Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Soooo tempting

So I'm downstairs, trying to clean the house INCASE by some weird chance someone actually wants to come see it. (Sooo not going to happen.) I'm actually making progress too. The kitchen is almost clean, the living room, aside from all the cushions off the couch and toys strewn across the floor...okay, who am I kidding. It's a damn wreck in here.

Then I hear, "MOMMA! WE'RE STUCK! RESCUE US!" coming from upstairs. Fighting the temptation to find the camera first, I reluctantly head upstairs to 'rescue them'.

Yeah, somehow Beaux had locked himself and Spruce in the dog's crate. I have no clue how he managed to get the lock on there from inside, but I just really hope he doesn't teach that trick to Molly.

Standing over the crate I have an epiphany. This is why I originally said I would stick with dogs instead of kids. This was it right here. You can crate a dog and be done with it. I now have to let the 'puppies' out to terrorize the rest of my house.

It's a shame that they really wanted out...

Saturday, October 25, 2008

A Balloon for Nana

Beaux and Spruce were given prize possessions this evening. Balloons.

Generally I avoid helium balloons like the plague, but after an entire day of fighting with Beaux over simple things I had pretty much lost the will to live.

He spent the entire evening with the balloon. First it had to be tied to his wrist, then to his frog, then to his wrist again because it was choking the frog. The balloon went to the bathroom, flew around in the car and just happened to cause a 'whacking fight' in the backseat with Spruce's balloon. Apparently from all witnesses present, it was not Beaux or Spruce's fault but the balloon that caused the uproar.

Finally we arrived at the apartment. We get out of the car and Beaux looks up at the sky and lets it go. I panic. That's parenting 101. You must NEVER let the balloon go outdoors! Geez...this is going to suck.

I look at Beaux and ask why he let it go. He says, with a certain confidence, "I gave it to Nana. She would wike it."

And that was it. The balloon went to Nana. Done.

What an awesome little boy...


Some things are just not fun with kids. Oktoberfest is definitely one of those events...

But, in typical Beaux-fashion, he found a way to bring light to the evening.

There was an authentic German band playing the original German music. Perfect dancing music for a 4-year-old. But this darling little boy in a skeleton costume decided to join in and dance with Beaux. Oh no. That wasn't flying. Beaux took one look at the kid and said, "You're not scawy. My brodder isn't scawed of you eider." The kid just looked at him in udder bewilderment as he wasn't really even old enough to understand that he was suppost to look scary.

I took Beaux aside and told him that the little boy just wanted to play with him and that he needed to be nice to him.

Beaux: "But Momma. I don't wike him."

Me: "Why not?!"

Beaux: "Because he's a boy. I wike girwls. Boys like girwls and girwls wike boys. That's how it wowks. I wearned that in school."

Thank God for that Catholic education...

Friday, October 24, 2008

Wets Fwy!

Spruce woke up Wednesday morning with the idea that we were getting on an airplane. He has never been on an airplane, so I'm not really sure where he got the idea, but he was pretty excited about it.

Spruce: "We go on airpwane?! We go see daddy?!"

Me: "Yes, sweetie. We're going to see daddy, but we're going to drive not fly."

Spruce: "But MOMMA, I want to fwy!!!!"

After several minutes of groggily trying to explain it to him, I finally just went with the old standby, "Sweetie, it's expensive to fly and we don't have the money."

It worked. I was shocked, but it did!

So we get to NC and Spruce finds a penny in the parking lot. He grabs it, hands it to Steve and says, "Dat's for de airpwane." and walks off...

Steve just stood there, perplexed.

Me: "Better save that. We're flying next time."

Beaux Davis - Home Inspector

Man, he's good. We're looking throough all these homes trying to find 'just the right one'. Spruce and I are distracted by all the shiny things, but Beaux is turning the house inside out.

"Wook, momma! Dere is a tain on the cawpet in hewe!"

"Momma! The toiwet wowks!"

"Momma! Dere is a BIG skwatch in the fwoor and I DIDN'T DO IT!!!"

The entire time the agent is following along behind him trying to explain the 'little fixes' that he's uncovering and I'm doing my best to not laugh.

The kid was even under the house inspecting the plumbing!

At least I don't have to worry about hiring an inspector...

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Beaux on the Specifics of Heaven

Beaux: "No Spruce, we can't go see Nana. She's dead."

Spruce: "Nana's Dead?" (No clue what 'dead' means...)

Beaux: "Yes, Spruce. Dead. We can't go see her."

Me: "Spruce, Nana's in heaven."

Beaux: "No, momma. Nana isn't in heaven. Nana's soul is in heaven."

I think he actually rolled his eyes at me...

Beaux M. Davis - Attorney at Law

Beaux: "Spruce! Wouldn't you just LOVE this broken car?! It's your favorite color, WHITE! The color of duckies!"

Spruce: "Oh, cooooo-wah" ("Cool" for the lay-person)

Beaux: "Wouldn't you LOVE to trade me this car for those two new one's you have?!"

Spruce: "Shuwah Beaux! I would wuv to!"


Monday, October 20, 2008

Beaux on Death

Beaux: "Momma, why don't we go see Mrs. Francis anymore?"

Me: "Well, sweetie, Mrs. Francis was very sick and she died and went to go live with Jesus."

...three months later...

Beaux: "Momma, why does Mrs. Tillette have two beds in her bedroom?"

Me: "One of the beds belonged to her husband."

Beaux: "I've never seen him. Where is he?"

Me: "Well, he was really sick and he died and went to go live with Jesus." month later...

Beaux: "Momma, why is Nana crying?"

Me: "Because she misses her dog, Barkley."

Beaux: "Where is he?"

Me: "Well, sweetie, he was sick and he died and went to go live with Jesus."

Beaux: "Momma, I can't go live with Jesus... There are too many sick people there."

Friday, October 10, 2008

I'm Sorry, Mom.

I'm sorry I didn't send a card for Mother's Day. I know all you ever wanted was a simple card but it was the symbolism that you were always needing something more from me that kept me from mailing it. It was the stamp. I'm sorry, but it was the fact that hand-delivery wasn't as special.

I'm sorry for all the times I ignored your pleas for attention. Each time you would call with a 'I just need one thing' it would make me crazy. It was always 'just one thing' with you, but you never considered that each 'one thing' would add up to an entire afternoon of work for me. It wasn't that I didn't have time for you, it was that you didn't respect my time for me. You never understood why I just couldn't answer the phone sometimes. It wasn't that I was always that busy, it was that you made me crazy with your 'just one things'... I wish I had them back now. No matter how insignificant it seemed at the time, I would do it now in a heart beat.

I'm sorry I didn't take you places with me. It wasn't that you were too much trouble. It was that I was defeated every time I watched you self-destruct. It was like watching sands through and hour glass. Each moment was a fleeting chance that you would change your ways...but then it slipped away. Listening to you yell each time we went over a bump because you hurt would make me cringe. It wasn't that I wasn't sympathetic, it was quite the contrary. I felt helpless. I had done my best to be by your side through it all and yet it was all in vain.

I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone when you called. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you, it was that when you would call and were in good spirits, I was uplifted and defeated at the same time. I knew that it was only a matter of time before your next episode and I would find you in the floor again. It was the knowing that hurt.

And now, I am so sorry that I couldn't save you. Every time you had an episode, I had found you. I had saved you. You had laid there, in and out of consciousness, until I found you. The doctors would say, "She's not going to pull out of this one." But I knew you would. Because you had the same spirit I do. Telling us no has always been our driving force to press on. Insisting that we couldn't do something was like a dare. But now here I am. Helpless. You always said I was your angel...but now what?!

The past few years has been rough on us both. Once I gave birth, I realized what a gift it truly was and how you had squashed it. You didn't capitalize on the opportunity to be my mother. You tried, but failed due in part to your vices. You always had to have something to depend on and I guess ultimately, I'm mad that I wasn't enough.

So I am sorry. I am sorry for all the missed opportunities for me to show you grace. But ultimately, I am sorry that you missed me.

I love you now as much as I always have. You will be missed more than you would have imagined. This is hard, and it will hurt. But one day it won't be so bad. One day I will forget the bad times and focus on the good. I will remember you fondly as I tell the boys stories about 'crazy nana' and they will giggle. They will remember you well.

I miss you terribly and love you deeply.

Rest in Peace.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Crotchety Old People Suck...

Steve had finally found the perfect house. It was all brick, with an open living room, dining room and kitchen and the enormous bonus upstairs! Absolutely perfect...except for the neighborhood.

He's adamant that I come to NC immediately to see this house. "It's a gem! It won't last long!"

"Sweetie, why are the HOA dues $110 per month if there's no pool, playground, or anything?"

"They say it's for yard maintenance. I don't know. It doesn't matter. The house is perfect!"

So I go. Well, WE go.

It's a damn retirment community. No joke. Nothing but crotchety people waiting to die. That's it. I point this out to him and his first response is, "Great! We'll have plenty of babysitters that are missing their grandkids!"

So I start my fact-finding mission...talking to neighbors. The first nice couple told me that their grandson would have someone to play with. The second old man yelled at Beaux for touching the mirror in the house that was for sale. The third old woman said that they don't allow play equiptment in the yards and that there was a wonderful house two doors down that we should check out. Every one of them kindly offered that there was a lovely neighborhood next door with plenty of kids.


I hate crotchety old people. If you're going to be crabby, go be crabby in your own 'villa' and leave the rest of us alone.