. And Logan being a boy.
Logan posing so elegantly; Declan with a green milk moustache.
I love the look Declan's giving Logan here. (You can click on these photos to see a larger version of them.)
I used to say that Logan had an ear for music, and people would be like, "Duh, all kids like music." He's now five and I still think there's something special in him when it comes down to it. I don't know what it is, exactly. He picks up new songs really quickly, and has been known to add his own special soundtrack to his life, like he's writing a movie score to the movie that is Logan.
I don't know if it's the shared genetics of the boys or the shared environment, but Declan is also very musical and makes his own songs that are along the same lines of Logan's - sometimes nothing less than epic accompaniment while he climbs the stairs, dead man walking to time out. Since he was quite young, he's been known to sing himself to sleep in bed. And today, while I was getting his bath ready, he stood in the hallway naked, with a Guitar Hero guitar slung over his shoulder, and sang (loudly) a song to me requesting that I please find him a washcloth. (Of course, my camera is never to be found in those moments.) Even naked in the hallway, Dex looked so natural there with the guitar.
...they think they know everything.
Sometimes I feel like I'm the mom of teenagers already. I can't put my finger on anything specific, it's just a general feel of attitude and teeny-bop things like Hannah Montana, which they've strangely taken a liking to.
Logan lately has taken quite a liking to my mp3 player. He uses it every night to fall asleep, and most days is pestering me to just wear it around the house. I've got a fairly eclectic mix of music on there and he periodically goes listening for new songs he's not familiar with. He's so much like his dad and grandpa in this way - they're always interested in new music and will give just about anything a chance. Quite often I hear him wandering around the house without the mp3 player, singing songs I didn't know he knew. But when he has it in his possession, he totally cranks the volume up and rocks out. I took this picture of him last week before he went to bed, and I think he looks so much older than 5.
Declan, being the carbon copy of me that he is, has all the emotional control of a teenage girl most days. That kid can crumble into tears like nobody's business. The other day I bought them some Peeps since it's the season of the Peep and the kids piss down both legs for marshmallows (I can't stand them, p.s.). [Sidenote: That phrase "piss down both legs" also comes from my friend Char's house. Her dear sweet daughter said it at the ripe old age of four when she saw something at the toy store she just knew her little brother would be thrilled about. It is *the* phrase to use in such context. End sidenote.] So, the Peeps. Declan ate one, and then started in on the next, biting its head off. Before I knew it, his heartbreaking pouty face had formed (the one where he's squinting as he attempts to hold back the tears and his lips form this beak-like protrusion as he attempts to hold back the sobs) and he was crying big huge tears about it. I asked him what in the world was making him cry since I assumed a Peeps treat would have the opposite effect. He told me between his jagged, sobbing breaths that he wanted to have a pet chick of his own. From then until the time the boys finished eating them, Declan teetered between the complete thrill he gets from being allowed sweets and the depths of heartache over eating baby chicks. Who knew Peeps could be such an emotional roller coaster?
Last night we had corndogs and tater tots for dinner. Yes, the foods of the gods.
Declan, as hard as he tried, could not keep from calling them teeter totters. And boy, did he love those teeters. He also reminded me of the fact that I'm surrounded by boys when he absentmindedly (while listening to Logan talk about something) held his corndog horizontally and quietly made the sounds of cocking and shooting a gun. I mean, he was fairly enthralled in whatever Logan was telling him, but he still managed to hold the little part of his subconscious open that makes corndogs weapons.
When we moved to Utah, my friend Char had two kids that were about 4 and 1 at the time. She's since doubled her brood and is contemplating insanity by adding #5, but that's neither here nor there.
Char taught me a little trick way back when that I thought was a stroke of parenting genius (geniouse) and has been filed away in my mind for the stage of parenting I'm in now. That is, dealing with young folks who break lamps and then lie about it to avoid trouble. When Char's kid would lie about something and Char knew (or had a significant hunch) that she was being sold a houseboat in the Sahara, she said she could see the Mommy Dot. The Mommy Dot itself shows up on an unsuspecting, lying child's forehead. It's angry red in color, revealing the indignation and frustration of a parent being lied to. (OK, I may have self-projected there.) It's supposed to be seen only by parents but Logan has sworn up and down that he can see it on Dex. Technically that would mean a dot should be appearing on Logan's forehead as well, but I'm pretty sure the deal is that he and Dex get into trouble together and Logan knows the whole story so I let it slide.
Anyway, by telling a particular child that the Mommy Dot is showing and it's showing because Mommy knows the kid is lying, an amazing thing comes out: the truth. The kid, believing he is caught in a lie all of a sudden wants to come clean and reveal all. Seriously, this is parenting *magic*.
My kids believe in the Mommy Dot as desperately as they believe in Santa. The best part is they give themselves away, sometimes when I'm not even suspecting a lie. I've had conversations with them about mysterious events around the house that have a question and answer session ending in, "Can you see my dot?" Declan has been known to clap his hand to his forehead while talking to me about whether or not he drank milk in the living room. Once when I asked him if it was true that he hit Logan, he said no and immediately sighed heavily, slouched his shoulders and said, "You can see my dot, can't you?"
It's a miracle, folks.
Our latest foray in to the world of dots came the other night when Ed realized the boys had done something to his TV though he'd asked him repeatedly not to touch it. The two of them adamantly promised that they did nothing to it! No way would they touch the TV after Daddy had told them not to! How could we even think such a thing?!
After Ed left the room, each boy asked me quietly if I could see dots on either of them. Clearly, they were both involved. Together. Helping each other. Tag team mischief in action. And the story came out.
Now - if Char could get to work and please invent some parenting magic that will make kids think twice before getting into trouble, that would be awesome.
I was searching through my email for something, and I came across a conversation between Ed and I that occured a few months back. Here it is, in its entirety:
Ed: Did Declan cut himself shaving?
Me: Yes, on Saturday.
(No explanation asked. None needed.)
