I’ve mentioned before that all three of my kids beat to their own drummer, and often wander off into their own little dreamworld.  This quality affects many areas of our family communication, and most commonly when we are all trying to get moving in one direction.  I find myself constantly surveying the surrounding area for a Lost Scroggins wandering aimlessly, and looking at something of specific interest to him or her, absolutely clueless.

It’s exhausting.

Oh, how I would love to just walk down the street knowing each person was responsible for their own pace, and for keeping the “group” in sight.  I see other families that seem to stay together without any effort, and I’m so jealous.  I’ve even hidden in a corner watching one of my kids seem to get “lost,” just to see their plan of action.  Most of the time the minutes tick by, and they haven’t even noticed their independence.  Plan Backfire.  So, I keep a corner eye on my little lovlies at all times, reminding them of this scary place that “lost” could be.

BUT!  Today might have been a turning point for one of the Smaller Scroggins Clan.  While we were out and about, my older two found themselves a few paces behind me, my husband, and the stroller.  It didn’t take long for us to check back and notice they weren’t in our line of sight.  Since this is a common issue, we didn’t immediately panic, but went into a plan of action where I stood in one area, and my husband began The Search. 

But, this time, it took too long.

I was almost in cardiac arrest by the time he turned the corner with two bleary-eyed, shaky children, grateful to have me in their line of sight.  I don’t think I’ve ever received such warm and loving hugs from those two, but I took the moment to really pound in the lesson of STAYING TOGETHER.  I hope this time, it sticks. 

And, I think it did with my oldest.  She never let go of my hand for the rest of the day, and showered me with kisses, hugs, and grateful feelings of being “found.”  I’m thinking it might have been life-changing-dare I hope?

I’ve still got another kid that wandered off at least three more times before we put the day to rest.  Hopefully, my heart will hold out just a little longer.

This past weekend, we watched The Blind Side for Family Movie Night.  I know we are a little behind the times, but Baseball Season has kept us busier than I ever imagined.  And, I guess it goes without saying that we don’t adventure out to the movies all too often.  Anyway, I was excited to finally have the chance to see this movie, plus I’d heard it was a great family friendly movie-even for the little ones.

So, we settled in for the evening and began to watch with great anticipation.  The boys were immediately hooked, being that the first five minutes of the movie were a play-by-play explanation of a very famous football game.  But, as Michael Oher’s story began to unfold, we found ourselves explaining “why” a lot. 

“Why does he not have a home?” 

“Does he have a mommy?”

“Why doesn’t he want to do his homework?”

“Does he have friends?”

“Are those kids scared of him?”

“Is he scared?”

“Is that his new family?”

“Why does he want a new family?”

“Why is he so big?”

It was tough, but the toughest part to explain when Leigh Anne Tuohy drove Michael Oher in her BMW back to the apartment his mother inhabited to get some of his things.  They pulled up outside the apartment and made eye contact with a group of young, tough men-men that most definitely knew the story of the undercurrent in Memphis. Men that knew drugs.  Men that knew violence.  Men that knew poverty. It was a semi-tense scene where Michael adamantly demanded Leigh Anne stay in the car.

“Why does he want her to stay in the car?”

“Is she scared to get out of the car?”

“What are they going to do?”

There we were, asked to explain the “unsafe part of town.”  And then, my daughter asked, “Is it because they are African American?”

I think I actually heard my world as it screeched to a halt.

And then it was my turn to ask myself some questions.

“WHAT??”

“Why did she think that?”

“Was it something we said or did?”

“Did someone put that information in her head”

“Why did she ask that??”

We very carefully chose our words, explaining that it had absolutely nothing to do with their heritage, and everything to do with their situation, their choices, and their behavior.  We talked about the power of education, the power of drugs, and the power of choice.  Choice.  That seemed to be the theme we kept coming back to with each one of these questions.  Michael had the choice to do drugs.  He chose not to.  He had the choice to join a gang.  He chose not to.  He had the choice to read his textbook.  He chose to read.  He chose to make his own path, and he chose to succeed.  That’s not to say it was an easy choice, and it’s also not to say he didn’t have help.  No doubt the Tuohys helped him in that success, but he was the one who walked away from everything he knew, everything that was familiar, and he was the one to choose the unknown.

I don’t know if we handled the situation the right way.  I was Blind Sided by the bombardment of all those questions.  I wasn’t prepared for those conversations at age 9.  I didn’t realize my daughter was making such in depth observations of the world around her, and that I would have to explain some of the dark corners in that world.  That I would have to admit to her that those dark corners even existed.  But, I did want her to realize that her choices and decisions shape her life.  I wanted her to know that her choices have consequences, both good and bad–that the situations other people find themselves in are the result of that same thing.  Choice.  

This particular Family Move Night turned into Life Lesson Night for the Scroggins House, and I really hope we did ok, because I know the long road we have ahead of us includes many, many more of these conversations.  I just hope we have the wisdom to get through them.

I imagine in most houses there is an after-dinner conversation between spouses dividing up the chores for the rest of the evening.  In our house, we have baths, dishes, homework round up, and lunches.  My husband and I loathe all those chores.  I guess it’s because that is the time in the evening when we just want to finally find a cozy spot on the couch and DO NOTHING, and this laundry list of things to do seems neverending.  So, we divide and conquer.  Pre-kids, we had a rule:  one cooks, the other cleans.  Great rule.  I loved that rule.  It was clean.  It was simple.  It was easy.  Now, things aren’t that easy.  There’s just way more to do than cooking and cleaning.  But, we manage.  We have new rules-rules that haven’t really been ironed out, like the one where my husband puts the dirtiest pan in the sink to “soak” before he scrubs it, and by “soak” I mean that it sits in water for 8-9 hours until every particle of food has risen to the top of the sinkful of water.  That rule isn’t my favorite, but “at the end of the day” the dishes are clean either way, right?

That’s what I tell myself as I twitch past the cold, murky sink water at 6 the next morning anway. 

Today I have the day all to myself-ALL TO MYSELF.  And, while I should be maniacally crossing things off my never-ending to do list, I’m procrastinating.  Procrastinating my DAY OFF!  How crazy is that?  But, anytime I get these minutes alone, I get overwhelmed with the excitement of possibilities of doing something I want to do, and I just wander aimlessly around the house trying to decide.  Should I read a book?  That would be fun, sipping a diet coke on the backporch in the sun with a good book.  Yes!  that’s what I should do.  Or should I work on my pictures?  I’m only about three years behind, I should definitely take the time to concentrate on that!  What an accomplishment I would have at the end of the day!  Or should I clean the house?  I can do that when the kids are here, but it takes so much longer, and I could spend the time doing baseboards and make the house REALLY clean…but no, I don’t really want to do that.  I should do laundry too, but the dirty clothes will still be there tomorrow when the kids are here, and more dirty clothes will be added to the bunch, so no-no laundry today.  I could work on school stuff; I did bring a pile of papers home to grade, and I need to do some other computer-ish type things to get ready for next week.  But, it’s SPRING BREAK, and I have EIGHT HOURS ALONE!  I could watch a movie, a really sappy, girly movie-and have a diet coke with that!  Or I could watch a movie AND read a book when the movie got a little boring!!  Maybe I could watch a movie, read a book, and fold laundry on the side while I plan out the powerpoint that I need for class-just in my head.  

I’m broken.  Instead of doing all of that I’m writing about it what I could be doing-doing none of them, but that stops now.  I’m starting my day off with a diet coke in a glass over ice…and the possiblities await.

My youngest is the kid from that plastic commercial a few years back.  The one where the mom’s mantra is “if he makes it to 3, 5, 10, etc…it will be a miracle.”  My guy is accident prone, energetic, and what they say is “all boy.”  He’s almost four and already broken a bone, knocked out a tooth, and had a stay in the hospital.  I’ll be honest, it will be a miracle if my mental state holds out long enough to get him to the age of reason.

This weekend there was another incident of injury and chaos.  I was out of town, and my husband had kid duty-including Sunday Morning Church.  He efficiently packed up all the kids, transported them safely to church, and as he was unpacking them, the injury occurred, which prompted the crying. Lots and lots of crying.  Apparently, my older son “accidentally” whacked my younger son in the eye with the seatbelt upon unbuckling.  Thinking he would calm down, the Scroggins troop filed into church-amidst the wailing of my youngest.  HIS EYE!  HIS EYE!  Unable to calm him down, my husband waved the white flag of surrender and retreated from the scene.  The stress of the incident wore out my little guy, wherein  he fell into a deep napping sleep.  I was home by the time he woke up, but he still wouldn’t open his eye. Since I was certain there was massive injury on the other side of the eyelid and became obsessed with “taking a look.”  After much bribing with candy, cookies, and Wii entertainment, my husband and I were able to hold him down long enough for that look.  There wasn’t any injury, but practically every single eyelash was somehow contorted and inside his eyeball.  His upper eyelashes were facing down and stuck inside his lower eyelid.  Am I painting this crazy picture clearly?  ALMOST ALL his eyelashes were not on the outside of his eye where the belong, but STUCK INSIDE HIS EYEBALL.  Yet another “unique injury” at our house-and imagine what that must have felt like?  I can’t stand it when I have one lowly eyelash stuck in there, let alone about twenty.  Good grief.  After recovering from our examination, he was able to open his eye on his own, and was ever-so-thankful for the remedy.

But, we were whipped.  It WILL be a miracle if he makes it to four-it’s just a few weeks away, and I’m holding my breath.

I can’t take credit for these funnies; a friend forwarded me this today, and it just made me laugh because some of them are just so so true.  Happy Wednesday!

1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as 
                 your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.   

2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible. 

3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes. 

_____________________________________________________ 

Preparing for the Birth: 

1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously. 

2nd baby: You don’t bother because you remember that last 
time, breathing didn’t do a thing. 

3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.. 

______________________________________________________ 

The Layette: 

1st baby: You pre-wash newborn’s clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby’s little bureau. 

2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and 
discard only the ones with the darkest stains. 

3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can’t they? 

______________________________________________________ 

Worries: 

1st baby: At the first sign of distress–a whimper, 
a frown–you pick up the baby 

2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten 
to wake your firstborn. 

3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to 
rewind the mechanical swing. 
______________________________________________________ 

Pacifier: 

1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until 
you can go home and wash and boil it. 

2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it 
off with some juice from the baby’s bottle. 

3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.. 

______________________________________________________ 

Diapering: 

1st baby: You change your baby’s diapers every hour, 
whether they need it or not. 

2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed. 

3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to 
complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees. 

_______________________________________________________ 

Activities 

1st baby:  You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, 
Baby Zoo, Baby Movies and Baby Story Hour. 

2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.. 

3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaners. 

______________________________________________________ 

Going Out: 

1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, 
you call home five times. 

2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to 
leave a number where you can be reached. 

3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood. 

______________________________________________________ 

At Home:  
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby. 

2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn’t squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby. 

3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children 

______________________________________________________ 

Swallowing Coins (a favorite): 

1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays 

2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass. 

3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!