"The Importance of a Good Sense of Humor...and Quick Thinking"

If there's any one thing I've tried to instill in my kids, it's a sense of humor and the importance of being able to not only take a joke, but to laugh at yourself.  I've told them repeatedly, "If you can't learn to laugh at yourself, then you'll be the only one not laughing while the rest of the world laughs at you."

For some reason, people - even complete strangers - intuitively seem to know that I'm not afraid to laugh at myself and that I love a good joke, even if it is directed at me.  Take for example, 15 year old Chase - a good friend of my daughter's - who one day stopped in the Guidance Office at his school to collect copies of pamphlets on abstinence, safe sex and mental illness.  "Here, Mrs. Armstrong - don't ever say I'm not looking out for you or that I don't care," he said as he handed me the pamphlets.  Ahhh...to be so loved!

Recently my kids talked me into stopping by our local McDonald's drive-thru to pick up some burgers and drinks.  I really hate going through the drive-thru because (1) my kids are so specific in their orders (burgers must be plain; no pickles or catsup) and (2) they get it wrong about half the time and I have to go back in and explain how the order was wrong.  But, on this particular day I was feeling adventurous.

As I drove up to the drive-thru speaker, I geared myself up to be clear and concise so that - maybe - I could get this mission accomplished on the first try.

"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order please?" came the voice from the speaker.

"Hi.  I need a large ice tea, half sweet and half regular, two small cokes, two small fries and two cheeseburgers plain with no catsup or pickles."  I said nicely in my best sing-song voice.

"Will that be all?" the voice asked.

"I believe so.  Can you please repeat the order back to me?"

"That's a large ice tea, half sweet half not, two small cokes, two small fries and two plain cheeseburgers. Is that right?"  he asked.

"Yes. Thank you," I responded with noticeable pleasure in my voice.  Maybe I can get through here in one visit, I thought to myself.

The voice from the box gave me a total of something like $7.49, and I proceeded to first window as instructed.  As I approached the window, the teenage boy looked out at me and again confirmed my order.

"That was a large tea, half sweet half water, two small sprites, two medium fries and two cheeseburgers with with extra catsup and pickles?" he said with a smile on his face.

If I'd have been in a better mood, I might've known instantly that he was teasing me.  As it was, I figured it was McDonald's goofing up yet again.

"No," I said as calmly and politely as I could but I'm sure my irritation was evident, "I need a large tea, half sweet half not sweet, two small cokes, two small fries and two plain cheeseburgers with no catsup or pickles."

"Gotcha!" said the kid at the window!  "I was just giving you a hard time!  I got your order right!"

"Oh!" I laughed!  Good one!  Ya got me!" I said laughing with him at my own expense, and then handed him exact change for my order.

"I thought so," he said.  "You looked like you could take a joke," he remarked as he put the money in the drawer.  "Thanks and have a nice day."

I gave him a quizzical look and then responded, "Ummm...my change?  I gave you a $20 and change."

The poor kid looked at me with that proverbial panicked expression often referred to as a "deer in the headlights" and responded all flustered, "Oh!  Oh!  Gosh!  I'm sorry!  Wait...umm...gosh, I'm so sorry!  I need to get a manager to open the drawer."

Before he could flag down the manager, I turned to him with a sweet smile and said "Nah, don't worry about it!  I was just teasing you!  I gave you the exact amount.  I don't need change.  Have a nice day!" I said as I drove forward to the next window to pick up my order.

Yes, it's good to have a sense of humor and it's good to be able to laugh at yourself.  But it's oh-so-much sweeter to think fast on your feet and dish it right back before the other person has a chance to expect retribution!  Life is good!

"The Theory of Reciprocity"

Reciprocity

(rĕs'ə-prŏs'ĭ-tē) 
n., pl., -ties.

1. A reciprocal condition or relationship.
2. A mutual or cooperative interchange of favors or privileges, especially the exchange of rights or privileges of trade between nations.

Definition supplied by Answers.com

Kids make me laugh, especially when I can take them off guard and one-up them in the intelligence department.  Trust me, it doesn't happen often; but, when it does, it sets me up for a great mood for the remainder of the day.  And, when I can not only win the battle of the brain, but also win the battle of wills, then you might catch me smiling for days.

Take, for example, a recent situation with 15 year old Amber.  I'd asked her repeatedly to do a load of dishes.  Not-too-suprisingly, she'd found a gazillion-and-one reasons not to get it done. "I'm really busy," or "I have to take a shower," or "You didn't tell me!" or even "My nose hurts!"  Kids can come up with a million-and-one reasons not to accomplish even the smallest of tasks.

As the day wore on and the dishes remained in the sink, my good mood was definitely in need of being restored.  And then the moment came...

"Mom, I need to go to the bank to take out some money, and then to Best Buy so I can get the latest season of 'Supernatural' on DVD," she said.

"Ahhh...I see," I responded.  "I'd say today is a good day to teach you the 'Theory of Reciprocity."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well, my dear, for every positive action from you, there can be an equally positive reaction from me."

"Huh?"

"Okay, let me say it a bit differently:  You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours," I explained.

With a completely blank look, she said "I don't get it."

I slowly counted to ten before responding.  "It means, Sweetheart, that I have dishes in my sink that need to get done.  You have a DVD waiting on you at Best Buy that you'd like to pick up.  My dishes won't get washed on their own, and I don't see you walking to Best Buy.  If you'd like to go to Best Buy to pick up that DVD, then you'll need to begin by doing the dishes.  In this house, that's what's known as 'The Theory of Reciprocity.'"

"Oh."

Ahhhh...I love being an adult.  And I love being smarter than my kids.  And I absolutely love having clean dishes!

"The Royal Wedding...as Seen Through the Eyes of a Teenage Girl"

I absolutely love teenage girls.  In some ways, they're way more fun than having little kids.  They try so hard to be grown up and mature but, deep down inside, they're just little girls.  And that's never more evident than when hearing them have a conversation and they're not really aware that you're even paying attention.

This afternoon I watched with Amber and Sarah the DVR of Prince Williams' wedding to Kate Middleton.  The conversations were flying so fast that I couldn't keep track of who said what, but they kept me giggling.  It's like they had no sensor and were spitting out whatever popped into their heads.  It was one of the most enjoyable afternoons I've had in a long time.  The following are snippets of their conversations.



On the Bride


- I heard she (Kate) was pregnant and had to get married.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


On the Groom

- Why are they holding hands so weird?

- Oh lookit!  He's saying things to her!

- Why isn't he wearing black?  The red is tacky.  It totally blends into the floor.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

On the Maid of Honor, Pippa Middleton

- I would pay to be her sister.

- I bet you she's really jealous of her sister.

- What if she married the Prince's brother.  That'd be funny.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

On the Bridesmaids and Pageboys

- What if one of the little kids acted up?  "I don't want to walk down this aisle anymore!  Waaaa!"

- Those little boys are wearing tights!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

On the Bishop and Other Religious Figures in their Official Regalia

- Isn't that one guy supposed to have an old man voice?  He's old but his voice isn't old.

- Oh wow!  That one guy looks like he should be in a Harry Potter movie.

- Wow - his head with that hat on it looks like a fortune cookie!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the Queen

- She's really old.

- She and her husband are so cute together.  Just two old people together.

- She's more powerful than him (said in a nanny-nanny-boo-boo voice).

- Why isn't she singing?  That's very rude to the country.

- Maybe she's deaf.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

On Prince Phillip

- Dude!  He's 90 and he's only a PRINCE?  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


On the ceremony


- Dude!  He's supposed to kiss the bride!  What happened?  Did he forget?
- What if they sneak in the back and kiss?
- This is stupid that they don't kiss.  It doesn't seal the deal.

- Do they have to sing every time someone stops talking?

- Wedlock is a word!  I just looked it up!

- Wedlock...sounds like Wet Lock.

- (giggling) Wet lock.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

On the Kiss

- That was it?

- Seriously.  That was it?

- That was pathetic!

- Did he say "Should we kiss?"

- His cheeks are red.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


On the spectators waiting outside


- So...like those people stood outside waiting for hours?
- Yeah - they had the cake to motivate them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


On Prince Harry


- I would hate to be William's brother.  He has to ride in the carriage with those little kids.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


And finally...

On What Happens After the Ceremony


-Do they have a big dance afterward like real people?
-Sure.
-Did you tape it?
-No.
-Why not?
-Because it wasn't open to the public.
Ohhhh...I see...cuz they were dirty dancing!

Sarah and Amber

"Deep Thoughts...by Braden"

I wish I could crawl inside a child's head and figure out why and how it thinks like it does.  The things that come out of their mouths totally blow me away.  Sometimes there's no rhyme or reason to the thoughts that pour forth from their little mouths, and yet - to them - the questions and comments make complete sense.

Take for example one conversation with Braden from just this weekend.

Braden:  Mom, are girls like cows?

Me:  Huh?  What do you mean? 

Braden:  Well, mommy cows feed their babies milk from their bodies, and human mommies feed their babies milk from their bodies, too.

Me:  Yeah, that's true.

Braden:  Then girls are like cows.

Hmmm...while he's somewhat on the right track, I take exception to being compared to a cow!

And that's not all.  Girls and children must be on his brain because the next conversation I'm about to reveal came about only a few hours later...again with no context and completely out of the blue...

Braden:  When I get married and have children, I'm never gonna take my wife out on a date.

Me:  Why not?  Don't you think your wife would like to go out to dinner with you once in a while without your children?

Braden:  Well, yeah...but don't you have to pay for someone to watch your children?

Me:  Ummm...yeah.  You have to pay a babysitter so that your children will be safe.

Braden:  Well, I'm not going to waste my money on a babysitter.  Why can't they just watch my children for free?

Me:  Because that's not the way the world works.

Braden:  Then I'm not going to take my wife out on a date.  Or, I guess my wife can pay for it.  That would work.

Me:  Okay, but I think most married couples share their money; so if your wife pays the babysitter, then you're paying the babysitter because your wife's money is your money.

Braden:  Huh?  What do you mean?

Me:  Well, when you get married, lots of times you and your wife take all of your money and all of her money and you put it in the same pot and you both use it.  You share the money.

Braden:  What?  Oh nooooooooooooo....I'm not sharing my money with a girl!

Ugghh!  Thank goodness he's only six!  This gives me plenty of time (I hope) to correct his thinking before he starts dating and expects his date to pick up the bill!  As for the whole babysitter thing, well I guess I could be persuaded to live close and help out with that little expense when the time comes.  Ha!

"Laugh and the World will Laugh with You"

People love to give me a hard time.  I'm not sure when that started, but I can't remember a time when someone wasn't teasing me in a good-natured way. Truthfully, I don't mind, and - as a a parent - I especially don't mind because I think it sets a good example for my kids about the importance of learning to laugh at yourself.  In fact, I've often been known to tell my children that if they can't learn to laugh at themselves, then they'll be the only ones not laughing when the rest of the world is laughing at them.  In other words, laugh and the world laughs with you.  But choose not to find humor in the situation, and the rest of the world is laughing at you instead of with you.

And, seriously, everybody teases me about something.  My wonderful neighbor likes to tease me about my passion for Mickey Mouse; my husband enjoys teasing me about being geographically challenged; even the Schwann's Man enjoyed teasing me earlier this year about my Christmas tree still being up in February.  It seems that Open Season for teasing Cathie is 365 days per year.

As you can probably imagine, then, my kids love to give me a hard time.  Sometimes I think they stay up late at night just thinking of different ways to tease me.  In that way, I think my children and I have a somewhat unique relationship.  That is to say that I couldn't begin to imagine teasing my own mom when I was their ages.

Recently, I injured my back and I've been hobbling around the house complaining about how bad I hurt.  This has started a whole round of new scenarios for which my children have taken full advantage.  They've offered to buy me a cane or to borrow Gramma's scooter for me to get around in.  And they never hesitate to tell their friends how "old" I am...at 40.  

The other day I asked Amber (15) if she could tell me what types of things she does when she injures her back in gymnastics.  I wanted her to give me ideas on how I could lessen the pain.  She told me I had to sit on the floor with  my legs straight out in front of me, then lean forward as far as I could and try to grab my feet.  When I was done with that, I was supposed to roll back and try to bring my butt up over my shoulders and my feet up over my head.  Those two things, she said, would help stretch out the muscles in my back and would make it feel better.

First of all, I should warn you that I'm 40 and, to be honest, I'm not in the most limber of shapes.  I've done Yoga and I've learned that I not only have no elasticity to my body, but I also have zero coordination and not an ounce of balance.  But, I wanted to feel better, so I sat on the floor and attempted to follow Amber's advice.

Well, the first part went reasonably well.  I sat on the floor and stretched several times until I was finally able to grab my feet...for about a second.  And, truly, it wasn't that bad.  My next step was to roll my feet up over my head and I figured that should be simple.  Easy peasy, right?  Ummm...wrong.

Not only did I look ridiculous and never was able to roll those feet entirely over my head, but then I got stuck on the floor and couldn't get up!!!  My back hurt too bad to get up on my own!  And those bratty kids of mine?  They're laughing so hard they have tears flowing down their faces, and they're almost to the point of hyperventilating from laughing so hard.

"Quick, Sister!" Braden said.  "Get the phone!  We gotta call 9-1-1!"

"Oh no you don't," I said!  "Don't you dare call 9-1-1!!!"

"But you said to call 9-1-1 if you were ever on the floor and couldn't get up," he said.

"Yeah, Mom!" joined Amber.  "You're on the floor and you can't get up.  We need to call 9-1-1."

"I said to call 9-1-1 if I was on the floor unconscious and couldn't get up, you brats!  Now help me up and don't you dare call 9-1-1!"

By this time, Amber and Braden were laughing so hard that there was no way they could help. I'm not sure they'd have been able to get themselves up off the floor, they were laughing so hard!  And, to be honest, they'd set off a fit of giggles for myself as well, which was making it just that much more difficult. 

"C'mon, Am...help me up," I pleaded.

"Nah...I don't think so," she said.  "I think I'm gonna leave you there.  You look HOT!"

Well, needless to say, they were completely useless.  I did finally get up off the floor by myself and, to be honest, I do think her stretches were somewhat helpful.  However, at this time, I'm seriously considering moving to Nebraska where frustrated parents can drop their children off at the nearest hospital and make a run for it without legal penalty.

Nah...I wouldn't really do that.  My life would be rather boring without them.

"The Neighborhood Don Juan"

Braden has a girlfriend...only she doesn't know it.  Well, that might not be completely true; I think she knows it but she's really good at pretending she doesn't.  Actually, I think he's going to be a ladies man because he has a couple of little girlfriends.  But his first real crush was on (and still is) little Alivia next door.  And who could blame him?  At about 18 months older than Braden, she's a "woman of the world" in his eyes.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect little smile and well-beyond her years in taking control of the situation and letting the young men in her life know who's in charge.

Recently Braden informed me that he's going to marry Alivia when he grows up.  He had it all figured out.  They were going to live with us, or with Alivia's parents, or maybe at the hotel that his grandparents  stay in when they visit during the summer.  His reason for this?  They want to save all their money and not spend it.  "Buying a house costs money and is really 'spensive.'  We want to save all of our money," he explained.

"Does Brian know this about you wanting to marry Alivia?" I asked him, inquiring about Alivia's father.

"Ummm...noooooo," he responded.

"Don't you think you should ask him first?  I mean, you do need her daddy's permission before you marry his daughter,  don'tcha think?"

Braden pondered this a moment and then asked, "Could you ask him?  I don't want him to get mad at me."

And so set the theme for neighborly relations.  Braden lives and breathes Alivia most days.  Thank goodness we have a home alarm for our house!  At about 5:00 a.m. one morning, we were awakened to the screaming pitch of our home alarm as someone had breached a door.  We stumbled down the steps half-awake to find a sheepish looking Braden staring back at us.

"Did you open the door to the garage?" Troy asked.

"Ummm...yeah.  I'm sorry!  I didn't know the alarm was set!"  he cried.

"That's fine, but what were you doing?  Why did you need to go outside so early in the morning?  It's still dark!"

From behind his back, Braden revealed the love letter he had written to Alivia.  It seems he had written it sometime in the night and it was imperative to him that he deliver it as soon as possible.

"I have a letter for 'Livia," he said.

You have no idea how difficult it was for us to contain our grins so as not to embarrass him.  "That's fine, " I said, "but I think her mommy and daddy would be very unhappy to be awakened at five in the morning on a Saturday for Alivia to receive your note.  Let's wait a few hours and you can deliver it then, okay?"

He wasn't happy, but what could he do?  He'd been caught!  Blast that danged home alarm!  Why did Mom and Dad have to put it on all of the doors??

A few weeks ago, the grandparents were visiting from Oklahoma.  While here, my mother-in-law noticed that Braden really enjoyed wearing his father's cologne and deodorant.  Since he was so careful in the use of his father's items, my mother-in-law thought it would be fun to get Braden his own deodorant and cologne.  Riiiiggggghhht!  That's exactly what our little Don Juan needed!

My first clue that this might be a problem came one evening after I'd put him to bed.  I was in my bedroom - down the hall from Braden's - with my door closed.  Quite inexplicably to me at the moment, I kept catching a strong whiff of heavy mens cologne.  I opened my door to follow the smell and the entire hallway smelled like an Abercombie store!  Only, if you can imagine, worse!  

"Braden?" I called.  "What are you doing?  It smells like you've bathed in that cologne!"

Braden came running out of his bedroom and, incredibly, the smell intensified.  By the time he was standing in front of me, I had an urgent need to take about four steps back away from him.  The smell was so intense!  How could something that smells so great with only one squirt smell so noxious with a dozen?

"I'm practicing," Braden replied.

"Practicing what?"

"How to put my cologne on for 'Livia.  I'm gonna put my cologne on tomorrow morning and go over to see 'Livia.  I'm gonna get right up close to her and say 'Smell me, 'Livia!'  Do you think she'll like it?"

Do I think she'll like it??  I don't know...what do you think?  Stay tuned and I'll let you know how his plan worked out.  If this doesn't scare off the neighbors, then I think it's safe to assume that nothing else will.

Alivia and Braden

"Welcome to the Technology Era!"

We've entered a new era...the era of computers, e-mail, cell phones and, best of all,  instant access to our kids!

I must admit that I entered this era without a lot of enthusiasm.  It just seems like the more technology we give our kids, the less control we have over them.  And, let's face it, I'm nothing if not a control freak.  I've been called the original "helicopter mom," and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I own that title.  So you can imagine that the decision to allow Amber to have her first cell phone was one that - for me - came with a fair amount of anxiety.

It's been two years since Amber received her first cell phone and I must admit that I almost regret not caving in earlier.  For every benefit she has received from it, I've received an equal measure of benefit.  What types of benefits, you ask?  Allow me to explain.

How many times have you asked your child to do a chore around the house only to find it not completed and be told "But Mom!  You never told me to...(clean out the dishwasher...mow the yard...clean my room..)!"  With a cell phone, that problem is no longer of concern.  You can just pick up your own cell phone and text your instructions to them...because you know that the phone is always within fingertip reach, and you also know that it's not in them to ignore a text without responding.  Now you have proof!  "Oh yes, I did tell you!  I texted it to you at 3:17:57.  Check your text log because you responded to that text at 3:19:02 and said...."  A typical text message from me to Amber might be:  "Please clean out the dishwasher in the next 90 minutes.  At 3:30, I'll check the dishwasher and - if it's not done - then I'll allow you the privilege of doing the next load of dishes."  Bwaaaaahhhhhhaaaaa!  I never said I wasn't creative, not to mention downright evil!

Another benefit of the cell phone is that it gives you more grounding power.  "Heck yeah, get her a phone," said my friend, Cathy, when the conversation came up.  "It'll give you something to ground her from when nothing else works!"  And oh how wonderful that advice has been!!!  You see, kids will do anything not to have their precious phones taken away!  Heaven forbid that Amber might miss the next "Hey" or "I'm bored" from her BFF, Sarah!

But my favorite benefit of giving the kids a cell phone is the pure humor that evolves.  Take for example a recent conversation between myself, Amber and her friend Sarah.

"Sarah," I said.  "If you keep butt-dialing me from your phone, I'm going to change your ring tone to that  'Big Butts' song."

"You wouldn't!" she exclaimed!

"Oh yeah...try me!"

"Is that what they mean when they say 'booty call?'" she asked.

"Ummm....no."

"I bet it is," said Amber. "Sarah...have you been booty calling my mom?"

"Yeah!  I booty call a lot of people," Sarah responded.

Trying to keep a straight face during this conversation was becoming very difficult, but I could see this conversation was quickly going downhill rapidly and needed to be nipped before it got out of hand.  Unfortunately, like typical teenagers, they wouldn't accept a simple "That's not what that phrase means and trust me when I tell you that you don't want to use it."  They would be satisfied with nothing less than a complete and thorough explanation.  It was me or Google.  I chose to stand strong and not send them to Google.  Who knows what they might've found if they'd taken that avenue!

Beyond the conversations surrounding the phones are the playful text messages that go back and forth between myself and the girls.  Frequently I'll send Amber somewhere and tell her to text me when she arrives so that I know she's reached her destination.  The following are a couple of the text messages she's sent to let me know she's arrived safely.

Day One:

Amber's Text:  Mission Accomplished

My Text:  Thx.  Remember I plan to pick you up at 2:30.

Amber's Text:  I read ya, Houston.

My Text:  ROFLMAO!  BRAT!

Amber's Text:  Copy that!

 Day Two:

Amber's Text:  H

My Text:  I

Amber's Text:  P

My Text: Missed a letter.  J would've been next.

Amber's Text:  Oh.  I was spelling hip.

Ahhhh...quick thinking and nice save!

So you can see, the new technology has its ups and downs for both sides.  From Amber's side she has to deal with the text trail I leave when I ask her to do something, not to mention the consequences that arise when those things fail to be accomplished; and, from my side, I have to live with a small loss of control.  But, in the end, I think we've both benefitted by much of the humor that's evolved.

I wonder...how soon is too soon to get Braden a cell phone?

"Mother Always Knows Best"

My children fight constantly.  I guess most siblings do, but I never thought that my children would be at such constant odds with nearly nine years between them.  Thinking back, I have a really good idea when it started.  It all began with an incident back when Braden was about ten months old and Amber was nine.  My guess is that Amber must still be holding a grudge.  I guess I don't blame her, when you consider what happened.

We were in Oklahoma, visiting the grandparents.  I was in the bathroom getting ready for the day, and I had the door open so I could monitor the interactions of my children in the living room down the hall.  Amber was playing with Braden and I could hear his giggles from the bathroom as she raised him up over her head, then brought him quickly close to her to give him little slurpies on his tummy or neck.

Looking back, I could've predicted what would happen.  In a way, I guess I did.  In fact, I had warned her numerous times over the months - and even just a few minutes prior - that jiggling the baby like that after he'd eaten would cause him to spit up.  But ya know how kids can be.  They have to learn from experience.  All the experience of all the parents in the world combined means absolutely nothing to a nine-year old who knows everything and has to experience the world herself to understand true cause and effect.

"Amber," I had said.  "You really ought not to jiggle Braden like that.  He just ate and he's likely to spit it all up."

"He's okay, Mom" she assured me.  "He's having fun!"

"Okay..." I responded.  And decided that it was out of my hands.  This wasn't the first time I'd ever warned her and, to date, she'd ignored all of my warnings.  The baby was safe and being entertained at the same time.   She'd been warned and she knew what she was doing, so why interfere?

I went back to the bathroom to complete my daily preparations...hair, makeup, brush my teeth, perfume, deodorant....

I was just finishing up when I heard an unmistakable sound from the other room.

"UUURRRRPPPP!"

I knew immediately, and without any mistake, what that sound was.  And, if I had any doubt, the sounds and sequence of events that followed removed any doubt in my mind.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGG!" screamed Amber, as she raced past me into the bathroom, practically knocking me over and out of her path!  She barely made it to the toilet before losing the entire contents of her own breakfast into that porcelain god.

"I told you," I said.  And oh how those words gave me a grin!

"HE SPIT UP IN MY MOUTH!" she screamed.  "IN MY MOUTH!  YOU NEVER SAID HE'D SPIT UP IN MY MOUTH!!!"

At that point, all was lost.  Truly, I knew she was in danger of Braden losing his breakfast on her, but it really never occurred to me that he'd target his path so well.  Apparently, she had been lying on her back holding Braden high over her head, giving him a perfect target with the help of gravity.

We all wanted to feel sorry for her, but our sympathy was quickly overshadowed by the fact that we were completely unable to stop laughing.  To add insult to injury, the next day the Baby Blues comic strip ran a blurb that was seemingly directed at Amber (see below).  Of course that set off another round of laughter and, six years later and much to Amber's dismay, we're still not able to discuss it without a fit of giggles.

I think the moral of this story is pretty clear:  "Mother always knows best."  With that said, sometimes it's fun to let them learn by experience.

From the Baby Blues comic strip

Original run date July 6, 2009

Baby Blues Comic Strip Archive

"No! More! Talking!"

Last summer I went to home to Oklahoma to visit my parents and, while there, I spent a great deal of time with one of my oldest friends and her children.  Holly and I grew up together.  We've known each other for almost thirty years and she's one of the best friends I've ever had.

One of the best things about really good old friends is that you don't have to explain yourselves to each other.  Your parenting styles can be exactly the same or vastly different, but it doesn't matter because you know each other so well that you accept the differences for what they are, and you just move on.

Another great thing about old friends is "team parenting."  My son, Braden, is about six months older than Holly's older daughter, Madigan.  As a result, we have an agreement that she and I work as a team when the two children are together.  If both children are misbehaving, then whichever of us catches it first is the one to reprimand both children.  We've agreed that it would be unfair to reprimand only one child when both children are at fault.

This arrangement works out very well for us, and it works especially well because Madigan and Braden are enough alike that they spend a great deal of time fighting about which one of them is smarter or better or stronger or taller or ... whatever!

On the second day of my visit - and about ten arguments into the day - we were in the van on our way to lunch after a day at the zoo.  Five-year olds Madigan and Braden were in the back seat in matching boosters, Amber (14) and Holly's younger daughter, Reagan (2) were in the middle row, and Holly was driving.  I was riding shotgun and doing my best to "nicely" tell Braden and Madigan to get along and quit fighting.  We'd been driving along and had just congratulated ourselves on having 15 minutes argument-free when both Madigan and Braden both started bawling...and not quietly, I might add!

"What's wrong now?" I asked.

"I don't know!  She just stared crying and now she says she isn't my friend," cried Braden.

"Uh uh!" sobbed Madigan.  "Braden said he was a real Jedi Knight!"

"I am a real Jedi Knight!" yelled Braden.

"No you're not!  You're going to dress up like one for Halloween!" wailed Madigan.  "And I told him I was going to dress up as a Jedi Knight for Halloween and he told me I can't cuz I'm a girl!"

"Ummm...yeahhhh!  You're a girl!" taunted Braden.  "Girls can't be Jedi Knights!  People will laugh at you!"

Well, this just set Madigan off even more and the sobs between the two of them began to reach a fevered pitch.  Suddenly the van cut across three lanes of traffic and came to a screeching halt on the side of the highway.   At supersonic speed, Holly threw the van into park, ripped off her seatbelt and swung around in her seat to face the two in the rear seats.

"ENOUGH!" she shouted as her head spun around on her shoulders like Linda Blair.  "Madigan and Braden!  I have had enough of your bickering!  No more!  I'm done!  I don't want to hear another sound out of either of you!  DO...YOU...UNDERSTAND??

Dead silence.  Four sets of eyes as round and as wide as dinner plates...five if you count mine.  Not a single peep from anyone.

"No! More! Talking!" demanded Holly.

More dead silence.  

Very calmly as though we'd all been having a perfectly peaceful discussion, Holly turned to me and grinned the most angelic smile.  "Phew!" she exclaimed.  "Let's kick this pig!" And she threw the car into drive and continued on our way as though nothing unpleasant had ever occurred.

About two miles down the road - and still driving along in complete silence - a tiny voice from the middle seat pipes up.  "Mommy? Mommy?" said two-year old Reagan.  "Mommy...I talking, Mommy!  I talking!"

And that was the end of our silence.  All six of us burst into laughter because, really, how can you not laugh when a two-year old breaks the tension with such a simple act of defiance?

Madigan and Braden

"Uncle Troy...Uncle Troy...?"

I think goofy behavior runs in my family.  When I think back to my nieces and nephews when they were little, I always get a chuckle.  Especially funny was my niece, Katrina.

Katrina is now in her early 20s, but I remember her best between the ages of about four and six.  

Imagine, if you can, a little blonde-haired pixie with eyes so large and blue that she reminded us all of Tweety Bird from our childhood cartoons.  She was the tiniest thing with the biggest personality.  Nothing intimidated her.  She was so full of life and she saw humor in every little thing.  And the things she did without even trying that left us laughing hysterically!!!

To the grandparents, Trina was known as "Tweet" because of her uncanny resemblance to the sweet little Tweety Bird.  To her parents, she was known as "Spike."  These nicknames are actually quite appropriate. On the surface, she was as cute as a button and as soft and sweet as her grandparents' nickname for her.  On the inside, however, she was as tough as nails and came by the nickname of "Spike" quite naturally.

Our Trina was such a fun little girl.  I'll never forget when she was a four-year old flower girl in my wedding.  Her job was to sprinkle rose petals down the aisle before the ceremony.  She was so intent upon doing her job properly that, as she marched back up the aisle after the ceremony, she stopped to pick up all of the rose petals she'd dropped earlier.  Apparently, she didn't realize Gramma was just pulling her leg when she told her (before the ceremony) that she'd have to make sure to clean up her "mess" after the ceremony.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  The Trina Stories for our family have become the thing of legends.

Probably my favorite memory of Trina as a child occurred shortly after my husband and I got married.  Troy and I had travelled to Missouri to spend Easter with Trina and her older sister, Ana.  The girls were 4 and 6, respectively,  and just about the most beautiful girls you've ever seen.  And Trina...the energy of that child!  She was like the Energizer Bunny; she just never stopped moving!  To say she was exhausting seems so cliche, but it's so true!  Just watching her move was enough to make me feel like I'd put in about ten hours of cardio for the day!

That weekend, Trina was like a spider monkey, hanging on her new "Uncle Troy" and doing pretty much anything to get his attention.  "Uncle Troy, Uncle Troy!  Watch this!"  or "Uncle Troy, Uncle Troy!  Let's play a game!"  But the prevailing theme of the weekend was "Uncle Troy!  Uncle Troy!  Give me a piggy back ride!  Pleeeeaaaaasssseeee, Uncle Troy??  Just one piggy back ride??"  Well, that "just one" piggy back ride became something like twenty or more, and the requests for "just one more" piggy back ride from Trina kept coming in.

Finally, toward the end of the first day - and about forty piggy back rides into the day - Troy said, "I'll tell ya what, Trina...if you'll lay still and play dead for 30 minutes, I'll give you another piggy back ride before bed."

RELIEF!  PEACE AND QUIET!  PHEW!

Trina located a place on the floor right in the middle of everyone's path.  But I'll tell you what, she was just as good at playing dead as she was everything she did.  She laid on the floor completely still, with her eyes closed and her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.  She even appeared to be moderating her breathing so we wouldn't notice the rise and fall of her chest!  True road kill had nothing on that child!  And she was QUIET!  It was amazing!  Most kids will squirm or ask you every two minutes "How much longer?" or "Is it 30 minutes yet?"  Not our Trina!  She said she'd play dead and she did.  Who knew she'd be just as good at being quiet as she was at being a spider monkey?

About twenty minutes had passed and Trina hadn't made a single peep.  At about this time her father got up to make his way to another part of the house.  He was completely unaware of the arrangement Troy had made with his daughter and so it never occurred to him to watch where he was walking.  And, of course, he tripped over the "dead body" in the middle of the floor and almost came crashing to the ground.

"TRINA!" he bellowed.  "What in the world are you doing lying in the middle of the floor??!!!  Aren't you supposed to be in bed??  You get in bed right now!"

"But...but...but..."

"No buts," he said.  "Bed!"

"But Uncle Troy..." she whined.

"I said no buts.  Goodnight!" And off he carried her to bed, the whole time she's wailing "But Uncle Troy...."

Now, some of you might be asking yourself why Uncle Troy didn't intervene.  Why didn't he pipe up and let Trina's dad know that they were playing a game and that's why she was lying on the floor in her father's path?  Well, number one rule of thumb:  Never interfere with a father while he's directing his child!  (Or at least that's what Troy told himself).  Hahaha!

Lest you feel bad for our dear Trina, she did get her piggy back ride...and about six dozen more...but not until the next day when Uncle Troy'd had an opportunity to get a good night's sleep and recuperate from the day's events.  Oh...and sleep well that night, he did!

Typical Trina at about age 5

"Braziers and Camisoles and Slinky Nighties....Oh My!"

Anyone who has ever been around preschoolers for any length of time knows that the under-five set have their own vocabulary.  That is to say that they're not satisfied with words as they're defined in the dictionary; they either butcher the words in a way that sounds better to them, or they make up their own words to replace the correct phrase.

Take, for example, some of the following "improvements" my own children have made to commonly known words:

Pasketti:  Spaghetti

Pidow:  Pillow

Yum-Yums:  M&Ms

Boo Bocks:  Garth Brooks

Kangaroo Sore:  Canker Sore

These changes to our language might give you a grin and make you puff your chest out with pride at your child's creativity, but sometimes they get you into trouble.  Take, for example, the situation my husband got into with our daughter when she was about three.

Amber had a very extensive vocabulary at a very young age, but there were some words she just liked better for certain objects.  For some reason, she had decided that all camisoles, tank tops and braziers should be called "boobies."  Probably one of us should've corrected her, but - to be completely honest - I was that mother whose buttons had popped with pride at her child's creative use of the English language.  No way was I going to correct her, when every time I heard her misuse a phrase I got a little giggle!

It was on the eve of my birthday and my husband, Troy, had decided to take Amber with him to shop for my birthday gift.  This was a fairly big event for both of them.  Daddy didn't often take Amber out shopping (the reason for which he would soon be reminded), and Amber was excited to pick out my birthday present.  They had decided to peruse the housewares department of the local department store.  I'm sure I must've requested some silly kitchen gadget as usual; a new bread machine or a new coffee pot, maybe.  Who knows?  I'm alway requesting the latest and greatest kitchen gadget to help me pretend I'm domestic.

At any rate, en route to the housewares section of the store, they passed the lingerie department. And what should Amber see but....braziers and camisoles and slinky nighties...OH MY!

"Daddy," she said just loud enough for the closest twenty-five people to hear her, "I want some boobies."

Troy, always the trooper even in the most embarrassing of situations, looked down and whispered, "Not now.  We're here to buy a present for Mommy's birthday."

"But I want boobies, Daddy!!!  I want boobies!"

"Shhh...not right now, Amber.  We're here today to get Mommy a birthday present," he carefully responded, very likely looking over his shoulder to see who might be paying attention.

"But, Daddy!!!  I. WANT. BOOBIES!" Amber wailed.

The situation was beginning to escalate and they were beginning to draw a crowd of curious onlookers.  Amber was becoming noticeably more distraught and I'm sure Troy was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable.  After all, Troy isn't really an extrovert and doesn't like to be the focus of attention.  And, seriously, how does a 30-odd year old man explain to a group of nosey onlookers that his three-year old doesn't really know what she wants?

In the end, I don't recall getting a birthday present from housewares that year.  Actually, now that I think about it, I don't think Troy takes the children shopping for my gifts with him anymore, either.  But I do recall being on the receiving end of a stern lecture regarding the importance of teaching our children more commonly accepted words for objects.  But really, where's the fun in that?

Oh, and for the record?  Amber's now 15 and - though she no longer refers to camisoles, tank tops and braziers as "boobies" - she's never been able to accept the fact that a "kangaroo sore" is not the correct term for those little sores you occasionally get in your mouth.

Amber (at age 3) and Cathie

"He can't help it. He was born that way."

Several months ago, a little girl in Braden's kindergarten class told her grandmother that she really liked Braden because he was so funny.  "What makes him funny?" asked her grandmother.  The little girl thought about this question for a moment and replied, "I don't know.  He just is.  He can't help it...he was just born that way."

I've thought about this comment many times over the last several months and, more often than not, I've  giggled over the trueness of the words.  She's right.  He was born this way and he can't help it.  Those of us who know him have concluded that his quirky comments and actions aren't usually a deliberate attempt to entertain; they're just a part of who he is.  Some people are born naturally athletic or musically talented, and still others are seemingly born with a paintbrush in their hands.  Braden seems to have been born with natural comedic timing.  Simply stated, he's always been funny.

One of my favorite memories of Braden in his toddler years was at about age 3.  If you asked him to do something he didn't want to do, he'd feign an inability to accomplish it.  And he was so creative about why he couldn't complete the task.  I remember once walking into the family room and seeing Braden sitting on the floor surrounded by a mess of toys strewn all around him.  "Braden, I said.  "Let's pick these toys up, please.  You've made a mess."  He looked at me and I could already see the wheels spinning in his head.  Without changing his position on the floor in any way, and without making any real effort to touch a single item,  he stretched his hand out toward one of the toys on the floor, made several grunting sounds and said, "I...can't...reeeeeaaaach...!"

Of course we laughed!  Who wouldn't laugh at a three year old with such creativity?

Several weeks later, I had put him to bed at his regular bedtime and (silly me!) expected that he might actually go to sleep.  Unfortunately, he'd recently moved from his crib to a real bed and the intoxication of being able to actually get out of his bed on his own and roam the house at will was too much for him. After about the twentieth time of putting him back in bed, I was angry and my voice was becoming deeper and louder and more forceful.  "Braden!" I snapped.  "You get your butt back in bed this minute before I really lose my temper!"  He looked at me for a moment, and again I could see those wheels a-spinnin' in his head. I knew it was coming...I just didn't know what!  Finally he said in the most angelic voice imaginable, "Okay, Mommy."  He took two steps in the direction of his bedroom and fell down!  He looked at me for a second and then got up to again make the trek to his bedroom.  He took two more steps and again he fell down!  "Mommy!" he said.  "I can't go to bed!  My legs are broked!"

And of course I laughed.  How could I not laugh?  Could you have remained stoic when presented with  such creativity?

Life Through the Eyes of a Child

I love kids.  I always have.  I love the way their little minds work.  I love the things that come out of their mouths.  They're honest and they have no pretensions.  If you're ever not sure who you are or how the world sees you, talk to a child and he'll set the record straight in a heartbeat.

All kids say ridiculous things.  Every child is hilarious in his own way, and my kids are no different in that regard.  Unfortunately, though, many of us get so caught-up with our hectic days that we sometimes fail to "hear" our children.  We listen to them talk and we answer their endless questions, but sometimes we don't actually "hear" what it is they're saying.  And their imaginations are absolutely endless!

During the Superbowl this year, there was this excellent car commercial starring a 5 or 6 year old boy dressed as Darth Vader.  The child's character was convinced he was the real Darth Vader and walked around his home trying to use The Force to move objects.  Because, in his mind, he absolutely was Darth Vader.  The gag of the commercial came when his father comes home.  Little Darth Vader runs outside and attempts to use The Force to move or start Dad's car.  Watching from the window, Dad uses the remote start function on his car's key fob to start the car, just as "Darth" is attempting to use The Force.  The body language on the child at that point is hilarious!  He practically jumps out of his skin when the car starts because "It worked!  I did it!'

What makes this commercial so funny, and the reason it was so well-loved by so many people, is because the advertising people absolutely nailed it!  Anyone who has ever had a 5 or 6  year old boy who was a Star Wars fanatic could absolutely relate to that commercial.  Every single one of us could see our own son doing exactly that same thing!  Why?  Because that's what kids do, and that's what makes them so enjoyable!

I created this blog because I enjoy the goofy things my kids say and do.  I have two children:  Amber is 15 and Braden is 6.  You'd think that the funny comments and ridiculous behavior are unique to the six-year old, but I can assure you they are not.  Amber, the 15-year old, frequently gets into the most unusual situations and says some of the most off the wall things.  And, when joined by her best friend, Sarah, the comedy never ends.  There are days when I laugh so hard that I'm completely in tears and my side hurts.

In the coming weeks and months, I will attempt to blog some of the funnier moments in our daily lives so that friends and family can maybe brighten their days with a little bit of comedic relief.  

For now, I leave you with Volkswagen's Darth Vader Commercial that aired for Super Bowl XLV.  Enjoy!