Surprising Palettes

There are times when the reactions of my children throw me for a such a complete loop that they cause me to glance in the rear view mirror to confirm that the cargo in the backseat does indeed resemble my actual offspring rather than some other rug rats that have just happened to stow away in my car.

Take Sunday. Zane has taken a liking to classical music. No big deal. He has always enjoyed the sounds of classical music. I've not played it for him as often as I would like, only because all my classical music is on cd's and I don't have a cd player anywhere in the house, or in the car. I just need to take the time to upload them to Itunes. But really, having a kid enjoy classical music really isn't a "WOW". Seriously, parents, just because your kid finds Mozart fascinating does not a music genus make. Sorry to burst your bubble.

However.

I would say that having your kids bite your head off for changing the station during Renaissance Madrigal music is a tad bit surprising.

So, we're driving to church and I have on the classical station and the kids are listening and are stone quiet. Zane keeps asking "is this one my favorite one?" (referring to a piece he had heard the day before) and whether we can pause it until after church. A piece ends.

Madrigal music begins.

I assume that my kids may not enjoy it and switch the station.

"MOM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! TURN IT BACK!"

Um, what?

Both of them gang up on me, yelling for me to return to the station with, as Zane puts it, "the music that they are singing to God."

Ok.

I'm thinking they would like Taize worship.

The alien abduction of my children continued through dinner as we dined on Tilapia, whole grain brown rice, and steamed green beans.

Again, not really so "WOW" unless you possess the background information that Zane is Mr. Seriously Picky, and yet, on this particular Sunday, he and Harper actually argued over who got more fish on their plate. More FISH.

I'm keeping my eye out for pods.

How have your children suprised you today?

I Never Thought I'd Hear . . .

"Mom! Would you PLEASE stop eating MY kale!"

Um, ok, Harper.

Who would have ever thunk it????

And yes, Zane did eat his also.

Only his was wrapped in bacon.

We may eat more vegetables since receiving our vegetable box every week, but, just to be clear, I never claimed to be a vegetarian house.

Mmmm. Kale.

Mmmm. Bacon.

Mmmm. Kale wrapped in bacon.

I'm afraid my vegan, kale worshipping friend, Andrew, may. have. a. cow.

But, he'll never eat one.

Desperate Plea

At the risk of having my 1999 Subaru Forester morphed into some suped up speed machine, I am putting the call out to these guys, and gal, from Overhaulin', to save my car.

My car, whose transmission blew this afternoon.

The transmission which was previously replaced in July. And then repaired again in September.

If you are a faithful reader I don't even need to link you back to the events of this summer. For you, this is like a bad film sequel: Transmission III: Stranded at Walgreen's.

I am numb.

And now I'm really not sure how to get the grocery shopping done that still hasn't happened since my run in at Aldi's.

So, I'm boldly putting out the call to the Next Food Network Star and Overhaulin'. I could use some meals for the freezer along with that transmission.

Thanks. I'll just wait here, trapped in my house. I'm the one sitting in the front window learning how to play my pink electric so that I can drown out my troubles with very loud songs.

Oh, and did I fail to mention that I got a few more bills from Humana today, denying some claims for Harper? Is there a show called,

We'll Fight Your Insurance Company For You, So Just Sit Back, Relax, and Let Us Take it From Here, Because You've Spent Way Too Much Time Attempting to Reach Someone Who Can Give You a Straight Answer As To Why They Won't Pay?

No? There should be. Time to pitch that one to the network. Though the title probably needs a little more work.

Cue primal scream.

Thank you, kind Sir!

I'm currently in a really good place.

Sure, the purge is helping. No doubt.

I'm more active.

My mind is clear.

Clarity is a great substitute for fuzziness.

I feel good. Like James Brown good.

And on Tuesday, I was just blessed. Simply put. Blessed. By random acts of kindness. Yeah, yeah, the kind that Oprah has probably gone on and on about because of some book.

I don't think we're wired for kindness.

We're wired to receive it.

But, I'll go out on a limb and say that we're not quite wired to give it. We do, of course. But more often than not, at least in my case, I tend to think about myself before I think about others. It's hard to look that truth in the face. I challenge you to stare it down.

Anyway, back to Tuesday. It's as if it was, "Show Joline a little kindness day".

On the way out of Great Harvest, which is just chock full of kindness by way of free bread slices, I ran into the father of a former student who is now, gasp, a senior at Northwestern. How can my students be graduating from college? That's another story.

Anyway, we spoke and caught up as we walked to Starbucks so I could grab some tea, and Zane some chocolate milk.

Well, this gentleman just wouldn't dream of my picking up the tab for my drinks. He purchased my tea and Zane's drink and then we walked back to our cars. It was such a "chance" meeting, as he doesn't live in Evanston, but was just down for the day visiting his daughter.

Very sweet.

I visit a great market on Dempster every week, as I just can't stand the enormity that is the Jewel or Dominicks - although I do shop there, I tend to prefer the smaller market. So Tuesday, as I was putting Zane in the car, a lovely older couple came over to the car, saw me loading all the bags and Zane into the car, and said,

"You've got your hands full. Is this your cart? Let us return it for you. You do so much."

It's the little things.

But wait! The blessings continued. Even if the next one is sure to kill me.

Out of the blue while I was making lunch, I hear the most glorious little voice, and turn to look into the most glorious blue eyes,

"Mommy, you are beautiful."

Pause.

"Are you going to cry now?"

Um, yep.

Caramel Apples Are Good For Families

Wanna guarantee a great after-dinner dialogue between parents and children?

Make caramel apples. It's a long enough process to get everyone involved, and eating them takes time, thus insuring that no one will be darting away from the table in a flash.

Our evening was so good, that seriously, I don't even know where to start here. All I know is that caramel apples, as much as they are just down right horrible for teeth, are fantastic for families.

At least ours.

We spent the second half of the day at home. We needed a day at home. One of those lazy Saturdays where you just hang together. No agenda. Well, other than making caramel apples after dinner, an activity which you keep dangling over the head's of your children as a bribe throughout the day, in order to make the day run smoothly.

After dinner, we began the process. And what we thought would just be a fun family activity turned into one of the best family gatherings around the dinner table that we've had all year.

It began with Zane.

"Mommy! You are sitting next to me! Because you love me!" Zane is all about the love. The saying you love, the showing you love, the hugs, the kisses, the cuddles, the snuggles, the rolling up into a ball and curling up in your lap. It never gets old.

And then, Zane, who is mesmerized by all things four, "because I'm going to be four", begins telling us how when he is big, he will be a doctor.

"When I am big, I will be a doctor. A doctor for children. To make them feel better."

"That's great, Zane! When did you decide to become a doctor when you grow up?"

Zane looks straight at us. His face clearly reveals that he is dead on serious.

"God told me I am going to be a doctor."

Wow.

Things continued. We broke into a spiritual discussion during which Zane basically ingrained in us that Jesus is God and that sin makes Him sad and that He is alive. After he finished preaching we asked the kids how they know that we love them.

Harper responded first. "Because you tell us and hug and kiss us all the time. Too much."

To which Zane jumps in to defend our honor with an emphatic reply, "NO! IT'S NOT TOO MUCH!"

Ok, then.

The evening began to wind to a close by Harper inviting us into her room for a surprise. She had her light pointed at the ceiling as a spotlight and asked us to either sit in the balcony (up on the loft), or on the floor. Zane and I chose the loft. George took the floor. Otherwise, as Harper told us, he would block the spotlight. Such a lighting technician.

And. Then. It. Happened.

Harper busted out into a very well choreographed, "Gettin' Jiggy With It". And I'm telling you, putting all "mommy lovin' her child no matter what" aside, that her moves were in time, very creative, and actually fit the music. She left the room for a moment afterwards at which time George and I had a brief moment to share a "what was that" moment - completely non-verbal. We were in disbelief. The girl can dance. I mean, really. Dance. I told her that taking a hip hop class was kind of like taking a tennis class . . . minus the racquet and balls and net and everything tennis. My point being, that just as she tackled a tennis class where she knew no one, I would help her take a dance class if she had any inkling to do so.

Then Zane pops in again. The doctor who knows God, points at a painting in Harper's room of the feeding of the five thousand and states, "THAT is a God picture".

I have always said that I love my children so much that it hurts.

And tonight, sitting around a dinner table, sharing caramel apples, and just simply talking, reminded us why, every now and then, we just need to be the four of us with anything to do on a Saturday afternoon and evening.

Little Wise Guy

Just look at him. Snuggler and cuddler one minute, and master manipulator the next.

Napping
After listening to Zane play for an hour and a half in his bed, during what was supposed to be naptime, I enter his room to ask him if he even tried to sleep.

"Zane, it's naptime! Did you sleep?"

Pause. Cute eyes. Sweet cheeks.

"Well, I did put my head on the pillow."

Head tilt. The non-verbal equivalent of saying, "Aren't I irresistibly adorable?"

Dumping in the Pull-Up
I'm thinking that Zane has done his daily unload, and yet I'm not sure. Rather than checking, I ask him, point blank, whether he has gone, as we are working tirelessly on teaching him about telling the truth and lying.

"Zane, did you poop in your Pull-Up?"

"Nope."

"Zane, are you telling Mommy the truth?"

"Yes. I didn't poop."

"Good. I won't be mad if you pooped. But I will be angry if you are lying."

"Well, lying IS a problem."

Glad he thought so. He missed out on movie night due to lying. A mother's nose knows.

Flattery
Upon entering his room after a long nap. His, not mine - are you kidding?

"Oh, here comes my cute Mommy!"

Aw, cut it out, will you?

Primate Education (Or . . . Gorilla Porn)

Contrary to the little girl's comment, the female gorilla was not giving the male gorilla a piggy back ride yesterday during our visit to the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Nope. Not at all.

Not even close.

Of course, when I heard her squeal, "Look, Mommy! That gorilla is giving the other one a piggy back ride!", I very quickly gathered up Harper, Zane, and Bradley, our neighbor, to come and watch the scene as I didn't want them to miss out on the fun.

I should check the source before blindly following the crowd.

We got quite the free show.

Front and center.

Up against the glass.

I could have been "window shopping" in Amsterdam.

Daddy Gorilla finished his "piggy back" ride and moved off to the side where he literally slumped down to floor with his back against a pole. Exhausted.

All of us shocked parents just stood there. Speechless. None of us wanted to overreact, as then we would have to explain. So, a "piggy back" it was.

I love the zoo.