Jachin: Mom, do you like me?

Me: Of course. I love you. And like you.

Zoe: What?!? You mean you don’t love me?

Me: I love you, too.

Zoe: No you don’t. You only love Jachin.

Me: Why do you guys think that I can only love one of you at a time? Do you seriously think it’s impossible for me to love both of you at once?

Jachin: It is impossible to love us both. Your “Love Tank” is too empty.

I didn’t even know I had one of those, let alone the status of its emptiness.

Jachin has been waiting ALL summer, and saving his money for WEEKS, anxiously anticipating the release of the new Bionicle Mahri’s. He checked the Lego site each day, being promised over and over “Coming This Summer!”.  Well, folks, it’s nearly the end of summer, and he’s been dying, his faith in the sacred Lego corporation waning. And then three days ago it happened. We were in Target and he checked the toy section, as he does every time we enter Target’s doors… and there they were. The blessed Mahri’s.

He was still a couple of bucks short, so he got up early the very next morning to do all of his chores in order to collect his allowance a day early. He was precious. The tub sparkled. The toilet bowl sparkled. There wasn’t a speck of trash in any trashcan in the house. His bedroom floor was sort of clean… everything was pushed against the walls so that he could do a quick vacuum and I would no longer fear of breaking my ankle while walking through his room in the dark. He earned his money. For real.

So tonight we went back to Target. We went straight to the Mahri’s. He looked them all over for some time. He lined them up and looked at them side-by-side. He turned them around backwards and lined them up and compared all of the specs listed on the back of each container. He’d been waiting all summer. This was a huge decision. I was patient. Ultimately he picked the black one, Toa Nuparu.

I had to get a few other items while we were there, one of them being a new shade of lip gloss. He followed me through the store, staring at Nuparu’s box, walking into clothing racks. I walked into the makeup section and stared. I began pulling out lip glosses at random. I am horrible at picking out lip colors. I don’t know why. But every lipstick and tube of lip gloss I own is all wrong. And the tiny colored squares on the displays are useless. “Coral Fantasy”, when put on your lips, does not look like the small “Coral Fantasy” square. I pulled one out and held the tube next to my lips and puckered.

“How does this look?”

 Jachin briefly looked up from his toy and said in a very non-excited voice, ”That one’s great.”

I wasn’t convinced. I held up a different one and puckered. “How about this one?”

He looked up and tried to sound an eensy bit more enthusiastic. “Oh, my. Yes. That one makes you look even more blushingly beautiful.”

He was ready to go. He had his precious Mahri. He wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.

I threw “Peaches and Gleam” in the cart and wheeled it out of there. My son had a Bionicle to build.

Oh… and yeah, of course, Peaches and Gleam looks like crap on me. But Toa Nuparu is sweeeeeeet.

 This is NOT the new one… but nonetheless a ruthless one. It attacked me in the car without provocation. Who has the gnarlier feet?

This morning Jachin got to pick from his “good behavior basket”. He picked out a soda powered clock that I picked up at Target in the clearance toy section for $3.28. He got it all built and juiced (that’s Diet Coke on the left and lemon juice on the right) and hooked the contacts all in the right places and… voila!

He did have to “borrow” 2 ounces of his mother’s Diet Coke to get it going. His mother growled and paced the kitchen, mouth foaming, as he cautiously reached across the counter for the can. No sudden movements. Real easy like. Mama’s growls eventually subsided. He tamed the beast with a hug and a smooch.

Mission accomplished (limbs intact)!

Jachin received his Bobcat badge (and some other sweet awards from daycamp) at Pack meeting last night. He was happy about it, see:

Let’s see that excitement close-up, shall we?

There was a special cheer… I think it was the “rocket” cheer or something. He was excited about the cheer, as well.

But then there were water balloons which lifted everyone’s moods.

And at the end of the evening, the boy cracked a smile.

Good job, Jachin. I’m proud of you… whether you like it or not!

Zoe and her polar bear jammies are back! She wanted to do her own video blog. So may I present:

20 Questions with Zoe

Zoe’s Preschool (and soon to be Kindergarten) has a great summer program with lots of neat camps. I signed my kids up for “Survivor Camp”, lasting all this week. Today they made s’mores (in the microwave… go figure), made a first aid bag with their names stenciled on the front, and drew a picture of what they would take along if they were stranded on a deserted island. Zoe showed me her picture as soon as she hopped in the car at pick up. Her picture showed in detail her blanket, pillow, a change of clothes, and some fire wood. Oh yeah, and there was a boat floating just off shore… which is actually the one thing you really want. Oddly, she hadn’t drawn a microwave for s’mores. I told her what a great job she did and then asked Jachin where his picture was. He immediately started giggling, which is always a bad sign. He then told me this: “Jake and I taped our pictures together to make one big picture, and it was a huge scene with battle droids attacking the palm trees and Jake drew Obi Wan Kenobi attacking the trees and we also drew a Republic drop ship and it was attacking everything. It was hilarious!” And then just when I opened my mouth to say how hilarious it sounded, he added: “Oh, and there was also an elevator at the bottom of the palm tree.” I was curious: “Where did the elevator go?” D’uh, mom: “To the top of the palm tree. The battle droids rode it up and blew up the top of the palm tree.”

And for this I paid $125 for the week. Per kid.

After Survivor Camp, we rode down to Jon’s work to have lunch and feed the resident ducks that hang out around his work complex. It was fun:

Soon, though, it was time to go:

It was very fun, though. And my children are precious.

This is who you don’t  want to respond when you call 911:

Although I carry enough crap in that purse you see there to knock out a window to rescue a cat, or a houseplant, or something else very light that I could actually lift with my weak girly muscles and carry half-safely out a burning window.

A safer rescuing bet would be this:

My children, who are physically stronger than their mother. Sad.

My son’s cub scout den visited the Orem Fire Station yesterday for a VIP tour. I now know the answers to the following hilarious questions that a group of 8 year olds would find answer-worthy and inevitably ask:

* Can a fire truck drive through a car wash?

* What happens if you are driving to a fire in a fire truck and one of the guys on your fire truck gets hurt or chokes?

* What happens if there is a fire right across the street from the station? Do you drive the truck over or just walk?

* What happens when you run out of air in your air tank?

* If you get a fire call and you are in the shower, do you rinse your hair first or just leave the shampoo in and run?

* Why is this helmet all sweaty and smelly?

If you would like to know the answers to any of those questions, shoot me or my son an email… we would be happy to impart all of our new-found fire safety knowledge to you.

Rockin out runs in the family:

Cousins from near and far converged on Utah for July 24th (”Pioneer Day” in Utah). Every grandkid on my husband’s parents’ side is here for the week, which can mean only one thing: many hours of Guitar Hero showdowns.  The picture above is of Zoe and Keeley. There is a definite family resemblance. Zoe likes to rock out with her tongue hanging out, a la Gene Simmons. The red eyes are simply a camera effect (read: I’m a sucky photographer), but really add to the whole Girl Power attitude.

Now we come to Lily:

Lily is a wee bit smaller and therefore is not allowed to rock out with the bigger girls. She is allowed only to perform routine roadie duties; mic checks, guitar tuning, selecting “easy” mode.

Jachin is an energetic child. Very energetic. To the point of hardly ever sitting still… unless he is building Legos. If Legos are involved, he can sit for hours. He wants to be a Lego designer when he grows up, and I believe that he can. He is so very smart and creative. But when he is not building Legos, he is all over the place. His brain is all over the place. When I speak to him, his eyes are all over the place. When he tries to sit still, his body is all over the place.

Knowing that his “well visit” was coming up at the pediatrician, I called and asked the nurse a few casual questions about ADD. She said that the office had some ADD questionnaires that I could pick up, Jon and I could fill them out, and I could bring them in at his well visit. So I picked them up and Jon and I filled them out. Jon’s questionnaire was much less incriminating than mine. He said things like: Jachin fidgets “sometimes”, and he seems to run on a motor “occasionally”; while mine said something like, “Please!!! Medicate this child!! … Or medicate me so I can handle him!!”

Yesterday I took Jachin in for his well visit. I gave the questionnaires to the doctor and talked to him for a while. I told him that Jachin is perfect and focused when he is playing Legos. The doctor asked how he is when he isn’t doing Legos… like, the at the grocery store or at church. So I told him. Jachin sat nearby, Lego-guy (that he designed and built) in hand, talking to me, interrupting the doctor, talking to the Lego-guy… and the doctor suggested a medication. I asked him what it would do to my sweet little man’s personality, and he assured me that with the right dosage, Jachin would remain Jachin… but Jachin with the ability to sit on a pew during church without rolling down the aisles. The doctor talked to Jachin. He asked him if he sometimes had a hard time concentrating on things. Jachin responded, “My mom never gives me money for things like Legos, so I have to earn money myself.” Umm, okay. The doctor casually responded, “That’s good. It’s good to earn things yourself. My son mows lawns to earn money.” Jachin asked how much the doctor’s son earned per lawn and how often lawns need to be mowed, and then mentally figured out how long it would take to earn enough money for the big Lego Mars Mission set, just by mowing the lawns on our street.

The kid can do tricky math—fast—in his head, but he didn’t even seem to hear the doctor’s original question of “Is it sometimes hard to concentrate”. That is SOOO my son in a nutshell.

So we get the prescription, and we bring it home, and I’m fretting and wringing my hands, wondering if I am a failure mother because I’ve just filled a brain altering prescription for my sweet little 8 year old.

We sit around the table eating dinner, and I tell my husband that I got a prescription and we sort of dance around the subject because I don’t want to get into it too much in front of the kids. But alas, children are smart and of course they know what we’re talking about. And then sweet little Jachin turns to me and says:

“Mom, why do I have to be on medication just for being me?”

And then there is the distinct sound of my heart breaking because my son thinks that there is something inherently wrong with him being himself. And I try not to break into tears over my fajitas and I tell him that there is nothing wrong with him being him. That the medicine is just to help his body do the things that his brain wants it to do. Like sit still sometimes. But his big brown puppy eyes look at me like I have crushed his very spirit. And I realize that I am the worst mommy ever.

And this morning I am trying not to cry over my laptop, and I’m listening to the quiet of my son building Legos, and I’m contemplating flushing the damn pills down the toilet and just letting my son run around the world like the smart little maniac that he is.

Dialog on the way into the music store:

Me: Don’t touch anything in here.

Them: Ok, mom

Me: Seriously, there are some very nice, very expensive pianos in here. Don’t touch them.

Them: Ok, mom

Me: We just need to get your piano books. It will take 2 seconds. Can you keep your hands off of stuff for 2 seconds?

Them: Yes, mom

Two seconds later: 

Loud, kazoo “music” heard.

Me: Jachin, what are you doing?!?

Jachin: (talking through the kazoo) What? I’m not touching it with my hands, just blowing on it with my mouth.

Me: (wondering how I could have overlooked the “mouth” thing during my hands-off speech; pointing to a sign stating “IF YOU BLOW ON IT, YOU BUY IT”)

Jachin: Yay! I get a kazoo!

At least he wasn’t blowing on a $400 trumpet.

ps- on a less-irritated note, their piano lessons are progressing well.