Hooray for the Red, White and Blue

For the past few weeks Spencer has been singing "Hooray for the red, white and blue." Is this a song? I have no idea. If it is, Spencer only knows that one line. However, he makes up for the lack of lyrics by singing that one line over and over. And over. Sometimes he finds a tree branch or something else he can wave. With arm high, he waves his "flag" and marches up and down singing. At first I was puzzled by his behavior. But then I thought he must be feeling really proud of America. But today he mentioned that maybe the red, white and blue could be the American flag. Hmm...Perhaps he just likes the song.

Spencer told me that he had a really great day today and that the things he liked best today were as follows:
(1) Coloring
(2) Waking up
(3) Being with Mom
(4) Coloring
Please note that coloring made the list twice. And although I acknowledge that "waking up" is a key part of one's day, I am hoping that being with me will edge it out on a subsequent list.

Michael's Birthday

I have included some pictures from our cabin trip. As you can see, we spent most of the time outside in our swimsuits. There is no photographic evidence, but I was there too.

Michael turned eight years old Friday.

His current stats are: Weight - 54.5 lbs (42nd percentile)

Height - 47.75 inches tall (13th percentile).

He wears two watches. One on each wrist. He likes to time things. His favorite books are (1) The Harry Potter Series (2) The Pendragon Series and (3) The Black Stallion Series.

Michael's birthday was nice. Neither he nor Spencer insists yet upon a full "birthday week" (although given that I do, I am sure that it will not be long before that tradition is adopted by all). The birthday boy always gets to choose whatever he wants for dinner (I assume at some point one of them will ask for ice cream - probably Spencer - but to date this has not happened). For two years running now, Michael has chosen bacon quiche. We had "Death by Chocolate" Cake for dessert. We didn't have a kid party for Michael this year, but we did take two of Michael's friends, Henry and Eric, to the Twins game last weekend. Spencer was ready to pack it in at the end of the first inning. Michael questioned whether it was half time when the Twins switched from outfield to batting at the middle of the second inning. After we explained the slow pace of the game (and that baseball has innings, rather than quarters and halves), everyone seemed to settle in and all four boys really seemed to enjoy screaming and eating caramel corn.

In honor of Michael's birthday, I will provide two recent Michael quotes, and then I will give the brief (as if I tell any brief stories) explanation for the title of this little blog.

First the quotes. Yesterday at my mom's while we were loaded down with bags, waiting for someone to open the door for us, Michael said, "Will someone open the damn door?" Needless to say, I was somewhat taken aback by this crude comment from my sweet boy. The boys spent the previous week in my sole company (lucky kids), and I know he didn't hear this expression from me. But then what could have prompted this comment? Then I remembered. I let the boys watch the film E.T. Cute movie? Yes. But also back in the 1980's it was acceptable to have the young characters in a PG movie say "penis breath," "shit" and I'm guessing "damn door" as well. The second quote is from this morning. Michael told me matter-of-factly, "I'm always in the mood for classical humor." He was referring to Calvin and Hobbes. Now that's damn cute.

And now the explanation for the title of this blog. When Michael was about 9 months old, he would wake 5-10 times per night. Every. Single. Night. Patrick and I were quickly becoming incapable of the most mundane tasks. In desperation one night, around 3 am, I went on-line and bought a sleep video (evidence of my lack of judgment and inability to function). It was guaranteed to get a child to sleep through the night without forcing the child to "cry it out." And if (for some reason), you ran into any snags when instituting the doctor's fool-proof approach, there was a promise of personal communication with the doctor himself, the brains (and heart) behind the video. Surprisingly as it turned out, the approach did not work for us. I proceeded to email the good doctor. He replied by email. Okay, now stay with me. Unrelated to my sleep deprivation problems, Amy had recently discovered translators on the web, including one that would translate anything into "street language." She found much joy in translating emails from work into street talk. Now, here is where it is all going to come together. Amy decided to translate the doctor's email. Upon reading the translation, we noted that wherever the word "his" appeared (which was always in reference to Michael), the word "wassup" was inserted. And thus, Michael was nicknamed Wassup, at least by Amy and me.

So as not to completely leave Spencer out, here are a couple things that Spencer has said to me recently. Leaving Target yesterday morning, Spencer noticed an elderly gentleman. He said to me very quietly, "He is very old." I agreed. He then said quite passionately, "he doesn't use a cane or a wheelchair though. That is very impressive." Very impressive indeed. Additionally, today while riding in the back of my car Spencer said "I like driving with the window down." Then he paused. He followed with "In particular I do not like driving because it is bad for the environment." Sweet boy.

Mid-day Thursday

I ate one of the brats for lunch yesterday. The boys, clearly less adventurous than I, opted for macaroni and cheese. So far, so good, so I ate another one today for lunch. I'm half-expecting to come down with chills or abdominal cramping or blurred vision. On the other hand, it isn't possible that they weren't cooked after four hours.

We went swimming twice yesterday. I believe this was a contibuting factor to Michael's proclamation that yesterday was the best day yet of the vacation. It probably was the sole factor. I actually went down the "water slide," which is literally a slide which has been placed in the water. It was surprisingly fun. In the evening when we were walking Luka, Spencer looked at the beach and said wistfully "Michael, doesn't the slide look inviting?" He was echoing something Michael had said on the first night. Still funny.

We built sand castles and a sand turtle. We tried to catch fish with a bucket. Spencer suggested that if we had a worm it might be easier. I agreed.

I taught the boys how to play ping-pong in the gameroom. They are both getting the hang of it, but a volley (or even a return shot) is not on the horizon for a little bit.

Last night we made a fire. I was impressed with the boys' abilities in this arena. Apparently they once listened to a naturalist give a lesson on how to start a fire. They weighed the comparative advantages of the teepee formation versus the log cabin and unanimously agreed on the log cabin. They arranged the logs, then asked for "kindling first, then tinder." Of course we only had big blocks of wood, so we found birch bark (which is great) and dried leaves and some twigs. It worked.

We roasted marshmallows. First though, I had to convince the boys that it was possible to roast marshmallows on a stick. From a tree. Then, they informed me that they couldn't eat the marshmallow directly from the stick, but would need a plate to put it on. Also, if the marshmallow catches on fire, it is inedible and must be sacrificed. I lost two last night.

We have been playing a lot of games. Spencer is really enjoying mancala right now and usually beats me. At least when he goes first. Which is all of the time. He says that "he smokes me." Though under Michael's criteria for "smoking me," he would only have "smoked me" one time. Michael claims matter of factly, as if it is a well-established fact, that "smoking" means winning by five or more.

Lastly, Michael came into my bedroom this morning to show me a scrape on his heel. He said it hurt but he wasn't sure how he got it. Spencer asked with genuine concern "did it just come out of nowhere?"

On a separate note, I saw a giant spider today. It looked like it might be poisonous.

Day Two

The morning got off to a good start. The boys slept in until 7:12, which, Michael claims, is the third latest they have ever slept. In addition, as a bonus, they did not get out of bed until 8:00, which meant I was able to read in bed. Lovely. However, after breakfast we took Luka for a walk, and I don't want to go into details, but the glow from the loveliness of reading in bed was soon extinguished. Suffice it to say that (1) I told the boys not to let Luka eat their peanut shells last night; and (2) I did something that I wouldn't have thought I had the capacity to do. Eww.

On the walk we looked for rocks. I still like to find agates and Spencer was interested in finding quartz this morning. But not just any quartz, it had to be "shimmering quartz." I tried to point out rocks that fit this criteria, and although I helped find one good one, it seems that I am not expert at discerning this (somewhat subjective) trait.

At some point today, I had to have a talk with the boys, both of whom should be seriously considered for careers in negotiations - hostage crises (crisises?), politics, labor unions, etc. It seems that no matter what I suggest, they have a counterproposal - perhaps a completely different idea, or a slight (or major) modification. At any rate, I told them that I get to make the decisions, and that when I tell them what the plan is, I would really like to hear, "Wow, Mom, that's a great plan. Well done." So for the rest of the day they have been saying "Great idea" to everything I suggest. They think it is funny. Which it is. But it is nice to hear too.

I continue to be less than adequate (maybe that is too harsh) in the kitchen. First, I didn't think to bring charcoal. On the other hand, I have never really grilled, so probably that is for the best. I did bring brats, which, as I just discovered on the internet, are Wisconsin's Soul Food. I had no idea. I brought the brats because the boys have recently told me they love them. What they love is the pre-cooked, cheese-filled variety of brats (which is what I should have bought). I purchased uncooked brats from the meat counter at Whole Foods, turkey, no cheese. I have no idea how to cook them. After about 45 minutes, I tried to convince myself that perhaps they are meant to be pink. Or, if that is incorrect, that eating undercooked poultry probably wouldn't do us any harm. However, I made a pizza and figured that I could keep cooking the brats and maybe we could eat them tomorrow. However, it has been three plus hours now, they are still really pink inside, and I'm starting to have doubts...

Cabin Trip Day One

This is how the first day of our trip to the cabin went....

This morning I was roused from a peaceful slumber by Spencer thrusting his two fists in front of my not-yet-open eyes and querying me on what I saw. It was 7:06. He has an incredibly regular internal clock. I was confused by the question, but eventually said "rocks?" This was (of course) wrong. I still do not know what response he was hoping to elicit from me. At any rate, I got up, got the boys breakfast, went for a satisfying run, showered, and then started to finish (can I say that?) packing. We got on the road at 11:00. Trusting my unerring sense of direction, I began the drive without first consulting a map, though I did have the mapquest directions. I was following that route. Or so I thought. I noted that the route was taking me through smaller towns on ever smaller roads. However, when I reached a deadend, it became much harder to convince myself that I was still on the right track. I backtracked and eventually got back on course. The rest of the drive was pleasant and uneventful.

We got to the cabin around 2:30. It is very cozy (read small). It is clean. It is possible my tastes run to something a little fancier, but theboys immediately declared that they have a feeling this is going to be a great vacation. So with my heart melting, we unpack, take a walk around the grounds, swing on the swings and then decide to go for a swim. The boys love the swimming. The beach is cozy (read small), but sandy for a little ways. Luka is driving me crazy. She is constantly whining to go out and then to come back in. We have people directly next to us on both sides who seem wary of her and her foaming mouth (wimps). She wants to go in the water, but it is all weeds and boats in front of our cabin and I worry that the bathers on the beach would not welcome a shower from Luka as she shakes herself dry (again, wimps). I am wishing I had brought some sort of sedative for her. Honestly.

After swimming, the boys were running around between the cabin and the lake in front of our cabin when Spencer sat down and started to cry that he hurt his foot. I went to the dock and sat down next to him to ascertain whether he had gotten a splinter or stubbed his toe. However, almost immediately I felt a painful sting on my, let's say, bottom. And then a bee came out of my swim suit. How did it get inside? Good question. I obviously need to be more concerned about what people can see when I wear this swimsuit. At any rate, I heroically pick up Spencer and carry him to the cabin where I get ice for his bee sting. All the while I am suffering greatly. The ice did wonders for both of us though. I made dinner. We ate outside on the picnic table. The boys threw the frisbee and football around. Luka whined. And now you are up-to-date.