It's complicated...

So I was tossing my husband's stinky socks into the washer reflecting on what to tell all of you about my trip to Hawaii. It was good, it really was! But sometimes, I feel like good is to general an answer. I think it's complicated might be more accurate. Do you ever say what you really mean? Do you ever tell people how you truly are? Was my trip perfect? Does it live up to what you imagine? Probably not but I guess that depends on your imagination.

But can I really tell you, the unsuspecting blog reader, who simply wants to live their own lives and dream of their own sunny, blue, sand-themed vacation the actual, nitty-gritty truth? It's much simpler to say that it was good. If I say, it was complicated, one would naturally assume that it was bad. But it wasn't. It really was complicated. I would them be forced to mention that instead of many sand-filled, sunny days that we only had one and a whole 24 hours was spent by my partner for whom I desired romantic time with building a chicken coop. Chicken coop does not spell romance by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe for some? I could mention the family friend who took a day off work to spend time with us after already spending the weekend... That was nice except when you want to be two not three and you didn't ask the friend to take time off! Now I worry that you think I am complaining. I'm not, really. It's Hawaii for goodness sake. It's beautiful! We discovered a gorgeous beach and hiked to a magnificent waterfall.

It's like when you see someone and they ask how you are and you answer in the standard, "Good" or "fine." But really, you have a hang nail that is bothering the heck out of you or you're sad because you daughter told you a huge lie or you have been dealing with circumstances beyond your control for years and sometimes you feel sad or your husband would decided to build a chicken coop instead of sitting in the hot tub. But see, I would normally never tell you this. I would simply say that my Hawaii trip was good and all that it should be and we would move on. I wonder what is better? But never fear, to paraphrase Jane Austen: "The feeling will pass and most likely quicker than it should." But in case it doesn't, consider yourself warned, if you pass me in the hall at church and ask me how I am, you might get more than you bargained. I might feel inclined to start a long diatribe on how irritated I am by all the silly romantic ninny's who think they can write books about becoming Jane Austen or finding their Mr. Darcy! Argh!

Off to Hawaii...

Tomorrow. This is the picture that Kate wanted to take today. It makes her feel less like crying if she has a picture of me to look at. At least that is what she said. I am filled with guilt for leaving them. Max is sad and clingy. Sometimes I wonder if a vacation without the kids is worth the trauma.

What we've been working on:

Max has been working on his photography skills. Notice the chair he used to climb on top of the counter to fish out my camera from it's super, secret hidy-hole or so I thought.

The quilt and matching pillows that I have been trying to finish for at least a year! Can I get an AMEN? If you would like to visit the much photographed items come to our Hawaii house. They will be residing in one of our bedrooms there. That is, if they fit in my suitcase. It may come down to them and a pair of shoes. A difficult decision under the best of circumstances...

Kate is positive that she will be able to master the art of sleeping and reading at the same time.

It takes a lot of work to get your hair looking like that! Can you imagine the kind of nap he had? Which reminds me, I went to check on him the other night before I went to bed and found him tossing and turning and talking in his sleep. What was he saying? What was a two year old saying that can barely talk? Well, he was moaning, "No-no, Mama. No, Mama!" What does that say about my mothering skills when my two-year old is having a nightmare about ME? Sadly, I have very little conscience and it caused me to reflect for a mega-second and then laugh and laugh. I continue to say "No" so I imagine he will continue to have nightmares. I am looking forward to "monsters" however. It will be nice not to be the bad guy anymore.

More on Jackson

Okay, so I feel a bit guilty about doing another post on Jackson. I do love my other kids, really I do. It's just that he has been saying some pretty funny things and I can't help myself.

Jackson: Mom, when I wear my coat it feels like summer.

Jackson: (While I am combing his hair one morning) It feels like you are my servant.

Me: No, I am your Mom.

Jackson: But I feel like a King.

Me: Maybe I am doing to many things for you?

Jackson: (Impish grin and won't look me in the eye)

Jackson: Mom, I am in love with Margo. (A girl in his Kindergarten class.)

Me: WHAAAT? WHY? (This is the first time I have heard anything like this out of his mouth.)

Jackson: She is very pretty--she has CHUBBY cheeks! I think I want to marry her when I grow up. I am in love with her.

Me: (trying to salvage this train wreck) Um, maybe you mean that you like her and you are really good friends? Maybe you love her as a friend.

Jackson: No. Mom, I am IN LOVE with her. (He grins from ear to ear and cheerfully runs off to play.)

Me: (under my breath) Crap.

In Jackson's prayer last night, he mentioned he was grateful for recycling and skin.

I love this goofy, sweet, crazy kid. He certainly keeps me on my toes and makes me laugh.

The dichotomy of Motherhood.

The other night, I was laying in bed thinking about the day and I couldn't help but giggle about two moments that I had with Jackson that perfectly capture my experience with motherhood.

Scene #1: Jackson rushes in from playing outdoors. He hollers, "Mom, don't look at me!" I, of course, immediately picture him covered in mud with only his blue eye-balls peering out of the big brown glob that used to be my son. I am upstairs and so I yell back, "Why?" He answers,"Because, you don't want to look at me, Mom!" I sigh as his answer is not particularly descriptive and gear myself up for the second scenario I have imagined. What's worse than mud? Permanent Marker! I imagine his sweet little face with a villain-esque moustache or worse, a goatee like his dad! I am practically running to him by this time thinking it best to arrive on the scene and control the damage. And that's when I see him, his hands covering his forehead and tears threatening. He didn't want me to see the enormous bump on his head because he knew that I would as he put it "freak out." I tried to keep my "freak" to a minimum and quickly got him some ice. He explained that he got beaned in the head on the trampoline by the rock his friend kept in his pocket. Ouch!

Jackson wanted to spare my feelings. He intuitively knew that I would be hurt by his being hurt. His sweetness felt like an earthquake to my heart. How I love him!

(This picture was taken per Jackson's request. Apparently, once the pain wears off, it's pretty cool to have a gigantic lump on your head.)

Scene#2-(2 hours later) A white, smelly bottom with bits of dried poo stuck to it. I was alerted to the problem by his sister Ella who could not stand to be around the stench. Ostensibly, intuition does not teach you how to properly wipe your bottom. And so, I found myself a few hours after the above incident with a baby wipe in hand, demonstrating to my five year-old how it is done. All the mushy feelings I had towards Jackson earlier were hiding in the recesses of my heart, while I explained how you should keep wiping until the toilet paper comes back clean.

And there you have it folks, motherhood in all its sweetness and its poo. Like I said, "Perfect."

Oh, by the way...

Doesn't it feel cozy now that it's just us?

Valentine's Day Feast or How to gain 5 pounds in one day!

Katie made us some fabulous, hand drawings to get us in a celebratory mood. Sadly, she spent most of the day sick after a lovely night with the stomach flu, fever, chills and body aches. But with a little Tylenol she was able to muster up enough enthusiasm to share her drawing talents with us.
Ella was enchanted with my candy heart table decorations. "You can eat them," she was overheard exclaiming. Thank goodness, I was channeling Martha Stewart that day.
Grilled Lobster tails were the main event at our Valentine fete. (I had to tell Jackson that swords were not allowed at the table before and after the picture! He had trouble grasping the concept. Why shouldn't a 5 year-old be allowed to eat with his sword at the table? Well, for one look at the picture. He looks positively devilish.)
My very first (probably last) red velvet cake. A bottle and a half of red food coloring and a pound of butter, in case you were wondering. (Yikes!)
Robert surprised me with red roses. I fainted dead away and had to be revived with smelling salts. Just kidding. Oh, but sometimes that man can charm me! :)