Sweet Suckers and Green Boats

DH and I are often amazed at how easy going S2 can be. He is so kind and good-natured, you have to wonder if he is for real. We have noticed that he will do most anything to make someone else happy.

One day he was enjoying a sucker he had received earlier that morning from the teller at the bank. A slightly younger neighbor girl came over to S2 on the front lawn and expressed some interest in the sucker. S2 slid it out from his pursed lips and handed it to her. Without a moment's hesitation, she stuck it directly in her own mouth. S2 stood there briefly and then walked over to me sitting on the front steps. I told him that it was very nice of him, but he did not have to give up his sucker. He replied that it was okay and that he didn't really want it anyway. Then his bottom lip started to quiver and he ran up the stairs into the house. I followed soon after to find my four-year old uncontrollably crying in the living room for the sadness of a lost-forever sucker.

Even as a ten-year old, S2 is still often thinking more about others' feelings than his own. This week he has been working with his dad to build a boat for the Cub Scout Rain Gutter Regatta. S2 had shown me a picture of a yellow boat earlier in the week that he wanted to copy. However, when S2 and DH brought it in the house, freshly painted from the garage, his boat was green.

On the way to the store to buy some stickers for the boat, I asked S2 why he changed his mind on the color for his boat. He replied, he had told dad that green was the color he wanted to paint the boat. I wasn't convinced that was really the color he wanted. But with each question, S2 repeatedly assured me that he loved his boat, and he loved the color green, and it was exactly what he wanted.

When I pressed further, knowing that he had probably gone along with the only color readily available in the garage so as to make DH's job easier, he firmly stood his stance. "Mom, I love green! It's just what I wanted. We are so lucky that was the only color we had, because green is my third or fourth favorite color!"

I think I could learn a lot from S2, because I am not nearly easy going. For example, no one has ever heard me confess, "I love senselessly dirty clothes. I love to do extra loads of laundry because someone wears something for 4 minutes and then throws it on the floor. It is really my favorite thing! It's exactly what I always wanted."

How's that sound? Are you convinced? Yeah, me neither.

Hanging On Until Independence Day

As a parent, it is part of my calling to foster independence in my children. I hope my offspring catch on, because I plan on showing them to the front door on their 19th birthday, and will bade them farewell with only a suitcase and a kiss. However, there are moments when I fear my plan may be jeopardized and that my children may never provide me the crowning glory of an empty-nester. Their blatant lack of self sufficiency becomes apparent at the oddest times, like when I make a call for hangers.

A call for hangers is what I do when the laundry room is void of hangers, yet crowded with clothing. So I make a house wide request for all hangers to be brought to me. Then S1-D2 quickly scatter and collect every single empty hanger from their closets, floors, drawers, and under their beds.

The other day I was in such a need and so I made the call for hangers. D1 and D2 brought in a few and then S1 and S2 came upstairs with hangers. Lots of them. Hangers slung on their fingers and indenting their thumbs. Hangers suspended from their arms and even sagging on their t-shirts. It was quite a sight - their plethora of hangers.

As the boys stood at the entrance to the laundry room, S2 looked at me shaking his head in disappointment. And as he tried to raise his weighted arms, he chastised, “Mom, don’t you think you should have made a call for hangers a long time ago?”

It is clear that if I expect S2 to be accountable for his food, shelter, clothing and medical expenses in seven short years, I’ve got my work cut out for me. Because right now, he won’t even accept responsibility for his own jumble of hangers.

Checking Account in Check

Despite the less than spring-like temperatures lately, I am convinced that spring is here. I’ve received confirmation as to the truth of this surmise based on the fact that most everything is growing. My sneezy nose and weepy eyes will attest to the fact that the pollen count is thickening. And S1 and S2 have been less than thrilled about the lawn mowing required since the grass is rising. But sprouting has occurred beyond the obvious springtime cues.

For example, D2’s unfinished homework pile is swelling. My restaurant accounting paperwork is mounting. The laundry pile is always flourishing. And since it’s been a few months since New Years Resolutions, although I've avoided obtaining actual proof, it's possible I may be thriving as well.

There is hardly anything around me that is not expanding. Except…unfortunately, despite the tulips planted by the front doors of the depository, and the cheesy Easter cut outs at the teller windows, my bank account seems to be oblivious to all hints that spring is here.

Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark) Spelling Lesson

Perhaps you haven't heard about the latest technological innovation for the small Utah town of Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark). Their mayor has expanded his nifty little e-mail system for the residents of their tiny town in order for them to communicate with him better. It is amazingly simple. Got a swimmin' pool in yer basement 'cause the neighbor kids figgered out how to undo the fire hydrant? E-mail water@spanishfork.org. Did yer dog darn near fall out the back of yer pickup when ya hit a road pit on the west end of town? Send notice to pothole@spanishfork.org. Truly, I am not making this up. These are actual working e-mail addresses in place for the inhabitants of Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark). But be sure to spell it the way it should be spelled and not the way it sounds. I would suspect e-mails sent to pothole@spanishfark.org are not monitored.
I wonder if I could set up something similar for myself at home. Does S1 need a ride to the mall? He can e-mail carpool@momswaytoobusyaskdad.net. Did D2 run out of clean underwear? She can simply log-on and send a message to laundry@maybeitwillfitinthesecondloadofwhitesImdoingnextThursday-wewilljusthavetoruntoOldNavyinthemeantime.com. As I contemplate this, the potential benefits are endless.
Supposedly it's been quite beneficial for the people of Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark). They've had graffiti@spanishfork.org in place for some time now and as proudly proclaimed by Mayor Thomas, "This town is clean of graffiti."
You know, I find that absolutely amazing! Seriously. No graffiti in Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark) whatsoever. I'm mostly astonished because I don't know how the mayor was alerted to all the troublesome markings. How did all those Spanish Farkians spell graffiti correctly, that is with two 'f's and only one 't', in their e-mails to Mayor Thomas? This thinking is in no way intended to question the intelligence of the citizens of Spanish Fork (pronounced Fark). It's just a tricky word to spell.
In fact, to verify that graffiti is a commonly misspelled word, I did a little Internet research. Unfortunately, I got this not-so-helpful Google suggestion at the top of my search results: "Did you mean: commonly misspelled words". Yep, you guessed it. I misspelled the word misspelled.
Dang! It's never cool when you are dumber than the people you are attempting to ridicule.

Got Milk? Nope? How 'Bout Laundry?

You've seen the posters pasted to the sides of buses, mounted on the walls of school lunchrooms, or featured on the back covers of magazines. They highlight an unbelievably famous and beautiful person with a milk mustache. On the latest ads, the headline reads something like, "Country by Carrie. Body by Milk." So even though I've seen these ads a few hundred times before, today I stopped to dream. I pictured me up on one of those posters. And I wondered, "What would my one word be?" My one word like Carrie's "Country."

Have I mentioned what an incredible dancer I am? I've been compared to some pretty famous people including Elaine from Seinfeld. But Beyonce Knowles already took "Moves." So I spent a fair amount of time reviewing my other talents and crossing off those already taken by the hot milk-bodied stars.

I thought about what I do best, what I do everyday, and what I do more than anyone else. Do you know what I came up with? Laundry. In case you don't run in my circles, among my people (which includes DH, S1, D1, S2, D2, and D3) it is what I am most famous for. If D1 wants a dress washed for a special occasion, does she take it to her dad or her brother? Nope. To me. She brings it straight to me. Or at least throws it generally in my direction, mumbling something about its state of cleanliness, or lack thereof, and a deadline. If S2 can't find a pair of matching socks, does he search the sock basket or his top drawer? Nope again. He comes to me. Often with a whine and look of disgust, but nevertheless, I am the first and last, actually I am the only contact for laundry. Making me undeniably famous for laundry.

I came up with "Laundry" only after souful deliberation. I seriously considered other talents of mine, and a close second was my superior athletic ability. Let me just say, I didn't play third string on the Jr. High JV volleyball team at a 1A school because of my looks. But ARod's already got his "Blast." Actually, he's got quite a hunky milk body too.

Which I guess brings me back to the reality that despite my fame for laundry, my body would never qualify me for one of those milk ad campaigns. "And why is that?" you ask. Well, if I had to pick just one food item (and there are many every day to pick from, which is another part of the problem), I'd have to confess, mine is a Body by Cookies. Apparently, bodies made by cookies don't look quite as good as bodies made by milk. Even when you dip the cookies in the milk, somehow it just isn't the same.

But if my Body by Cookies looked as good as a Body by Milk, then my poster would read, "Laundry by Debbie. Body by Cookies." Can you picture it? I like it. It's me.