Over the last several years, I've started apologizing to my mom for specific things I did as a kid. "Why?" you may ask. I'll tell you: because my kids do them to me and it makes me realize how selfish and insensitive I was. Here's a list of recent ones:
1. I'm sorry for thinking you had nothing better to do with your day than to meet my every whim - spoken and unspoken.
2. I'm sorry for getting sick on a day that you had 831 things on your to-do list and I needed you home to clean up my vomit.
3. I'm sorry I vomited on your newly-cleaned floors.
4. I'm sorry for thinking that God created you to be a walking ATM and that you could just deposit money into yourself from the money tree that I thought grew in the backyard.
5. I'm sorry for every time you disagreed with Dad over the most effective way to discipline me and it grew into an argument between the two of you.
6. I'm sorry when I argued with you about anything - but mostly, homework.
7. I'm sorry for every single time I rolled my eyes.
8. I'm sorry for being funny and/or cute when you really wanted to backhand me.
9. I'm sorry for making you look like a bad mom in public. (This includes misbehaving, bad dressing, stains on clothing and arguing with Mark, among other things)
10. I'm sorry for every time I thought I was smarter than you and Dad.
If you're reading, Mom, thanks for forgiving me! I love you!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Difference Between Boys & Girls
Since we have three fairly rambunctious boys and 1 fairly independent girl, I feel pretty qualified to assess the difference between the two sexes. Following is my conclusion so far. Know that I reserve the right to edit, add to and otherwise change my point of view, as we have barely even started the teenage years...
1. Boys come with sound effects. The funniest thing for me and Stacee to do is watch and listen to our boys, Kris included, communicate. They can't get through a paragraph, much less a sentence, without adding noices that would rival a South American jungle during mating season. Stacee, on the other hand, didn't talk unti she was nearly 18 months (late by Smith family standards). She used her face exclusively to communicate - and still does. She's like her mama: all her thoughts run across her face and you can see them in her eyes. It's almost as entertaining watching her have a conversation as it is watching the boys.
2. Boys are perpetually dirty (especially Brennan, our "muck magnet"). It fascinates me that Stacee simply can't stand to have her hands dirty, a speck on her clothes or food on her face, and never could. Conversely, the boys could be covered with any manner of goop, dirt, yuck and mess and think they're ready to go out to dinner and actually come in contact with the public! Sometimes I think that I'll have to actually chisel the stuff off the little boys' hands. I'm relieved to say that A.J. doesn't suffer from this affliction as much any more. There have been times, however, that he comes home from riding his bike with his buddies and he stinks. He can actually clear a room! I guess that's what 14 year-olds do. I can't decide which is worse: the look of being dirty of the smell of it.
3. Girls are harder to raise than boys. Now, it may appear that it's too early to make this assessment, as our one girl is only twelve. We haven't hit the infamous teenage years with her. She hasn't started dating, or loitering at the mall, or texting in the middle of the night, but with nearly a decade and a half of parenting under our belts, I can tell you that she is harder to raise. She costs more money, more time and sometimes, more energy. I realize that all of these things might be related to her personality and not necessarily her gender. Kris and I have found that we worry more about her and certainly want to protect her more. We've found that we've often said we'd rather have one girl and three boys, than three girls and one boy.
I'm certain there will be additions to this list as the years go on, but don't misunderstand me. Our kids and their growing up process fascinates me. It's a testament to the God we serve that four people with individual personalities and characteristics can come into being from the same set of dna. They're all being raised essentially the same way: with lots of sarcasm, millions of hugs and tons of laughter, yet they are so distinctly different. What an awesome miracle Kris and I get to be a part of.
I just hope and pray they still like us when they're parents themselves!
1. Boys come with sound effects. The funniest thing for me and Stacee to do is watch and listen to our boys, Kris included, communicate. They can't get through a paragraph, much less a sentence, without adding noices that would rival a South American jungle during mating season. Stacee, on the other hand, didn't talk unti she was nearly 18 months (late by Smith family standards). She used her face exclusively to communicate - and still does. She's like her mama: all her thoughts run across her face and you can see them in her eyes. It's almost as entertaining watching her have a conversation as it is watching the boys.
2. Boys are perpetually dirty (especially Brennan, our "muck magnet"). It fascinates me that Stacee simply can't stand to have her hands dirty, a speck on her clothes or food on her face, and never could. Conversely, the boys could be covered with any manner of goop, dirt, yuck and mess and think they're ready to go out to dinner and actually come in contact with the public! Sometimes I think that I'll have to actually chisel the stuff off the little boys' hands. I'm relieved to say that A.J. doesn't suffer from this affliction as much any more. There have been times, however, that he comes home from riding his bike with his buddies and he stinks. He can actually clear a room! I guess that's what 14 year-olds do. I can't decide which is worse: the look of being dirty of the smell of it.
3. Girls are harder to raise than boys. Now, it may appear that it's too early to make this assessment, as our one girl is only twelve. We haven't hit the infamous teenage years with her. She hasn't started dating, or loitering at the mall, or texting in the middle of the night, but with nearly a decade and a half of parenting under our belts, I can tell you that she is harder to raise. She costs more money, more time and sometimes, more energy. I realize that all of these things might be related to her personality and not necessarily her gender. Kris and I have found that we worry more about her and certainly want to protect her more. We've found that we've often said we'd rather have one girl and three boys, than three girls and one boy.
I'm certain there will be additions to this list as the years go on, but don't misunderstand me. Our kids and their growing up process fascinates me. It's a testament to the God we serve that four people with individual personalities and characteristics can come into being from the same set of dna. They're all being raised essentially the same way: with lots of sarcasm, millions of hugs and tons of laughter, yet they are so distinctly different. What an awesome miracle Kris and I get to be a part of.
I just hope and pray they still like us when they're parents themselves!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The King of Leprechaun Trap Makers
In case you're wondering, that's who I'm married to: The King of Leprechaun Trap Makers. I know, I know, it may not be a title that most men covet, but it belongs to Kris now anyway, by his own admission.
This all started about week ago when Colin brought home from kindergarten a green sheet of paper with a drawing on it, titled "How to Make a Leprechaun Trap." The first line on this paper said, "This will be a fun project for you and your child to do together."
Let me digress for a moment from my original subject... Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't homework assignments be for THE CHILD? This is obviously not a project a 6 year-old can tackle on their own. If it's coming home with directions for both of us, in my opnion, it's not age-appropriate. I'm all for hangin' out with my kid, but shouldn't I get to choose how I do that? Not to mention the fact that as parents I've done more homework in the 8 years since A.J. started school than the entire 12 years I attended myself. We've covered solar system mobiles, shoebox diaramas (between the four kids, I think we've done about a dozen!) and book reports in all shapes and sizes. For you parents of younger kids, book reports are no longer just for high schoolers. They start in first grade and encompass all sorts of posters, drawings, coffee cans, paper plates and paints.
Anyway, back to the King. When the assignment came home, I very gently delegated it to my husband. After all, building things seems like a daddy thing to do, right? I figured he'd cover a shoebox with some green construction paper, prop it up with a dowel, throw some plastic gold coins under it and call it good. Little did I realize that building a Leprechaun trap for a child in kindergarten would encompass sketches, power tools (plural, mind you), a trip to Ace Hardware, an air compressor and a band-aid. How silly of me! How could I not have imagined that my fun-loving husband (who is an exceptional daddy, by the way) would turn something relatively simple into four hours of swearing. For a time yesterday afternoon, I was worried that Colin wouldn't even be permitted to help. Needless to say, the trap was finished long after Colin was dreaming of pots of gold and rainbows. I'll let you know how it goes at school today...
This all started about week ago when Colin brought home from kindergarten a green sheet of paper with a drawing on it, titled "How to Make a Leprechaun Trap." The first line on this paper said, "This will be a fun project for you and your child to do together."
Let me digress for a moment from my original subject... Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't homework assignments be for THE CHILD? This is obviously not a project a 6 year-old can tackle on their own. If it's coming home with directions for both of us, in my opnion, it's not age-appropriate. I'm all for hangin' out with my kid, but shouldn't I get to choose how I do that? Not to mention the fact that as parents I've done more homework in the 8 years since A.J. started school than the entire 12 years I attended myself. We've covered solar system mobiles, shoebox diaramas (between the four kids, I think we've done about a dozen!) and book reports in all shapes and sizes. For you parents of younger kids, book reports are no longer just for high schoolers. They start in first grade and encompass all sorts of posters, drawings, coffee cans, paper plates and paints.
Anyway, back to the King. When the assignment came home, I very gently delegated it to my husband. After all, building things seems like a daddy thing to do, right? I figured he'd cover a shoebox with some green construction paper, prop it up with a dowel, throw some plastic gold coins under it and call it good. Little did I realize that building a Leprechaun trap for a child in kindergarten would encompass sketches, power tools (plural, mind you), a trip to Ace Hardware, an air compressor and a band-aid. How silly of me! How could I not have imagined that my fun-loving husband (who is an exceptional daddy, by the way) would turn something relatively simple into four hours of swearing. For a time yesterday afternoon, I was worried that Colin wouldn't even be permitted to help. Needless to say, the trap was finished long after Colin was dreaming of pots of gold and rainbows. I'll let you know how it goes at school today...
Friday, March 7, 2008
Cuteness & Probably
This morning as we were walking out the door, Stacee said to me, "Oh, you look cute mommy."
As much as I'd like to admit that I'm mature enough in my appearance to not depend on the compliments of a 12 year-old, let's face it: I'm not! I loved that though she said it with a tone of surprise in her voice (apparently, she was shocked to see me looking cute), she said it none the less. My heart swelled, my face smiled and I've been on cloud 9 all day long feeling attractive. It's been a good Friday!
I suppose I should disregard the fact that at 33 I'm not going for "cute"...
And here's my favorite conversation of the week:
Telephone rings
Me: Hello? Yes, he's here. May I tell him who's calling?
Walk down the hall to A.J.'s lair.
Me: A.J., it's another girl for you. Who's Samantha?
A.J.: A friend.
Me: A friend from school or church?
A.J.: School
My thought: It's like pulling frickin' teeth trying to get him to volunteer information!
Me: Do you have a girlfriend?
A.J.: No.
Me: Do you like anyone?
A.J.: Maybe.
See above comment in italics.
Me: Does anyone like you?
A.J.: Probably.
I hand him the phone, our conversation is clearly over.
Probably? Probably? What kind of swelled head is this kid getting? He's just assuming that somewhere someone likes him. Ha! There are days that I don't even like him and I gave birth to him!
Seriously, though, I'm thankful he's such a likeable kid, even if his hair is too long and he's doesn't lack any confidence.
As much as I'd like to admit that I'm mature enough in my appearance to not depend on the compliments of a 12 year-old, let's face it: I'm not! I loved that though she said it with a tone of surprise in her voice (apparently, she was shocked to see me looking cute), she said it none the less. My heart swelled, my face smiled and I've been on cloud 9 all day long feeling attractive. It's been a good Friday!
I suppose I should disregard the fact that at 33 I'm not going for "cute"...
And here's my favorite conversation of the week:
Telephone rings
Me: Hello? Yes, he's here. May I tell him who's calling?
Walk down the hall to A.J.'s lair.
Me: A.J., it's another girl for you. Who's Samantha?
A.J.: A friend.
Me: A friend from school or church?
A.J.: School
My thought: It's like pulling frickin' teeth trying to get him to volunteer information!
Me: Do you have a girlfriend?
A.J.: No.
Me: Do you like anyone?
A.J.: Maybe.
See above comment in italics.
Me: Does anyone like you?
A.J.: Probably.
I hand him the phone, our conversation is clearly over.
Probably? Probably? What kind of swelled head is this kid getting? He's just assuming that somewhere someone likes him. Ha! There are days that I don't even like him and I gave birth to him!
Seriously, though, I'm thankful he's such a likeable kid, even if his hair is too long and he's doesn't lack any confidence.
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