Watch Your Language

We don't worry too much about bad language in our house. Byron and I don't swear much and our boys have an insanely sensitive awareness for what's appropriate for their age group. In fact, I would almost say at times, it borders on being too sensitive - but we manage okay.

So, when we do have an incident with swearing, it's doubly hard to keep a straight face or to know what to do exactly.

The four of us were playing a board game the other night when, unexpectedly, on a bad turn, Jack raises his fist to the sky and shouts, "Damn you, bird!" Byron and I were speechless and then had to bodily struggle to keep in the laughter. It was just so out-of-the-blue - and he so resembled an old man, shaking his fist at the world in rage. I didn't have a clue what to say. So, once we calmed down and got our silent laughter under control, we had a little talk about using the word "damn" and about other words that might be more appropriate.

A few days later, Jack and I were having a conversation about oxymorons versus irony (yes, I am still an English major at heart), like jumbo shrimp and as clear as mud. He told me knew an oxymoron - "it's as cold as hell." Oh my.

After I recovered, I again told him that "hell" is usually considered a swear word - and so it's probably not a good idea to use it around his friends or at school. But that I was proud of him and his command of the English language.

I have a feeling we'll be having a few more conversations like these over the next few years. Until then, I'll just do my best to prepare for the unexpected.

Echoes

This morning, Nathan was walking around the house with his eyes closed, clicking his tongue.

After a few minutes, I finally asked, "What are you doing?"

He replied, "I'm trying to use echo-location to find my way around. But it's not working because nothing is echoing."

I take it they're learning about bats this week...

Looking Good

I took the boys the eye doctor a few weeks ago to update their prescriptions, and it turned out the Jack needed new frames to replace his beloved red glasses. He picked out a pair in blue with a white stripe on the side - very stylish. Last week, they arrived, and he was ready to wear them to school for the first time.

I asked him what his classmates would do, since he wouldn't be wearing his trademark red glasses.

His reply, "Well, all the girls will probably pass out, because I look so good."

(Stunned silence from me.)

We never claimed to have any confidence issues in this house. Ahem.

And really, let's be honest - they do look that good... I think we'll be fighting the girls off with a stick very soon.

Dance Moves

The boys are excited about their uncle's upcoming-wedding. I told them there might some cute girls there for them to dance with.

Jack replied, "Yeah, I need to learn how to spin on my head real quick!"

Yes, Jack, that really impresses the girls...

Tonsil Drama

So the boys finally had their tonsils taken out - and adenoids - and tubes put in their ears. This was a surgery we had originally scheduled back in March, but we couldn't keep the boys healthy enough to actually make it to the surgery. So we rescheduled for the summer.

Part of the original draw for the boys was that they would be out of school for the recovery - so doing it during the summer didn't appeal to them much. But we talked them up with unlimited popsicles, ice cream, and new video games.

The morning of the surgery started very early - up at 5:30am for us parentals, then rolling the boys out of bed at 6:15am. We were glad it was early though. They boys couldn't eat or drink anything until after surgery, so this worked best for us.

We had a smooth check-in at the surgery center, and then the boys got prepped for the surgery.

After the surgery, the boys took awhile to wake up, and Nathan seemed worse off than Jack. They were not happy about the state they found themselves in. Not happy at all. Sigh. It's so hard as a mom to just know you can't do anything to help your babies feel better. You just have to help them through it as best you can. I did my best to comfort them over the next week but it was pretty rough.

There was lots of sleeping...

And lots of popsicles with Mythbusters or video games...

(This was one of the two times they actually had clothes on the whole week. They did wear underwear, but only grudgingly.)

And there was a lot of medicine.

The medicine was the cause of lots of drama. Jack took his mostly without complaint (except during the middle of the night) but Nathan was another story. He cried. And kicked. And whined. And complained. He did NOT want that medicine - no pain medicine, no ear drops, no antibiotic. None of it. I could hardly blame him. It was quite a relentless round-the-clock schedule of medicine, requiring me to keep track via a notebook and an intricate grid of timing and doses. But we had to do it.

By Day 5, Jack had had enough of Nathan's carrying-ons. I gave Jack his morning doses and then steadied myself to tackle Nathan's medicine. He was not happy at all, per usual. (Poor guy.) By the time I had finished up with Nathan and gotten him settled again, Jack had disappeared. I searched around for him and, on my way upstairs to check their bedroom, I found this note on steps.

Translation: "I'm sleeping because of Nathan! P.S. He annoys me when he cries."

Oh my heart - my poor Jack had definitely had enough of Nathan. These are two boys who very rarely fight, unless it's over a video game and whose turn it is. For Jack to be pushed to the edge far enough to find a piece of paper, a marker, and to scribble this out, he must have been far gone indeed. Poor sweet boy.

I found him on his bed, feigning sleep. We talked it through and decided to cut Nathan some slack, as he was feeling so bad and still seemed worse off than Jack was. But Jack was very clear that he just didn't know "why Nathan has to make such a fuss about it!"

So that was our week after surgery. Days 4 through 6 were the worst. By Day 8, they were on the upswing. By the following weekend, they were back up to normal.

It's crazy how the countdown to surgery had really been weighing on us. Now that it's over and the recovery is done, it's a huge weight lifted. I'm glad we are getting back to our regularly scheduled summer fun.

Girl Pressure

Yesterday, the boys and I took Daisy for a walk. It was probably the second time we had been out of the house for more than a week. The boys had their tonsils taken out last week and it's been rough. The boys have mostly recovered by the end of this week, but we're still taking it day-by-day.

As I walked Daisy (or rather, was dragged along by Daisy), the boys rode their scooters. They also wore their bike helmets. I'm a little over-protective, I know - but if you had a husband who's deaf in 1 ear because of a bike accident as a kid, you'd want your babies to wear helmets every day of their lives as well. Mostly, the boys don't mind wearing the helmets, but lately, they have been wanting to skip them when they ride their scooters. Today, however, after a LONG week inside the house, I didn't give in. I made them wear them.

As we walked/rode down the next block, a group of girls was outside playing in their driveway. The boys had been riding ahead and back again during our walk. However, when Nathan saw the girls playing, he rode back to me, and asked me - very loudly - "Mom, I don't know why you make me wear this helmet! I look like a dork in this helmet. I didn't want to wear this helmet. Why did you make me wear it, Mom?"

Basically, he wanted to be sure the little girls knew he would never, ever make the dorky decision to wear a helmet while riding a scooter. Jack just looked blankly at him, not having the wherewithal to be embarrassed about how he looks yet, apparently. And I cried a little inside, knowing that the days of growing up into pre-teens are quickly approaching. Sigh.

Growing Pains

Nathan loves to sit on my lap while we scroll through photos on my laptop. The problem is - he's too big. He got about 8 pounds and 1 inch on Jack right now, which is a huge difference when that's 20% of your body weight. I can barely lift him, let alone withstand the crushing weight of him trying to squeeze onto my lap in my office chair.

The other day, after doing this normal routine, I squeezed him up in a bear hug and fake-cried, telling him that he wasn't allowed to grow anymore. If he grew any bigger, he wasn't going to fit into our house, let alone on my lap. He looked at me very seriously and said, "Even if I don't fit on your lap, I'll always be your son."

Well, I certainly hope so. (Sob!)