From The Mind Of Gunnar

Gunnar made a (benign) comment about a friend of his, prompting me to ask a question about this particular friend.

Gee, I don't know, he shrugged, I'm not nosy...   

I prefer observant.

Heard From Up The Stairs This Morning

Gunnar:  Mom!  I can't find anything green to wear...   OW! Cut it out, Wyatt!

And a happy St. Patrick's Day to you, too.

Happy Birthday Tate, and The Small Reveal

After Monday's post, when I kept yammering on about a secret, and then Leah referred (in the comments) to our trip last fall, I felt a bit guilty about leading you on, because this is nowhere near that exciting.  But it is a SURPRISE, which makes it lots of fun.

Even though Tate nearly spoiled the surprise, but I'm a quick thinker (and possibly - in this case - a white liar) but more about that later.

Today is Tate's 14th birthday, and I won't see hide nor hair of him.  I dropped him off at Grandpa and Grandma Grasshopper's last night so he and Grandpa Grasshopper could get an early start this morning.  They're off to Wyoming for a guided deer hunt, and we're praying for safety (lots of traveling and snowy passes to cross) and for success (venison!)

Knowing that he'd be gone on his birthday we planned to celebrate it a bit early.  We're planner in my family.  Not so my new SIL, who is like a deer in the headlights when we break out our calendars.  Well, (s)he who hesitates has lost, and let me introduce you to the family tradition of being

volun-told.  

We celebrated Tate and Grandma Grasshopper's birthdays at Dave and Allyson's house.  Besides, we all wanted to see the baby :D

I already showed you a couple of little things I made for my mom, and here she is opening some candles to go with.  My parents are at that stage of life where they really don't need or want much, and mostly we get them consumables.  Not necessarily food, mind you, but stuff they'll use up.  And candles are a constant necessity in our homes :D

Oh my goodness, I cannot resist that grin.  That dimple.  Uncle Dave picks out the best cards.  Too bad I snapped the picture so fast I cropped it out.  I think it said something about laughing so hard you accidentally toot.  Perfect adolescent boy fodder :D

Somebody was a bit fussy.  Poor kid.  She doesn't get to see us often enough to remember any of us, but that gave us lots of chances to snuggle and comfort, as Grandpa was doing so well here :D

I'll have to pay attention and get a better three generations photo than this, but here they are.

Tate's birthday definitely had a theme... can you tell?

While little Naomi rocked out in her swing.

Going....

... going...

... gone.

My cousin thrilled my mom with a family tradition - Chocolate Dream Cake - while Aunty Tami honored Tate with Moo-wiches, ice-cream/cookie sandwiches.  Yum!

And then there was the usual sugar-induced horsing around...

Wyatt crowned Kerry "Bag-dad".

And Tate showed off more of his birthday goodies :D

So happy birthday, my testosterone-addled young man, and happy hunting to you!

But none of that is any surprise... did you think I forgot?

While Tate and Grandpa have been planning their trip, Grandma Grasshopper has had something up her sleeve.  By the time you read this, she'll have arrived here this morning and told Gunnar to pack his bag.  He'll be in a tizzy of excitement and pestering her with an endless barrage of, Where are we going, Grandma?  I'll have secretly packed for me and Wyatt.  In fact, I'm sending Wyatt off to school, completely unaware and we're picking him up there, mid-morning - I can't wait to surprise him!  And she is whisking us all away for a long weekend at.....

Great Wolf Lodge!

Which is an enormous indoor waterpark resort, about four hours from here.  They'll be over the moon, with all the pools and water-slides.  And I'll be over the moon that they're having so much fun, and - other than putting together some lunches in our room - I won't be cooking a single meal for four days.

And I can reveal it all now (pics to come later) since the house won't be sitting empty, as Kerry is staying home.  Don't feel too bad for him - he'll be holding down the fort, eating leftover candy, having "guy time" with his brother, and will be fed to the gills at the church potluck the rest of us will be missing.  Probably preferable to sharing the one hotel room with his MIL, no matter how delightful she is ;D

And oh my word, the surprise almost got blown.  Tate went out to the rifle range with my dad earlier this week.  Dad told him about our trip and he innocently said something about them going to the waterslides.  Oh boy was I on the spot!

Thank heavens for Felicity - my South African friend!  We met them (happy squeal!) up in Canada yesterday, where they were visiting.  I'll post pictures next week - no time this morning!  I had been planning an activity to do with them up in the Vancouver area, so when Tate said "waterslides" I told a bit of a lie.

Oh no...  I considered that, but decided on the Cannery instead.  They have little ones that may be too tired to enjoy something like a big, loud waterslides pool after flying half way round the world.

Yes, I pretended Tate was referring to our jaunt to Canada.  Fortunately only Tate could see my giant wink and caught the hint immediately.  I was able to pull him aside and fill him in and - bless his heart - he kept the secret beautifully.

So now, off to pack some bags!

And... we're off!

Brain Dump

It's been awhile since I've done this.  A brain dump.  Rather like downloading a few of the thoughts that have been rattling around between my ears.  And I have to tell you right up front, the last few days have been... a little weird.  But then, what else is new? ;D

In fact, I feel like I need to make a few announcements to the unmatched-chromosomes I live with, so here we go.

1.  About paint.  When you're cleaning out the garage and spill paint on a pair of jeans that don't yet have any holes in them, immediate action needs to be taken.  And by immediate action I don't mean wadding them up in a ball and leaving them in the laundry basket.

2.  About spray starch.  Attention zealous iron-ers: I applaud your budding interest in looking neat and tidy for CAP and the effort you're expending to have those crisp creases in your uniforms.  However.  If any more overspray gets on the bathroom floor OSHA isn't going to let me in there to do any more laundry.  That stuff is slick, so watch your aim.

And speaking of the bathroom...

3.  About the toilet.  A clogged toilet overflows on the second flush, so slow down and think before you pull that lever again.  Every day I'm thankful for the wonder of modern plumbing, but boys - it's not magic.  There are limits.  Don't push your luck.

On to other things...

4.  Two of my three boys now wear men's sizes.  That is hard for me to believe, but it's true.

5.  Underwear.  I remember when the boys each potty-trained.  Wouldn't you?  I mean, that's a milestone.  We had a party for each of them (a poopy party) and they got to go to the store and pick out their own underwear.  Because let me tell you, little-boy underwear is pretty cute.  We had tighty-whities with space ships, insects, heavy equipment, and all manner of things on them.  And I thought those days were long gone.  But lo and behold, Fruit of the Loom makes camo underwear.  In men's sizes.  Which was a (small) thrill for one of the young men in this house.

6.  A question.  I have to wonder, what is the purpose of camouflage underwear?  I mean, I understand wearing camo for hunting, or military purposes.  But just what exactly is the scenario that calls for camouflage underwear?  Maybe it's better we don't answer that.

7.  Figgers of speech.  That's what Gunnar calls idioms and expressions.  He's ten - nearly eleven - and has a wonderful vocabulary, but every once in awhile he mispronounces things.  Sometimes it's kind of cute ("What in carnation?") but somehow I doubt the BUDK company appreciates you 'reading' their name as a word, which I don't think it is.  And it catches me off guard when you ask me when that order from buttock is coming.

8.  Morning.  I've been getting up earlier lately.  I used to be the early riser of the family, but Tate - the usurper - has pulled ahead.  (And good for him.  He gets himself up at 6am, reads his Bible, exercises, and studies for CAP, all before breakfast.)  I'm out to reclaim my title (and my quiet time) and have been setting the alarm for 5:45.

9.  More about morning.  However.  There's this thing about morning.  It comes early.  And sometimes I'm not quite awake, even though I'm up.  And let me tell you something else, Freesia scented body splash and leave-in-hair-conditioner come in the same size spritz bottles but have an entirely different effect when you spray them down the inside of your shirt.  And that is all I have to say about getting up early.

Because I really need to go to bed.

Commander's Call

The first CAP meeting of the month is a big deal.  

The boys wear their dress blues (and there is much ironing and shoe-shining), and awards are given.  It took us awhile to figure out the system for promoting, which involves aerospace testing, leadership testing, PT testing, and drill testing (marching and following orders).  To make everything more complicated, the meetings are all held at the armory, which is a big concrete echo chamber.  I don't know how Tate understands a thing anyone says.  I can barely manage it.

As we sat through the Commander's Call (meeting) in the back row, trying valiantly to follow the various speakers, Gunnar got more and more frustrated.  He kept asking me what people were saying and I was only catching half of it anyway and I kept shushing him.

Finally he gritted his teeth and said,

I can't see what they're doing.  
I can't hear what they're saying.  
What am I supposed to do, smell what's happening?

Well, I guess you could try.

I'll have a CAP update tomorrow :D

Oh My Word... word...word... word...

I've read that men speak, on average, 7000 words per day.

It's only 8:19 in the morning and I'm pretty sure that Gunnar is already over his quota.

For Tate

Frederick the Great, of Prussia

(Too good to languish in yesterday's comments... thanks Doug!)

Plans

At dinner last night Gunnar was describing all the glory that was the chocolate turnover he had sampled at lunch.   He went on to imagine how wonderful it would taste to drink warm brownie batter.  (And now you know more about our family than you may have cared to...)

Kerry turned to him and said, "Gunnar, maybe when you grow up you'll be a chef!"

Gunnar wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Nah, I've already got plans.

The Definition of a Great Evening

I was out late last night at Messiah rehearsal and the boys were already asleep when I got home.  Gunnar came in for a quick snuggle this morning.

How did your rehearsal go, Mama?  

Great!  How did your evening go?

Great!  The Spam was past it's expirin' date!

Girls' Night Out, or What Women Want

Meanwhile, since the boys were off having fun (post below), Gramma Grasshopper and I had a Girls' Night Out.

It's not what you're thinking.

Girls' Night Out means an evening at home, with chocolate-peanut-butter ice cream, a chick-flick, and - mainly - since the guys aren't around - relaxing certain standards of dress. 

You know, neglecting to wear certain supportive undergarments.

Because we're classy like that.

Things Gunnar Says

When he's messing around -

I'm just fiddle-de-dee-ing.

When something makes him anxious - 

Oooooooo, that makes my feet feel sweaty.

When he wants to change the format of his personal blog -

I'm just doin' some small tweakments to my blog.

When he's describing a recurring dream -

You know, that endlessly-falling-in-the-bottomless-black-pit-of-no-return dream...

Gunnarisms

Looking through some photos with me, Gunnar remembered the day we went to Seattle for my uncle's wedding reception and spent some time at the Locks.   The boys were on their best behavior, and all decked out in nice shirts and even ties.  I reminded him of how handsome they all looked.

Mom, (eyes roll,) no boy in his right mind likes to be dressed up.  Especially in a tie.

And...

Yesterday, driving to a friend's house, the boys were planning the teams, weapons, strategy, etc. for a big battle they wanted to have.  Knowing that one of the boys who would be there doesn't always handle this well I tried to encourage them to think of some other options.  You know, ride your scooters in the cul-de-sac or something.  I got three blank stares. And then,

Mom, you just don't think like a boy.

For which we can all give thanks.

More Vocabulary

Wyatt and Tate are having a hard time not talking too much about the LOTR in front of Gunnar, who hasn't read the book yet.  I keep telling them not to spoil it for him. 

Gunnar is a good reader, and he could probably make himself read through all of those books, but he wouldn't enjoy it yet.  Wyatt took up that theme and began to list some of the places in the book with less action.  "Oh, that chapter on the Council of Elrond went on and on forever, and then....."

Tate, not wanting Gunnar to be discouraged, interrupted.

Wyatt, stop being so foreboding!

The Buccaneer Bible?

Wyatt's book is growing.  Oh, if that boy could just control his temper and his tongue!

The good news is that I let him exchange part of his sentence-writing sentence for hard labor, in the form of shoveling off the end of the driveway.  Hard, heavy rocky dirt has sloughed off the bank and onto the pavement, and he used it to fill in the hole in front of the gate where we removed a stump.

And I have a new paper to add to his file, this one featuring Proverbs 12:18, over and over and over again.  And, once more, the last one translated into Wyatt's Unauthorized Pirate Version, which reads,

Reckless words pierce like a cutlass, aye, but the severed tongue of the wise be bringin' healin'.

I'm not sure I should encourage him, but I have to laugh.

Overheard

The boys are rebuilding Lego kits.  Still.  A source of much frustration.  Especially when they're each trying to build a kit of their own, rather than cooperating.  I try to let them work it out on their own, only stepping in when the tension rises.

Gunnar, to Wyatt, with frustration,

I'd be much obliged if you'd - once you're done - help me.

At least he's asking nicely.

Gunnarism

In the school room yesterday, Gunnar, trying to figure something out,

What in carnation?

I think they've been watching westerns.

Morning Words

Gunnar often comes creeping into our bed in the morning, for a little snuggle.
He tells me things.

And I listen, though I can't say I'm actually awake.

This time it's All.  About.  Star Wars.

And it goes on, and on.  I nod and mmm-hmmm from time to time, until finally I say, "Gunnar, I really need to get up now."

He clutches my arm tightly and hugs me.

"Not yet, Mom, we have so much to talk about!"

The "we" part is a little fuzzy, but I am powerless to resist and snuggle back in with him.

There is more about Star Wars.  A great deal more.  And then,

"Mom, who's your favorite Star Wars character?"

"Mmmmmmmm, I don't have a favorite.  Ummmm, Harrison Ford.  Uh, that's Han Solo."

"Guess my favorite character, Mom."

"Ummmm... R2D2?"

There is a silence as he ponders the accuracy of my amazing and unforeseen intuition.

"Mom, your conscience is cheating."

Puny

Gunnar has said something along these lines to me several times:

  Mom, I love to go hiking and enjoy God's beautiful creation. It makes me feel puny.

And he said that knowing it was a good thing.

TMI

He can compress the most words into the smallest ideas of any man I ever met.
Abraham Lincoln

Heard Around the House

Gunnar and Kerry were having a friendly argument this morning (joking around), when Gunnar tried for an idiom and almost made it...

You've... you've... you've got a gadget missin' in your head!

Or a screw loose.  Whatever.