Siblings

The boys have driving me bonkers the last several weeks.  It's been all about extremes.  Either they are fighting, which is extremely irritating, or they love each so much it becomes loud and obnoxious.  I have been longing for some quiet and stillness.  And sometimes the mediocre with them is just fine with me.  I usually get my much needed dose of quiet in the mornings before they wake up and after we survive the witching hour and bedtime.  I've been lazy about getting up in the morning and that has contributed to my lack of patience.

Just when I think I'm about to burst, I catch them being so perfect.  For the last two nights Luke has been sleeping in Jack's bed.  They didn't even ask, they arranged their pillows and blankets so each had enough room on the bed.  Then this morning I caught them helping each other out while getting showered and dressed.  They are pretty sneaky.  Those are the type of things that cover up all the shenanigans of the previous weeks.

I know this little "Yes I am.  No you're not.  Yes I am...." stage isn't over (and will probably repeat itself over the years) but it's sure nice for little reprieves here and there.

Circles

Today is the first day of summer vacation.  Hallelujah!

Tonight I was taking Clementine for her nightly walk around the block when I walked by Luke's school.  I had forgotten all about the night before we sent him off to his first day of Kindergarten.  That night I was doing the same thing, walking Clementine and praying for his first year of school.  It hit me then by how blessed we were this year.  Luke had an amazing teacher, a successful year full of learning, positive friendships and teachable behavior incidents.  It was an awesome year and has set the tone for his future educational journey.  That fall night of circling his school in prayer did wonders.  God had his hand on every little detail of Luke's school year and I'm so grateful for that. 

Now we get to sit back and enjoy the lazy days of Summer. 

Six

 

On January 20th my Lukey turned six.

He's amazing and pretty much perfect.

Granted, he has his flaws, we all do, but who can remember them after looking at that face?  Not me.

He has empathetic super powers, a high pitched giggle that can cure any bad mood, and is pretty much good at everything he tries.

He's a perfectionist.  He loves playing hockey.  He spends hours being creative and wants to be an artist when he grows up.

He hates salmon and scrambled eggs.

He loves his little brother to death and always asks when the next time he can hang out with his buddies.

Oh, and he's a mini-genius.  

Yes, we're working on humility and I'm already failing at that example right now.  Brag.  Brag.  We'll pick back up on that lesson tomorrow.  Brag. Brag.

I love him so much.

The birthday morning and birthday party:

Early Risers

 Last night, I drank a Venti latte at 9pm.  Tim and I were on a date and decided to cut it shorter than planned.  Getting snacks and renting a movie sounded way better than watching a movie we really didn't want to watch at the theater.  Getting a babysitter is fairly rare, but the couch won out last night.  For some reason a combo of Twix, cinnamon bears and a latte turned out to be my movie-watching cravings.

All my life I have been given a hard time for falling asleep anywhere if the sun has gone down.  I've fallen asleep while having guests over, at friends' houses, at parties.  It's actually quite embarrassing.  And don't even think of starting a movie after 10pm.  I'll be snoozing about ten minutes in.  In college my friends used to call me Narc.

One benefit is that I can have a larger than life caffeinated drink at night and then two hours later, fall asleep.  It's actually quite awesome.  Take that naysayers.

This morning I woke up early, fully rested.  Guess who also was up?  Luke.  He got my early rising genes.  He may look nothing like me, but I'm inside him somewhere.  While the other half of our family is sleeping, we get to hang out.  I love it.  It's time just for us.  We know how to live up these early mornings.  Cheerios and cartoons for him.  Coffee and blogging for me.  I'm looking forward to many more mornings with my husband's  mini-me.  Sunrises belong to us early risers.

 

Oh, and guess what?  This Morning Glory has to count his years on a new hand!!

Healthy Conversation

Luke:  Can you make this again, because I LOOOOOOOOVE it.  (We were having roasted broccoli and cauliflower with fresh garlic and ginger).

Me: Of course. It's good for you to eat because it's healthy.

Jack:  Aww man, I wish Coke was healthy.

Me:  Yeah, me too bud.

Jack: Is eggnog healthy?

Me: No, not really.  It has tons of sugar and bad fats in it.

Luke:  That's probably why Santa is so big. 

The Annual Package

 

Every Spring, my dad digs a hole in his and my mom's vegetable garden and drops a few seeds in.  He covers them over and waits.   Most of the produce gets eaten up as quickly as it ripens.  Not this plant.  It's meant for something else.  It's leaves and blossoms sprout.  It's vines spread and curl around anything it can reach.  The fruit starts out dark green but doesn't stay that way for long.  When it's ready, he cuts it off the vine, wraps it in bubble wrap and gently tapes it up in a box.  The USPS ends up taking it where it was meant to go.  Every year, even if they live in Bellingham, Charleston, Meridian or Grand Forks, Luke and Jack get to open a package of apples, squash and PUMPKINS grown in Papa's garden.

 

Side note:  Luke is becoming an awesome reader. Here Tim is helping him figure out who the package is from.

 

Sadly, I don't have any pictures of these pumpkins carved up because we never got the chance.  We put them out on our front porch, just to have them stolen and never seen again.  Some of my old youth group leaders heard about the pumpkin thievery and felt so bad for my depressed boys, they sent ice cream gift certificates to cheer them up.  Ice cream does wonders.  Luckily, the runt of the bunch was still left in the garden so my dad quickly packaged it up and sent it off.  We got to carve that one! And me, being the slacker that I am, didn't take a photo of it.  Sorry.

Hopefully it won't be too many more Octobers until we can drive over to Nana and Papa's house to get the boys' pumpkins.  Until then, we'll wait impatiently for our October package.

Overheard

All this was said within 2 minutes while the boys and I were eating dinner tonight before hockey practice.

 
Luke: (holding his one arm out and the other curled on the side) "Do I look like a watering can?"

Jack: "When can we get a pet with antlers and hooves?"

Luke: "Mom, you make excellent dinners."

Jack: "Mom, look how fast I can run"  He then proceeded to race down the hallway and back, all between spoonfuls of soup.

Luke: "I think I have a daddy long leg in my soup.  Hehe."

Flattery, randomness and ridiculousness.  Dinner is never boring.

Stop, Luke and Listen

We were walking home from school yesterday and the wind picked up.  As the yellow and orange leaves detached from their branches, Luke stopped.

"Oooooh, this is my favorite part!"

When the leaves finally ended their swirls on the ground, he started back up his trek home.

"That was AWESOME!  I love fall."

But here's the thing.  He would say that about every season, every sunset, every storm.  He notices and appreciates it all.  Luke will wake up early and instead of stealing a few more minutes of sleep, he'll watch the sun come up.  He takes those extra seconds to stop and smell the flowers.  I already love him so much, but this makes me love him even more.  Because of Luke, I don't miss the way the crickets chirp in the middle of the day here.  I don't miss the smell of thunderstorm rain.  I don't miss the the crunch of leaves under my feet.

He notices it all.  And I get to be one of the lucky ones he shares it with.  For that, I'm thankful.

My heart overflows.

My Life

It will never be boring.

Here's why:

 

Guess who they got it from?

I love my life.

I love all three of them even more.

The First First Day

Change was in the air as we walked down the sunny sidewalk.  The cool breeze whispered that a tide was turning.  I held onto both Luke and Jack's hands as we walked Luke to his first day of Kindergarten.  Other families were snapping front door pictures of their backpacked, lunch box toting kids.  A family biked around the corner.  This was a fresh start for many.  A new beginning.

Halfway there, the hand holding privilege changed to Tim.  He looked down to Luke and told him, "You don't have to hold my hand if you don't want to.  You can walk beside me like a big boy."  Luke let go and started walking a little taller.  Tim told Jack the same thing.  Jack pondered it for a quick second and decided he'd rather hold his Daddy's hand.

Two different stages.  One beginning and one almost done. 

As we stepped onto the school grounds, we could see squeaky new shoes, friends reuniting and apprehensive parents.  Behind door number six was Luke's classroom.  After a moment of sensory overstimulation on the playground we beelined for his classroom. 

With his head held high and a quiet confidence he said hello to Mrs. Rood.  Her sunny yellow dress and warm smile were welcoming and comforting.  Her presence set the tone.  Before Luke was about to disappear into his classroom, she bent down and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to say goodbye to your family?"  He turned around, waved and said, "Bye Mom."  She nudged him closer so he could give us a farewell hug. 

That's when I lost it.  There was something about squeezing him and physically sending him off.  He hugged Jack and then Tim and then darted into the classroom.  We had properly sent him off, he was ready to go so we quickly turned and walked out.  He did it.  We did it.  I survived the send off.

Tim and I held each other for a quick minute out on the playground.  We still had some consoling to do.  Then we both grabbed Jack's hands and trekked home.  That same breeze flowed past.  It tickled our ears and now spoke of hurdles overcome, pride in parenting and newness to come.

The Last Day

Today is it.  The last day of Luke's little boyhood is over.  

Just yesterday I was rocking my brown eyed baby and watching his eyes droop to sleep.  Then I blinked.  Now he's packing his lunch and picking out his first day outfit.  How did that happen?

I distinctively remember my first day of kindergarten.  I remember who sat at my table.  I remember circle time.  I remember the pure, unadulterated excitement.  I don't remember much about the night before but my dad does.  He told me that as he was going to bed a few hours after he and my mom had tucked me in.  He went in to check on me and tuck up the covers.  Instead of being asleep, like I normally was at that hour, I was wide awake with a huge smile on my face.  He asked me what I was doing still awake.  "Excited, excited, excited!" was my reply.  In my five year old brain, this was better than Christmas.  It was school!

Now Luke will remember what the weather was like on the walk to school.  He'll remember how the classroom looked and who sat at his table.  He'll remember the sounds and smells of his first day.

It may not seem like it to him, but today was monumental to me.  It was the last day it will be just me and the boys during the day.  Now I have to trust others to take care of him, teach him and keep him safe from the hours of 8:15am to 3:00pm.  It's hard to give him up and send him off into the world.  I know the whole process is necessary in forming who he is as an individual, but that doesn't mean it's not frickin hard.  I'm going to bawl like a baby tomorrow.  I probably should stay away from the mascara. 

My emotions are so mixed.  I'm so excited for all the things he will learn and experience but I'm mourning the end of carefree days.  I can't wait to see who his friends will be and what he will become passionate about but I'm sad that I won't be there to watch him navigate his day.  I'm going to love watching him grow into a man, but I already miss my little boy.

Growing Up Up and Away

(Luke during his hip hop recital.  And now I am officially reminded to post the video.)

 It seems like we reach a new monumental milestone everyday.  On Monday, Tim took the training wheels off Luke's bike.  After a few spills, he got it.  Tim was so patient and encouraging.  He even made scrapes and blood sound like the enviable rite of passage that they are.  "Scars are cool, Man.  Look at this one.  It's from when I crashed on my bike when I was your age." 

Pep talk, check.

Skin being scraped off by pavement, check.

Tears, check.

Getting back on the bike, check.

Fifteen and a half successful trips on the trail, CHECK!

It makes me a little sad that he's growing up but I couldn't be more proud of him.  And get this, he is so so proud of himself.  That, in and of itself, is fun to watch.  

He hasn't stopped at ditching the training wheels.  Now he can shower by himself (I just have to turn on the water to the correct temperature.)  Don't worry, he actually gets clean.  He's also big enough and coordinated enough to sleep on the top bunk of the boys' new bunk bed.  This is much to Jackie's delight because he was having a horrible time sleeping alone in his bedroom.  

Next stop: Kindergarten.

I get teary-eyed just typing it.  I've even started having first day of school nightmares.  They're a little different than the ones from high school where I get lost, don't have the right books and can't find my classes.  They definitely aren't my teacher nightmares where I show up on the first day and realize I haven't planned or prepared anything.  In these ones, I miss walking him to school or don't see him walk into the classroom to meet the teacher.  Sometimes I forget to pick him up and ask him how his day went.  I really don't know who is more excited for his first day of school, Luke or me.  My sentiments are bittersweet though.  

We've got exactly 50 days left until he goes.  Holy Moly, that's not a lot of time!  We've got to cram in as many Memory marathons, hour long story times, backyard baseball games and bike rides around the block as we can. 

Dudes

They like to chill.

They like to hang.

They're the coolest kids on the block.

Quitter

Last weekend, Tim and I attempted our very first half marathon.  Naively we picked quite a doozy.  The Race to Robie Creek is dubbed "the toughest half marathon in the Pacific Northwest" for good reason.  The first 8.5 miles climb uphill into the foothills around here.  One good thing about the race is that we actually finished.  We didn't come away injury-free however.  My bum knee got worse and Tim got a stress fracture in his foot.  Hopefully our next half will be a whole lot better, and flat!

This morning Tim was getting ready for work and I was giving him sort of a cautionary talk.  A while back he signed up to to a 5K at work and he's actually going to walk the race, foot and all.  I know.  Not smart.  But I couldn't talk him out of it.

Tim: "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

Me:  "If your foot hurts, just make sure you quit so you don't injure it more."

Meanwhile, Luke walked into the bathroom unnoticed.  Overhearing our conversation, he piped in with his two cents:  "Daddy!  You can't quit.  Pell Men don't quit."

True, true buddy, but I'm seriously hoping that he does quit and actually take care of his foot.  Fat chance.

Hunted

My days have been fairly interesting lately.  Actually, I haven't been able to relax much, except during our beloved daily nap times.  Then, and only then, can I let my guard down.

I'm going to blame the expert-markmanship genes that come from both sides and the ingenious gift giver who thought it would be a good idea to bring a gem made by Nerf.  You know who you are, and when the time is right, I will repay you.

It all started a few days ago.  I was minding my own business, putting away laundry.  I should have realized that the house was too quiet.  My mistake.  As I stepped out of my bedroom, Luke and Jack simultaneously popped up from their hiding place behind the couch.  I could only see one of Luke's eyes because the other one was behind the view finder of his semi-automatic Nerf gun.  He did follow our only dart gun rule in the house: no aiming for the head.  The dart hit me squarely in the neck. That rule might have to change to be more inclusive.

Luckily, Jack makes it a little easier on me.  He comes running into the room, giggling and announces that he is trying to hide from me so he can shoot me.  Today he came to me crying because he didn't have as good of a hiding place as Luke.  He also can't pull the loading mechanism on one of the guns.  So as soon as I pull it back, I quickly try to find cover.  I especially like it when he abandons his gun for his Indiana Jones whip(thank you very much Uncle John).  Then I really have time to run because I can always hear him coming. 

It is becoming very traumatizing.  Darts are flying in all directions while I am innocently trying to clean the house.

Those two little mischievous boys better learn how to cook up the spoils of their hunting and gathering because this mom may be too shell-shocked to get off the couch.

See what I mean?  This was about 2 years ago, and they have only gotten better with time and practice.  I'm doomed.

Imaginative

I was in the kitchen making lunch for the boys.  They were waiting not so patiently at the table.  Instead of the usual whining and crying and keeling over in starvation, I heard Luke pipe up.

"Mommy!  Did you see that blob pop up?  Right here!!!"  He excitedly pointed to something invisible right above his head.

"Umm, no.  I'm not sure what you're talking about.  Where?"  What the heck was he talking about?

"Right here!"  Again with the pointing.  "I'm THINKING!  I'm using my IMAGINATION!"

Oh, then my own blob popped up too.  "Well, yes buddy, yes you are."

Layered

He gets it honestly really.

Luke has definite opinions about what is cool and what is not cool to wear.  His latest thing right now is to layer his clothes.  And no, I'm not talking about one of my favorite layering strategies: the long sleeve under the short.  I'm talking about layers upon layers of shirts.  Didn't you know that it's cool for five-year-olds to wear 5 layers of shirts?  It is apparently. 

Last week at hip hop, he wanted to wear a short sleeve shirt under three long sleeve shirts AND his flannel zip hoodie.  He came out of class with a beet red face.  We actually almost forgot to complete his ingenious gettup on our way out the door.  He started crying in the car before I told him we had time to turn around and get it.  He had been planning this five layer outfit since the day before.

We have always decided that clothes would not be a battle we would choose as long as his outfits are appropriate.  They don't have to match and five layers for a five year old seems completely appropriate to me.

So if you see my son running around in the snow with just a shirt on, don't judge my mothering.  Just know, there are 4 layers underneath, maybe more.

For the Health of It

I am so proud of myself.

I almost gave in so many times.  But I didn't.  Don't tell Luke about my waffling.

Last night for dinner I made salmon and lime roasted sweet potatoes.  I knew Jack would be exhilarated by this menu choice.  Luke, however, was not a fan.  I knew this going into the dinner showdown.  That's why I only put four bites of salmon on his plate and told him he had to eat all the salmon and only three chunks of sweet potatoes.

He eyed his plate with disdain.  His brows furrowed and the lower lip protruded.  I heard a lot of "hmph's" and exaggerated gulps.  I ignored them all.

Jack gobbled his down and asked for a second and third helping of salmon.  After I cleared our plates and did all the dishes, guess who was still staring down his plate, trying to will it away?  Yep, the same one who eats anything Papa puts in front of him with an enticing, "Try it, it's delicious!"  The one and only who spent hours with Papa in a dingy and ate more than four bites of their plunders.  Last night, I needed my dad's endorsement of this meal.  Things would have probably gone differently.

At 7:50 p.m., with ten minutes to go before bedtime, the goofball had eaten one bite of each.  It didn't quite cut it but I seriously considered ending the standoff and giving in.  Instead, I stood my ground.  I set the kitchen timer for ten minutes and told him if he didn't finish, he would be eating salmon and sweet potatoes for breakfast the next day.  My mother would be so proud.  She introduced me to the dreaded timer.  Because of her, I choked down many a meal and ultimately learned that those healthy meals actually do taste pretty good.  My health conscience is thanking her for not budging.

At 8 o'clock sharp the beep sounded throughout the kitchen and I went to dig out the plastic wrap.  There were tears of course.  Mine were internal, his were not.  Who really wants to eat that for breakfast?  I wouldn't either, but the ground had to be stood upon.

This morning, Tim was packing for his business trip and Luke came in.  His first words were not, "Oh Daddy, I'm going to miss you so much!" nor "Good Morning!"  They were a sullen, "Mommy said I have to eat salmon and potatoes for breakfast."  Tim stifled a laugh and asked for the story.  I think Luke was hoping for an ally in this standoff.  No such luck.

Luke took his time coming downstairs for breakfast.  I silently heated up the leftovers.  He choked down two more bites.  By the time we had to leave for the airport, all the sweet potatoes and one bite of the salmon were left.  Tim encouraged him with a, "Dude, your almost done!  Just a few more bites."  With a reckless surge of hope, Luke shoved the last salmon bite into his mouth.

Did you know that some food expands in your mouth?  I didn't either.  Not until I realized that Luke was talking through chewing his fish cud from the backseat of the car.  Yep, that last bite hadn't made it down yet.  Tim got a fishy kiss goodbye at the airport.

The next stop was the bank.  He didn't get to enjoy the lollipop given out at the drive-through.  His cheek had expanded even more.  The enzymes in his mouth had started breaking down the food for digestion creating a delicious fishy mush.  Mmmmm.

Earlier, I had promised the boys that we could go to the park after we dropped Daddy off at the airport.  This was my attempt to cheer them up and busy myself so I wouldn't have to think about missing Tim.  On the way to the park, I informed Mr. Stubborn that he would have to sit on the park bench until he swallowed his mouthful.  No sense in risking having to use the Heimlich.  It worked.  He swallowed.  Hallelujah!  And no, I didn't find a ball of partially digested salmon mush on the floorboards of the van.

The message must have been clear because there was no complaining as the remaining three bites of sweet potatoes were consumed at lunch time.

Now I realize that this may seem like a pissing contest to you.  To me, it was a victory.  Not for myself, but for Luke.  Hopefully there will be less complaining when he doesn't particularly enjoy the healthy food put in front of him.  I understand that he won't like everything.  He will, however, be exposed to all sorts of healthy, balanced meals and later be able to choose wisely what to put in his body.  He might even be caught grilling up some sort of pink fish and orange veggies.  Who knows.

Luke's adult body and healthy heart can thank me later.  For now, your welcome.

Future Mrs. Pells, take note:

Dear Future Mrs. Pell #1 and #2,

Please prepare yourself.

Prepare yourself for a life that will never be boring or bleak.  You will laugh everyday.  Expect daily adoration, affection and appreciation.  Prepare yourself to be loved dearly and hard.  You will be cherished and held above all others.  When you walk into the room, everything will fade away and he will focus only on you.

Be prepared to talk about everything.  Pell men don't live up to the clammed up, "Men don't talk about their feelings" stereotype.  When you sign on that dotted line of the marriage certificate, you will have a loyal lover, a best friend, a partner in crime until the end of time.  Forever is not taken lightly here.

It will be hard, but I will pass the torch to you when it is time.  Don't worry about me, I've got my own Pell man at home.  You can thank him later for raising boys up to be men who have got their priorities right.  Jesus first, wife second, all else third.

For now, I will cherish the snotty kisses, the half smirks and the twinkles in those deep brown eyes.  When you get those kisses, they won't be snotty.  You will have the insider information behind the smirks.  And those twinkles will be because of you.  Love him back.  And do it with all of your heart.  Not all women get to have a Pell man.  We are the lucky ones.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Pell

p.s. If you don't know how to ride on the back of a Harley, you probably won't be reading this.

Haircuts

 

I gave the boys haircuts today.

Well, actually, I butchered the haircuts last week and couldn't stand it anymore.

So I fixed them today.

 

And then I made them quit their backyard soccer game to pose for some pictures.

Don't they look enthused?