It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission

About a month ago Jason and I took two couple friends of ours on the boat for the Joan Jett concert.  They met us at the marina and loaded their stuff up while I was still in our truck trying to hold back a puke from a migraine.  It's usually my job to offload the boat into the water after Jason backs the trailer down, but since Brett was there, I got to just be a passenger and relax with everyone else.  This was NICE.

I noticed in one of the two wake/surfboard holders a wakeboard I had not met yet.  It was black with shiny chrome "stuff" on it.  Since Dustin has his own boat and Brett has been known to own such things even without a boat I asked which one of them it belonged to.  They both shot nervous looks at each other, then their wives joined in.  Finally one of them piped up, clearly annoyed with her hubs.

"He didn't TELL her?"

The boys knew they were caught, and immediately backpedaled with the whole I-told-him-he-should-have-told-you thing.  Jason was still parking the truck.

As he made his way down to the dock and onto the front of the boat sans flip-flops, everyone waited in silence for the bomb to drop.  Eventually one of the guys couldn't take it anymore.

"Dude, she knows.  She noticed like right away, I couldn't lie about it."

Jason has apparently learned quickly from my dad, the master of making purchases without any discussions or decision-making sessions with my mom.  I think his best one ever was rolling in the driveway with a backhoe.  Then he bought a trailer to put it on, then a full size construction dump truck to pull it.  He once tried to get Jason to buy a wood stove for the shop behind my back.  Jason wouldn't do it and Dad was annoyed.  Dad wanted so bad to buy the stove just to "force" him to do it, to stand up to me.  He told Jason it's always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.  Funny thing is I don't really remember Dad or Jason asking for forgiveness on any deals.

This purchase was no exception.  No begging for forgiveness, only justification.  Something about an awesome deal and blah blah blah.  To be honest, he and his buddies were all trying at once to try to make me feel better about it so I don't even remember what all was said.  I actually wasn't even mad, but man it was fun to watch all three of them squirm.  When all was said and done, who can be upset over such a device that lets one's Prince Charming catch sweet sweet air like this:

...and keeps a smile on his face like this:

PRICELESS!

Good News/Bad News

Isn't it funny how when someone says they have good news and bad news, it's usually just bad news?

Esten came barreling down the stairs in his undies Friday night.  He casually walked along the back of the couch and said matter-of-factly, "OK guys, I have some good news and I have some bad news".  I have no idea where he has picked this phrase up, likely from Phineas and Ferb or King of the Hill for that matter.  After Jason and I exchanged confused and hesitant looks at each other Jason said, "Tell us the bad news first".

"The bad news is that one baby wipe is still in the toilet."

That didn't really seem like bad news, especially considering the baby wipes do NOT go in the toilet.  There might still be a chance to retrieve it.

"But the GOOD news is that ALL the other baby wipes went down."

We could not help but both break into gut-bomb laughter.  Esten was annoyed.

"I AM SERIOUS HERE."

I tried to regain my composure.  "How many of the wipes went down?"

"Like ten or something."

BREATHE.  BREATHE.  It's going to be okay.  Needless to say, it took me and the plunger quite a while to undo the "good news" part of this dilemma.  In reality, it's probably at least partially the same conversation we would have had with a plumber, in the alternate universe where I actually call on professionals to bail us out of maintenance disasters.

"I have good news and I have bad news.  The good news is I can fix it.  The bad news is you're going to have to sell one or both of your kidneys on Craigslist to cover the repair bill."

Friends are the family you pick for yourself

We just got back from yet another not nearly long enough visit with friends.  Jason's college buddy and his wife have 3 kids, two older and one younger than Esten and Clayton.  We try to get together at least twice a year, but this year we happened to cram both visits within about 3 weeks of each other.  As we reluctantly packed our bags for the 6 hour road trip home, I came to understand that friends, especially friends you want to call in sick just to spend another day with, are really the family you pick for yourself.

I grew up with an Uncle Bill who wasn't even related to us.  He was from one of probably the richest "old money" families in the Valley.  You'd never have known it to look at him though.  In 25 years I never saw him in anything but green Dickies work clothes, and those were typically dirty.  He never drove a new truck.  But every time he pulled in our driveway I would run through the yard squealing his name - "UNCLE BIIIIILL!!"  He always had a huge smile and candy for me.  When I was five he showed up with a puppy.  Half poodle, half terrier, he claimed to have found it wandering in a ditch around one of his properties and said it was for me.  The happy expression on my face was balanced out by the cringe on Dad's.  We were not really a "dog" family.  Cats were fine, so long as they stayed outside to do their mousing around the barns.  Dogs?  I never really asked because I think I knew better.  Taffy didn't make it through the first winter and was the first and last dog I ever had.

Bill and his wife vacationed in Hawaii one year and returned with a real grass skirt and an ivory necklace for me.  Ivory - before it was banned.  The grass skirt won me the "most Hawaiian" contest at the Omark Summer Picnic - two passes to the Hydrotube and a bottle of suntan lotion (not sunscreen, dark tanning lotion).  I was stoked.

Through the years and even after Bill passed away, I knew that there was a reason Dad had introduced him to me as Uncle Bill.  Dad and Bill were such good friends that Dad considered him as he would a brother and wanted to pass that respect for their relationship on to me.

Since the boys were babies, I have done the same with some of our friends.  Esten and Clayton have a few Aunties and Uncles that share no blood whatsoever with me or Jason.  It's only been recently that it's become a source of confusion for them, as Esten is now making more sense out of familial connections.  First was the heartache over why he couldn't marry Kenadie.  Can't marry your cousin (in Idaho - lol).  That got all turned around for him when he decided then he also could not marry Lauren.  I explained that he could if she would ever say yes, because they are not really cousins.  I thought the explanation about how Uncle Scot is not really Daddy's brother would upset him, like we've been lying to him this whole time or something, but he surprised me.

"Oh, so Daddy just picked Uncle Scot to be his brother because he loved him even though they didn't have bunk beds together when they were little boys?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that", I said.  Apparently he fully understood that concept quite easily.  I can't wait to see who all ends up in my kids' "family" someday.

Vampires are so trendy now!!

The boys are WHITE.  So white, in fact, that my cousin once asked if they were "a little bit albino or something".  They do both have a creepy vein or two on their faces and heads that shows a little too clearly through the flesh.  But hey, isn't it cool right now to be a vampire?  These hot days have required more than a dollop of sunscreen, and luckily they're pretty used to the routine.  They assume the position like they're preparing for a prison pat down.

When Clayton was first born, we went to have a second big round of pictures done by the same photog that took Esten's.  He stopped after a few pics and said, "Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but I have never seen two babies that are so, like Aryan-Nazi looking.  It's like you two are trying to preserve the race or something".  Yeah, we won't take that the wrong way at all.

Even the older generation weighed in on their almost freakish paleness.  My Aunt Ruby was ecstatic when she found out both times we were expecting.  "That's fantastic," she would say, "you know, the Norwegians are going extinct because there's just not enough of them to go around and with them not having big families to run the farms anymore, the young ones travel to other countries like Spain and Italy, and we're losing all the blond people".  For perspective, Aunt Ruby also let me know that they didn't HAVE binkies when her babies were born, they just let them chew on a chicken bone or a corn cob.

DISCLAIMER:  Jason and I are not racists, have no affiliation with any sort of neo-anything groups, and just by happenstance we live in North Idaho.  That's it. I did not set out on a search to find some fella who was from the next farm over.  I did, however, hear angels singing the first time I laid eyes on him.  I've only had that love at first sight two other times.  Both were in Gritman's maternity ward. 

Five Million Dollar Check

There's a special place in Hell for people who take advantage of children or the elderly.  This morning we got a call, clearly from Nigeria, and the, ah-hem, "gentleman" asked if my dad was home.  Not in the way like that he thought I was a little girl, but he specifically asked for him by name.  When I hesitated he asked whether he had the wrong number or he had just called at the wrong time.  I told him my dad just wasn't there (he was sitting at the table looking right at me).  Since I couldn't make out his name, I'll just call him Shaka Zulu for our purposes here:

Shaka Zulu:  "Well, I'm calling from the cancellation department.  Mr. Watkins did not return our call in the allotted time, so we are going to proceed with the cancelling of his check."
Me:  "His CHECK?  WHAT check?"
Zulu:  "His five million dollar check.  When we spoke to him last, he promised to return our call.  He has not done that, so the IRS is forcing us by their regulations to cancel the check, unless he would like us not to cancel the check."
Me:  "So you were going to send him a five million dollar check but since he didn't call you back now you're going to cancel it?"
Zulu:  "That is correct, unless you can speak on his behalf to reverse our cancellation.  It was VERY important that he return our call and he did not."
Me:  "Oh, that's because he's got so much money he doesn't know what to do with it all.  Yeah, just go ahead and rip that check up.  He doesn't need it."
Zulu:  "Uhhhhhh.....okaaaaay?  Well please let him know he will receive one additional call this day from the cancellation processing department so he will have one more chance to change his mind."
Me:  "Oh, don't bother, he won't be here, he's out on the yacht."

I told my mom about it, and she just laughed it off.  She's tired of them too, so I told her I was going to start telling them that mom and dad are both dead.  That's the only way to get off the list.  She didn't even flinch, she just said she's going to start telling them the same thing, pretending she's someone else.

The irony of the whole thing?  My mom has been humped over her sewing machine for weeks pounding out school bags to fill with supplies.  She has spent every Saturday at yard sales scooping up baby clothes by the bag full, dragging them home and gently bleaching out the squash stains.  She has dulled the blades of her scissors cutting endless hourglass shapes out of flannel sheets and run her serger ragged to make cloth diapers.  Every Thursday she unlocks the church door for the quilting ladies and stays until the last one leaves.  I will be helping her count out the cases of notebooks she'll haul home from Walmart when they're 10 cents a piece.  All this work to send these things to Zulu's country to make life a little easier.  Zulu's cousin has pencils and her own bag for school.  Zulu's brother's kid doesn't have his little wienerschnitzel hanging out anymore in the "Save the Children" commercials.  Zulu's grandma has a warm blanket at night.

Screw you, Zulu.  We're done.  You don't need one of my mom's quilts where you're going.

Permissive Parental Deception

We are liars.  Total liar-liar-pants-on-fires.  As parents, we lie to our kids CONSTANTLY, but hope that they'll be open and honest with us in return.  We do it because they have questions we can't answer and we don't want to look stupid.  We want them to think we know everything.  When these two yahoos hit their teens we are going to be paid back tenfold for the B.S. we try to feed them on a daily basis.  The boys and I had our 6 month visit to the dentist yesterday.  Esten wasn't super excited, except to get to pick a toy from the treasure chest.  Said toys don't survive long around our place, as Jason and I are both continually on the lookout for junky/broken toys to toss behind their backs.  Clayton wasn't so sure that even the prospect of a toy was enough to warrant letting "dat guy" poke around in his mouth again.  And so began my weaving of the tapestry of lies surrounding their pearly whites...

Esten, being ever alert to what is going on with his cousins, has been oh so excited that he finally has a loose tooth.  London and Hannah have already gotten those coveted visits by the Tooth Fairy.  This introduction to someone who delivers money right to your bed is, well, let's just say Esten's going to be an old man with a fat bank account someday.  He is OBSESSED with money.

So in trying to explain how important the dentist's role is in how Esten's financial future would pan out, I explained that the Tooth Fairy will only pay you for your teeth if they are sparkly white.  She has to fly them high up in the sky to be stars, and well, if they're dirty they wouldn't do any good in lighting up the night sky so she would just leave them and not cash you out.  This little story was enough to shut them both up and be ultra-cooperative gentlemen for at least the next 2 hours.  It may not seem like much, but I'll take it.

But it got me thinking about just how much I deceive these sweet, innocent, trusting little beings.  How can one who loves these children unconditionally be so deceptive?  Emotional bubble wrap is for their own good, right?  My answer is a resounding Y-E-S.  However, I don't think it is enough that we make this crap up and rest on our laurels about it.  Eventually they'll call us out on it.  We need a plan B, just in case.  I'm sure ours will include some "after" pictures of some meth junkie.

The lesson is this:  Parents, get your stories straight now.  It's your only hope of maintaining loyalty and avoiding a mutiny from your scurvy crew.  They DO have swords, or at least light sabres.

Facebook Rewind

Facebook has been a great tool for posting my kids' observations, though pretty limited for content space. In case you live under a rock and don't follow me there, here is a compilation of posts from the past year~

(Clayton Praying) "...and thank you God for all the food, especially the kind with the white frosting on it, can you make more foods with white frosting because I love it, it tastes just like a marshmallow, or a angel wing feathers, or a fluffy white cat. Thanks. Amen." 7/19/2010

(Esten, on Love) Esten passed along some new found wisdom learned from his 8 year-old crush. "There are 3 kinds of Love. Married-Love, Friendship-Love, and the other one which is the best kind is the No-Matter-What-Love." Thanks, Lauren for that timeless truth. 7/7/2010

(Esten, on jail) I was watching one of the "Predator" shows, and Esten walked in just as the perv dumped a blender full of margarita all over the bar. As he was being interviewed by the cop in the trailer, Esten said, "Is that why you get so upset when me and Clayton spill things because when we are grownups if we spill then the cops will take us to jail?" hmmm...yes? 6/28/2010

(Clayton, on marriage) Clayton proclaimed he does not want any "wif-ez" when he gets big. Esten told him he has to or "people will think it's because you're not kind & there's no girls who will put up with you like mommy puts up with daddy. That, and you'll go to jail". "Really??", asked Clayton, clearly concerned. "Pretty sure, Clayton, pretty sure". 6/21/2010

(Esten, on laundry) I washed the boys' bedding. Esten sniffed his blanket, frowned at me and said, "But it doesn't smell like farts anymore, it took me a long time to get it that way". Boys. Ew. 5/27/2010

(Esten, on marriage)
Esten: "I wish I could marry you Mommy!"
Me: "But I'm already married to Daddy."
Esten: "Why did you pick our Daddy?"
Me: "First of all, because he's soooo handsome like you, and..."
Esten: "...and because you were the Princess and he was the Principal?"
4/30/2010

(On brotherly love) I was cursing the stupid weeds I was dealing with until the boys crashed their dump trucks into each other, laughed and squealed, then Esten said, "Oh my GOSH, CLAYTON! I am having so much fun with you right now, wanna hug each other?" Clayton obliged, then said, "Esten, I like you so much for a brother, can I have a kiss too?" THAT my friends, makes the backbreaking part of pulling weeds tolerable. 4/25/2010

(On patience, none) I watched the "marshmallow test" segment on Katie Couric news last night. If you missed it, there's an OLD test still working on kids that they can either ring a bell and get one marshmallow now, or wait and get two marshmallows later. It's an indicator of their future successes, setting goals, self control, etc. My kids are SCREWED. 4/22/2010

(Clayton praying) "Thank you God for my Grandma and Grandpa and everybody and the grass and the Wii, and tell Santa Claus on the other cloud that I'm good tonight and he will bring me some presents, but on tomorrow, because it's a long time ago to Christmas. Amen." 4/21/2010

(On fashion) Clayton wants me to go to the "camel-frog store" and get him "camel-frog pants" and a "camel-frog shirt" and "camel-frog socks" so he can look like Uncle Ryan, except not with a scratchy face. 4/15/2010

(On bedtime) "Yeth, if you don't thtay in bed I AM going to thpank your fanny. I AM THEEWEEUTH." Just seeing if speaking Clayton's language will yeild better weethulths. ..er...results. 3/23/2010

(On ethnic heritage) I had a great Sons of Norway breakfast Saturday. Esten went formal, tie and vest. Clayton decided to go with the stained white tee from the dirty clothes basket. Both insisted that "Vikings" are actually "Pirates with TWO eyes and NO hooks." Bellies full of pancakes, krumkakke, and lefse, first words out of their mouths back at home were "WE NEED A SNACK!" UFF-DA! 3/21/2010

(On Easter Baskets) Esten shook every egg in his basket. No jingle of change, and it went back in the pile. He said Clayton could have those, because "they're just candy in there" and he wants "just all the monies". Clayton couldn't offer an opinion, as he had too much chocolate seeping out the corners of his mouth. 4/5/2010

(On clutter) On our way out of the driveway Esten said, "Mommy, we need to get you a new car." I asked what was wrong with the one we have. He said, "It's just way to messy. I don't like it anymore with all this stuff around in here." Time to clean up. 2/25/2010

(On repeating yourself) I feel like it's Groundhog Day. Every morning since Christmas, literally the first words out of Clayton's mouth have been, "Can I play the Wii now?" For Esten, for the past 3 YEARS it's been, "Can you get me some hot cocoa and make it warm and make it taste like sugar?" I'm not joking. That's exactly what he says EVERY TIME. No wonder Bill Murray's hair looks like that. 2/23/2010

(On Biblical History) I heard the sermon from the booster seats:
Clayton: "God died on the cross."
Esten: "No, JESUS did."
Clayton: "No, Jesus died in a SWORD fight."
Esten: "No, it was with a LIGHT SABRE."
Clayton: "The green one or the red one?"
Esten: "The RED one. It was a bad guy."
Clayton: "OH."
2/21/2010

(On fleeting love) I am eavesdropping on the boys playing StarWars Legos on the Wii...Clayton told Esten "Please don't kill that guy again because he's on my team, and I love you." Ahhh, it just doesn't get better than that. Oh, wait a tick...Clayton just ripped the nunchuck out of Esten's hand and clobbered him on the head with it. Back to reality. 2/6/2010

(On practical birthday gifts) Grandpa got a new "tow-it" for his birthday, and Clayton was so excited to show it off to everyone and the cool way it flushes....so excited that he locked himself in the bathroom. 2/4/2010

(On Prophecy) I just learned about "Prophecy" from Esten. It is when one person is in the bathroom and doesn't want the other person to bother them or talk to them under the door. I can't wait to have prophecy. I haven't had prophecy in...5 years? 1/18/2010

(On Love-in perspective) I feel SO special right now...Esten just informed me that he loves me "more than our new TV, which is a lot because it's super awesome". Don't boys (and grown-up boys) have a way with expressing their feelings? You know it's serious when electronics are involved. 1/16/2010

(On physical fitness) I caught Esten "lifting weights" with a Costco-sized bottle of peroxide last night. I asked him what he was doing, and he dramatically put it down, let out a big huff, flexed his muscles and said, "I'm getting strong and tough to beat my daddy at wrestling. Do you have anything else that's heavy?" 11/13/2009

(On gift-giving) Esten thinks Kenadie needs a Three-Musketeers Barbie for her 4th birthday today, Clayton is sure she wants a Transformer guy. I am wondering why I asked for input. This cannot end well. 11/6/2009

(On fashion) Inside the mind of Clayton's "fashionisto" process this morning...Camouflage pants, check...Top half of Esten's pumpkin Halloween costume from 4 years ago with the awesome green leaf ruffle around the neck, check...Black leather Harley-Davidson jacket, check...Crocs, check...PERFECTION. 9/29/2009

(On Baptism) Grandma's been hinting about baptisms again...so I decided to ask the boys..."Do you want to be baptized?" Esten's response? "You mean for Halloween? Yeah, I'll be a bath-tie for Halloween, but Clayton, you can't. Mommy, what's a bath-tie?" I am officially going to Hell. 9/14/2009

(On Rodeo Action)
Me: "What was your favorite part of the bullriders last night?"
Clayton: "Nuffing."
Esten: "I liked when that pretty girl [Princess Flinders] was riding that horse around in a circle and waving at me...and then she fell off the horse. That was my favorite part."
Clayton: "Oh that part? Me too. I want to go see that again."
9/11/2009

(Esten, food critic) "Guess what, Mommy! Cat food doesn't taste very good." (note: we do not have a cat) 8/26/2009