A City Boy and The Little Treehouse In the Woods

Bear likes to create things.

Without my permission.

This weekend I found a tiny crockpot plugged up in his room where he was melting crayons and coconut oil, oh, don't forget the essential oils! A recipe he found on Pinterest to make me homemade lipstick.

Oh my.

This kid! I love him. He was so excited about making me lipstick and of course, you have to wear it because he worked so hard and is so proud of it. And he did a great job.

Except it was Eggplant Purple.

I walked around looking like Joan Jett all day.

The deer are everywhere around here! Love them!

So when Bear kept asking his dad to build a treehouse this summer, Hubby thought it would be the perfect project to help him build and get some of that creative energy out. Little B (my 20 year old who isn't little anymore) helped as well..and we felt a little guilty since he had also always wanted a treehouse, but this is the first time we've lived in the woods and actually had trees. So it's for the both of them, even though Little B is about to be living on his own, lol.

They worked and worked. Mainly Hubby worked and the two kids would meander in and out, with Little B only here occasionally and Bear working as long as his little attention span would allow.

Finally the day came! It was done! Bear spent the first few days in there continually, he loved it!

He brought his friends over to see it!

He listened to music in there!

He had decorating plans for it! (That's my boy!) 

Then he left a little food up there...

We had told him animals would move in if he left food up there.

And...it got really windy.

Hubby had built it (he has been in construction most of his life, so he knows what he's doing), so that it would give a little with the movement of the trees.

 It swayed just a bit.

It creaked a little.

The metal roof made a LOT of noise as the acorns started falling from the trees above.

It sounded like gunshots.

Raccoon feast?

So once Bear climbed up there and he was convinced raccoons had just left and were coming back any minute, the creaking meant the whole thing was falling down and the noisy acorns hitting the roof were gunfire, he was outta there. He's not returned in quite a while.

Sigh.

And as I sit here shaking my head with my rock-n-roll lipstick on, I think...

Treehouse for sale. 

Love,

Elizabeth

LAST ONE...ELLIE'S HALLOWEEN COSTUME CHOICE #3

(the next post will feature all three, then I'd love to hear which one is your fav!)

You about have to be a Viking to survive this bunch, but I love those guys.

Party With Your Red Sleeves On - A Tale of Two Brothers

I did something I've never done last weekend. I left Little B (my 20 yr old) in charge of The Bear (10) overnight. For two nights. As in....the whole weekend. 

I know! I can't believe it either!

Little B is fully capable of taking care of the Bear, don't get me wrong, but when The Bear gets creative with his mischievousness, you just don't know what to expect. Even a seasoned veteran can be taken over with a surprise attack. When I came home, the house was not burned to the ground, it wasn't a wreck and no one was tied up. Hooray! However, there were some oddities, of course...

1) There was a pair of shirt sleeves laying on the kitchen island. Not a full shirt, just long sleeves. It seems The Bear decided he wanted to wear just sleeves one day instead of the whole shirt, so he cut them off.   The visual in my mind I'm sure cannot compare to the reality of a shirtless boy appearing from his bedroom wearing only red long sleeves, announcing to his brother that he is ready for the day. I do not remember doing this kind of thing to my parents...or my brother.

2) There was a pot of red Kool-Aid on the stove. Apparently, before Little B realized what was going on, The Bear was boiling a pot of Kool-Aid and insisted on serving him a glass of hot deliciousness.       

No red flags there!

This was actually an attempt to hide the fact that he really made the Kool-Aid to use as a dye for his hair, since I won't allow him to otherwise- this is the fourth or so attempt, but the first with hot Kool-Aid. For some reason, he thought boiling it would make it a more potent dye. Thankfully, he let the Kool-Aid cool down before pouring it on his head. And bonus points for him, he did it outside. I did notice a slight auburn tone to his hair when I came home.  An extra ten points for creativity. Ten points to Little B for just going with the flow and accepting a glass of hot Kool-Aid like a boss.

3) Little B and The Bear accompanied my friend to the store to buy her son an airsoft gun - that looked like a machine gun. While driving down the road, The Bear decides it's a great idea to wave the machine gun out the car window...At A Policeman.

All bonus points deducted.

4) The most surprising one of all- The second night, Little B had a couple of friends over. No worries, I adore his friends and was fine with this. However, The Bear, who is usually made to follow a fairly strict bedtime policy, had been allowed to stay up way too late the first night. So by Saturday night, he was really tired. He told Little B's friends that they were playing music way too loud, didn't they know it was TEN O'CLOCK and we had neighbors who might be bothered by this! (We live on 7 acres...the neighbors are not even close). I don't even know who that was. Bonus points to the little old man who entered my Bear's body for a few minutes.

So, all in all, my red-sleeved, machine gun waving, redheaded child had a great weekend with his hot Kool-Aid drinking, loud music playing, late-nighter brother while I had a relaxing weekend celebrating with their dad on his birthday.

And they actually ended up positive on the bonus scale. Last night they hugged goodnight without me making them. What planet am I on? Or was this secret code? A celebration of getting away with their wild weekend undiscovered?

I'm just going with all is well in the world. Bonus points for everyone, wear some red sleeves, drink the Kool-Aid (or dye your hair), crank the music and have a great weekend!

Elizabeth finds the sleeves amusing. I do not.

Love,

Elizabeth

A Wife For My Husband

Just so you know, my hubby will be totally taken care of in the event of my death.  Not that I plan on going down that path any day soon, but it pays to be prepared.  Bear actually has planned it all out, which came about as follows:

On our way to church several Sundays ago, we spotted a car stopped with their hazard lights on.  In the car was a very attractive woman and her two small children who’d run out of gas.  Being the knight in shining armor that my husband is (after 23 years, I still really like that guy), he volunteered to get her gas from our garage.  Bear was beside himself with excitement.  The thought of helping a pretty lady was almost more than he could take. 

On the way to get the gas, he says, "You know, mom, she’s VERY pretty….I’d say you are #1 when it comes to pretty and I’d put her as #2.....Except for in the mornings, then she’d be #1."

Well, gee. Thanks so much. I had a good thing going until that morning part.

We got back to Pretty Lady and Bear helped his dad carry the gas can and fill up her tank.  He hopped back in the car and announced, "I’M A HERO!" He was very proud to say the least and still very taken with the beautiful woman.

I’d just about recovered from being demoted to #2 Pretty status when Bear says, "Ya know Mom, I bet if you weren’t around, Dad would marry her."

Whoa Nelly.  Say whaaaaat??

Needless to say, that woman mysteriously disappeared from our area. 

Ha, just kidding!

So, I haven’t felt too secure in the looks depart since this 'pretty' incident, and I'm rethinking that fuzzy plaid purple bathrobe I wear every morning. I do know that if something happens to me, Bear will make sure that my babe has an instant replacement. 

I bet she won't wear a fuzzy purple bathrobe.

And she’ll be #1 Pretty. 

❤️, Elizabeth

I love the purple bathrobe. 

That Time I Tried To Skip Father's Day - A Bear Tale

We are sitting in church when the pastor asked all the fathers to stand up to be recognized for Father's Day.  I'm gazing around the room, watching the humble, sweet dads standing, mostly wanting to sit back down and not draw attention to themselves.  Then there was this one.  He was standing with his head held high, actually, was he on his toes? Is he trying to stand taller than the rest? This dad was a proud one, he was.  Then I see his face which has the biggest grin.

It's The Bear.

 I lean over his brother to get closer to him and whisper in the 'mom' tone.  "Bear, sit down."

Bear: "No, mom.  I'm a dad."

Me: "You are NOT a dad, SIT DOWN."  He's ten. Why am I having to have this conversation?

Bear: "I am so a dad.  I'm ELLIE'S dad."  His grin got bigger and I know in his mind he was also thinking, Why am I having to have this conversation? And so there he stood with the rest of the fathers and, of course, was among the last to sit down. The fact that someone in the church that morning had given him a whole bag of twizzlers (which he gladly had eaten every piece) was evident.  He was in full Bear mode.

Being Father's Day, I'd been thinking of my dad and Bear's antics reminded me of a time my dad had told me he had also misbehaved in church.  His pastor would leave a written copy of his sermon on the pulpit before church began.  Dad and his friends really wanted to go swimming that day, so they 'misplaced' the sermon.  That was the quickest service they'd ever had and out they went to the pool. Hmmmmm. It must run in the family to be little stinkers.  At least Bear's stunt was over and it didn't result in church being dismissed.

Bear got up and walked to the back of the church as the preacher started his sermon.  I'm thinking bathroom break.  Then the mom vibe hit me and I look over and question his brother with my raised eyebrows. (His brother deserves a more proper introduction, but for now, he is my almost 20 year old sweetheart/prankster of a child, who at 6'2", I still call 'Little B'). 

Me: 'Bathroom?'

Little B grimly shakes his head.  We have this whole nonverbal conversation with eyebrows and eyes rolling and lifted shoulders.  Which could only mean one thing.  Troubles a-brewing.

Little B: 'See that block of sunlight on the wall behind the preacher's head?'

Me: 'Yes.'  I was starting to sweat.

B:  'He wanted to know if that came from the foyer window.  Then he left.'

I could only wait helplessly.  To give you a clearer picture of what was going on, there was a rectangle of sunlight shining through the window at least 4-5 feet tall just above the preacher's head on the wall behind him in the pulpit.  The congregation sees the outline of a window. Bear sees a great shadow puppet arena.

My little guy is a performer.  And perform, he must.

I could only sit in a panic and wait.

Soon I saw the huge shadow of his profile slowly walk by. 

Once.

Oh my.

Twice.

Oh dear. Please sit down...

Three times.

I held my breath.

I knew by the time I got to him the show would be over. I wanted to look away but it was the train wreck you had to watch.

The fourth time there is a little wave of a giant hand.

I smiled just a little.  Wait, what am I smiling at, this is soooo wrong.  And besides, I had already decided I was emotionally skipping out that day. Father's Day when cancer has stolen your father is just a day that you want to get over with as quickly as possible.  I was not going to smile, mister.   

Getting braver, the fifth time there was a giant dancing silhouette.  Shew.  There it was again, a little grin along with my terror.  Thank goodness it was a quick dance.  

Bear returned and both boys were quietly laughing and smiling from ear to ear.  And being the ever so inappropriate mom that day, I silently giggled with them. And then almost snorted. Soon I laughed inside so hard tears were forming and I was trying not to be so obvious as I shook up and down trying to hold it all in.  These kids had transformed me into a misbehaving teenager at the worst possible time.  I could do nothing to reprimand The Bear other than try to muster up the sternest look I could give him.  He triumphantly sat down.

I'm sorry to everyone in the church, I really am. 

While I was mourning and all caught up in death, my boys were celebrating life and I decided to join them.   

My dad would want it so. 

Daddy?!

Introducing.....The Bear

I've been struggling on how to properly introduce The Bear.  He's 10, and there's no description that fits this combo of blunt, wild and wonderful, other than maybe picture Jack Black meets Robin Williams with a dash of Charles Grodin all rolled into one child. There are so many stories I could tell but when I ran across this tribute I once wrote, I thought it may be the perfect way to give you a glimpse of a typical day of my life with The Bear.   

I think you're going to like him...

A MOM'S TRIBUTE

Thank you, Mr. Policeman, for not arresting me in Kroger parking lot, when, to my horror, my Bear yelled to you, 'HELP! I DON'T KNOW THIS WOMAN!'

Thank you, Mr. Fireman and company, who raced to my house to put out the nonexistent fire that was exaggerated by my Bear bursting out of the front door in his pajamas screaming, 'OVER HERE! THE FIRE IS OVER HERE!' when I had simply burned the zucchini.  No fire. Nope.

Thank you to my innocent friend, who never knew that my Bear had filled his water gun up from the toilet bowl when he shot you in the face, for your patience and apparently hardy immune system.

Thank you, elderly man in Kroger, (yes, a lot of things seem to happen at Kroger), for simply smiling at me in my time of exasperation when my Bear wouldn't listen.  I thought you were flirting with me in a subtle way (because I am usually only hit on by the 70-80 age range these days, if at all) but actually you were probably politely thinking that you may need to call for the manager because in my frenzy I was putting all my groceries into your cart.  Good times.

Thank you to the woman in your early 30s who has yet to figure out that your 'match' on Match.com is actually a 10 year old who has snuck onto the internet and created an account with some random guy's picture.  We'll just keep it our little secret. 

Lord, I pray that you give me reminders in my time of frustration with the Bear that one day I'll miss his antics.  I pray for patience and the ability to see the humor in all situations.   And that he always knows how much he is loved.

And peace, Lord.

Yes, Peace.  And Bacon.

Oh Lord, do I need a little peace.

Amen.

❤️, Elizabeth