My Little Artist Knows THE Artist

"God is an artist. We are all His art."

Zane, for a 6 (just about 7) year old, you have great wisdom.

Thank you for ministering to your Mommy. 

Ponies or Unicorns: What's the Difference?

Today at Living Treasures Animal Park.


Me: Look, Zane! Isn't that an adorable pony?


Zane: Wait! Ponies are real????


Me: Um . . . .


Zane: Oh, right. Of course they are. I just got them confused with unicorns.

"I'm Batman!"

I just adore my son.

His latest statement.

Not five minutes ago.


Zane: "Mom, can we watch Batman vs. Dracula? It's ok, 'cause we all know that Dracula isn't even real. And Batman is."

Zaneism: 9-11 Thoughts

My son learned about 9-11 in school on Friday.

Admittedly, part of me was sad. First, because by learning of the tragedy he would now lose some of his wide-eyed innocence about the world. Secondly, because I wanted to be the one to share the event with him.

Only, I dig his teacher - and from what he shared with me - she did a great job explaining what happened on that beautiful morning back in 2001.

This isn't a reflective post. I wrote one back then and a few years later when I shared with Harper what had happened that day after reading a book about New York which included a picture of the Twin Towers.

"Oh! I want to go there!" my little gal exclaimed.

I called George upstairs, and we all talked about it together. She was 4.

Anyway, none of those blog posts are on-line any longer due to several blog redesigns in which I failed to transfer the posts. I have them stored away. Just not here.

So, I won't be reflecting again.

But I did want to share a recent Zaneism which seems to be fitting for a day like today. And, well, every day - if you think about it. In uttered these words completely out of the blue a few weeks ago,

"I think there is an invisible thread that you can't see that connects every person in the world. Because of that, we are all family."

Well said, son.

Repost from Pittsburgh Mom: Job Opening for a New Tooth Fairy

During a trip to the dentist last week, Zane was ecstatic to learn that he had a loose tooth.

Finally.

Harper didn't lose a tooth until First Grade, and I suspected that Zane would follow suit. Sure enough, on schedule, after only a week into First Grade, it was time time to check-off his next milestone.

Following that exciting trip to the dentist chair, Zane spent the entire week wiggling the darn tooth - and even entertained the idea of tying one end of a string to his tooth, the other the door handle, and slamming the door.

(No. Of course we didn't.)

As we patiently waited for the gem to fall, Zane discussed an important matter with me. 

"You know, " (wink, wink) "there is such thing as a Tooth Fairy . . . MOM."

"Zane, I am well aware of the Tooth Fairy."

"I wonder," (wink, wink) "what she will leave under my pillow . . . MOM. $20.00?"

"Nope. Think again."

The day came. Zane woke on Tuesday morning, and out came the tooth. No blood. No drama. Just - out it came, into his palm.

We placed it in a little plastic treasure chest, and he set it on his night-stand in preparation for the over-night festivities.

"Have a great day . . . MOM . . . I bet you'll be busy doing . . . um, stuff . . . MOM!"

I don't know what's worse: surprising the kid who believes the Tooth Fairy is real, and thus dreams of discovering an enormous booty fit for a pirate under his pillow, in place of the tooth, or the kid who DOESN'T believe the Tooth Fairy is real, and is just waiting for his parents to come through in a big way. We'd never discussed it, but it was clear that my kid was waiting to see how I'd perform.

Pressure. It had been so long since Harper lost a tooth that I found myself fumbling. It was midnight when I actually remembered . . . and so, admittedly, I borrowed, stole 4 quarters from our Christmas Jar, and as duty calls, placed them under Zane's pillow.

The next morning, he wasted no time throwing his pillow off his bed. Thankfully, he let out an enthusiastic, "Woo hoo!!!!!!!! MONEY!"

I was relieved. And even a little proud. I did good. I rocked the Tooth Fairy gig, (even though I had to resort to petty theft.)  I kept it simple. No gimmicks. Classic.

I eagerly waited to receive the props I deserved from my beaming son.

"MOM! Nice try, but you forgot about the tooth! LEAVE the MONEY. TAKE the TOOTH."

Doh. I knew that . . .

I've never liked fairies.

---

You Can Pick Your Friends . . .

(Oh, Zane, forgive me when you are older. Son, I HAD to record this story.)

Zane has a new habit. 

THAT habit.

Yep, digging around in the recesses of his nostrils for treasure.

I catch him every time. 

I've used every command I can think of to encourage threaten him to stop.

I've been gentle.

I've been downright nasty. 

What is so darn interesting up there?

Recently, I caught him in the act and told him to stop. Again.

He burst into tears.

I hadn't yelled this time. I hadn't told  him that he'd be labeled a nose-picker if the kids in school catch him. I didn't go into a tirade about it being disgusting.

I just told him to stop.

Why the tears?

"Zane, I don't want to hurt your feelings. But, really, you have to quit it."

"Mom!!!!!!!!!  I'm so confused."

Serious flow of tears.  

"Zane, what is there to be confused about???"

"I'm just doing what Daddy told me to do! I'm trying to do the right thing!"

What the-?

"Daddy told me I can pick my friends, and I CAN pick my nose, but that I can't pick my FRIEND's nose! See, I'm doing what he said!"

No punchline.

I'm speechless.

Zaneism #49872076: Absent Teacher

Zane: We had a Step-Teacher in class.

Me: You had a what?

Zane: A Step-Teacher. Mrs. Strauss wasn't there.

Me: Ohhhh. Zane, I think you mean a SUBSTITUTE Teacher.

Zane: Right.

THE Zaneism of the Year

Harper was reading to us when she came upon this sentence,

"And they came to find that 'so and so' grew an entire foot since last Christmas."

Without skipping a beat, Zane responded.

"Why?  Did he lose one last year?"

My Bandana: Even the Younger Set Can't Resist

"Mommy, there's this girl and I think she's cute."

Noooooooooooooo!

"Really, Zane?"

Sayitisn'tso, sayitisn'tso, sayitisn'tso!

"Yes, she's so pretty.  She has dark hair.  And she wears a headband.  A blue one.  With flowers."

"Oh.  Is she in your class?"

This isn't happening.

"Mommy!  Look in the mirror!  Don't you get it?"

I happened to be wearing one of my eye-catching bandanas.  In dark blue.  With small flowers sprinkled throughout the pattern.

Phew. Ok, back to one. All good.

Mom Mumbles and Zane Can't Hear

"Look babe.  There are some Amish boys fixing the roof of that house."

"Where?"

"There.  Look up.  See them?  The Amish on the roof?"

"Where?"

"Zane, seriously, how can you not see them?  They are all dressed alike down to the hats."

"I see the boys in the hats. I don't see the fish on the roof."

"No!  Not FISH.  Amish.  A-MISH.  There are AMISH on the roof."

Either I need to enunciate or my kid needs his ears checked.

Jr. Philosopher

Zane's thoughts on "nothing":

"It is impossible to do nothing.  Even if you are sitting still in a chair, you are doing something."

This is actually a rather deep thought.

Is is really possible to do nothing? 

You know, "What are you doing today?"

"Nothing."

"It's Sunday.  I'm looking forward to doing nothing today."

Is that possible?

Not according to my son.

Chew on that while you do nothing today.  Doh!  That would mean you are doing something . . .

Zane Prefers Confectionery Worship

Yelled with enthusiasm in the middle of Candy Kitchen last night:

"Praise the Lord!  Candy is in the church!"

I believe there was even some hand raising.

Maybe even dancing.

He has been slain in the sugar.

Hallelujah.

History Lesson

As much as we wanted to visit the Sturgis One Room School Museum today, we couldn't, as it wasn't open, and neither was the Pocomoke Chamber of Commerce which we were instructed to contact in order to make an appointment to see the museum.

So bummed.

George and I had explained to Harper and Zane that this school was different from the one room school we have back in Beaver.  This school was specifically for African Americans, during a time when blacks and whites were separated from going to school together, IF blacks had the opportunity to go to school at all.

Zane's response?

"Oh, yeah, I know that time.  That was before we had God.  We only had Kings that ruled the planet."

(pause)

Correct.

Stop, The Lent You Save May Be Your Own

Just in case you are a new reader, check out my 2008 thoughts on Lent.

Apparently in 2009, I didn't give Lent any thought. Well, I'm sure I did. I just didn't write about it.

Lent is one of those seasons where I get really cheeky and opinionated about walking with Christ. But, before I go there, let me share a little of Zane's theology with you regarding God's omnipresence.

"So if God really needs to be somewhere in a hurry, he is actually already there."

And his thoughts on Heaven after I told him there would be a terrific feast.

"I don't think they use glass up in Heaven. They serve everything in baskets."

That's very biblical-sounding. Don't you think?

Ok, and now, Lent.

You can reread my post from 2008 to get my thoughts on Lent. I hesitated to re post because I don't want to be misunderstood. Only you and your Maker know what sacrifices need to be made in your life to draw you into a deeper relationship with Jesus. My opinions certainly can't get between whatever God is calling you to set aside for 40 days. He trumps me.

For myself, I know without a doubt that if I were to give up coffee, chocolate, buffalo wings, or popcorn with olive oil and Parmesan cheese for 40 days, I would turn around and reclaim them as soon as I could say "Happy Easter!" And that may be fine for some. I want more. I want Lent to change a habitual way of thinking. I want to make a sacrifice which completely overturns the type of thinking that settles for the excuse of "well, that's just the way I am". I want to set aside something that causes my way of relating to God and others to become revolutionary.

I want my Lenten sacrifice to be something for which I must absolutely yield to the power of the Holy Spirit in order to experience growth and change in my life.

So, this year, I am relying on God's Word and His very breath that gives me life to refrain from . . . wait for it, wait for it . . . COMPLAINING.

2009 was a chock-full of complaints. As I look back on that year, I see hands-down the toughest year of our married life. With 2008 taking a close second. You can go back and read 2008. If you dare.

2010? It's looking pretty good thus far. So why taint it by complaining that upon needing a shower after a super hard workout this morning, the mechanism that sends the water from the faucet up to the actual shower head broke and I had to bathe under the faucet by squatting down on really fatigued legs? As if I hadn't done a ton of squats already?! No worries. I had clean water in which to bathe and while I may be a bit crampy, I'm fresh as a daisy.

Why "pull a 2009" by expressing my frustration over getting a migraine at the same time that I am having a very difficult talk with a woman needing help? My head hurt like the Dickens, but it only caused me to focus on her more and internally pray that God would place the words in my mouth because I couldn't see straight.

Why, on only the second day that I've announced that I will attempt to refrain from complaining for 40 days, does Harper have an incredibly difficult packet of math homework to complete?

Are any of these surprises?

No?

Did God cause them so that he could check me on this non-complaining quest of mine?

No.

This is just the stuff of life. However, my response to today has been very different. I feel like I'm getting a supernatural ability to forge onward. Moving forward by showering on my knees, pressing on through the pain in my skull, and phoning a friend for a visual aid that will help Harper with her assignment. No crabbin'. No grubblin'. No moanin'.

But rather, praying.

Philippians 2:14 says to do all things without complaining or arguing. So I'm going to give that a try. And at the risk of sounding uppity or judgemental, let me offer up a word to the wise: It's just not fun to be around those who complain about everything. Just as I will remain accountable to you for watching what kind of stream flows from my mouth, how about helping me by doing the same? Let's stick to pure water.

And while Lent has already begun, and you may have already committed to "giving something up", take a time of silence and solitude to see just what the Lord is asking of you for these next 40 days if you haven't already. The sacrifice is yours and yours alone, so don't feel as if you need to give up something that you see the masses ditching for this season. You don't have to follow the "I'm off chocolate" crowd. Lent should be your own.

Embrace challenge.

Expect change.

Experience Lent.

The Love Pile

My little Casanova is at it again.

Making me all weepy with his lovey dovey words.

Zane is REALLY excited about his 5th birthday on Sunday. So much so, that he has already taken to wearing a construction paper birthday crown around the house.

In preparation for turning 5, we decided to do a bit of overhauling in his room. Now, let's be clear. My definition of overhauling is to redo a room using items that can already be found in and around the house. No new furniture. But voila! Turn around and the "new" room looks entirely different!

Luckily for him, the attic space that has housed my office for the last 6 months is just not working out in the way we had hoped due to the lack of heat. One day in the future, once we check off the countless projects we already have planned for this house, we will redo the heating system so that the largest part of the attic - the one with a vent - can serve as a bedroom or office. The smaller room (the vent challenged side, which up until today served as my office), will now become the "attic" - actual storage.

But until that day when we can redo the third floor, I have moved all my furniture, files, inventory, etc. into the guest room, which other than having a bed, is quite lovely for an office space. And once my decorator neighbor has at it one may not even realize the bed is a bed. Hey, all I know is that it's warm, and it has a door I can close - which was my initial request when I prayed for a house with a home office.

My moving in, meant that some furniture from the guest room had to move out and into Zane's room - namely a bookcase that matches one he already has.

As we set out to organize his toys so that he could fill the "new" shelves, I witnessed Zane's knack for both organization (which I never knew), and the art for making one feel loved (which I did know).

Perhaps it was that he felt so very honored to have an entire evening devoted to his room. Perhaps is was because he was getting "new" furniture. Perhaps it was because I actually billed the massive cleaning session as a means of turning his room into 5 year old's room.

Whichever the case, he went to town on the space by actually initiated the setting up of piles as we dumped all his toys on to the floor.

"This is the give away pile. This is the go down to the basement pile. This is the throw away pile. This is the Harper's room pile, and THIS is the keep on the shelf pile."

I was so very proud of how he was able to sort and make decisions as to where toys would land. And then, we came to some cards that I had given him.

"This is going in my Love Pile, because you gave it to me and I love you and you are so beautiful."

These are the moments that make every tantrum worth it.

He also found some photos of a dear friend of his from back in Evanston.

"His pictures go in the Love Pile because I love him."

We finished his room and settled in to read some stories before bed, whereupon I found myself clutching my soon to be 5 year old a bit tighter.

No sooner had a I finished and said good-night, Harper called me into her room.

"Mom, you wanna do my devotions with me tonight?"

Where are my babies?

Don't get me wrong, I don't crave any more babies in my Love Pile, but when I look at these two I can't help but marvel at the experiences and the history and the memories that we have already created in only 9 years of being parents.

At the end of the month I will have a 5 year old and a 9 year old.

I'd say that's a pretty good Love Pile.

Seriously, How Am I Still Standing When He Utters Things Like This?

Conversation between George and Zane:

"Dad, I want to see my heart."

"Well, dude, your heart is an organ inside your chest. Pretty hard to see."

"Well, I know it's big because it's where I hold all my love."

Flatlined.

Nativity: Music by Zane Atkins

If I could record him, I would.

Sure, I could video-blog, but I've just not had the heart to interrupt my little John Williams while he's in session.

So you will just have to use your imagination.

Picture a nativity set made of olive wood and a 4 year old boy with a love for action and adventure stories such as Star Wars, Superfriends, and, well, as of 5 minutes ago, Prince Caspian - which, yes, we read together, prior to viewing the film. Come on! You know my drill!

As all the characters surround the baby Jesus in the manger, Zane's score begins. The piece is full of action, with a hint of mystery. His humming and "da, da, da's" have a quick tempo and the rhythm is not one I can repeat, because, well, only the composer knows where he's going with this piece. But one thing is for certain. If Zane's score, which he is creating on the spot while the character's surround Jesus, is meant to move the scene forward, then it has been successful. For the tune conveys urgency. It is thrilling and exciting. Heart-pumping.

The Nativity: the ultimate film for thrill-seekers.

Well, in Zane's mind.

Come to think about it, I think he has it right.

For isn't the Nativity story just that? Action-packed? Thrilling? Wondrous? Mysterious? Dangerous? (Jump in here. It's your turn to add an adjective.)

Unfortunately, after it all played out, Joseph was missing an arm. But really, what's a lost limb when your kid is the Son of God?

All this, from my boy, who recently declared the Christmas music ringing from the Beaver clock tower as "creepy and delicious."

The electronic bells being the creepy part, and Christmas being the delicious part.

I think he got that right also.

God, and Dragons, and Bugs, Oh My!

Zane, on dragons:

"Mom, can a dragon kill God?"

"Nope. IF indeed dragons existed, they were created by God, and God holds ultimate power over them."

"So, then, the dragon can not hurt God?"

"No, Zane. God could take a dragon out with a mere word. God would smite him - no doubt."

"Wow. Now that's a fight I'd like to see."

Zane, on bugs:

Upon entering his room the other day, George found that Zane had lined up every plastic and rubber bug that he could find and was busily arranging them into a semi-circle facing one bug which remained in the center.

"What'cha making there, buddy?"

"This is a communion service."

"Oh. Why is that one bug in the center?"

"He is their god. See, to bugs, God is a bug. Just like to us, God became a man."

Oh my.

Zane Atkins: Political Analyst

It's the stuff of which tabloid stories are made.

While driving to church on Sunday morning, I was enjoying the comfort of my new and improved Forester. Thanks to my mechanic and the "trans guys" ;).

Zane was having a discussion about how snowmen would melt in heat, because he is that sharp.

And Harper, upon listening to a news report over the radio, reported enthusiastically that the broadcaster had just announced how Obama had won the election for President.

"Mom! Did you hear that? Obama won the election!"

"The election is in November. I think they were just discussing Obama and the election."

And then Zane chimed in with his unique form of political satire.

"Are you talking about the Obamanable Snowman? That's scary."

And just what are your trying to say, Zane?

Are you using your silly wit to mock my decision to move to the other side for this election?

Do you think this is funny? Wipe that smirk off your face!

Come on boy! Think of your father!!!!!!!

You know your father has yet to lose his fear of Bigfoot, instilled in him by "In Search Of", hosted by the great Leonard Nemoy. The two of you just watched a show about Bigfoot on the Discovery Channel, and yet you throw it back in his face. Goodness, son! Your big, strong Daddy still sleeps with blankets covering his nose; his eyes peeking out in order to keep watch should Bigfoot set up camp in our back yard.

And while Dad may still believe that Bigfoot exists and that he and the Abominable Snowman are one in the same, or, at the very least, closely related, don't be fooled into thinking that your juvenile scare tactics will work at changing our minds.

Mommy and Daddy will exercise our right to vote with responsibility, each of us making an informed choice based upon educating ourselves about the candidates, rather than succumbing to the influence of of tabloid-like lies. We won't vote blindly.

Your comment showed a real insensitivity towards Obama. And your Dad's fear.

Perhaps there's a spot for you at The New Yorker .

No more political shenanigan's.

Deal?

Lighten Up, Already!

Okay, apparently, my recent posts have communicated that I am constantly in a pattern of entertaining deep and heavy thoughts.

Lots of rantings about poor customer service. (Do you blame me?)

Introspective musings about failure, fatigue, dreams, goals, career changes, my husband getting hit on at a neighborhood block party . . . oh, wait. I didn't actually write about that incident. Oops. Just walk away and forget you ever read that. Move along. Nothing to see here.

So, to put all of you at ease, let me proclaim in this post that I'm doing fine. I like to write. I like to write honestly about the events in my life that leave an impact on who I am and who I desire to be. All is good. Writing is free life coaching. I simply take comfort in working out my "stuff" via writing.

Lest you wonder whether I've waded too deeply into writing therapy, let me share that I also took comfort last night when Zane reported that our neighborhood is safe from jugglers.

You know. Jugglers. Those bad people who break into homes and steal personal belongings from unsuspecting victims.

Yes, jugglers. Good to know that we're fighting back against them with the help of the Skokie Police Department. (Wiping forehead in relief.)

Zane went on to share that he had seen a flyer depicting a juggler in a circle with a line through it while on a walk with Daddy, Harper, and Scout last evening. These flyers were being distributed throughout the neighborhood.

Our little corner of the world will be a safer one as we rally together keeping a watchful eye out for those evil jugglers who hide behind a ruse of tossing scarves, balls, pins, and flaming objects into the air as part of their plan to take us for all we've got.

Circus freaks.