What Do You Mean There's No Santa Claus?

Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy are fun magical characters that many children enjoy celebrating.  Some parents do not celebrate the magic of these stories simply because they do not want to deceive their children.  Which I totally understand.  Many parents do not celebrate these characters because of their religion.  I get it.  Some parents do celebrate these stories because it brings such an innocent joy and magic to the lives of our children.  Beau and I are those kind of parents.  Let's face it, once you become parents, you enjoy Christmas just a little differently.  Parents get pleasure from watching the excitement in their children's eyes on Christmas morning.  In any case, I feel that however you choose to handle "Santa, the Bunny, and the Fairy" is your prerogative as parents.  The saying, "To Each His Own".

Zander has always been a matter of fact kind of kid.  I don't remember the age, but Zander came to us one day, just after Christmas, and announced that he knew there was not a Santa Claus.  In fact, he claimed to have known for a couple of years, but he didn't want to risk not receiving anything for Christmas.  In his mind, kids didn't receive toys if they didn't believe in Santa.

Zander's last year believing in Santa

 Two years ago, our little William was questioning the validity of Santa.  He would ask us little prying questions about how Santa delivered packages to homes without chimneys or how could his sleigh hold toys for all the boys and girls of the world.  These are very common questions children ask as they become a little more aware.  But William was kind of young still and Beau and I wanted to keep the magic alive a little longer.

 Perhaps we enjoyed his innocence too and weren't ready to "educate" William yet.  But his questions began to lead to comparisons of Jesus.  Being a new Christian and recently baptized, William began to innocently put Jesus and Santa in the same category.  This is when Beau and I realized that although we made serious efforts to gently guide William through this process without divulging the "big secret", we quickly came to the conclusion that William wasn't satisfied with our flimsy story.  It was time to "educate" him of our deceit.  As it turned out, he handled it with great maturity and he was actually thrilled to be part of the conspiracy.  He was also obedient in that he didn't tell his brothers or classmates.  The whole process went more smoothly than we expected and it helped William place God back into his rightful spot....highest of high and on the throne.

Fast forward two years.  To the present.  Oliver has decided that he wants an expensive kids motorbike for Christmas.   I have explained at great lengths that Beau and I do not believe that a motorbike is an appropriate gift for a 7 year old, not to mention the financial implications that come with such a gift.  Besides, we would have to buy 3 bikes.   You know, to prevent the endless bickering over who gets the next turn, making sure each child gets equal time on the bike down to the second.  I get nightmares just thinking about it.   So Oliver's little 7 year old mind came up with a simple solution.  He is going to ask Santa for the gift so it will be free.  Wow.  The Santa Claus gig is backfiring.  Now, with many kids, parents can successfully redirect their children and after a short while the child will move on to the next thing.  But not our Ollie.  He is like a dog with a bone, only 100x worse.  Literally.  He fixates on things until pure exhaustion.  At this point, this motorbike fixation has lasted weeks.  It doesn't help that one of the houses we pass regularly on our outings has a young boy with a motorbike and we see him riding it around the farm often.

One evening during a dinner conversation,  Oliver brought it up again.  I was so glad that Beau was here to witness and be part of the conversation.  Because of the timing of many of my previous conversations with Ollie, Beau was at work and missed most of the fixation.  Anyway, Beau is usually really good at finding the right words to lovingly nip the conversation.  But not this time.  Even Carter joined in with the whole Santa Claus can bring it for free theory.  Then the final mistake happened.  Carter said he would ask Jesus.  That comment led to a whole list of questions about the difference between Jesus and Santa. Beau and I were losing traction.  He and I just looked at each other and knew what had to be done.  William just sat there silently the whole time with an all-knowing smirk and just kept eating his dinner.

Beau, as delicately as he could, delivered the news.  Ollie handled it in full Ollie style.  He found it humorous and was glad to be a part of the grown-up plot.  It was amusing to watch his eyes twinkle as he was figuring it all out in his mind.  But our poor Carter.  He was devastated.  He wailed out in these exact words, "My life as I knew it is over"! Yes, he has a thing for theatrics and can be quite dramatic.  However, he was genuinely saddened.  But Beau and I knew that if Ollie had to keep it a secret from Carter, that would have maybe lasted for seconds.

Santa is fun and Christmas is magical, but that should never be confused with the true gift of life and our source of happiness, our Savior.   Our Ollie and Carter will be alright and Christmas will be a little different this year, but at least they will come to better understand the importance of Jesus.

Poor Carter's expression when he learned of the conspiracy

Being a Mom...With Four Boys

All moms, regardless of demographics, backgrounds, religious beliefs, political views, financial status, and education, have certain things in common.  We labor over many difficult decisions regarding the care for our children.  Some days, the decisions seem endless.  Disposable vs cloth diapers, bottles vs nursing, being a scheduled mom or being a mom that takes a more laid back approach to parenting, what foods to feed her child, distinguishing between a normal cold or the flu, knowing whether that boo boo just needs a kiss, a band-aid, or stitches.  Moms are the go to person for everything.

We find the missing Lego heads and the matching socks, we spell Dinosaur for like the millionth time so they can watch a documentary about their favorite prehistoric animal on Netflix, we referee between siblings, we make sure their favorite pajamas are washed and ready to wear, we give hugs when needed and we give instruction and direction when necessary.  I imagine most moms reading this can relate and completely understand.  And although each child is different with their own little quirky things that make them special, motherhood is always the same.  Yes, mothers vary in their approaches and decisions, but ultimately, we struggle through the same experiences.  It is what bonds us.  Several moms can be standing at the playground and it's like we have our own secret language.  With just a courteous smile, a simple nod of the head, or an all-knowing wink, we are instantly somehow all on the same page.  Behind that smile is an understanding that only moms have.  This is not to say, however, that dads don't have this bond with other dads; but it's just different.  They use fist pumps, high fives, innocent competition, and so forth.  I don't want to in any way diminish the role of a dad.  They are equally as important and necessary. 

But this blog is dedicated to all the moms of boys.  I have observed many moms over the years with girls.  Things are significantly different between mom and daughter relationships and mom and son relationships.  There is usually a sweet bond where lots of talking about every single detail of the day is discussed.  Moms get invited to many tea parties and dress up sessions.  Moms and daughters share in trips to the salon for pedicures.   Girls actually enjoy shopping with their moms.  If moms have multiple daughters in the home, from what I have witnessed, quiet playtime exists.  Yes, there may be drama, some squealing and tears, but ultimately, it all settles down and harmony re-enters the room.  I rather enjoy watching the dynamics of moms with their daughters.  It is generally pleasant and refreshing. 

Then we have the other moms.  Moms like me.  Moms with only boys.  These moms, and I may be biased here, are pretty special in their own right.  Don't get mad.  ALL moms are special and deserve to be recognized and honored.  But moms with just boys are a special breed.  Mothers of boys is not for the weak, thin skinned, frail, tender-hearted, and timid moms.  Nope.  Oh sure, we can possess these traits at times because we are ladies.  But the reality of it is moms with boys need to be tough.  The house is loud....ALL the time, except for those special hours between 8:30pm and 6:30am.  Also, you might as well come to the realization that something is GOING to get broken.  We have a special emergency kit in the house.  No, I am not speaking of our normal emergency kit that includes bandages, peroxide, thermometer, etc.  Our emergency kit includes spackle, putty knife, spare paint, super glue, duct tape, nails and screws, and a miscellaneous "How to Fix It" book.  Zander was our only child for 8 years and during that time literally only one thing in the house was broken as a result of his negligence.  However, in the last 8 years when our family grew by 3 more boys, I have lost count of the broken items.  Beau has had to make several drywall repairs (he has become a master at this), we have had to re-paint walls and furniture because of our little artists using sharpie markers, I have glued my fingers together while trying to repair broken figurines, bed slats have become broken because little boys like to play Superman, we have had to replace windows (surprisingly, a nerf dart and arrow can actually break a basement window), and Beau has had many opportunities to learn plumbing skills as items have been flushed down the toilets that should NEVER have been there in the first place.  Let's just say that the local dump is filled with broken items from the Bennett household. 

Also, boys resolve all their problems with wrestling and relentless competition.  However, once their battle is over and a victor has been announced, the problem is done.  No grudges, no hostility.  They simply go back to their activity until the next problem.  Boys are little engineers and they prove this each time they decide to take things apart.  I can not even begin to tell you how often I have found little screws in odd locations from yet another attempted experiment.   They are little dare devils and  getting a bloody boo boo is something to be celebrated and is a sign of bravery.  Little boys hope it will leave a scar so they have something to brag about.  Climbing trees and digging for earthworms is a must and chasing rabbits, groundhogs, turkeys, squirrels and chipmunks is all too common in my house  (yes, all of these visit our yard.  The groundhog has made a home underneath our deck).  Running into each other with their bikes on purpose making the victim scream with fear is just another example of their playtime together. 

Communication is reduced to grunts, minimal responses, and absolutely no details.  Oh sure, I get details surrounding their gym time or lunch time at school.  They can tell me how many times they jumped a rope and how much better they were than other students (the competitive drive, remember?) or what their best friend brought for his snack and how they want me to buy the same stuff.  But talking about social things, academic topics, conversations they had throughout the day....forget it.  Now we're back to the grunts and yes and no responses. 

Boys have an innate ability to constantly be dirty and stinky...even just moments after their shower.  Their clothes attract dirt, spilled drinks, fallen spaghetti, and dropped toothpaste.  I have become an expert at deciphering what kind of stain is on their clothes and how to properly treat that stain for removal.  It's a science really.  The growth of dirty clothes in the hamper grows exponentially.  If I fail to do laundry for a couple of days, I might as well give up because I am doomed.






Boys are loud, destructive, and competitive people.  Over the years, I have found that I am actually louder than I used to be.  I feel like I have to be just to be heard.  I laugh at things that just a few years ago I would have never found funny.  Potty talk is common in our house.  Bodily noises entertain the boys far more than it should.  I have come to the conclusion that I will NEVER have a clean bathroom again...until they move away to college.  Calm and stimulating dinner conversation is a thing of the past.  They bring me souvenirs all the time, like slugs, bugs, spiders.  They thoroughly enjoy hearing me squeal every time they bring me a creature from the dirt.  No rain puddle goes unnoticed.  We can be on the other side of the parking lot and I don't even see the rain puddle, but somehow, the boys have an uncanny sixth sense and are what appears to be magnetically drawn to the water.  I have often times been splashed from the waist down from my precious little guys stomping in a puddle.  Some days I feel like I have completely lost what makes me feminine. 

But then there are those precious moments that somehow make everything ok again.  Whether it's Zander witnessing me struggling to lift something and he helps me without being asked, or William running into the house with muddy feet to bring me that special flower he searched all over the yard to find for me or that moment when Oliver comes up to me and gives me the biggest hug and looks right into my eyes and he tells me how much he loves me, or when Carter cradles my face with his hands and says, "Mommy, you are so pretty", they are all such special moments in time.  During these moments, my heart melts and I remember why it's so special having boys.  My boys look after me, they take care of me, they can be gentle and tender with me, and they love me.  Oh, what a special relationship between boys and their mom.  I am lucky.  Tired and frazzled, but lucky. 

There Really Ought to be a Parenting Handbook

I sit here this morning feeling the painful effects of parenting a teenage son.  I love my son and all that he is:  his flaws, his quirkiness, his love of chess, his silly jokes, his enjoyment of riddles and puns, his love of poetry, the fact that breakfast is his favorite meal and that he could eat Mexican food for every lunch and dinner, his messy room, his disorganized backpack, the fact that his socks don't have to match (which drives me crazy...he will literally wear one ankle sock and one crew sock),   his ability to read multiple books at the same time and be able to keep the plots straight, his love of watching documentaries and game shows,  and his joy of playing tricks on unsuspecting strangers about his missing thumbs.

 But there is the other side, the side that has been giving Beau and I such difficulty for a while now.  We keep hearing that today's teenage population can be characterized by its lack of creativity, self-absorbed, entitled, and selfish mindset.  I have to say that our teenage son has those same flaws.  It is only now, now that our son is knocking on the door of turning 16, that Beau and I are seeing the mistakes we made as parents through the years.

It is my true belief that most parents honestly do the best they can and that they love their children.  I have also never heard a parent remark that they had never made any mistakes while raising their children.  I also believed that if we had a relationship through the years with our teenage son from the time he was tiny, that would be enough to help him float through his teenage years.  But I was wrong. Having a relationship with him now is far harder than I ever thought it would be and my heart hurts that our bond is separated.  I have spoken to many moms that have raised boys and they each have told me that this is normal.  After all, one day, Zander will need to leave his mom and cleave to his family.  I get that.  I embrace that.  I agree with that.  One day, his wife will be my son's focus and it should be.

But for now, I have so many questions.  Is Zander the result of our parenting?  Does Zander have this innate need to be this way?  Is this just a teenager thing?  Is this just a boy thing?  Where is his heart?  What is he thinking?  Who is he?  Despite the many mistakes we have made as parents, I know we did some good things too.  When will the results of the good things show up?  Am I being too critical?  Parenting a teenager, you begin to actually question your own sanity.  They argue with you so much that you think maybe it is you that is being unreasonable.  They twist, manipulate, and tangle your advice.  I have been mid heated conversation with him and have completely forgotten my point (at which point I am sure he finds victory in).  There are many things that Zander abstains from and I am grateful for that.  Things could certainly be worse, and I thank God that they aren't.

 But Zander seems to be surrounded by anger, lack of respect for authority, unwilling to negotiate on anything, looking to only satisfy his own fleshly desires, entitlement, and generally lacks pleasantness.  Being on time to school is no longer a concern for him.  If only he knew and understood that Beau and I only want the best for him.  Ha.  No teenager embraces that.  He might know it deep down in his heart, but he would never admit to it.  I have found myself arguing about things that should never even be argued about.  Stupid things.   Things that at the end of the day, simply do not matter.  It amazes me how this young man can excel in critical/logical thinking in his subjects such as math and science, but has no rationale when dealing with his parents.  It just shows how both of us are stubborn.  At least I can acknowledge that, but he hasn't arrived there yet.

I have mentioned in previous blogs how stubborn and rebellious I once was.  Many people might say, including my mom, that this is payback.  But it goes much deeper than that.  I have worked very hard over the years to be more flexible and open minded and less rebellious.  I still fight the desire to rebel.  But my rebellious side comes out in little ways now.  Like reading a sign that says "No Parking" and my inner Emily says, maybe I could get away with it.  Or reading a sign that says "Wet Paint" and touching it just to make sure.  When I was 27, the tire on my car went flat at the top of the Buckman Bridge in Jacksonville, FL.  For those of you that don't know this bridge, it is just over 3 miles long, with a high peak in the middle.  Well, my car broke down at the very tip of that peak.  Because there is not an adequate emergency lane on the bridge, the police officer said that I had to have a tow truck get me OFF the bridge rather than changing the tire ON the bridge.  He also said under any circumstances, do not get OUT of the car.  I suddenly had this immediate urge to see what it would be like to stand on the top of this silly bridge.  It must be dangerous, after all, since the police officer practically forbade me from doing it.  The moment he left, the very first thing I did was get out of my car, stand at the peak, and look over the side of the bridge.  It was simply exhilarating, windy, loud, and scary. As the cars zoomed by, I began thinking about Zander, who was 2 at the time.  Zander wasn't with me and did not witness this rebellious act (because I would never disobey authority in front of him).  Then I realized how stupid I was being, and jumped back into the car until the tow truck could rescue me.  But I had this little smile in the corner of my mouth excited that I had gotten away with it.  This is just one of the dozens of stupid stories that I could confess.  But this blog isn't about me.  Or maybe it is.  Zander, in many ways, is just like me.  And I am frightened.

I realize that teenage boys are seeking their independence, learning how to be a man, trying to understand the opposite sex, figuring out themselves and all while secretly wanting to cling to their childhood.  I pray that I can parent Zander with a firm love.  Lately, I have been failing in this area.  I have been hot tempered, escalating arguments, and have not shown him the love of Christ.  How can I expect Zander to respond to me with kindness when I have not shown him the same in return?  Picking battles, keeping the small things small, but pouncing on the big things, loving, patience, firmness, and fairness.  These are the only ways to survive parenting a teenager.  And of course, certainly the most important of these, is keeping Christ in the center and lots of prayer.  I have God on speed dial these days.  I have a tendency to pray out loud, but I have had some days recently where I couldn't even speak.  I am thankful that God can still hear my heart hurting.  Other days, I prayed through babbling and tears and I am thankful God can decipher my mumblings.  Sometimes I start crying during my prayer as I remember that I will be doing this teenager thing again, TIMES THREE AND ALL AT THE SAME TIME.  There are many things I would have done differently with Zander through the years.  But right now, I cling to God and the knowledge that He has a plan for our Zander.  Beau had a heart talk with Zander last night.  He explained that we are not looking for his behavior to change.  We are seeking a change of heart.  Because only once the heart changes will the behavior change for real.  They talked about various men from the Bible.  I was "doing dishes", but totally intently listening.  It joys my heart that Beau is a leader in our home and that he loves Zander enough to speak truth.  We love our Zander and we know this is his journey.  We also are thankful for him.  Please pray for us that we would be wise, loving, and firm with our children....especially Zander at this time.  Thank you.

Zander's Baptism~ 2007

Where Did January Go?

It happens every single year.  We eat our way through Thanksgiving, we shop in December and celebrate Christmas, we end a year while fondly reminiscing the events of the current year and make empty promises for better things for the upcoming year, and after all of that, I finally slow down, rest, and realize that it is February.  January has come and gone and has now become a blur.  Our January is so crazy. And this year has been no exception.  In January, we go straight into 2 birthdays and our anniversary.  And although I know this, these dates always sneak up on me before I am ready to tackle them.

In summary, Beau celebrated a milestone birthday this year......the big 40.  When I turned 40, it was a big emotional event.  I know it is just a number, logically, but on a psychological level, it is much more than that to me.  I see my youth slipping away, the wrinkles appearing, and the gray becoming more stubborn.  But Beau, partially because he is a man and partially because he simply does not care (and perhaps those two things are related) sees 40 for what it is.  A number.  And although I see my failing appearances, I only see that he continues to become more attractive.  I suppose that is true love.  The saying goes that men become more handsome, and women just get old. All I know is that Beau is my guy and I am thankful for him.  In celebration for his birthday, I put together a small gathering of friends and family.  It was quaint and fun and I think I accomplished what I set out to do....make Beau feel special.  I put together a small collage of pictures of Beau through the years.  The only pictures I have of him from his childhood are ones that Aunt Cathy put together in an album years ago.  I was so thankful to have that book.  Also, in an attempt to really let Beau know how I appreciated him, I put together a list of  "40 Reasons Why You Are Special."  Beau isn't one that likes to have a lot of attention, but I know he enjoyed reading my list.  I initially thought it was going to be hard to verbalize 40 reasons (sorry honey), but once I sat down and began working on the project, it was really very easy.  The night was spent eating, playing Cranium, laughing, and enjoying some good old fashioned fun.  In our competitive game of Cranium, the guys played against the ladies, and of course, the ladies won by a mile.  I won't tell the score, however.  The best part of the night was that all the kids from each family got along well with one another.  That in itself is an accomplishment.  Success.

The Bennett Family

The Rodriguez Family

The Hare Family

So thankful for Pinterest ideas.  

Not even 2 weeks after Beau's birthday, we celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary.  He was out of town for a few days on a business trip, but he made it home in time to take me out to celebrate.  We decided no gifts.  Just having a quiet meal out together is gift enough.  I can not believe that I have know him for 19 years, nearly half my life.  Although we have had our seasons of ups and downs, he remains my one true best friend and the love of my life.

Every once in a while, I try to change up Beau's fashion.  If left to his own devices, he would wear virtually the same thing for decades.  In earlier years of our marriage, he was much more willing to let me dress him.  There was this lady he used to work with in Florida that always seemed to notice my handiwork and was very complimentary.  However, since we have moved to New Hampshire, Beau has been very resistant to my clothing choices.  But for Christmas, I bought him this hat and vest.  Of course, he didn't wear it until our Anniversary (a month later).  But I'll take it.  This will probably be the first and last time time he will ever wear this hat.

Then, just after our anniversary, we celebrated Oliver's 7th birthday.  This was a difficult birthday for Ollie because he just could not decide what he wanted to do. He started planning his birthday in November and had a dozen different ideas.  When it came down to the week of his birthday, he literally changed his mind multiple times a day regarding where he wanted to eat dinner and what family activity he wanted to share with us.  Initially, Oliver was emphatic he wanted to go snow boarding.  Keep in mind that this is the kid who hates any kind of snow gear, being touched (ie by instructors), or playing in the snow.  Beau and I kept gently hinting that perhaps snow tubing would be a fun idea as it is less intense.   Oliver threw out ideas that included places like Chuck E Cheese, Roller Kingdom, movie theaters, bowling allies, or Florida.  Everything except for visiting Florida was on the table, but he just could not decide.  Not if that wasn't hard enough, but then he had to also choose a restaurant. That too was an impossible decision.  Finally, we ended up at the movie theater to see "Strange Magic" and ate dinner at 99.   But as we were on our way to 99, he saw another restaurant and wanted to change his mind AGAIN.  Everyone in the van screamed NOOOOOO!  Ollie, strangely enough, was ok with that.  LOL.  At the end of the night he got his ice cream cake and was thrilled with his celebration.  I was just glad that the agonizing decision making process was over and that he was happy.

Legos...Oliver's favorite thing.