Boys

Yesterday evening my kids and I gathered on the driveway and in the front yard with several neighbors, to play (kids) and chat over beer and wine ("grown-ups.")  A typical summer early evening routine.  Some of the kids were sidewalk chalking nearby, while others played soccer in the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I heard Tomas (three and a half years' old) say to the Dad next door, "Andrew, come here, look!"  He pulled him over to a drawing someone else had created on the driveway--an outline of a person, and I heard him say, "I drew a penis!"  Sure enough, on the outline, Tomas had ensured an anatomically correct boy.  Of course, all adults over heard and Tomas had a huge audience for his improved sketch.

I just blushed with pride ;)

Another Planet

I used to marvel at the varied conditions of Juan's and my childhood, particularly at the geographic and linguistic differences between us--he, having grown up in Colombia, speaking Spanish,  and I in Texas, speaking English.  Had we met 15 years ago perhaps we would have smiled in passing, but wouldn't have been able to converse.

The continental divide was nothing compared to the different planets we now inhabit during the day, however.

This morning, Juan arrives at the office with his colleagues, they say hello, shake hands, and eventually sit at their desks to continue weaving together intricate mathematical models and abstract theorems.  Occasionally they break to chit chat about sports and perhaps politics; and laugh over dorky jokes about betas and gammas walking into a bar (I don't know I'm making this up).  

Meanwhile.......I'm on the toilet--playing peek-a-boo with an infant at my feet.  And since no space is sacred on my planet, my toddler, Mateo, walks in to the bathroom to say hi and join the "party". His mouth is too full of milk, though, which is typical, so he chokes on it and vomits it all over the infant, Tomas', head.  Tomas tries to look at me through streams of milk vomit, but the involuntary flutter of his eyelashes makes it impossible.   Mateo just looks on, wondering who the heck vomited all over Tomas. 

I'm trying to imagine a context where this scenario might somehow play itself out in Juan's world, but I can't think of one. Not one where anyone is welcome back, anyway.

On my planet, however, it's business as usual.

Selective Hearing

Lately Cata has supported Mateo's water habit by filling a red bucket of water from the faucet in the bathroom and bringing it to him to play with.

Today, rather pathetically, Mateo is appealing to Cata for help getting water again.   He is following her around, holding out his little red bucket as if collecting alms, saying, "Tata? Agua?"  UNfortunately, his pleas are falling on deaf ears this morning.  It's kind of heart breaking. 

"Ta-oo Nuna"

Every night before bed, Mateo and I look out both of his windows, searching for la luna.  Most nights, either the moon isn't in position to be seen, or it's covered by clouds.  Tonight, the sky is clear, and we see not only la luna, but two bright stars ("up up up's") and an airplane ("an-on" for avion).  His huge eyes grow even larger.  He lets out a giggle, waves to the sky and says, "Ta-oo Nuna, Nie nie An-on."  "Ciao luna, night night, avion." He blows a kiss to his celestial buddies, and reaches his arms towards bed.

I never ever ever want to forget this moment.

Sound Bites

Cata:  Mom, does the car have gas?
Me:  Yes, honey, that's right!
Cata:  Just like me when I was sick?
Me:  "Hmmmm, kind of!"

Warm Fuzzy Convo Goes Awry

With a little imagination I might have better directed the course of our conversation about Jesus.  It wasn't until we got out of the car, though, when Cata asked me to carry her, and then scanned the sky, wide-eyed, that I realized how creepy I made Him sound.  "Mom," she whispered, while practically trying to crawl under my skin, "I think there's Jesus!"

We didn't start the conversation talking about Him.  We started because Cata asked me about where her Grandad lives.  "Wow," I asked, "you mean your Abuelo?"  "No, Grandad."  Cata and I had never talked about my dad, and I wasn't sure how she realized there was a Grandad apart from her Abuelo. "Ok, so Abuelo is your Daddy's Dad, and Grandad is mommy's Dad."  "Yeeeeees, mom, where does Grandad live?"

Deep breath.  "Grandad lives with Jesus."
"Why, mom?"
"Because Jesus wanted Grandad to live with him, I suppose."
"Where do they live?"
"Well, they live in Heaven. Heaven is in the sky, above the clouds."
"Jesus is in the clouds?"
This is where face-to-face may have been helpful.  Instead I was driving, so I missed the part where her nostrils flared, her eyes grew large, and her eyebrows furrowed (which prob happened right about here).  So I kept going.
"Yep! He lives there.  Up in the clouds, but we can't see him.  He can see you though.  And you can talk to him if you want to.  He can hear you. "  Imagine me in the front seat, with smiley pigeon perch lips, the goofy expression of a mother whose heart is exploding, while Cata was in the back seat, locking up with trepidation.
"Is he going to come down?"
"Sure, someday."
"When?"
"We don't really know."
Oh...my...goodness.

 I can see why she couldn't leave my side all evening.  I finally pulled this one out of my back pocket:  "Jesus also lives at church, honey.  He's there now.  He'll stay there."

Relief.  Phew!  Later I overheard the last piece of a conversation she was having, "You're welcome, Jesus!"  Guess she finds this arrangement more satisfactory :)!

My Beh beh's at 7 Weeks.

Tomas (Born 1/4/2012), @ 7 Weeks

Mateo (Born 4/21/2010), @ 7 Weeks

Catalina (Born 8/18/2008), @ 7 Weeks