Chicken Balls

Kyler has been on a chicken and turkey kick lately, meaning he injects "chickens!" or "turkey!" into any and all conversation.  Yesterday at church, for instance, as we waited for the elevator and saw that it was going down without us he said "the chickens are going DOWN!"  Last week when I was trimming his hair he said "you cut off my CHICKENS!"  Speaking of his hair, it had been getting rather shaggy, hence the trim.  He liked slicking the top back with gel, and thought he was really stylin'.  He went to preschool like that twice, and the whole class was in an uproar over it.

Dean and the younger boys recently took out the r/c airplane.

Tristan speaks his own little language, and we are privy to some of it.  He is not a good eater - only wants to dine on treats.  He won't eat his meals at all (unless they are exceptionally tasty - like the whole bratwurst he ate yesterday), then spends the rest of the day running to the fridge for "balls", meaning apples, oranges, plums, etc., or cheese sticks, or climbing to get into cupboards looking for tasties.

It was loads of fun until it got caught in the batting cage.  Note the cherry blossoms in the background.

We've been intending to potty train Trist-man before the baby comes, but now it's getting down to the wire.  He is 22 months.  I know what the naysayers think - regression, he's too young, yada yada.  I give him more credit than that, and just need to do it.  All kids were potty trained by age two in our grandparents generation.  Dean actually took Kyler to work today so I could maybe have the time without distraction, even though I told him I'm not ready to do it yet - can't find the doll at the moment, still need to read through the book again...

I quite enjoyed watching Dean try to get it down.  Between the big water gun and the little football, he finally got it.

I asked Hunter to do Family Home Evening last week, and he did a great job.  He decided to teach us about Tithing, and found plenty of things to teach from in our books and other resources.  He's done it before as well.

I went to a "baby shower" on base Saturday, for any pregnant ladies.  There were lots of informative booths, such as with the embassy to know how to get Baby an American birth certificate and passport, and I signed us up for an infant CPR class through the Red Cross.  I came home with a big box of diapers, a "deluxe first aid kit", and other baby items.

Some wonderful ladies here threw a joint shower for me and another expectant mom at my favorite Thai restaurant in Itaewon recently.  I only asked for girlie accessories like headbands and such.  They ladies were all too generous and we are excited to use all the fun girlie things when Cambria decides to make her appearance.  We have settled on her first name, and may even have a middle name lined up.

Little Tristan came down with the croup (again) on Friday, so I took him to the ER on base where they gave him steroids and a breathing treatment.  I was hesitant to take him in because he has a couple of ugly bruises on his chest, and there could always be an idiot who can't comprehend hemophilia who might scream abuse. The doctor didn't say anything when he examined his chest.

Tristan is in the highest point of this, looking out the window.  Invariably other moms will ask if "he's OK way up there?" when my boys are doing something like that.  We have yet to have a broken bone or any such thing. 

Dean stayed home from church with him on Sunday, as I had a couple of duties in Primary.  He started to take him outside for a walk while the rest of us were gone, but Tristan took a tumble down the stairs exiting the building and cut his lip open, so Dean took him to the ER again.  They put one stitch in his lip, but it was gone (bitten out?) within several hours.  It's not bleeding much, thankfully.  Of course the doctor (who has seen him before for such injuries) refused to give the factor that Dean took with him. 

I'm due in 18 days!  My mom will be coming in 17 days! 

A hard day's pillaging makes for a great nap.

Lost and Found

It seems we've had a streak of losing things.  About a month ago I lost my wallet.  I always keep it and my keys in my purse, so I only ever don't know where they are if I change my routine for some reason, or if the little people around here get into it.  We were out on a Saturday to see the cherry blossom festival and had taken the subway, sans Hunter who was at scout day camp.

I had bought some melon bars in a subway station at a 7-11 (yum yum - they taste like honey dew) and hadn't put my wallet back in my purse which was hanging from Tristan's stroller.  I needed to visit the ladies room so wheeled the little man along with me, but used a small stall that his stroller wouldn't fit into so I put it right outside my stall.  My purse was hanging from the handle of the stroller.  I thought, "if someone grabs my purse, at least I have my wallet", but really wasn't concerned because we always hear and witness how honest Koreans tend to be.

Naturally, that particular door didn't latch shut, so I held it closed with one hand while I took care of business so I set the wallet down, and didn't think of it again until half an hour later when it was conspicuously missing from my purse.  We rushed back to the subway station; it wasn't in the stall, nor was it at the help desk.  The man working the help desk charged into the women's bathroom and tried to push his way into the stall to investigate.  It was occupied, and the lady soon came out without even flushing.  He looked around and was satisfied that my wallet was gone. He took my phone numbers...  haven't heard a thing.

We are awfully disappointed that someone wasn't honest and took it, when she could have left it alone or taken it to the help desk. There wasn't a lot of money in it, but did have everything else, including my military ID, Korean and American drivers' licenses, hospital cards we're supposed to have here, ration card to be allowed in the PX and Commissary on base, check book, bank cards, taxi driver directions in Hangul (to get back to the base), temple recommend, etc.  Dean had the following Monday off, so we spent a lot of it on base replacing cards.

When we did our taxes soon after on the base, I took all the kids files of information because we needed their SS numbers.  When it was time to register Kyler for Kindergarten, I couldn't find any of the files.  Oh, the horror.  Their birth certificates, SS cards, shot records, etc are all in them.  Fortunately, they turned up a couple of weeks later in my disastrous sewing room - what a relief.  I still need to register Kyler.

The night before going to UFG for two weeks, preparing all the "stuff".

The beret ("cover" or hat)

More recently, Dean came home from work on a Friday and sat with me on the sofa for a bit.  Come Monday morning he couldn't find his beret, and of course soldiers can't be seen in public without a complete uniform.  He couldn't imagine what might have happened to it, and searched the house over, including under the sofa we were sitting on.  He ended up wearing his patrol cap to work for a week, which they are only supposed to wear during a training exercise or when deployed.  He had been working on shaving and shaping a new beret, but it is a long ordeal.  Finally on the following Tuesday I was decluttering the paper pile on the kitchen counter behind the sofa, and there it was under that Friday's stack of mail.

Side view of the patrol cap.  He returned from two weeks "in the field" for UFG last October rather ill, so had been put on a nebulizer - he's trying to suppress a grin after I picked him up :)

Front view of the patrol cap.  It seems so much more useful than the silly berets, which offer no sun or rain protection.  Again, returning from the UFG exercise.

Of course this school year Hunter has lost most everything that isn't attached to his body.  He lost two real lunch bags the first week of school, so his lunch goes in a grocery bag every day.  We spent the $60+ for a cubscout uniform, and he usually can't find it for scouts.  We haven't seen the hat in ages, so it's probably long gone.  His bus pass is missing about half the time, and I've had to replace it once.  He's lost a wallet, full of his money (I think around $50 - about a year's worth of birthday/holiday money for him).  Every day he spends considerable time looking for his shoes.  That's what I can think of now - I'm sure there's more.  I hope he gets his head together some day.

Yesterday Dean came home from work and the kids got right down to business as usual tormenting him to use his iPhone or laptop (to play games).  There are requirements for such privileges.  If Hunter's room is clean and his chores and homework are done, he may play such games for as long as he has practiced the piano that day.  It actually works (if you don't consider that "cleaning" means stuffing all the contents from his floor into whatever nooks and crannies he can find).  He sets the timer for 30 minutes and practices the piano when he wants to play games.  So he came down to do that.

Then Dean came through looking for his iPhone, as he uses it to time his exercises (sit ups, push ups, etc.) and also to listen to Rush while he works out.  He couldn't fathom where it was, and even sent Hunter out to his car to look, wondering if Hunter wouldn't fess up and produce it if he had anything to do with its mysterious disappearance.  He didn't.  Finally after much angst, Hunter pulled it out of Dean's underwear drawer where he had hidden it, for later use?  Of all the things the kids do, being so dishonest and deceitful are probably the most upsetting.  They are like drug addicts who will do anything to get the next fix of video games.  That's why I never wanted video games in my home in the first place.

Dean's mother always talks about what a good boy he was, and how he would get up in the evening between 7:30 and 8pm and just go to bed when he was their age.  I was honest almost to a fault as a child - could count on one hand the number of white lies or indiscretions I've committed my whole life.  So we just don't understand this sort of behavior.  John Rosemond says not to question it; it's just what kids do, and it's our job to teach them better, but ultimately they are humans, and can make their own choices - good or bad and will suffer the consequences.

It's a Jungle Out There

When Hunter was five and we lived in the magical town of Astoria, Oregon, I took him to see a production by the Missoula Children's Theater.  He wanted to get up on the stage and perform.  He is theatrical and loves being in front of people.  Surprisingly, they came here to our Army base this spring, so I got him to the audition and (like everyone else who "tried out") he got a part in The Jungle Book.  It was an intense week of practice (3-7 every day, Monday to Friday) with two performances on Saturday.

 He did well and enjoyed it, and would like to do it again when the opportunity comes around.  He was a wolf pup.  I've been trying to get him into baseball but have gotten the run around because of his hemophilia, and the season is already two weeks along.  At this point I'm hoping for swimming come June. 

He likes to bear his testimony at church, and does it all on his own.  My policy has always been that when a child of mine wishes to do that, he is more than welcome to do it, himself.  I also recall one of those First Presidency letters read from the pulpit that discouraged parents from whispering testimonies in their children's ears.  So, he comes up with something to say and heads up there.  Today, it was that if we wish to receive answers from God, we need to read the scriptures.  If we wish to talk to God, we must pray.  People sometimes ask me if I coach him.  Uh, no.  If only he would be so pious at home...