4 Corners Quest - Day 10: Battle of the Four Corners

4 kids

4 Corners

Coincidence?

I think not.

The Monument is in the middle of nowhere, is not in the least attractive, added a good 3-4 hours of driving, and was considered of vital interest to the #4CornersQuest participants.

The above photo was planned and negotiated more than a few times by its participants. Who is to stand where?

Emily claimed New Mexico as her birthright.

In turn, Garrett wanted whatever state was closest to China, initially estimated to be Utah, given that China is north of whatever is below it, and Utah is north of Arizona.

Elizabeth, however, with her newfound love for Arches N.P., had her eye on Utah as well.

"Garrett, I think Arizona is closer to China. Right, dad?"

Catching what she was trying to do, knowing that neither kid had a clue which state was "closer" to China, not sure myself, and not averse to lying to decrease potential tension, I followed suit, "Yep, Arizona is like 5 or 6 feet closer on the angle. It's close, but has been survey verified."

All was well, as Elizabeth and Garrett made peace with their appropriate locations.

Louise, generally casual about things that don't actually matter, gladly accepted Colorado.

Border crossing and free-trade agreements are being negotiated.

4 Corners Quest - Day 7. Shut-Up Sighting

<Background Information>

4 kids,

3 daughters, including,

1 teenage and 1 preteen daughter.

14yo Emily has been pretty casual re: her flirting partners. A bit of fandom from afar (Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy fame), but not much more. A few grins and giggles.

12yo Louise has got it a bit deeper in her blood, more interest, more something or other... I don't even know how to say it.

What I do know is that boys, or the names of boys, or the fear that another may be talking about a boy she may or may not know, be interested in, or may be rumored to have interest in... what I do know is that this is dangerous ground.

<Scene One>

TheBowling6 are dwelling in some cliffs, taking advantage of binoculars to people watch, as Louise pretends to sight a boy Emily may or may not have interest in. Grin and giggle.

<end scene one>

<Scene Two>

Emily, still grinning and giggling, banters back the name of a boy that Louise may or may not have interest in.

Now, the male species would block such potentially embarrassing or accurate concerns with a well-placed 'Your Mama' joke or a punch in the gut. If only...

"Shut Up!" Louise reacts, and then, "You too!"

<end Scene Two>

<Scene Three>

The critical feature of the Scene 2 was *not* the bowing up between sisters, an unhealthy but not mind-blowing or unheard of engagement.

The critical feature, and be forgiven for not anticipating how the plot was about to turn, was the character to whom "you too" was directed.

The one you should least direct such towards, the matriarch, Mom.

Please understand that while the previously-provided documentation is based upon context clues and post-incident interviews, and while I was approximately 42' away from said incident and with my back turned, the remaining testimony was loudly and very clearly witnessed.

"No, (said with an implied 'OH', in front of it, as in 'oh no') 
"Are you kidding me?

"I don't think so

"I am your mother

"You don't say 'shut up' to AN Y ONE

"You most certainly don't say that to me. I brought you into this world, I will take you out."

There may or may not have been a few other things said that were cut from the scene to protect the Mrs. from further actions.  

<end Scene Three>

<After-Credits Scene>

Mom is given a shot of whiskey from our emergency supply kit.

Dad and Elizabeth are found crouched in a Kiva, praying that they dodge any cross-fire, hoping to make it through the night.

Garrett's post-event testimony has too many inconsistencies to be admissible. He is cleared of any charges, given his lack of motive or comprehension of what just went down.

Emily is found grinning and giggling with her thoughts of Patrick Stump.
Louise, ironically enough, is the one child who most certainly does "shut up".

<Fade to Black>

The Bowling Christmas Experiment

Christmas is aimed to be the most benevolently wonderful moment of the year, the point in time where God fully reached out to His creation to bring us into the fold.

I have been a Christian my entire adult life, but have never quite captured this sweet essence of Christmas; rather, I most honestly associate December with obligatory obligations, deadline stress, busy to the point of feeling unhealthy, eating to the point of being unhealthy, and the yoke of how.I’m.supposed.to.feel.

Maggie and I endeavor to develop a simple and pure relationship between our nuclear family, Christmas, and Jesus, the latter being the most difficult portion to include in the experience. It is neither easy nor fully implemented. At a minimum, I hope that our children more naturally associate this month with Jesus than I do.

I am away from home this Christmas (to be immortalized in my soon to be released Country song). The typical challenges of being away are magnified this week. For Maggie and me, this is our most service-oriented Christmas yet:

she where she is, and

I where I am.

I hope that our experiences help us embed the soul of Christmas in our reality.

I hope that my absence from home and my presence here will help deepen my shallow appreciation for this sacramental celebration.

The Eastcoast Jam, Day 4 (where things turn sour)

Today would be Day 4 of the adventure (for those of you just tuning in, you can either keep track of how many days we've been on this trip by use of the Gregorian calendar, or by the title of the blog post, whichever you find more convenient).
Today would be the day where Jack Arnold made his appearance.
Things Jack had to deal with today, a few of the many examples (I will change the individual kids names to protect the innocent minors):

At one point point in the day Jarrett (wink, wink) asks his mother, "How many days have we been gone?" "What do you think?" she responds. He guesses a random number, at which point mom asks, "Would you rather guess or think it through?" (rookie mistake). "Mom, I'm not in school now. I don't want to do my maths."

Afternoon rest time, where we all take turns showering and having some down-time in the hotel room. Maliza (not her real name), locks herself in the shower, runs herself a bath, and proceeds to pretend she can't quite hear her mother screaming "Get OUT of the bath! People are W A I T I N G ! "

When she finally does make an exit, and is inches away from being skinned by her mother, Jarrett turns to Lois and asks, "Where's Eliza?". Apparently, he had lost her in this 315 square foot palace.

Upon completion of our walk through town, down to the falls, along the falls, strolling and racing and taking pictures, Lois turns to Norma and asks "Is that supposed to be a park?" 

At the point where I almost cracked (well, maybe a few moments after I had started to crack), I stopped to think of people I could ask to pray for us in this adventure. Wise, sagely parents who understood and could offer us support. And then, in a fit of rare insight, I realized I myself could pray for patience, wisdom, grace and love for a series of people who are driving me nutty. God just might listen to me.

I would like to think that the last few hours of the day were more tender and graceful, regardless of the maturity of the children in tow. God is better than I deserve.

Our First Time

Emily returned home this evening from her first adventure sans parents. In another manner, she returned home from the first adventure of any of our children sans us. Five days away, and we were delighted to see her home.
She experienced life and served her neighbors in Lexington KY with a few friends and adults I trust (well, mostly trust). Said adventures chronicled here. http://kidsonmission.blogspot.com/
Having a grand adventure ourselves without parental influence (I do not count once Maggie vacates her office), we were all exhausted, five of us in our jammies laying cross-ways on my bed reading at 7:30pm, and dropping off to bed shortly thereafter.

Single Father, Day 1

It is good to start out optimistic; helps to gain some momentum when heading into a challenging situation. The four remaining Bowlings (with Emily in Kentucky and mom in London enjoying coffee and mimosas at Gatwick International) took the hour drive up to Lake Arrowhead, where I spent many years working. 

After 20 minutes of being sandwiched between her younger siblings in my car, Louise broke down, acted irrationally, and disobeyed her father, a very rare event. 

We swam in a pool shaped like an arrowhead, with dad winning the belly flop contest (I have my pride). 

We at lunch at the clubhouse, overlooking the 18th fairway. That's my lot, right there, through those trees; the one that I thought would have a great view of the golf course when I bought it, but was mistaken. I'll sell it to you for whatever you've got in your pocket. 

Eliza ordered chips and queso. Garrett ordered homemade potato chips with blue cheese dip. Louise ordered cheeseburger with sweet potato fries. I ordered a spinach salad.

We desired to go swim in the lake, but it started thundering. So we spent an hour on a fabulous playground until the sprinkle turned to pour and then returned home. Louise rode up front, which I'm not sure is legal; but I could not in good conscience put her between the tweedles. 

Garrett was in rare form. I have been convinced by my wife and a large gathering of other parents-of-young-boys that his combination of obtuse statements/questions and general cluelessness of his surroundings is 'perfectly normal'. At one point (and let me make clear, this is just one of many potential items to share), as we were getting out of the car to eat lunch, with 3 doors open and 3 people getting out of the car, Garrett asked "can I get out of the car?". To counter my internal sarcastic responses (they stayed internal for the most part), I reviewed 1 Corinthians 13, Love is patient, love is kind... it always perseveres.

Ready for Emily to return home, with her mom closely following.

"Sam" didn't market well

Had guacamole and salad for dinner, while the kids picked their favorite sandwich with carrots. The guac bowl must be guarded at all times, or the four vultures swoop in. After having my fill, I allowed the kids free reign to the remainder of the chips and guac.
Eliza and Garrett lost no time in eating and chatting through the guac process. Discussing guacamole and saying 'guacamole' is just about as much fun as eating it.
"I love avocados," Eliza says.
Struggling with the 2.5 seconds of silence within the conversation, Garrett asks, "Dad, is this really called 'guacamole'"?
"No Garrett, it's called 'sam', but no one would ever eat it with that name. I've been lying your entire life about this, and I am sorry."
Silence.
Eliza breaks it, "I like the name Steve."

Is it focus, or lack thereof

After a late night adventure with Dad and Eliza (in the car at 10:30pm, asleep at 10:45, in bed at midnight), and the morning spent at church, Garrett was burnt, just barley functioning, ready for a nap.
"Upstairs, and directly to bed," mom ventures, in what seems to be clear instructions.
Twenty minutes later, as we hear a door open and close, Maggie finds him in his floor playing with Legos. "To bed with you," she shoos him under the covers, head on pillow, lights out.
Ten minutes later, finding him up again, Maggie's patience begins to get tested. But as evolving parents, we try reason, "Garrett, you are very tired, you are grumpy and are crying too much. You need to go to bed. Garrett, (we assume that starting every sentence with his name helps Garrett realize that we are specifically talking to him), you went to bed late last night, were up early this morning, and will be up late tonight. Tomorrow is a school day, and you need some rest. I want you to get in your bed and go to sleep. Do you understand?"
"Uhm, yes."
Three seconds pass.
"Mommy, I have a question." 
"Yes"
"Can I get up and play?"

Focused Prayer

Evening hours and dark. Emily, Louise and Bowling-mom are readying themselves for prayer. Various requests are presented, but the ideas quickly run dry. "Mom, I don't know what to pray for," Louise states.
"Well, this is Christmas time, and there are lots of people who don't have family to spend time with, or who are struggling with money and cannot buy their kids presents. You can pray for them," mom leads.
"And you can pray Nathan Musgrove. He looked sick today at the Nutcracker," Emily adds.
So the prayers begin, and the three girls in turn beseech.
Upon completion, Louise adds as an afterthought, "Jesus, please take care of Nathan Musgrove." At which point, Emily responds, "What's wrong with Nathan Musgrove?" Apparently, not enough to remember.

Mind over Matter

A shout out to Garrett and Eliza for learning to ride their bikes on Tuesday. Bowling dad took Garrett's training wheels off this past summer, hoping to spur him on; he just used the scooter instead. But with a bit of Emily encouragement and a helping of his own machismo, G-man picked up the bike, walked to the top of the driveway, and made it happen.

Eliza, distinctly not content at letting her bigger little brother bask in his own glory, quickly followed suit.

By Thanksgiving day, they were twirling through the streets, driveway and garage like a pair of pros.

Bowling Parents are once again grateful to check one more "too young to do this" item off of the list.

When I was a kid... (part 1)

When I was a kid, "Jinx" meant something. You might be chatting with a group of friends, and two of you innocently slip the same word out. There's a pause, pregnant, broken by panicked "JINX!". Crap! Both yelled out at the same moment; time for plan 'B': "one-two-three-four-fi-si-sevn-eigh-ni-ten, JINX!" Got 'em.
Or you might be on the prowl, listening to your rambling friend with one ear while patiently anticipating his every word, until at just the right moment you double him up, followed immediately by "JINX!". The slower responder man'd up, and stayed silent until their name was spoken aloud, and the sacred spell was broken.

This is lost on my youngest two. Jinx has devolved into a community activity, announced to one another, where we repeat "Jinx" over and over while giggling and not succumbing to its inherent powers. Once it is revealed that "Jinx" has no control over the mutual participants, we start calling out "Peanuts", hoping that word conjures some additional humor.

When I was a kid...

On my Birthday...

Needless to say (except in this circumstance, of course), Garrett has used this term in the upper 1000s of times in the past couple of weeks. One cannot accuse him of not being singularly focused.

And yes, in two days, this classic gooberhead will turn 6 years old. It was touch and go for a while, not sure if he was going to pull it out and actually turn six. A rash outbreak of bed-wetting in April put it in peril, "Garrett, if you do this again, I am not going to let you turn six." I'm not sure if the random nature of such reversions to infancy or my clearly articulated position on his ability to grow up motivated him, but the bed's been dry.

Garrett's social circle is rather limited, hampered by him being the only son with three sisters, Maggie play-dating with mostly girl-oriented families, Alex being out of town this weekend, as well as his age. But we pulled out a rather enjoyable McD hang with dad and kindergarten friend Noble. He got an hour on the indoor playground, a Kung Fu Panda 2 shooting object (made in his hometown, about his hometown), and a Cars 2 lego set (again, made in his hometown, while set in a neighbor historically pivoted as a rival state, but which has shown a general cooling of tensions in recent decades). All in all, not bad.

This preliminary event is merely the lead up to Monday night, where Garrett has requested a birthday dinner at IHOP, "my favorite place." I would wait to write then, so as to be able to capture the full nature of this event; but I fear that I will be exhausted by both experiencing and discussing his birthday.

First time for everything

So when Garrett came inside on Saturday afternoon crying, I immediately went to the old standby: "Crying doesn't make you better. Stop crying kid."

He calmed a bit after a while of me waiting on him, and then explained that he had fallen from his scooter. Seems like some portion of his arm hurt, although we couldn't clarify the exact state of the injury.

"You're OK. Don't worry about it," words of calm wisdom from his father, "run it off."

He stayed inside the remainder of the day, holding his arm limp. "Probably just bruised it."

Sunday morning G-man wasn't able to straighten the arm. Daddy was, "See Garrett, you just have to pull it straight." He winced a bit, but didn't cry. At least he is learning. We'll just wrap it in an ACE bandage.

Monday morning it might seem a bit worse, but really, we shouldn't worry about it. He's a strong kid, and hasn't complained out loud. Seems like Mom had different ideas, and after a quick trip to Urgent Care, found that Garrett had a "FAT PACK" on his elbow, which apparently indicates a stress fracture. Three weeks in a cast. Maggie should have asked the doctors what the fat packs on G's eyelids, palms and feet indicate.

I've had 26 total years of parenting over four kids, and every time prior to now the "get over it, stop crying" routine has worked effectively. Maybe this experience will result in a kinder, gentler dad. Maybe not.

My Reasoning is Sound

Grrrr, she replied when Maggie tells her she cannot watch a movie.

"Eliza, you've had a bad attitude, and you cannot watch TV when you have a bad attitude."

Without missing a beat, she responds, "I will have a nice attitude when you put on a movie".

Tooth-Fairy

I returned home tonight after 10 days away. Walking into the bedroom at 2am, Maggie turns to me and asks, "Do you have any cash?"

"I have 3 dollars", I reply, emptying my pockets of what little remained of my travels.

"Louise lost a tooth. I need you to give her a dollar."

I turn to walk the down the corridor.

"Oh yeah, she says to tell the Tooth Fairy to not put the money under her pillow when he comes home tonight. She doesn't want him to rummage through her stuff. It bothers her sleep. She said to just put it on the nightstand."

The Liza Lexicon

Eliza has a peculiar ability to change words. They come into her ears, are transferred into something different, and then are re-spoken in their made-over glory.

Now, you might say, "she's 4, it's okay for her to do that." And you would be right. However, these little verbal mishaps are extreme in their creativity, and are even more amazing considering Eliza's assurance that she is saying them correctly.

A handy list:

1- Barbie's Johnny-Q- Johnny's BBQ

2- Norfolk Jelly- New York Deli

3- Grandpa's Pond- Uncle Seth's Pond, a place we visited in Martha's Vineyard

4- The Gummy Man- the "dummy" that we saw the Coast Guard use to perform a fake rescue whilst on the Martha's Vineyard Ferry

5- Rollacoke- The World of Coke

6- Miss Jillian is "on a mission"- uttered when Miss J was out of town hooping it up with her friends, most decidedly NOT on a mission, at least not the good kind.

7- Do you buhmember?- Liza for "do you recall this certain event?"

8- Marfew's Bin-yar- Martha's Vineyard

9- This isn't a specific word, but she does have this quirky habit of calling our friends' husbands their "daddies". As in, "Miss Jillian's daddy is Mr. Drew". This confusion came about when she wondered why Jillian didn't live with her father, who resides in another state. When I explained to her that most kids grow up and move away from their parents, she was totally pumped.

"When can I do dat?" she wanted to know.

The man with many names...

Some people naturally attract nicknames. Maybe because their given name is either difficult to say or has the wrong 'air' about it. Or said person embedded the memories of others with some fun-filled experience and 'earned' it. And then, some people are just fun to name.

One might say that Garrett has his share of nicknames: Garrito, G-Man, Guido to name a few.

Sometimes he likes the names, sometimes not, depending on his mood and whether he thinks you are sincere.

Occasionally, a name might escape our parental lips that oughtn't, as in a exclamation recently overheard:

"Mommy!!! Daddy gave me a new name: DORKUS!!!"

How exactly do you undo the damage?

The special status of 'paper'

In the parental struggle that is keeping some semblance of a clean house, the ultimate obstacle is paper. Emily has a abundance of paper. I believe there are special categories for people who love paper as she does.

In particular, she likes small pieces of paper. To detail more fully, she likes to create small pieces of paper. And the thing about paper is that you never know when you are going to need it. So you don't want to waste it.

We have fought this battle for the 7 years since she first picked up a pair of safety scissors.

"Emily, clean your room."

At which point Emily stays quiet for 10-12 seconds before saying: "Its finished".

"NO Emily, I want you to put your stuff away."

At which point, Emily realizes that her parent was talking to her, and she takes 3-4 items nearest to her and stacks in a corner somewhere (anywhere, really).

"NO Emily, I want you to put all of your stuff away, and put the trash strung throughout in the trashcan."

At which point, Emily realizes that someone is actually going to review her progress before some significant event is to occur (dinner, for example). She is motivated finally to do her collective best.

A short while later, said parent ventures in to find things reasonable, excepting the life-force of Emily's creative existence: paper.

She doesn't pick it up.

It isn't 'toys', so she doesn't have to put away.

It isn't 'trash', so she doesn't have to throw away.

It is time to define a third category. I'm happy to accept suggestions.

Better watch your back, part 2

So I was sitting in the living room a bit ago, quietly reading or the like, with Eliza by my side (I keep my eye on her now) coloring Ariel (from now on, when I say 'coloring', you can go ahead and assume I mean 'coloring Ariel'. Just consider it shorthand).

Garrett, who has a 'space' issue (from now on, when I say 'space', please understand that I actually mean 'no space', as in 'there's no space left between Garrett and the moment's object of attention').
Garrett, who has a 'space' issue, you could argue was crowding Eliza, just checking in on the coloring progress.

In what one might call a bit of slapstick short-sightedness, Eliza turns, places one of her hands on each of his shoulders, and pushes him.
Me, sitting in my quiet reading pose, have my legs just so.
And Garrett, weighing in at 27 lbs sopping wet, rotates head over back-heals around my ankles, ending up on his back, feet in the air.

You cannot script this.

Better watch your back, part 1

So I was sitting in the living room a bit ago, quietly reading or the like, when I hear Eliza and Maggie coming down the stairs.
"Mudder, if Garrett and Daddy were dead, then we could have all girls living in this house."
How to you prepare for this?