Amusing Ourselves to Death

The other day Bert and I were discussing the fact, that despite our high hopes, Hy is following the typical path of his male predecessors (Namely: Bert, Justin, Cache, Calder, and Paladin). In other words, he's not quite as advanced as some others his age. And while I have no doubt that one day he will catch up just as the others did, our dreams of a child prodigy have once and for all been squashed. With the others, the blame fell squarely on me. I hate Sesame Street or anything resembling it. I found teaching numbers and letters boring. And colors? Well, they were bound to learn them one day, with or without me, so why bother? But, since I was unexpectedly given one last chance, I determined to get it right. What I forgot to figure into the equation was sabotage. At every turn my efforts are being thwarted and overturned; and it's all for the sake of a laugh.

Whenever we come across this jolly fellow, Hy has been taught to give a deep, feral growl. I cuff the nearest mouth with any hint of a laugh coming out of it, and then patiently explain to Hydn, "No, Santa says 'Ho-Ho-Ho!' " He gives me a confused look and then tries to repeat with a "growl-growl-growl." It's useless. And I'm sure this will mean no cute picture of an adoring two year old on Santa's lap.

Yesterday I foolishly left Hydn in the above mentioned saboteurs hands for the day. When I returned they had taught him a new 'trick'. I gave him his food and said, "Now what do you say?" He smiled, because you see he knew this one, and then... he spit. And although he's fairly talented at hacking a loogie, this just isn't acceptable. Now nobody, and I do mean nobody- be they friend or foe- can say the word "Thank You" without this coming out of his mouth. (Please ignore the car symbol - or insert a picture of yourself instead)

This is no longer "drink please." It's, "gulp - gulp - gulp."

"Tickle-Tickle-Tickle!"

And so on, and so forth..

I tried sending him to his room when he was naughty.
Like say, for spitting..
to counteract their influence.
But then the kids decided it was time to teach him to
sneak out the door in my room, walk around to the glass door,
press his nose against the window, clasp his hands, and say
"pweeeeaaaassse?"

It didn't work. It couldn't work. I was the MOTHER. And even against the whole darn lot of them, I would WIN!

But the next day, when he added a bended knee to his beggars stance,it threw me over.

Maybe he's a progeny after all. A progeny pawn in a giant chess game.

It's that time again

Sometimes

feeding

seems

to

take

forever

School

I thought maybe some of the body lessons were going over Pal's head. But I heard him playing by himself yesterday. His conversation went something like this, "Hurry, come help doctor! We can't save him. He's bleeding to death! We've tried gluing it. We've tried stapling it. We've tried tying it. And we've tried duct taping it. NOTHING'S WORKING AND HE'S DYING!!" The doctor saunters over and says, "Did you try sending more blood to the wound and telling it to clot?" "Oh doctor, you're a genius!"

With that success we moved on to the Nervous System.
Our dissecting skills are a little crude, but the sheep doesn't even know his brain is missing, let alone that they hacked it to pieces.

My favorite haunt

This school year I decided to give myself an hour and a half each day of alone time. I usually take advantage of it by doing one of two things. I nap, or I head to the cemetery to walk and read. I love cemeteries. My fascination probably started even before they buried my Dad out my bedroom window, in the back yard. But we won't go there... (Literally. Ha. Sometimes I crack myself up.) Anyway, this morbid fascination doesn't spill over into other parts of my life: I hate funerals, I don't like horror films, and I look terrible in black. So, I guess I'm just attracted to them because they're pretty - no matter the season, they're quiet, they're interesting, and it's usually just me and the wind... I think.


Last year I found some pretty sweet ones. We drove through a town where 3 circus' winter for the year- and apparently life.

At another one we found Lane Frost and Freckles Brown.

And just last weekend Bert and I found an early 1800's cemetery. It's probably my all time favorite, and I can't wait to go back when I have my camera. But, even so, I've certainly enjoyed my new local cemetery these past few months. Since I'm a century too late and can't be buried in my favorite, this one would serve quite well.

Pretty, don't you think? Below are a few of my favorite graves:

The next one has a funny story. I took Cache to my alone spot last week. He needed some time out too. We were reading in the car with the windows down and it was getting pretty dark. Cache said, "Mom, do you ever get scared here?" Me, "Well, I've never really thought of it; but no, not really. I guess though that it is getting dark. Maybe we should head out just to be on the safe side of them not locking us in." We turned on the car lights and slowly started to pull out. As we turned a corner, our lights locked onto this grave, and the flowers were spinning to beat the band. Cache yelled, "DO YOU SEE THAT?" "YES! YES, I definitly see that!" We caught our breath and slowly faced the lights more directly on it. Two things bothered us; 1- As soon as our lights were directly on it it immediately quit. Completely. 2 - It's an old, old grave. Why do you suppose fairly recent flowers have been placed there to begin with? There were other more recent 'Thompson' family graves, and none of them had flowers.
We watched it for a bit to see if it would begin again, but nothing happened. So we drove off,... and then looked back. They were spinning again! My practical husband thinks he has it figured out. He says our car blocked the wind. Whatever... Cache and I know better.

I couldn't help going back the next day. It took all my courage. But, I didn't need it after I took my scrub brush to the grave and read it's inscription. Forrest Lee and I are now quite attached. How can you not be attached to somebody whose stone is hand carved? Especially when it was being handcarved and they unexpectedly ran out of room for one of the words.

FORREST LEE THOMPSON
BORN JULY 26 1903
DIED DEC ? 1925
WE HAVE LOST OUR DARLI
NG BROTHER HE HAS BID
US ALL ADUI HE HAS
GONE TO LIVE IN HEAVEN
AND HIS FORM IS LOST TO
VIEW OH THAT DEAR
ONE HOW WE LOVE
OH HOW HARD TO
GIVE HIM UP BUT
AN ANGEL COME DOWN FOR
.... (sorry, can't read the rest)

Spin away Forrest.

I also like Rose's grave. She has a bench to keep me up and away from the fire ants while I read. I choose her bench instead of the one behind it because I particularly enjoy the chimes. As for the graves in the background - the ones that have mounds of dirt piled on them? The ones that look as if they were freshly dug? They weren't freshly dug. They've been there fifteen years. I suppose they made them that way because of their last name - 'Newbury'. Maybe? All the same it's a good guess, don't you think?

And finally, you thought only lawn art could get out of hand.... This one fascinated me. It fascinates me even more since I finally went to read the inscription. It's a joint grave, and I naturally assumed it was for a husband and wife.

I assumed wrong. The heart joining them says 'brothers'. One of them passed two years ago. The other one is still lovingly tending to the site.

A few steps away, it's obvious that he also tends his parents. I would like to meet this man. I bet if I drove around town, I could probably find him...

Well, that's all. I've noticed my posts lately have become altogether too lengthy. I'll try to shorten them up a bit.

Thanksgiving

In the words of Pal, "I think this was my Best Thanksgiving Ever!!" And while I don't know about best, it was a good one. Being a little fuzzy on our plans until ten o'clock the night before, leaves you open to zero expectations. It can only go up from there. We assigned out the cooking (as well as the clean up to do those same dish dishes) and everybody came to the table more or less prepared with their item:
Bert - meat
Justin - rolls
Cache - drink (sangria) and jello
Jesse - toffee and mashed potatoes
Calder - finger foods
Maddie - set the table and salad
Pal - dessert
Me - stuffing, corn, and gravy

*As I read out the food assignments, and then asked who wanted what, Justin was the first to yell out his preference. He yelled, "I'm rolls!" We all looked at him a little strange, and wondered what had happened to the Stove Top Stuffing king. For a moment we were tricked into believing he wanted more responsibility. It was only after we were done, and he began to wonder where the boughten ones waiting to be rewarmed were, that we understood. Funny one, Justin. But, after the shock wore off, he pulled through beautifully.
*Cache, as mentioned, was in charge of jello and sangria. In the typical Cache fashion that I love, he decided to get half of his done the night before. I gave him the recipe for the drink the next morning. When he was half way through he said from across the kitchen, "I don't get it. Why do we put all these chunks in the drink?" Pretty funny. Had to have been there? We salvaged what we could.

Pal and the dessert he was so proud of -

Maddie's table -

The rest of the masterpieces got little recognition, but they were good too.
While the food cooked we had a game of flag football. (My team won...)
Hy was the star of the show. He thought he was in every last play, as long as we occasionally ripped off one of his flags.

Here's a clip of Hy mimicking us. He never got tired of it and did the same play, over and over, and over. We must have been a little less graceful than the talented NFL players I pictured in my head.


Then we ate.
Then we napped.
Then we put together a puzzle.
Then we played Dare Base and Capture the flag.
Then we came in and played Sardines in a Can.

*Hydn was pretty good at hiding and being very quiet (he was too scared not to be...), but then somebody figured out they could easily find us all - if they yelled, "Hydn, do you want a bottle?" It never failed to bring out a small, quivering "ba-ba" before he got a hand slapped across his mouth.

So..., how can it help to be "The BEST Thanksgiving Day ever" when your family is there and all are healthy?

A toast, wishing you and yours a great day of giving thanks as well.

I'd trust my life to them...

This is an old picture of Pal pretending to palpate - just like Dad. I love it. I don't have a picture of Justin and Cache, but one of my favorite memories is finding a young, 4 year old Cache and 5 year old Justin mimicking Bert by playing veterinarian. The boys were in their bedroom one day with a syringe, a towel, a band-aid, and a rocking horse. Only they weren't rocking, and to my knowledge they never did. The only thing that horse was ever used for was to practice their doctoring skills. I came into the room that day and asked, "So, did you fix him?" Justin turned, pretended to pull his arm out from under the tail, and said sadly, "Nope, we killed him. Just like Dad." It still makes me laugh, but in Bert's defense, he was newly graduated.

I knew last week that this popular game had been revived (pardon the pun) when the kids came to me and asked if they could make a trip to the dollar store. They were looking to find a stuffed animal. The rocking horse is long gone. I informed them that if, instead, we went to the goodwill, they would find a much larger assortment for an even greater price (and maybe, if they were lucky, one truly infected...).

They were thrilled with their .25 cent bargains. Here is their waiting room. From left to right we have a case of: fluid on the brain, face lift, bad eye, tummy tuck, and heart surgery.

The treatment room is set and ready to go.

Maddie is the office assistant and tech. She is in charge of surgery prep and shaving.
She didn't even forget the 'catch all' bucket below.

Calder secures the limbs and removes the jewelry.

Ready for incision.

The anxious and interfering owner.
"Scalpel please."

Thank you to our heart donor.

Successful eye removal.

The seasoned veteran giving a hand (one might suspect that he never truly grew up.)

The hospital cafeteria's main chef.

And to wrap it all up-
an artificial insemination for next weeks ob/gyn wing.

Safari

If you're studying Africa, a trip to the zoo is crucial. And I like zoo days. Really, really like them. There are no distractions. There is no rush. There are no lines. There are no whiny kids if you have a well stocked stroller, and you can observe to your hearts content without being considered rude... (at least as far as I know - the monkeys picking at their butts may feel differently.) I would have to say that a trip to the zoo rivals a game of Bingo at the fair. A very pleasant diversion; that I'm really lucky at. And I was really lucky at the Forth Worth zoo. It was clean. It was cheap. It was beautiful. And the animals did more than eat and sleep. The lion leaped and roared. The hippo swam, walked, ate, yawned, mooed, and swished it's poop. And the warthog charged the zebra, and then the zebra charged the warthog. We would have felt like we'd won the grand daddy, queen sized quilt for 'Black Out' if it weren't for one thing. Hydn had a healthy case of heart failure in the presence of such stimuli. One terrified little boy was attached tightly to my neck in a death grip, most of the day. (I'd advise not starting a youngster's first trip to the zoo with an active gorilla exhibit...)

He relaxed only long enough to enjoy things smaller than himself.

One was the meercat. And while it was cute, it's debatable if it was cute enough to be picture worthy.

Parakeets were also on the 'safe' list. Flamingos, Dodo birds, Eagles, Toucans, not so much...

Because of this and my aching arms,
we spent a lot of time here.

Did you understand that I didn't say "a lot" lightly?

We spent so much time here...

...that we were bound to break the rules sooner or later.
(FYI: Texas is not near as uptight when it comes to rules as California.... catching birds, standing on the hippo's fence, and touching the rhino's armor with a stick proves this)
We ended the African safari with a visit to Ethiopia's Queen of Sheeba restaurant.

And while I don't know that it's up there on my list of favorites, it served it's purpose well. There was plenty of food, we could eat with our hands, a little went a long way, and Hy was able to breathe again.
It was a good day.