What Does Dad Do Here?

We came home Monday after an all too short weekend of visiting Eric in Lexington, Kentucky where he is now working and living a VERY bachelor life in graduate student housing. The boys were very impressed with his "digs." They saw things like the fold out couch and cushions and thought it made a great place for as many people in the family to sleep in all at once. I, on the other hand felt squished. They liked listening and watching the numerous sirens and ambulances scream past the bedroom window. I thought my brain would melt from traffic noise. They thought the carpet was cool. "Isaac you don't want to spill your milk on this very nice carpet" (Benjamin). I was afraid to take off my socks and thought the carpet looked very industrial and probably hadn't been cleaned for a decade. They were thrilled with the sliding door that divided the kitchen area from the hallway (which was strange because the rest of the kitchen opened up into the living room--why a door?????) That door went back and forth ALL weekend long!! It was the "elevator" after all. Eric and I were about ready to buy tools to remove the door.

We also had a great family day that the "Explorium", a children's museum. We got to watch snow, throw it and Benjamin even tasted it (Hey, it doesn't really snow where you live--it's a bit of a novelty). We played lots and didn't worry about dishes or what we ate. We had a lovely time "making new friends" (Benjamin) at Eric's work get- together. We enjoyed church services and even got a shout out during the Bishop's talk.

Mostly we were so happy to be with Dad-Eric. None of the boys wanted to leave Dad. We drove away with big tears dropping down Benjamin's face while Dylan screamed, "MY DA-DA....DA-Daaaa!" Thank goodness we managed to get the DVD player to work just a little bit longer (there's a loose wire so the picture comes and go) to lift their spirits and keep me from crying too! Let's just say that kudos go to my husband Eric! I may be home with the three boys. But I am HOME. He's a great guy to be up there at the new job making sure that we can buy our groceries and preparing for our adventure--NOT living in any kind of luxury. (Yes, Eric WITHOUT television...) I'll take my side of this bargain.

So Benjamin asked at some point, "What is it that Dad does here in Kentucky?" I told him something like, "He works on projects to try to understand mosquitoes better so that he can keep the mosquitos from getting people sick with the diseases they carry. He's trying to help people that way." Benjamin responded quickly. "That's nice of Dad!"

Yep. We have a nice Dad. Sure miss him!

ça va?

Benjamin chose to watch a "Bob the Builder" DVD for his show time. One little tiny hiccup. The language. For some reason, Bob was speaking French. That confused him a little. So my friend asked him, "Would you like to have it in English?" "No," Benjamin replies, "the Georgia way."

Oh, the fun we will have when we live in a place where not many people speak the English or the Georgia way.

Why I Love My "Job"

I had a great morning. This is why:

Mother Memory

When Benjamin wanted his blue caboose, I remembered that it was upstairs, in the corner, under a pile of little people toys.
When Benjamin wanted his Timberland sandals, I remembered that he had taken them off and left them in the car two weeks ago.
So why can't I remember where I put either of the two hammers?

And why might I need one or two hammers?
Maybe it's good I can't remember where the hammers are...

Economizing

Maybe I should not have turned off the downstairs furnace last night.
This is Isaac and Dylan at breakfast. Isaac said, "I need my gloves. My hands are FREEZING!"

For Travelin' Dad

Isaac at bedtime: "My puppy is sad."
Renee: "Why is your puppy sad."
Isaac: "Dad-Eric is back in Kentucky."
Benjamin: "My puppy is sad too."
Renee: "I'm sad too. We'll see him again real soon."

But we're all chin-up and no tears. Besides. Benjamin had so much exercising to do that it sure took his mind off of things. He kept asking me for more drills to do and then would do more laps around the downstairs counting all the way (to a hundred...kind of). Then he went upstairs to weigh himself. "I'm a new number now!!! 3, 6!" So that convinced him that a peanut butter sandwich would help him grow better than a donut and he told me that if we would go pick strawberries, then he would eat them because they wouldn't be too big. We might make 4, 0 before he's ten yet!

Old Adages

So I always thought, "Don't cry over spilled milk" was primarily directed at children learning to deal with mistakes. Now I'm a Mom. I tell myself every day sometimes several times a day not to cry over THEIR spilled milk, juice, cereal, play-doh, clothes (or mine too actually)...Either way most messes can be cleaned up--or so I keep telling myself and them as we learn how to handle the world together. But sometimes those little phrases come in handy when you're looking down at a Dylan surrounded in his juice and all you want to do is stamp your foot and say, "NOT AGAIN!" So I now know that when most mother's say, "Don't cry over spilled milk" they're really reminding THEMSELVES!