Merry Christmas and Happy Never-ending Year!

A few nights ago, SIP and I sat on the couch and he read Lego Star Wars, The Yoda Chronicles, to me.  SIP read the line from ever cynical C-3PO, "And just how do you plan on getting halfway across the galaxy in a bus?"  SIP, confusing the word "galaxy" with "universe," replied, "What?!  That's impossible!"  I asked, "What's impossible?"  He said, "The universe goes on forever...so there is no such thing as a half-way point." 

After my head stopped reeling from the savant-like comment more sophisticated than most grown-ups could ponder, I said, "How true."

Since then, I've gone over the words in my mind and savored them like fine wine.  They remind me of a time when a friend of mine turned fifty.  I wished her a happy birthday and gave her a big hug but she didn't seem at all to share in my excitement for her.  "What's wrong?"  I asked.  "I'm depressed," she replied.  "Oh," I said knowingly, "Feeling like just another year has passed?"  "Not just another year," she said, "THE year.  The point I know for sure that half my life has passed and if I'm lucky, I only have half of it left, but most likely, not even that long.  Considering how quickly this fifty years went by, it scares me how little time I have left here."

It was a somber truth, and at the time, I had little to say to comfort her; that is, until my six year old said the most profound thing I'd ever heard while reading a comic book.  There is no half-way point.  For those of us who live in Christ, there is NO half-way point.  In just a couple of days, we'll celebrate the inception of that truth, the birth of Jesus, who came to broaden our galaxy into a universe so large and vast that we will never know the end of it.   

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him, will not perish, but have everlasting life.  -John 3:16

Merry Christmas and Happy Never-ending Year! 

 

 

 

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A Life's Work, All in a Day's Time

I did it.  I wrote the great American novel.  For years, this story seeped out of me like toxins from my pores. In two, ten, and thirty page increments, an honest, daring and poignant adventure emerged.  It's a story we all share, the family saga just crazy enough to be true, the romance that never could be, but then it happened, and the hill that couldn't be taken, finally fell just after the fighting ceased.  This is a story about our collective journey alongside our individual battles, and how they intersect at the crossroads called, Emerson's Place.

After countless nights and early mornings typing away in the studio, one day in late November, the final proof arrived in the mail.  Eager to show SIP, my six year old son, what I had accomplished, I sliced the box open with a dull pair of scissors and pulled the book out.  I held it up to him and flipped through the many pages.  "You see," I said, "This is what I've been working so hard on all this time."  SIP's eyes opened wide in appreciation and he said, "Wow Mom!  That must have taken you like, ten hours to make!"

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Future Leader of America

It was a big night for me.  I love Night Rider, Magnum P.I., Star Trek and Judge Judy.  When people ask me if I watch one of the thousand NCI don't give a damns... I just shiver and remember a time when a show could scare me to death without blood, guts and strippers.  Among my many loves of fiction, romance, and great story telling is Doctor Who, the classic Sci-Fi drama that has stood the test of time for decades; a story about a great cosmic alien being who saves the universe time and again from complete destruction, struggles with the human weakness of love, devotion and commitment, the temptation to judge and act on revenge combined with the curse of knowing the future outcome of every decision he makes...the butterfly effect on steroids magnified a billion times...yeah, try to accomplish that nighttime drama hacks...

Anyway, thanks to SIP'S awesome buddy on Tybee Island who had a birthday party tonight with the Doctor Who theme, SIP was open to watching the show.  So, after the party, we caught our favorite booth at Jalapenos for some cheese dip and good ole' neighborhood fun, went home, turned on the electric fire (a story for another blog) and queued up season one, 2005 on Netflix.  For those of you following me, this was Rose's debut...I know, she is fabulous.  This was the episode with the mannequins who attack London.  The plastic evil. 

SIP was immediately captivated, reassuring me that he is actually my child.  When he realized the "plastic" was a malicious alien being set to destroy earth, he said, "If that plastic came after me, I would shoot it, stab it, cut its head off and kick it in the FACE!  Then, do some research to find out what went wrong." 

Worse than throwing up...

I was especially excited to pick SIP up today from school.  His first grade class took a field trip to the Savannah Children's Theater, and being a thespian myself, I hoped my extremely introverted only child might have found some kind of "ham" down in his gut once introduced to the stage.  So, I embarked on the daily adventure of "pick-up" at Marshpoint Elementary, arrived fifteen minutes before last bell, threw the Subaru in park, played a round of Candy Crush before the tail lights in front of me glowed with activity and we were underway! I pulled up to the curb, the daily intense and distraught looking woman shoved him into the backseat, and before he could get his seat belt on, I asked, "How was your day?"  

His reply, "Curtis threw up in the cafeteria."

Not at all what I expected to hear on such a monumental day, but we've all been there.  If it was you, I'm sorry.  If it wasn't, then it was some other kid who turned white and sometimes green before emitting that guttural noise followed by acidic fluids.  Your teacher pressed the "panic" button on the wall and the voice of Oz came from the office, "Is everything okay?"   If your teacher was cool, she said, "yes, we just need a janitor." If she wasn't cool, then she ran out of the room gagging and your class Vice President said, "we need a janitor."  Either way, a less than enthusiastic forty something year old man appeared with a bag full of kitty litter and poured it all over the vomit that had already eaten through the enamel on the government contracted linoleum floors.  You don't forget that smell, bile and limestone mixed with vaporous humiliation...Forget nuclear warfare, if we could bottle that stuff and spray it on our enemies, then we'd have something...

So SIP didn't have much to say about his rare trip on a bus with no seat belts to a theater where all children become stars.  Instead, he only mentioned his good buddy who blew chunks in the cafeteria.  I can't blame him, that sort of thing makes an impression on a person.  "Oooooh," I exclaimed, "there is nothing worse than getting sick at school!"  SIP considered my comment and replied, "Except a house falling on you."

Once again, I was humbled by the perspective of a six year old.  A house falling on me would be worse, much worse than getting sick at school.  Curtis, stick close to this guy, he'll keep you smiling all the way back from Mexico after that wild senior trip...

 

Instant Results

We live in an instant gratification world.  The only places we have to even wait anymore are the doctor’s office and the line at the ladies restroom and even then we fill that void toying with our phones, sending and receiving text messages, checking email or losing yet another life in Candy Crush.  If you were born before 1990, you have the fortunate luxury of knowing a little bit about patience.  You ran to the restroom as fast as you could during the commercial break of Beverly Hills 90210 so you didn’t miss the latest spat between Dillan and Brenda.  There was no pause button for live TV.  We video-taped anything of importance and took our cameras to the store and LEFT them there for days before getting our pictures back! 

After SIP was born, I discovered my once perfect mattress had become a giant mushy sponge with a broken spring.  I guess the extra thirty pounds I put on and all those hours of napping really did it in.  So Cale and I set out to buy a new one.  Three and a half years ago, we bought a mid-grade, yet still very expensive mattress, the Restonic …something…very firm.  Never heard of it?  Like idiots, we ignored all of the negative and spot-on reviews about the mattress.  After all, people who leave negative reviews are mostly negative people who are seldom satisfied, right?  OR they are well-meaning citizens trying to spare people like me the mistake of losing sleep for three and half years…

This past Saturday at the end of our rope in sleep deprivation, feeling like Navy Seals in training camp, we decided we could not wait the appropriate eight years to give this brick on box springs the boot.  Desperate as we were, we dragged our six year old to Sears to look for a new mattress unbeknownst to us that we had chosen to go to the mall on Georgia’s tax free Saturday.  SIP was less than great as he promptly dropped his sandals on the floor and began crawling and bouncing on all of the mattresses and making forts out of the large variety of display pillows.  Can you blame him?  Have you seen all of those beds?  It’s a wonderland!  And I could not be bothered with disciplining him as I was there on a mission and this time I was not going to make the wrong choice.  After security called down to the sales associate and asked her to tell the parents of the kid to make him stop jumping on the beds, I sent SIP and Cale away so that I could purchase the Serta European Luxury….something… bed of my dreams. 

Originally $6,000.00, Sears was having a sixty percent off sale (an on-going sale by the way), plus I got an extra ten percent off just for being me, and I didn’t hesitate to open that credit card for an additional five percent off.  We came in under a cool three grand for what I am sure will be the best purchase of my life.  Giddy with excitement I asked when the mattress would be delivered.  The associate looked at her computer screen a few seconds and said, “Monday, August 11.”  Somewhere over the intercom a needle screeched across a record.  “What?!”  I have to wait over a week for my new amazing mattress?!  That can’t be, no one waits anymore!   But those were the facts, and I swallowed my disappointment at having to wait and we went home.

That night an epic storm blew in with the loudest thunder and brightest lightning I had seen in a long time.  About two in the morning, our door opened and SIP jumped in the bed with us and said he was scared of the storm.  That was only the third time in his life he had come down to our room, so we let it slide.  Especially considering we thought putting a tin roof on the house would make the rain sound charming and it does, unless you’re six, and your bedroom is up in the bonus room…then it sounds like heavy artillery and live fire.  So we embarked on yet another sleepless night whereby the horrible mattress was still worse than the tiny kid snoring and flailing around taking up the entire king set. 

The next morning over pancakes and a marathon episode of Spongebob Squarepants, SIP said, “Dad, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your new bed feels just like the old one.”   

Just a Game

He's five, will be six in June.  The time had come to introduce SIP to a sport.  For some families I imagine this isn't such a big deal.  I've seen their kids at church, school, birthday parties...all doing what they're supposed to be doing even if they're not having the greatest time.  This is not SIP.  We drag him kicking and screaming to school programs, summer camp, vacation Bible school, Sunday school, birthday parties...Many of you reading this blog have witnessed SIP's propensity to refuse certain social situations and have helped him cross such thresholds and some of you have watched us take the great parental walk of shame...back to the parking lot into the car after giving up the battle. 

I'm drawing the line at sports.  This I will not let him refuse.  This battle I have to win.

So I dragged him kicking and screaming to baseball practice for the first time a few weeks ago.  It was horrible.  He refused to participate and sat by the back fence in the grass swatting at gnats and cursing my name.  He then took off his shoes and threw them over the fence.  He also took off his glove and threw it over the fence.  It wasn't long before the sand gnats got the best of him and he came looking for me.  He raised his little anxiety ridden face to mine and implored, "I'm really trying to find my manners."

"Then I will help you," I replied, "Now go get your things and we will do this together."

Every practice since then, SIP has done great and though he won't admit it yet, he seems to enjoy baseball.  In the face of our soft culture, it would have been fine for me to give up, perhaps encouraged for the sake of sparing SIP's feelings.  Clearly he's not interested in sports, many say, don't force him.  It's just a game...

SIP's First Joke...Sort of

Last night SIP and his Dad prepared for bath time.  Dad ran the water in the tub as SIP undressed and chattered away as he can never do just ONE thing at a time. 


"Dad," he said, "Do you know which bug is the friendliest of all the bugs?" 


"No," Cale replied "Which bug is that?" 


"The Love Bug," SIP said. 


"What a great joke!" Cale exclaimed proud of the little guy and his growing intellect.


"It's not a joke," said SIP sternly, "It really is the nicest bug."

SIP's Way

October Log:    
     I am a student of Caesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer.  He teaches people how to develop healthier happier pets through exercise, discipline, and affection. I've found These principles are quite effective when put into practice for humans also.

     While SIP's transition to kindergarten has gone very well, it hasn't gone off without a hitch.  Primarily, he comes home very grumpy.  I've been trying to figure out ways to curb this unpleasant situation and an epiphany hit me last week...I should try walking him home in the  afternoons.  Perhaps this would help him burn off some energy and give him a chance to wind down from the long school day.
     We live half a mile from his school, which doesn't sound like a long walk until you've walked that distance with SIP who has no sense of urgency and is prone to meander.  So each afternoon I drive part of the way to pick him up and we walk a little ways down the street to our car.      
     I determined to put my new theory to the test and we walked that afternoon the entire way, a full mile for me round trip which gave me some much needed exercise as well.  It worked like a charm! For several days we made walking a regular part of our routine and his afternoon behavior improved dramatically.

     After a week of walking home from school, on Friday morning I told him I would take him to Wal-Mart after school to spend the ten dollar allowance he has saved up for three weeks.  On the way out the door he turned around and said, "Don't forget to bring the car though.  I don't want to walk to Wal-Mart!"