The Anatomy of a Fart, By Sam

This morning after reading another blog, I was inspired to write a semi-poetic post about how most of us hide our true selves from people so no one will realize how much internal muck we have gunking us up.  We let people see what we want them to see, we're very selective about what we share with whom, we fiercely guard our fears and failures...how many people do we truly allow to penetrate the protective shells we build around ourselves? 

But that idea was trumped by a stimulating conversation I had with Sam on the way to school about farts and other bodily functions.  It was a doozie.

This conversation started with Sam asking where I got my brown eyes and where he got his blue eyes.  When I explained that Daddy gave him his blue eyes, Sam said, "Yeah, but Daddy farts." 

"Well, yes, he does.  But that doesn't have anything to do with the color of his or your eyes."

"But Lena and I fart just a little.  You and Daddy fart a lot."

Laughing, I said, "Well, when you get older, some foods don't digest so easily and can make you fart more than normal."

"What kind of food?"

"Well, we eat a lot of good things at home like fruits and veggies and beans and, unfortunately, those can make you gassy."

"What's gassy mean?"

So I go into the whole digestion discussion, explaining how the body takes what it needs from the food you put into it and gets rid of what it doesn't need.  And sometimes that includes gas, which has to get out somehow.

"So, you see Sam, everyone farts.  It's just part of how our bodies work."

Sam absorbed this and then set out for me the varying levels of his farts and how, "when they get quiet and stinky, I know I have to go potty FAST!"

I laughed so hard during this conversation I nearly had to pull the car over.  I know it might be too much information for some, but come on.  That's funny!  It's just part of life as a mother of a funny 5-year old boy, I guess.  I love Sam's inquisitive mind, always wondering and curious and asking questions. 

Even if results in a 15 minute discussion about farts...

Sweet Little Lena Girl

We've been watching old home movies with the kids lately and have been shocked by how much our baby girl has changed in just a few short years. 

And perusing through my old blog posts is providing the same sense of astonishment at how quickly time is transforming my baby into a little girl.

She just seems so grown up now, at the ripe old age of three.  She getting taller and her cheeks are losing their baby fat, her hair is so long and golden and beautiful, she's becoming coy and flashing those beautiful baby blues at Rich and I when she wants something, batting her eyelashes and tilting her head just so...learning about those feminine wiles already.

She's completely potty trained now, even at night.  Thank God in heaven for that!  She's learning her alphabet and singing songs constantly and is adventurous and friendly.  She's independent and likes to pick out her own clothes, get herself dressed and requests specific hairstyles now.  She also prefers not to cuddle much anymore, which makes me sad sometimes, but is just another fact in the mounting pile of evidence that Lena is growing up.

One of the most special things I've noticed about my girl as she's growing and learning is her genuine love and affection for her brother.  They play rough and fight just like any siblings do.  But she adores that boy and is his constant companion.  Maybe it's a second child thing.  Maybe it's a little girl admiring her big brother thing.  Whatever the reason, it's there.  And it's undeniable.  I have photo documentation. 

She always has her hand on him...

even when she doesn't know we're watching. 

She looks at him admiringly...

and holds his hand...

or both.

"Nurturing" is what comes to mind when I look at these pictures.  My sweet, precious, brother-loving daughter is a natural nurturer...and I'm so proud of her for that!

Sammy - Part 2

Another Sam story that I have to share...

Sam finally had his 5-year check up yesterday, which went very well, I was told (Rich had the day off, so he was able to take him to the doctor).  Sam had to get three shots and was pretty scared.  Rich was spinning all sorts of tales trying to get Sam in touch with his bravery.  The one that seemed to do the trick was about superheros having to stay healthy and get shots, too. 

After the shots, which Sam didn't even cry for, Rich asked him for a high five for doing so well.  They did their old up high, on the side, down low, too slow game. 

But this time Sam wasn't too slow.  He slapped Rich's hand! 

Rich, feigning astonishment, told Sam that the shots must have made him super fast, like Flash.  So Sam went through the day thinking the shots made him into a superhero.

Then at bedtime he said to me, "Mommy?  What was in those shots they gave me, anyway?" 

He seemed a little upset that he'd been changed into Flash, his little lip trembling.  So I told him that Daddy was just joking around with him and that he wasn't really Flash.  That the shots just keep him healthy so he can grow up to be big and strong and smart, like lots of superheros.

"I know, Mom.  I need to be hit by lightening to be like Flash." 

"No, Sammy.  You don't want to be struck by lightening!  That would hurt bad, maybe even kill you.  You don't want to become a superhero that way.  Let's find another superhero you want to be like."

"Hmmm, what about Ironman?", he asked.

"Now that's a good one!  The super thing about him is that he's super smart.  And you know how you get super smart?  By paying attention in school, trying really hard, studying and listening to your teachers and to Mommy and Daddy." (Sam's been having trouble listening lately.)


"What about Captain America?", he asked.

"Another good one!  He's super brave and super good.  He's a soldier who makes good decisions, thinks of others before himself, and is very courageous.  You can be like him by listening to us and your teachers, trying hard at school, making good decisions, eating and drinking lots of good things, exercising and getting lots of sleep."


This conversation seemed to calm him down and, I'm hoping, sink into his little boy subconscious a bit. 

"What about Superman, Mom?", he asked.

"No, he's an alien.  A good guy, but an alien.  Let's stick with Ironman and Captain America."

"Good idea."

Then we sang our song and he fell fast asleep, surely dreaming of chasing bad guys and flying through the sky. 

Sammy

Driving Sam to school yesterday afternoon, I heard a news report on the radio that a man in Oklahoma had been killed when a tornado crushed the shed where he had taken shelter during these crazy storms most of the country has been experiencing.  I immediately looked in my rear view to see if Sam had heard it. 

Of course he had, his big beautiful eyes full of concern.

"Mom, why was there a tornado?  Was that man in his house?  Why wasn't his house safe?  Is he with baby Jesus now?  Will we get a tornado?  The wind is blowing hard today..."

I reexplained the tornado facts we've already discussed with him, toeing that fine line between informing our kids, giving them respect and a healthy fear of dangerous things without scaring the hell out of them.  Not an easy task.

Then I explained that the man from Oklahoma might have been stranded somewhere or might not have had a home to go to and that's why he wasn't in a safe place when the tornado came.  But that he is in heaven now and God is taking care of him.

Those answers seemed to appease him, but his big old blue eyes still looked worried. 

Sam goes to kindergarten in the fall (ugh) and, since he seemed to be concerned about the safety issue, I told him about the tornado drills his school will practice so that if a real tornado ever comes, they'll know what to do and where to go to stay safe. 

His eyes softened a little at that news and he said, "You know, Mommy...that's pwetty (pretty) handy!". 

He's brought up tornadoes once and the Oklahoma man a couple times today, asking if he had kids or a Mommy...I hate for him to worry.  But am proud of his compassion. 

What is Wisdom?

"The more I live, the more I learn.
The more I learn, the more I realize
The less I know."

I assumed that as I aged, I would gain more understanding.  That somehow my experiences and education would gradually amass to provide me with a certain amount of enlightenment.  Not that I would become brilliant or something.  But I was holding out for wiser. 

However, it seems a world that I assumed would become more black and white as I accumulated years is just getting grayer. 

For instance, the more I learn, the less I understand people and their actions, including my own sometimes.  But at the same time I seem to give them more room for error now.  I don't judge them as often or as harshly as I used to, which I think is good.  Where I seem to be losing insight as to why people do the things they do, I'm gaining appreciation for the fact that I don't know what that person's world is like, where they come from, what they have endured or survived or witnessed. Not that that excuses certain behaviors.  But it does help me assimilate information, which gives me some sense of comfort in these very uncomfortable times. 

There are a few things I feel more certain of now than in my younger days.  My faith is one of them.  But just as with everything else, while my conviction of God's love solidifies in my soul, my mind is less able to explain why.  Maybe it's because the vastness of God and the infinity of his love and his peace are unexplainable, especially to those who haven't felt it.  Now that I'm older, I accept the fact that I will never be able to comprehend it all.  I've done my doubting and studying and questioning and learning and searching, and have arrived at a place where the answers I have found are steadfast enough for my mind to justify accepting the truths I cannot grasp. 

Business, hardships, religion, disappointments, love, war, technology, politics, death, life...I don't intellectually understand much more than I did ten years ago.  But I do feel like I've grown.  Matured.  Where I've accepted my mind's limitations, I've made up for by expanding my...what...spirituality?  humanity?  maybe both. 

Maybe that's what wisdom is.  Maybe it's not merely the edification of one's intellect, but also the illumination of one's soul.

Christmas Day

I realize that it's January 16th and I'm posting about events on December 25th.  I'm behind...I hope that's not going to be a theme for 2013.  

My parents alternate every other year staying Christmas Eve night at Lori and my houses.  That way they have the opportunity to watch all their grandkids open gifts bright and early on Christmas morning.  I love this tradition.    

This year it was our turn to have them stay, which our kids thought was the best thing EVER.  (And to be honest, I did too.)  We had a lovely lazy morning opening and playing with presents from Santa while enjoying homemade lemon cranberry scones, cheesy egg puffs and gallons of coffee.  It will go on record as one of my favorite Christmas mornings ever.  

Santa did a pretty good job of not going overboard with the kids' gifts this year.  I was proud of him.  

And the kids are both at such perfect ages to truly enjoy receiving gifts.  They open each one like it's their only present and are so excited about it even if it's not that exciting.  I love that about young kids...how do I get that to stick?  

He was very serious about his policeman uniform.

And she was very affectionate with Merida.

Later we headed over to Lori's house for Christmas Day dinner.

Lori, of course, had her home decorated like a magazine.  It was the perfect setting in which  to share a wonderful meal and lots of laughs and good times.

Matt's parents were able to come, which was wonderful.  It made the day feel complete.

Chillin' by the fireside.  So sweet.

Lena found a stick outside that she played with all afternoon.  None of us could quite figure out the allure, but it kept her happy and quiet, so who am I to judge.  

We may have overdone it a little on presents there, but really that was for everyone - kids, parents, sisters, brother-in-laws, dogs...so actually it doesn't seem too over the top.

Sweet Lily girl with her baby...the best dog ever.

So another successful Christmas holiday was had by all.  We were all healthy and happy.  We celebrated with family and friends God's gift of salvation in the form of his son.  We sang hymns of joy at church and loved on each other at home.  I felt our blessings deeply this year and they overwhelmed me.   

Salinger's Girl

I read a quote today from an obscure short story called "A Girl I Knew".  JD Salinger wrote the story and it was published years ago by a woman's magazine. The quote was beautiful and painted such a vivid picture of this woman with just a few short words.  It provoked me to scour the internet in hopes of finding it, which of course I did. 

The quote was this:

"She wasn't  doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together." 

Upon finding the story, I read it fast and greedily.  Then I read through it again slowly.  It is a beautiful short story written in his simple and effortless way.  Here is the link if you'd like to read it yourself.  A Girl I Knew

Another quote that moved me from that story was this:

"A man can’t go along indefinitely carrying around in his pocket a key that doesn’t fit anything."

I usually don't like short stories.  I prefer diving into characters and stories that don't let me come up for air for days.  But as one gets older, one's perspective changes.  I'm starting to appreciate short stories more now because they leave so much to the reader's imagination.  They sometimes ingrain themselves deeper into my mind than a novel can because of all that's unwritten.  All that's left unsaid is filled in by my own imagination, which makes the story more personal to me.  Makes me feel a part of it in some way.  I mean, I read this story this morning, and I still can't shake it.... 

God bless writers and poets and thinkers and feelers and artists.  They so enrich our lives.