Opposites Do Attract

You always hear people ask "how can two kids, who are raised by the same two people in the same environment be so completely different?".   In fact, I often marvel at the unique genetic combinations my children inherited from Mr. Level-Headed and I.  One rule of thumb in our house is: if a child looks like one particular side of the family then they act like the other side.  It is so funny!  Zoe looks identical to her mama, but every ounce of her personality is level-headed.  Elliot is Webster through and through down to his round, little face and hazel eyes, but, and I don't usually like to admit this, he acts just like his mama with his flare for everything dramatic!  Avery is no exception.  He looks identical to papa Skov, but he has his dad's intense determination.

You should now begin to ask yourself "where is she going with this?"

wait for it . . . 

wait for it . . .

On Monday night, Avery came home from soccer determined to become as strong as Captain America, without relying on the plush muscles sewn into his costume.  

He briskly walked around the kitchen island, talking a mile a minute about his goals and, sadly, being ignored by his usually doting mother, who was being swallowed up by a ginormous mound of dirty dishes.  Sensing his words were falling upon deaf ears, he grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and began to outline his new workout and meal plan.  He put on his jammies, brushed his teeth, and went off to bed informing everyone that "sleep is work" and it is necessary for growing strong muscles.  

o-kay

The Master Plan

I love how the last line says: "after 21 days do ten more" . . . 

The next morning, as I was groggily roaming around the kitchen attempting to put together a lunch my lovely, teenage daughter may actually eat, I heard Avery hop out of bed and begin his new morning routine.  When I looked in on him, he was doing push ups on my exercise mat in his skibbees. Too cute!  In the background, I saw Elliot burrowed under three, thick blankets blissfully sleeping his morning away.  I laughed at the contrast.  Avery, being very Mr. Level-Headed-like, gives himself no excuse when it comes to getting things done.  As soon as the alarm goes off, he and his dad bound out of bed and never look back.  Elliot and I, on the other hand, need to be "brought around" to the idea of waking up and starting another day, like it is a choice.  We ease our way back into the world of the living; whereas, the Webster robots charge at it head on.

This morning was no different.  As I fumbled my way to the kitchen with my worn, fleece housecoat pulled tight around my body in an attempt to trick my sub-concious into thinking I was still wrapped up in my warm blankets, I heard Avery doing his jumping jacks in a dark room filled with the soft snores of his sleeping brother, and I chuckled.

Like Mr. Level-Headed and I, they may approach life differently, but they couldn't imagine living it without one another.

awwwwww . . . .

Just Another Manic Monday . . .

I read an expression this morning that I think sums up what is needed here at Shenanigans Inc.:

A Gentle Day

Doesn't that sound lovely?

Well, after the day we had yesterday, a gentle day is definitely in order.

It all started when I awoke and realised there was no milk left.  In fact, there was no cereal left.  The bread was gone and we were down to one egg.  Yikes!  No worries, though, I woke the boys up and announced we were going out for breakfast.

Yippee!

Since we were already up and out, I decided that this would be a good time to catch up on all those errands I keep putting off.  I am the Queen of Procrastination!  We did some shopping, washed the car, bought the week's groceries, ran home to unload the groceries, ate lunch, headed back out to get the oil changed in the car, and arrived home at 4pm to catch up on the schoolwork we missed and to make supper before soccer at 6:30pm.  Phew!

And here lies the problem:  amidst the flurry of activity and pressing time constraints, Elliot shuts down and I push harder.  Trust me, this is one lethal combination.  There were tears, there was shouting, there were empty threats made, and there were feelings hurt.  Ugh!

Thankfully, my hubby, who did I mention just finished his exam for the CMA course (woot! woot!), was actually home for supper, and managed to save the day with his level-headedness by sitting down with Elliot, turning his funk of a mood around with a monetary incentive (I prefer the word incentive to bribery, don't you?) and helping him to finish his work.  Then, like only the best Super Heroes can, he made the evening even better by taking the kids to soccer (woot! woot! woot!).

Although I promised to clean up the kitchen while he was gone, I lied.  Yeah, that's the kind of girl I am.  Instead, I laid on the couch and read some blogs, called my mom, and took a hot bath.

Shrouded within the peace and quiet of my home, clarity returned.

Okay, girl.   You screwed up.  You lost your patience and your cool, BUT tomorrow is another day.  Oh, and don't forget all the good things that did happen today.

Does anyone else do that; forget all the wonderful things they did in a day after only one screw up?  I do this ALL the time.  I beat myself up mercilessly for the one mistake and ignore the hundred things I did right.

So, I started focusing on what went right with our day.

First of all, I bought a bathing suit that, if you allow me to boast for only a moment, I totally rock in and, as all you ladies out there can testify, this is a small miracle in of itself.  

Second of all, I filled my home with nutritious food for my family, which is hugely significant because I once again sustained the life of five whole people on the earth today.  Wow!  

Third, I gave the boys a brand new experience here on this mortal journey of theirs by taking them to the car wash.  I know!  Their first one . . . who knew they were leading such deprived lives, or that I am such a neglectful car owner?  I must say, though, it did blow their mind!

I apologise for how blurry this picture is, but I think it captures the boys' excitement to a tee.

Fourth, my heart was full and I had one of those proud mama moments when Avery exclaimed: "Sometimes I get so happy that I think my head might burst right open!".  Totally made my day!  

And last but not least, I laid down in bed with Elliot last night, where we snuggled and apologised for all the grief we had caused one another and promised to never do it again.  Awwwww!

Okay, so, we both lied but, hey, we went to bed happy and eager to face another day together.  

tee hee!

Learned Helplessness

One of the things I have to be careful with Elliot is not allowing him to develop a learned helplessness.  This is not a unique concern for those with NLD, a nonverbal learning disorder, but probably true for most people with a disability or some form of limitation.  As loving family members, we do not want to see them struggle with anything so we are quick to do it for them, but this is the worst thing we can do.  We have to encourage them and teach them how to overcome their challenges to enable them to develop a sense of independence and self worth.  The rule is that once they have learnt something on their own, you stop doing it for them.  And so, I got to work.

Lately, Elliot has been fascinated with cooking and preparing meals so I taught him how to do a few simple things around the kitchen from heating up soup to making Kraft Dinner.  Mr. Level-Headed figures with these two tricks up his sleeve, Elliot is now ready for University . . . tee hee! 

One week, Elliot was egg crazy, and I taught him how to make hard-boiled eggs and scrambled eggs.  Here is one of the breakfasts he made for himself.  Pretty impressive!

We have had a lot of success in the kitchen, but, unfortunately, this is the only area.  Last week I fell, unknowingly, into a huge trap and have had to spend all my time since working my way out of it.  It went down like this:  Elliot was having a rough morning (don't all of my stories start out like this?) so I threw him in the shower (not literally, I promise).  After his shower, he got out and dried himself off.  Then the meltdown began.  

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!   It's cold! . . . too cold! . . . I can't go on! . . . 

and so and so on.

To help him move out of this funk and get on with the rest of his day, I rushed in and made a deal with him.  I told him to hold the towel around himself, while I put his clothes on really quickly.  This way he wouldn't feel the cold.  BIG MISTAKE!  For the rest of the week, Elliot all of a sudden was unable to dress himself after getting out of the shower, and I, like his trained servant, would rush in and take care of it.  Then one morning, Mr. Level-Headed was home when Elliot had finished his shower and called out to me:

MOM, I'm cold . . . .

As I was about to sprint into action, Mr. Level-Headed looked at me and asked:

What's this all about?

So, I told him, and as the words were coming out of my mouth, I froze . . .

What have I done?  

And now I am spending my week trying to break Elliot from this habit . . . ugh!  What's that saying, something about taking one step forward and two steps back?

And since we are on the topic of my mistakes this week, here's another goody. 

I am loving Elliot's independence in the kitchen so much that one of our favourite lunches has become Make-Your-Own-Sub.  I simply lay out all the ingredients on the counter, and voila lunch is made and the boys are happy because everything is made just as they like it.  Yesterday, after school was finished for the morning, I sat down to finally write a blog post for the week, when all of a sudden that all-to-familiar sound erupted from the basement:  Mom, when is lunch?  We are starving! 

Not wanting to break my writing stride, I quickly threw the sub ingredients out on the counter and called:

Come and get it!  

Which totally worked with our cowboy theme yesterday . . . tee hee!

As I was finishing up my post, I heard a whole lot of giggling going on, so I looked up from my computer and saw this:

Leave it to Avery to find my chocolate chip stash and think: mmmmm chocolate and salami would go nicely together . . ..

He is so much like his mama.

Well, if I don't anything else for those two boys, at least they will be able to feed themselves during their university years, and, as for Elliot, I am sure there will be a long line of lovely ladies willing to dress him after his shower . . . 

tee hee!

Hmmmm . . . maybe he is smarter than I give him credit for.

The Demise of Childhood

I did something terrible tonight.

Yes, even more terrible than not blogging for a month.  Oh, sure you laugh. But I am serious!  I have done the worst thing a mother can do.  I have taken a sweet, innocent child and turned him into a corrupt gangster. 

Here's how it all went down:

Elliot and I were driving home from his InterAction Theatre class.  It was just the two of us in the car, and we were enjoying this rare moment of one-on-one time.  Ever since the snowstorm on Sunday, my kids have been obsessed with Christmas, and have spent the past few mornings poring over catalogues and commercials coming up with this year's Christmas list.  So, it was no surprise to me when Elliot began sharing some of his thoughts on the best Christmas presents this year. 

"Can I ask Santa Claus for a dirt bike?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's too much money, and Santa does not bring large presents like that."

You see where this is going don't you?

"Mom, who really buys the presents?  Is Santa real?"

Being the experienced parent I am and having gone through this with Zoe only three years prior, I didn't even flinch.

"What do you think, Elliot?"

"I think you buy the toys.  Am I right?"

"Yes you are, Elliot."

Then there was silence.  I had not expected this.  Zoe was elated to finally be granted access to the realm of adulthood and all of its secrets, but poor Elliot looked like he was going to throw up.

"Are you okay, Elliot?"

"Why did you tell me this!  What were you thinking?  No, I am not okay!   You have destroyed my life!"

And there he sat trying to put the pieces of his life back together.

I was crushed.  In a brief moment of insanity, I forgot that not all kids are alike, and just because Zoe was ready for this information at 10, does not mean Elliot was ready. 

"But, you asked.  I thought you knew.  I'm sorry, Elliot."

"The next thing you are going to tell me is there is no Easter Bunny . . . . . . . . . . . wait . . . . . . . are you serious?  So, basically, any body who "visits" on the holidays is a lie?"

and so on and so on.

As we pulled up to the house, he refused to get out of the car because he didn't know if he could face Avery.  He began to stress over the fact that he now had to keep this secret. 

"I need some time, Mom.  You can't just spring this on me a couple of minutes before we get home."

So, we sat in the car . . .

and sat and sat.

Finally, he decided to go in and talk to Mr. Level-Headed.  As he passed through the door, with his head down and a look of utter despair on his face, he whispered to me:

 "I don't think I can go on living anymore."

What is a parent to say?  

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I wished with all my heart that I could go back in time.  Back when my boy was still a little boy.  Back when life was magical for him.  Back when a jolly man dressed in red would make his wishes come true for one day of the year.  Back just twenty minutes ago!!

But I can't, and neither can Elliot.

After I tucked him into bed and kissed him goodnight, Elliot peeked down over the bar on his top bunk, and gestured for me to come back.  My heart stopped.  I had been beating myself up all evening over my mistake and didn't think I could take any more reminders of how I had destroyed his life.

"What is it, Love?" 

And with his infamous devilish grin, Elliot whispered:

"I now know your weakness", as he pointed to Avery.

WHAT?!

And there you have it . . . the evolution of a blackmailer!

I am in so much trouble.

tee hee!

Wonderfully Hard

The problem with not blogging everyday is that my thoughts are scrambled with the million and one things I want to share with you.

 Hmmm . . .  where should I begin?

Well, how about where I left off.

Elliot was being miserable, and I was distraught and exhausted.

Sounds like a great beginning doesn't it?

Unfortunately, this carried on for the rest of our week, and by Friday afternoon, I was done.  I was ready to pull the plug, and take the easy route.  I felt discouraged because Elliot was, well, being Elliot, and I was spending so much time on lesson planning, teaching, cleaning up, and coaching Zoe's school soccer team that I was unable to even think about doing something for myself to unwind, like post on my beloved blog.  With a weary body and an even more weary spirit, I dragged my butt out of the house on Friday afternoon to attend the Regional Women's Conference for my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, in Halifax with a bunch of friends.  Although this was the last thing I wanted to do because the thoughts of exerting any more energy and leaving all my chores behind only to be completed later did not sound appealing, it turned out to be the best thing I could do.  With each town we passed along the highway, I could feel my spirit lifting as I became further and further away from the concerns I left behind at home.

Ahhh!  Freedom!!

I had forgotten just how wonderful it is to spend an evening with girlfriends eating, laughing, and sharing stories to the wee hours of the morning.  It was the boost I needed after such a long, difficult week.

But, it got even better.

Sitting in the Dartmouth Chapel with about 500 women, listening to a beautiful musical piece narrating the Savior's ministry and each of the women whose lives he touched and the uplifting talks given by the inspired female leaders of our Church, I was overwhelmed by feelings of peace, love and hope.  As I looked around the room, I was humbled by the sacrifices that many of the women had made to attend this conference, and I realized that I was not alone in my weariness, but, in particular, I realized I had very little to feel discouraged by compared to the women I sat amongst.  As I scanned the crowd, I saw dear friends who suffer from illnesses such as Parkinson's or cancer, women who had in their past or even very recently suffered the loss of a child, and women whose daily lives were made difficult through poverty or disabilities.  My heart wept for each of them, but what left the most lasting impression upon me was the smile on their faces, their acts of charity, and their displays of faith.  Life is hard, and although we cannot choose many of the circumstances we are placed in during this life, we can choose whether or not we will become discouraged by them or strengthened by them.
 
As I drove home late Saturday evening, I felt ready to face a new week. I was ready to put the smile back on my face, and to find the joy in this ridiculously hard, but wonderful path my life has recently taken.  And I became determined to turn it into something spectacular!

By no means, was our week perfect, and, in all honesty, I did lose my cool a couple of times, but, all in all, it turned out to be a winning week, quite literally!

To encourage positive attitudes and good behaviour, I started a competition between the boys and I.  Each time they do something notable, like beating their personal best in timed quizzes on math facts, or saying three instead of free (Avery),  or coming up with new homonyms for our homonym bug:

Isn't he cute?  Thanks, Andrea, for the idea :)

they get a point, but if they give me attitude, or act ridiculous when they are supposed to be working, or give me grief in any way, shape or form, I get points.  The winner at the end of the week gets to pick out a treat and the loser(s) have to pay for it. 

And you guessed it, by Friday afternoon, I was winning by 1 point!!  I thought this would be a perfect lesson for my boys to show them that I mean business and that they need to work really hard, but the unexpected happened and they pulled two points out of thin air at the last second.  I thought it was in the bag! It was Friday afternoon, their friends were expected to show up in just over an hour, and all that was left was Elliot's most dreaded subject, Language Arts.  It was a perfect storm!! I was all ready to savor the sweet taste of victory, a Charleston Chew bought by my boys, as we sat down for our last lesson of the week.  We were talking about possessive nouns and pronouns, when all of a sudden Elliot looks at me and squeals: "Cellar and Seller!  That's a homonym!"  And a very creative one, I might add, but he didn't ask for his point.  Hmmm . . . it seemed that he had forgotten about our little competition and had resigned himself to loserdom.  So, I didn't say anything.  I fully intended to give him his well-deserved point, but I wanted to see how the lesson would go without his mind on this incentive.  Much to my shock and delight, his upbeat mood continued throughout the entire lesson.  He was engaged, working really hard, and not complaining. Then after writing a paragraph on what his dream room would look like, complete with an army tank bed and an alarm clock that sounded like the blasts from the tank, he surprised me even more.  I told him he was done, and he pointed out there was an enrichment activity at the bottom of the page that he wanted to do.

What??!!

Okay, where's the camera hidden?

But he was serious!

After he was finished his drawing of the room he had just carefully described, I announced that he had gained two points for his team. 

He was honestly shocked!

Avery, we won!!  We won!!

Their victory dance!

Their winnings!

(Groan . . . The Charleston Chew was almost mine)

Oh, well! There is always next week :)

And hopefully, more opportunities to blog.

Happy Weekend!!!

And Then There Are Days Like Today

 Well, yesterday, to be exact.

I knew it was coming.  He has done this to me every year since he has been in school.  From his first year in preschool when he sat on the stairs and refused to go in.  To his first year in Kindergarten, when he left his class, stood on his tiptoes peering into my classroom through the window in the door, and refused to leave until I took home.  Or the next year, when he refused to leave the after school program in spite of my pleas and the time.  Or last year, when we sat for four hours at the table on our deck waiting for him to complete the homework he adamantly refused to do.  What did I do in all those instances, the same thing I did yesterday.  I remained calm.  I told him what was expected, and allowed real world consequences to be his teacher.  In preschool, I left.  His teacher watched him and, when boredom finally set in, he joined the class.  In Kindergarten, I ignored him until he grew tired of standing at my door and returned to class.  In the after school program, I pretended to leave.  This one was really funny because Sharon, the after school leader, was in on it with me, and we did not tell him that I was in my classroom waiting the whole time.  After the last child left, she started to lock up.  Elliot looked up at and her and asked "what are we going to do"?  She said I have to go home.  Tears welled up in his eyes, and he exclaimed "I'm going to have to stay here and eat the garbage!".  At this moment, I walked out and he ran into my arms.  He never pulled that trick again.  Year after year, I have to show Elliot that in spite of what he may want, there are times when things just have to be done, and it is better to do them when you have the opportunity rather than to wait.

Yesterday, as he laid on the basement floor refusing to do his schoolwork, I simply told him that he could not do anything else until it was done.  I make it sound so easy, but inside, like all the other times, I was fuming and wanted nothing more than to beat him silly, but I didn't and I never do. I just went about the day like everything was normal, like there wasn't a little lump of a person laying around whining how unfair this world is.  So, no worries!  You don't have to call Social Services.  I did not hit him. I only thought about it  . . . tee hee!

And four hours later, after watching his brother complete his work, play with toys, and watch some cartoons, he caved and began to do his work.  By this time, I was busy doing the housework so he had to do it all on his own, and therefore, it took a lot longer than usual for him to complete it.  Rather than curling up on the couch to have me read a book about New Brunswick to him like I did for Avery earlier, he had to read it on his own and then be quizzed on what he learned.  When everything was finally done at 4pm, Elliot looked up at me, and exclaimed: "I will never do that again, Mommy!".

I know, dear. At least not until next year.

Last night, as I laid in bed telling Mr. Level-Headed all about the day's shenanigans and wondering why on earth Elliot acts so foolish, he came up with something profound.  He said "Elliot does it to test the boundaries, and to ensure that there are indeed boundaries there.  It makes him feel safe". 

Hello!  Light bulb moment!

That Mr. Level-Headed is so smart.  Of course!  Being the first year of his homeschooling experience, Elliot was probably questioning why he had to do it.  At school, there was the threat of going to the Principal's office, and so the fear of an authority figure was what compelled him to do his work.  It's like my boys thinking I don't speed out of fear of being caught by the police rather than a conscious decision on my part to be a cautious driver. Elliot had to learn that work is a natural part of our day, and there is no way around it.  Sure, you can choose to ignore it, but it never goes away, and the longer you wait to do it, the more work you create for yourself.  Life truly is the best teacher!

So, thanks to Mr. Level-Headed, after spending the entire day feeling discouraged and questioning my decision to homeschool, I drifted off to sleep feeling at peace with my decision and reminding myself that the most valuable things in this world are often the hardest things to do, or in this case, to raise . . . tee hee!

I love you Elliot!

One Good Woman Needed

My name is Krista, and I neglect my children.

Here is the evidence. If you can bear to look past the cacophony of stripes, you will notice that the poor thing is also wearing one gray sock and one white sock.





Can you believe that his mama allowed him to leave the house looking like this?

Well, she did!

And the worst part is she didn't even know because she couldn't be bothered to get out of bed.

Oh, the shame of it all!

Here's how it went down:

I was prepared for a rainy Saturday.  The night before, the kids and I rented three movies so we could spend a lazy day watching movies, reading books, and being sloth-like (the best way to be on a rainy Saturday if you are one of the unfortunate few who did not have U2 tickets).  It promised to be awesome!  We slept in, and as the kids started their first movie, I laid in bed and read a book.

Ding-Dong

Seeing no reason why I needed to move, I let Mr. Level-Headed answer the door.  It was Elliot's friend wondering if Elliot would like to spend the day with him.

YES!

With my nose stuck in a book, I hollered out to Elliot, lovingly of course, "put some shorts and a t-shirt on because it's warm out there.  Have fun!".  And then I was once again lost in the realm of fairies.  I didn't even budge.  I didn't even get up to kiss my boy farewell, or to speak with Nick's mom about all the particulars. I just laid there nestled amongst my duvet and pillows, indulging in the guilty pleasure that is YA fiction. (Teeny-bopper lit for those of you who may not recognize the acronym) I completely shirked my duties.

So, I am putting it out there.  This family is in desperate need of a good woman.  Preferably, one who can not read, one whose summer meal repetoire expands beyond the BBQ and cut up veggies, and one who can teach these boys and their father that stripes need to be paired up with solid colours.  Hmm?  Well, if you hear of anyone, please send them over to Shenanigans Inc. before it is too late!

Tee hee!

Happy New Brunswick Day! 



Battle Wounds

Before I write today's post, I have to begin with a disclaimer.  You see, yesterday, while I was shopping at Costco,  I bumped into a friend, who commented on my blog and asked "how do you come up with something to write about everyday?".  Most of the time, that is if you live here at Shenanigans Inc., there is no end to what you can write about, but then there are times when it can be really difficult and I have to kick the kids outside and tell them to make something happen . . . tee hee!  Well, I promise this is NOT how my next story happened.  I PROMISE!

It was Sunday afternoon, and four Websters and a Skov were heading over to a friends' house for a backyard potluck dinner with other families.  We were very excited!  This group of families is awesome because our kids play so well together and the grown-ups get along really well too. We knew it was going to be a relaxing evening filled with great food and lots of laughs . . . a perfect recipe for fun!

During our drive, we played "Who Wants to be a Millionaire - LDS edition".  I know . . . we truly are geeks!  But, it was a new app for my Iphone Derrick found earlier that day to help entertain and educate the group of 13 year olds he had to teach in Sunday School, and if the Websters can play a game, well that's what we do.  It was tough, and a few times we even made it to the $100,000 mark, but there was always some obscure Old Testament question that messed us up.  Just for the record, there are far too many people in the Old Testament!

Earlier that day, Derrick had left his Freddy Flintstone-like lunch box at the chapel so that was our first destination, and when we were about a minute away from the chapel we called our game quits.  Bad Idea!

Really, what we were thinking?  When you have two little boys who are very excited about playing with their friends after a long day of church and Sunday school, you need to keep them occupied or else!  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a soccer ball being gently tossed back and forth.  No big deal!  But then I noticed the ball was whizzing by more frequently and with more intensity.  Just as I turned around to suggest that we put the ball down, Avery, who has some anger management issues to work out, was feeling threatened and like all small animals who are frightened, he came out fighting.  He grabbed his bag, with a pair of toy binoculars in it and swung it up with all of his might to smack Elliot square in the face.

I didn't even have time to yell.  Instantly, Elliot let out a blood curdling scream and blood poured from his mouth.  He spit something out of his mouth and screamed "my tooth is broken!".  We were all in shock.

I glared at Avery, and thought "I will deal with you later".  I consoled Elliot with my words, and while I rubbed his leg, I told Derrick to get us to the chapel so we could grab some paper towel to clean up this mess.  We pulled into the driveway and bounded out the car.  I came around and took Elliot by the hand and lead him up to the doors.  By this point, he was inconsolible and started to throw up in the bushes. (Elliot is like his mama, and when we get upset, our tummy is the first place we feel it . . . too much information?).  After what felt like an eternity, Zoe ran out with some paper towel and we were able to clean him up.  With all the blood out of the way, we could assess the damage.  Yikes!  Take a look for yourself:

Picture was taken at a later date.

Why do these things always have to happen to grown up teeth?

When Elliot finally calmed down, Zoe took him inside to wash up in the bathroom and examine his battle wound in the mirror. 

With all the excitement passed us, I was ready to deal with the wee-est Webster, but I couldn't find him.  I looked in the car and around the chapel, but he was no where to be found.  Just then I saw one of the tall flowers outside the door rustle and a tiny head pop up and go right back down.

"Avery come on out, please".

My anger completely dissolved when I saw him.  He had tears running down his face, and all he kept asking was "Is Elliot going to be okay?.

We sat together on the curb, and I held him.

When Elliot came out, he made a beeline to his brother and hugged him.

"It's real okay, Avery. It's real okay!"

(Elliot has never said reall-y.  It is always real . . . tee hee!)

This had to be one of the most precious moments of all time!  Two little brothers clinging to one another, with tears streaming down their face and each of them consoling the other one.

By this time, I was crying too, and I am sure any passerby was thinking: "Ugh, those Mormons and their annoying commercials!" 

But, "real" this is how it went down!

No anger, no harsh words, and no punishment.  Life is the best teacher, and when you "real" hurt your number one buddy, you learn pretty quickly not to strike out again.  Well, here's hoping!

A World of Possibility

On Friday afternoon, I visited a couple from our church who had recently been in a bad car accident.  Although frustrated with the length of time it is taking their aging bodies to heal, they are mindful that this trial, like others they have faced throughout their life together, will pass and, in the end, will be a blessing.  My intention for the visit was to provide them with comfort and companionship, with the hope that I would in some small way buoy their spirits; however, it seems that on this day, I was the one who would leave nurtured and uplifted.  I expected to find two people worn out and perhaps a little downtrodden from their recent misadventure, but rather, I was warmly greeted by two people enduring their afflictions with patience and hope and refusing to succumb to the fear and despair that inevitably accompany tragedy.  As we ate lunch together, which I am humbled to admit they made and served, I listened intently as they shared their remarkable stories of raising eight children in poverty and losing one of their sons to the careless actions of a drunk driver.  Although their story appears tragic, it is one filled with love, faith, hope and miracles.  I marvelled at their strength and their unwavering belief that all things happen for a purpose and in the end, all will be well.  As a young woman on my own journey through faith and family, I loved listening to their experiences and left their home with a quiet assurance that, although we cannot control the obstacles that we will face in this world, we can control how we react to them.  We have the choice to allow challenges to rob us of our will and to deny us the joy of this earthly experience, or we can choose to face them head on with the conviction to live our lives with faith, courage, and purpose, as this family has.

One story that I found particularly insightful was about the family car.  After ten years of unemployment, this family of ten found themselves needing a new car but having no money to buy one.  So, they did what everyone in this circumstance would do, they made one . . . and yes, for all my Sheldon-like readers, this is sarcasm.  Using parts from three similar cars, the dad and the kids took the best parts from each and rebuilt them into a working car.  Then, using paint rollers, the children painted the car green and christened her the "green pickle".  When telling me this story, the couple admitted that living in poverty was very difficult, but they made the best of what they had and they now see how their family was blessed from growing up in such meagre circumstances: "Not having a job, allowed me to be with my family and gave me the opportunity to work alongside them.  I think one of the greatest lessons they learned was the idea of possibility, the idea that we are only limited by the limits we impose upon ourselves". 

On my drive home, this "idea of possibility" intrigued me.  In the world we live in today, where consumerism pervades and necessitates a "disposable" culture, where our desires become object-based and these objects are made not to last and are to be constantly replaced by something newer and faster, where we are bombarded with advertisements with things that promise to make our lives easier or better, will our children ever learn this "idea of possibility"?  Will they be able to carve out a life that is unique to their own needs and desires, or will they settle for the neat little package-deals the world has to offer?  Will they have the opportunity to make do with what they have, or to use their own ingenuity and skills to make what they need?  Will they rely too heavily upon the advice of "experts" rather than trusting in their own ability and knowledge?  I pray that my children will be actively engaged in the construction of their own lives.  I want my children to grow up empowered and to have opportunities that will allow them to develop creativity and confidence in their own abilities.  I want them, when faced with a problem, to tackle that challenge with ingenuity, creativity and enthusiasm.  I want their lives to be filled with "green pickle" experiences!

So, this afternoon, when Elliot came to me and asked if we have a wrench, I felt my heart do a little leap.

Me: "What do you need a wrench for?"
Elliot: "Avery and I are making a go-cart. We have spent the afternoon making the plans.  Do you want to see them?"
Me: "Certainly!"

Well, everything looks like it's in order here. What do you think?

So, with their wrench, a tape measure and two old bikes they found in the shed, okay I am fibbing, we live in the country so the bikes were just lying in the yard, they got down to business.

I was giddy!  Go boys, go! 

Then I saw Derrick's car pull into the driveway. As I heard his car door open, I wanted to yell out "don't squash their ingenuity", but I held back to see how he would react.

Derrick: "What are you up to boys?"
Boys: "We're making a go-cart".
Derrick: "Awesome!" 

I knew there was a reason why I love this man. I don't know why I would even think for a second that he would poo-poo on their plans since he is often being bombarded by his wife with her equally grand ideas.  If you are not up to speed on grand ideas in the Webster household, please see "The Vision".

The only concerned he expressed was: "and what purpose do the 3D glasses serve?".

Ugh, dads!  Don't they know the importance of looking like a creative genius when you are using your creative genius  . . . sheesh!

Then Derrick thrilled the boys, and me, when he offered to go out and help them.

What a great dad!

So, although our go-cart in no way bares even a smidgen of the significance or the sacrifice that went into the creation of the "green pickle", I am thrilled that my boys took a problem (boredom and lack of cash), devised a plan to overcome it, and implemented their plan with ingenuity, creativity and enthusiasm.  Ya know, they may just do okay in this world . . . well, that is, if they can ever put an end to their little pee wars . . .  there is never a dull, or dry, moment around here on the Webster plantation!

Tee hee!

p.s. I will post pictures of the go-cart once it is completed.  I wonder what colour they will choose to paint it?