Thanksgiving

At pre-school on Tuesday Jack's class did an activity called "Let's plan Thanksgiving Dinner."  The teacher had cut out all the color ads of food items from the Sunday paper and since it was the paper the week of Thanksgiving, it was full of ads for the traditional turkey dinners.  The children then picked out what food meant Thanksgiving to them and glued them to a paper shaped like a plate.  Jack's friend Evan had a plate full of classic holiday fare: turkey, mashed potatoes, rolls, pumpkin pie...  Then I looked at Jack's project and he had a plate that had 2 different kinds of pizza, 3 different kinds of hot wings, chocolate chip cookies and Scooby snacks.  Jordan wondered aloud why Thanksgiving dinner meant bar food to our four year old, and I just chuckled and shook my head.  Who knows what Jack is thinking?  Not me, that's for sure.

Wednesday night was Pie Night at our house.  Pie Night is a wonderful tradition where we eat the dessert the night before Thanksgiving.  My mom came up with the idea after too many years of having to throw away uneaten pie after Thanksgiving.  She decided that everyone was too full after eating turkey, yams, potatoes and rolls to really bring their all to the pie portion of the evening.  Thus Pie Night was born.  It's brilliant.  This way, you know exactly which piece of pie to save room for the next day and you don't feel obligated to make yourself sick.  We invite everyone we know who is still in town for the holiday to come eat delicious things and visit at our house.  Jordan brought the dominoes out this year, so the men sat around the table mumbling while they ate, while the rest of us caught up with each other.  Most people bring their favorite pie to contribute, so we really get a variety.   The kids had so much fun playing with all their friends and eating junk food, it's like a child's dream party.  The night was a success in that I had just enough pie left over for after Thanksgiving dinner the next day, and everyone left full and happy. 

That night Jack got sick however.  Not from eating too many sweets, but fever and stuffy nose sick and I was up all night with him.  I felt awful that he probably got all the kids sick who had been here playing, but what's a major holiday without a little guilt coloring the festivities, you know?  Because I didn't want to contaminate anyone else, we had to cancel going to Aunt Linda's for Thanksgiving dinner and I just didn't want to think about what ever else we were going to eat.  I was tired.  I was grumpy.  I didn't get Megan's broccoli salad or any of Linda's stuffing.  I just didn't want to think about any other kind of dinner, so when Jack asked for pizza I said yes without checking to see if Little Caesars was open or not.  They were not, and that almost sent Jack into a tailspin until I remembered that I had a pizza in the freezer.  Hooray!  When I showed it to Jordan, he started laughing and said that it was kind of spooky how Jack had called it at school on Tuesday.  The pizza was a combo pack that included boneless buffalo wings with the pizza.  Jack's Thanksgiving dinner project came true.  Despite my best laid plans, we had pizza, hot wings and chocolate chip cookies for Thanksgiving dinner this year.  Spooky.  

Interrogation Techniques

Here's a question.  How do you successfully interrogate a four year old?  By successfully, I mean without losing your mind.  Is there a manual?  Is it written in English?  Can I find it on Amazon?  I'm getting somewhat desperate, in case that slipped your notice.  I can't ask Jack the smallest question with out it going completely south in a big, fat hurry.  He is unable to grasp the concept of a straight answer, and he quite literally boggles my mind in mere moments.  Example:

Me:  "Jack. Where is the tv remote?" 

Jack: "Yes."

Me:  "Hmmm.  Can you look for the remote with me?"

Jack:  "Ice cream in the soccer ball."

Me:  pause. "Ice cream in the soccer ball?"

Jack:  "Uh-huh."

Me:   "Okay, but that doesn't tell me where the remote is."

Jack:  "Shoes on, donuts for lunch."

Me:  "Here's the deal.  I will gladly give you donuts for lunch if you will focus for 10 seconds. Would you like that? Chocolate donuts with sprinkles and chocolate milk on the side. Does that sound good?"

Jack:  nodding his head; eyes glowing with the dream of sprinkles and chocolate "Donuts...."

Me:  "Now. Do you know where the remote is for the tv?  Take your time."

Jack:  runs from the room and comes back with a Transformer "Miss Twine, Mommy." 

Me:   sigh.  "Yep.  That's Optimus Prime, alright. Where's the remote?"
Jack: hands me Optimus "Truck form?"
Me: groaning with frustration; taking Optimus to change him into a truck for the 80th time today "Where. Is. The. Remote. Jack?"

Jack: "Donuts for lunch?"

Me: pause. sigh. resignation. "Yeah, buddy.  Let's go get a donut."

See what I mean?  I can't seem to stay motivated on the task at hand when the person I'm talking to has never been in a real conversation.  I wind up following his line of thought instead of throwing myself against his brick wall of unreason.  It's a defense mechanism, I think.  However, I need to come up with a less fattening defense strategy.  Soon.

Signs and Signals

Do all parents look at their children at times and think that they are the weirdest little creatures imaginable, or is it just us?  I mean, are there signs we should be watching for in case we need to take steps?  Like an intervention or something?  Sometimes I worry that we are laughing off the wrong behavior, and the act of filling the dishwasher with plush toys is a tiny cry for help that we've ignored.
Both boys have their own oddities that make my husband and I look at each other with expressions meant to reassure one another.  Mitch is physically unable to keep his shirt on if we have company.  Within moments of our visitors sitting down, our two year old streaks through the room flapping his naked, skinny arms and making spitting noises.  Jordan will look at me with a sick smile and I will shrug and nod my head like I understand and it will all be okay eventually.  But I don't know that for sure, and I'm positive it shows.  Does every child cause their parents to wonder what could possibly be going through their nubile young minds?  For instance, Mitch looks deeply into the toilet to ask "Hello? Anybody there?", he sticks his head under furniture (leaving his feet laying out in the room) to rest while  contemplating life, and he dances only with his elbows (think chicken dance meets 50 Cent).  I can't keep track of how many times a week either my husband or I will shake our heads and mutter "That kid is just so WEIRD!"

Not to be out done, Jack will run through a silent house yelling "Abort! Abort!", which doesn't leave warm fuzzies in a mother's heart.  The other day I woke up to quiet movements next to my bed at 6 o'clock in the morning.  I rolled my head to the right and came face to face with my four year old.  He started doing these elaborate military hand signals, so I elbowed my husband awake to interpret for me.  Jordan moaned and mumbled that Jack was trying to tell me that he wanted us to move forward, he's got eyes on us and we were to walk carefully.  Nothing like starting your day with a list of questions to make sure it's safe to get out of bed.  Why do I need to I walk carefully, buddy?  Why aren't you talking?  Oh, and who in the world taught you hand signals?

Just when they "outgrow" one strange behavior another takes it place, so every day is interesting to say the least.  It definitely keeps us on our toes around here, wondering how the kid's are going to interpret life today.

Play Nice

We are in the phase of life with Mitch that defies positive outlooks.  He doesn't want to be positive and under no circumstances does he want you to be positive either.  He's currently working on making sure that anything good  that happens now or in the immediate future will be ruined or at the very least forever tainted in our memories.  I'm not sure what's going on in his little head and heart, it's gut wrenching to see him so miserable, but I'm going to hand him his butt soon and make his life even worse.  He's been driving me nuts this last week and other than killing him, I'm not sure what will help.  He's hitting anyone who gets close enough to reach, wether they are trying to hug him or hurt him doesn't seem to matter much.  No one is safe.  We've been working diligently trying to teach him how to be soft, so now he hits you and immediately strokes your face while whispering "soft", then hits you again and runs away.  Not what I was going for, but it's a step.  I'm not sure what direction, though.

Today he's a shrieker.  For the last 2 hours there is a cat being stepped on sound that happens with no warning over things that only he sees as transgressions.  Small things that I just don't see coming set him off and his little body goes rigid, his head snaps back and his face contorts while this ungodly high pitched noise comes out of his mouth.  I'm unable to circumvent problems, because even he doesn't know what the problem is.  An offer of an activity that is usually a favorite makes him run in place with tears streaming down his agonized face, and if I don't let him do something that is known for being forbidden he acts surprised and throws himself to the floor in despair.  I told him to stop hitting Jack and to play nice.  The level of anguish that my saying that caused was unbelievable, I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, watching him unravel.  He's an emotional wreck and it's hasn't let up.  He wanted to draw on my grocery list and I was still trying to write = he shrieks.  I finally give him his own pen and try to write around him = he shrieks and throws the pen because he wants it all to himself.  I give him his own notebook = he shrieks and rolls around on the floor because he wants my list.  When I told him not to draw on himself and only on the paper = wow.  I'm surprised I didn't spontaneously combust.  He looked at me like I was the most disgusting thing he's ever seen and ran away screaming.  That hurt coming from a kid who plays with dog poop at the park.
The boys are playing like boys, which means there are a lot of heavy thuds and random crashes coming from their room, and usually that's fine.  But today, every few minutes Mitch comes running out to throw himself on my lap and wail like nothing will ever be right again and Jack follows him as far as the doorway to watch with a look of scared confusion.  He looks at me like he's asking "What is WRONG with him?"  I don't know, honey.  I don't know.
I keep telling myself that if I can stay sane and keep him alive until nap time it will all be okay.  He can scream in his bed and I can lay on the couch and scream into a pillow and somehow everything will work out.  Maybe after he wakes up he will be back to being my sweet little boy that gives kisses and hugs, who laughs at everything and is kind to others.  That thought is the only thing keeping me together right now, so don't burst my bubble, okay?

Dinner and a Movie

Jordan came down from the mountain on Friday to surprise me with a family date night.  I was so touched that he made the effort to come spend time with us, that I forgave him the fact that his goal this week is to kill one of my favorite animals.  When he first turned the knob on the front door however, I kind of freaked out because I wasn't expecting anyone.  He had left me alone and unarmed (he had taken my hammer that I sleep with up to the campsite with him for the week) which caused my heart to race when I thought someone was trying to get in.  I figured it was either a bad guy or the little 13 year old handicapped girl that hangs out on our porch and calls me "coach".  Both options were equally unappealing, but for entirely different reasons.  If it was a bad guy, all I had to defend my children was pure rage and a mother bear's ferocity.  If it was Esmerelda, it meant that she was to the point of just walking in without knocking and our relationship had progressed into the restraining order stages.

 I was thrilled to find out it was neither of the two.  My next thought was that he had come home only because he was hungry and he was going to leave again just as soon as he got the tinfoil dinners he had forgotten earlier out of the freezer.  When I had found them after he left on Wednesday I'd wondered what he was going to do for food for a week, miles away from anywhere.  Worry reared it's vicious head and I had started having images of my husband huddled next to a fire, emaciated and looking forlornly across the flames at his buddy Justin who was eating a half side of beef in ecstasy.  In all actuality it was nothing so dramatic, he had left the dinners on purpose because he knew he was coming back.  What he hadn't planned on was me eating them in his stead.  Hey, just because I had visions of my husband slowly starving to death doesn't mean I had to as well!  He told me that he had been worried about leaving the dinners behind, that it might tip me off that he was coming back.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't even consider his coming back, my initial response was to preheat the oven.

So after we made plans to go shopping for more food (I'm sorry!), he told me he was going to stay the night at home so he could watch Jack's last soccer game in the morning.  Did I tell you how much I adore this man???  I think I even started jumping up and down while squealing like a Justin Bieber fan.  I've spent the last day in a dreamy fog, sighing with contentment and happiness.  Not even the game cancelation (due to weather) this morning could dampen my spirits.  I love being in love with my husband, and I love that he loves loving me enough to do sweet things, just to make me smile.

THE HUNT

This year my husband decided to try his hand at deer hunting.  It started out as a lark- "Oh sure!  I think that would be fun!" and has steadily grown to encompass all of our daily lives.  There are piles of items stacked knee-high in our bedroom that are "for THE HUNT".  The kids are constantly getting in trouble for scaling those piles of gear as well as unloading backpacks full of Rambo knives and insect repellant.  I tripped over the 8 man tent last night on my way to the bathroom at midnight.  Just so you know, 8 men are not going hunting with my husband.  Only one guy is, but he's not sleeping in Jordan's tent, because "that would be gay".  No, Jord needs the extra room so he has somewhere to put all his hunting paraphernalia, that's how much stuff we are talking about.  We've gone shopping multiple times for said paraphernalia, and when I expressed concern about how much we were spending he assured me that this was a one-time start up cost and he won't have to buy anything else for next year.  I made him shake on that statement.   And sign a document.

He's actually really funny and endearing about the planning stages, (I mean, if you can overlook the end result of his killing an animal).  I've caught him holding up shirts against his front at the store with a thoughtful look on his face.  He didn't see me laughing at him because I ducked down the next aisle.  I had the hardest time not throwing comments at him like: "Oh honey, that's so last season.  THIS is what everyone is wearing now to stalk and kill.  Swamp camouflage would totally bring out your eyes but alas (sigh), we are in the desert."  There are quite a few purchases that I just don't understand however, and probably never will.  Camouflage house shoes is one of them.  I just can't wrap my mind around the meaning of them.   Are they really hunting gear?  Or is he disobeying fashion rule # 73: Do not wear the same pattern head to toe.  Actually, he is most definitely breaking that particular rule.  I walked into the bedroom to find him trying on his "outfits" (I don't know what else to call them).  He wouldn't let me take a picture of him though.  I tried reasoning with him that he probably wouldn't even show up in the photo since he was wearing so much camo, he'd just be a floating face.  He didn't take the bait.

The other day I found an excel spreadsheet that he made for organizing THE HUNT.  He blushed and reminded me that he is a nerd when I waved it at him with my eyebrows raised in question. He's right though.  He is a nerd.  It's one of the things I love most about him.  I'm kind of expecting a PowerPoint presentation later in the week on where he will be hunting and procedures for finding him in case of an emergency at home.
This has gotten so huge that whenever Jordan says something about THE HUNT, I see those words in my head in capitol letters, obscuring any other thoughts that might have happened.  Granted, there's not many thoughts in my head at any particular moment, or maybe there are too many for any one of them to be clear.  I'm not sure.  Either way, THE HUNT is very distracting for me.  I'm hoping that it's everything that he wants it to be, and that he comes back recharged and rejuvenated.  That would make all the rest of this completely worth the effort of dealing with a man possessed.