Chiggers Be Gone

We're waste-deep in chiggers over here.  I promise my little fellas could be 100 miles away from the closet chigger and it would somehow find my sweaty boys. Chiggers equal clear nailpolish applications to places other than our toenails and fingernails. They also equal little boys scratching themselves in awkward places in public and me saying constantly, "Stop doing that!" 

I'm sure a good remedy to our chigger issue would be to stay indoors, but I'd rather you rip off all of my fingernails and toenails with tweezers and then dip them in rubbing alcohol than stay indoors with my two boys.

My boys (and most likely your boys) are loud and proud and rowdy and rough and tumble. My house is not a jungle gym, nor does it muffle sound, so indoors my sanity is stretched and pulled like an overblown balloon that you know is about to pop at any moment. My remedy...we spend most ALL our time outside. We do have a few regulations, a few things that will drive us inside.

1) Rain---not sprinkles, but thunder and lightning

2) Temperaturs below twenty degrees. (This is somewhat negotiable for my little Ethiopian American who prefers warmer temps.)

3) Extremely windy days. (Not real sure why this bothers us, but it does, so it usually drives us inside.)

Outdoors is just better and fun and you can be as loud as you want and run as fast as you want.

It's freeing and open and calming at the same time. I love the smell of the sun on our skin at the end of the day.

When you spend most of your day outside, some challenges arise. Challenges like where to go to the bathroom. I know it makes sense to just go upstairs and use one of the two perfectly good indoor toilets that we have, but my boys don't really think that way. James of course walks around with his own portable potty---his diaper. John Owen though is almost five and doesn't have that luxury. He's the type of fella that can solve his own dilemmas, too, so I shouldn't have been surprised when he nonchalantly said, "Mama, don't watch me do this."

Well, that of course sets off my kid's about to do something bad warning indicator. 

That's James watching my oldest son, my sweet, talkative, incredibly strong-willed and now I can add uncouth son urinate in an empty bottle next to our neighbor's fence. What? Your kids don't do this? I wish I could tell you I jumped into prompt mommy action mode, reprimanding and training him in the proper way to relieve oneself, but I think I took a few pictures and said, "Don't pee outside."

I'm sure I'll have to revisit this issue until we learn not to relieve ourselves where others can see.

Outdoors is great for eating freeze pops---A LOT of freeze pops, maybe more than we should.

The thing I've learned about boys is that they aren't alway free of drama and tears. I do think they cry over different things than maybe girls do. As rough and tumble as they are, sometimes they really do reveal their sensitive side and you get a real sense that they are truly caring individuals. Take James for instance.

These are full on, legit tears, upset, crying because...the icing slipped off of his peach cupcake. It took a few minutes to settle him down and I had to scoop the icing back onto his cupcake. I'm glad to see he has things he cares so deeply about.

This life...I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to.

Cupcakes and Boys

Over there you can barely make out my stand mixer. My plan was to make cupcakes in that stand mixer, but as is the norm around here whenever my boys notice, which is always, that I've switched activties and am about to do something new, they flock to me, buzzing around like a bunch of flies wanting to be involved.

Sweet, right? Of course it is and I soak up every moment that they want to be with me. Every moment like when I go to the bathroom or get in the shower or brush my teeth or step outside on the porch to have an adult conversation on the phone. They have a sixth sense that is better named the Mommy Homing Device. They just know, like I know the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, that mommy is about to do SOMETHING. It doesn't have to be something fun or entertaining, but just something.

So Saturday this mommy decided to make peach cupcakes with cream cheese and peach compote in the center and peach curd in the batter topped off with cinnammon cream cheese icing---ALL. FROM. SCRATCH.

I'm not yelling that so you'll think I'm awesome, but because I have two very hands on boys and they of course wanted to "help" me. Help being a word I use loosely. 

So it all began with them fighting over who was going to do what and who was going to stand in what chair and pour which flour and stir which pot, etc., etc., etc.

John Owen is complaining her about how he never gets to do anything, but as you can see, he's a liar because he's the one operating the mixer. You get a great view of James' high and tight in this picture. The sleeveless shirt adds to this vintage look he has going on. By the way, the late eighties called us and asked for its hairstyle back. All he needs is a boombox.

They took turns manning the stirring detail of the peach curd. And then...they disappeared...well sorta disappeared.

They started playing with their blankets which they do often. They really enjoy rough housing each other and so they covered themselves in a blanket and started stumbling all over the kitchen bumping into each other like padded bumper cars. Surprisingly they collided knocking one another down on the floor. Wonder how they managed that with blankets over their heads? wink, wink

And then the cupcakes were finished another hour later after a trip to the grocery in between baking and icing and maybe a stop by the horrible, horrendous, non-real food fast food joint commonly referred to as Mickey D's. 

It takes  A LOT longer to do my domestic tasks when these two cats are helping, but I hope they'll learn, as I did as a young girl helping my mom, the importance of keeping a home and of helping others even if you do stop occasionally to play a little blanket bumper cars.

High and Tights

Since we became a transracial family in 2013, there have been many unsual things to address, overcome, learn about, and conquer. Back in February of this year, exactly one year after we brought James home, I decided he needed to visit a barber shop. I know right now you have images of Ice Cube's classic hit Barbershop flashing through your brain, but that's the movies and we live in Frankfort, so the barbershop we visited and by we, I really mean Zack and the boys, wasn't like that. There was no sign of Ice Cube...anywhere! Visiting a barbershop was uncharted territory for us. Why you ask? Well, because we're white and we grew up going to hair salons and if you're white, getting your haircut isn't really part of your cultural experience.

I do understand that for black men and boys it is and I want this for my youngest son, so "we" headed off to the barbershop. Unfortunately, James HATED it. Like full on screaming, crying, flailing, etc. 

The first cut took over two hours and my boys returned tattered and worn with the scars to prove it.

But James had a fresh cut and looked fly.

This is the picture Zack texted me during James' first barbershop visit back in Febraury. I love Zack's fake smile. Poor baby James!

We are conquerors though and we made a return trip to the barbershop about two months later for another fresh cut, but alas, the experience was worse and the cut was not so fresh (all because James wouldn't sit still).

Enter our next decision as a transracial family---cut his hair at home. Sounds like no big deal right, except we've never cut a black child's hair. Actually we've never cut anyone's hair, but we ain't skeered of a challenge, so we pushed forward in this endeavor and the result?

A somewhat happy James and a somewhat fresh cut. I was pleased and felt satisfied that at least until he was older, we had a solution. I could wait until he was older and understood better to take him to a barbershop. For now, we cut at home!

And then last night happened. What was last night you ask? It was supposed to be a regular fresh cut...just a little buzz. What happened was what I like to call... Oopsie!

After dinner, we prepared James for his haircut. Got the clippers out and I took John Owen to the bathroom to give him his bath. I happened back into the kitchen to discover that the wrong guard was on the clippers and the side of James' hair was more than short...it was scalped.

I could hear black America sighing because we'd tried to cut our baby's hair ourselves. Our beautiful, sweet, funny baby who kept saying, "I ton't want a taircut, momma."

Scenes from Ice Cube's Barbershop flashed through my head and instantly I said, "Give him a high and tight fade!"

Praise Jesus! There was hope, redemption as his parents. All was not ruined. 

Zack jumped on it and began giving the aforementioned high and tight. I googled images to use as a guide and voila!

Those eyes...even closed they are dreamy.

Not too bad, right?!

Being a transracial family is an adventure. Most days it's not even a thought in our heads. We are who we are, but every now and then something arises and I'm reminded of our difference. We aren't perfect and don't do everything perfectly, but there's grace and a forever family and these two brothers! What's better than that?

Chore Charts and Kool-Aid

I'm a fan of kool-aid. I drank a lot of it when I was growing up, but I'm not a fan of Kool-aid on my carpet and well...that's the sweet gift the Sons of Thunder gave me this past Saturday. I walked in to discover a red Kool-aid spill about the size of a mighty watermelon. I died a little as I thought about the permanence of it. Would I get it up? Was my carpet cleaner strong enough to suck the red Kool-aid out of my carpet? 

Well, turns out it was and there is only a faint pinkness to the carpet now. I might be the only person who sees the pinkness because the image of that red stain is burned into my brain.

This fun time called for swift action by Dad who quickly instated the "No food or drink other than water on the carpet from here on." We've abided by this rule this week obligingly, probably because the boys still remember the look on my face when I discovered the spill.

But today, John Owen, Mr. Strongwilled Child USA asked for a snack of goldfish, which I obliged and then watched as he marched into the family room. I called him back to the kitchen with our faux tile and asked him to eat his snack in the kitchen. A few minutes later I discovered him sitting like this.

I give you John Owen's form of obedience. He's on the carpet, but his snack is on the faux tile. To him, he's obeying. He's an adventure!

He's really into chores now. I'm milking it for all it's worth and I've even purchased these handy little chore charts and magnets with neat little pictures on them. The kids really enjoy doing their chore and then pushing their magnet to the Done side of their chore chart.

They're assigned things like Brushing their teeth or making their beds, which is fun to watch them do and conquer on their own. Boyhood is rapidly approaching for both of them, if it's not already knocking at our door. And then...sigh...time is a dirty dog stealing the steak off the grill!

John Owen' bed he made all by himself. 

I hope they love The Lord one day and I hope they are both hard workers even when chores become just that...chores.

Road Trippin' and Poop

I took the notion to go on a road trip with my sons of thunder, solo. No other adult...just me. Yes, I am slightly crazy, but hey good times were had with our Virginia cousins---my nieces and nephews.

Here's a few pics as proof.

My sweet niece Abigail. She's eleven and quite nearly perfect. 

Here's a picture of both my nieces. That's little Caitlyn...she's got more sass that anyone I know, but is so much fun and a barrel of laughs! The party follows her for sure!

Throw in Austin. He's fourteen and little JO trying to be all grown up, too and the party's almost complete. My nephew Zach and my sweet baby James were both napping during this picture, I believe. Zach's twelve and JM's two, but when naptime calls, you answer no matter your age. Amen?

Fun was had and then the fun came to an end and the sons of thunder and I packed up Zack's truck and began the eight hour journey home.

This picture was taken at about hour eleven of our journey---a journey that took way longer than I'd hoped and gave me a few gray hairs. At this point we were almost home, but traffic had come to a standstill on the interstate. They were clearly slaphappy and I was maybe or maybe not shedding a few tears over the traffic situation. I was for sure crying on the inside.

A positive though was that James went poop in the potty for the first time. I count it all joy my friends that he chose our trip home to be the first time. I have no proof because I took no pictures, but if you can get the name of the woman standing outside of the women's bathroom in the Starbucks in Roanoke, Virginia where this beautiful thing occurred, where JO and I were also doing the happy dance and giving LOUD shouts of praise to JM. Yes, we opened the door to find her standing outside, smiling with us through her frustration at our delay.

Poop in the potty for the first time---or hey! anytime is a thing to be celebrated.

If you've forgotten how I feel about wiping butts, see my previous post from last summer.

As a disclaimer: JM pooped one more time in the potty on the road and hasn't done it in the potty since we've been home, so I'm still wiping butts around here.

But this too shall pass.

Am I sorry I made this trip? No Way!

Life with the Sons of Thunder is a fantastic journey full of bumps and ups and downs and I'm so, so glad I'm on it and I'm so, so glad I got to spend so much time with my nieces and nephews and other family!

Here's to cousins and Virginia family!

It's blurry, but if you squint it clears up some. lol