Joaquin, the Exhibitionist

I am stubbornly refusing to turn the AC on yet. Mostly 'cause it means calling out our repair man for his yearly 100 dollar freon fillup, but also because I'm just unwilling to put on AC in April.

Soooo.....that means the house sits at a balmy 80 degrees by 4 o'clock, which is gross. But Ken went out and bought a couple more box fans to help move air around. One of them we placed in the TV room upstairs. It's in the window, which overlooks our neighbor's backyard.

Tonight, I gave all four kids baths (yes! all four! in one night!!! I RULE!), and then sent them upstairs to watch "The Addams Family" while I put Jude down for the night. As I left my bedroom, I could hear Joaquin and Gabriel yelling into the fan, like kids do when they discover the thrilling Darth Vader quality it lends their voices.

I came upstairs to see Gabriel flirting with just how far he could stick his fingers into the fan before cutting them off (is anyone surprised?), and told them to get away from the fan. Gabriel did (!), but Joaquin kept doing some sort of weird little dance in front of the fan, while yelling a gibberishy chant into it. Bear in mind, he's only in Thomas the Train underwear, because it's 80 in the house. So all I can see a bony little savage, mostly naked, hopping in front of the window.

I ignore him and start watching TV with Lotus and Gabriel.

Then, Joaquin gets my attention when he tells me, in a tremendously delighted voice, "Mama! They know me! They know my name!"

At this point, I realize that Joaquin has been shouting and underware dancing for the neighbors, who are sitting on their patio, watching the skinny little homeschooled boy putting on a little homeschool show for them. In his underwear.

If we ever get to move, I'm pretty sure the entire cul-de-sac will waste away for want of entertainment.

Gigantor Unbound

I knew it would happen, though I dreaded it. Gabriel has mastered, in the space of two days, both doorknobs and how to get out of his crib. Because life with him doesn't involve enough knives, storm drains, and foreign objects being eaten. I'm exhausted just writing about it.

Jude's eating solid food, Lotus is getting her six year molars, and Joaquin alternates between not eating at all, and being an unfillable abyss into which food is endlessly pulled.

But Ken's beard is back, so at least I can look upon my beloved husband and not feel a vague sense of shock upon seeing his naked face.

Secret Name Song- Misguided Angel

Gabriel's Secret Name was a hard, hard one to find. By now, Secret Names were well known in the family, and the older two kept trying to be very helpful and create Gabriel's, since they were distraught that he didn't have one yet. Things like "How about 'Big Fat Baby'?" were suggested. I had to explain that one's Secret Name wasn't made up- it was revealed. And we simply had to wait until Gabriel's was revealed.

Then, the perfect intersection of Name and Song came together when Ken dug up my old Cowboy Junkies "Trinity Session" CD. Plus, it calls him by both names- Secret and Common. The only video I could find of it cuts out a whole verse, and has some weirdo boxer father/boxer son storyline, but still....

Secret Name Song- My Little Ray of Sunshine

Joaquin's Secret Name was found more quickly than Lotus'. He was always so happy and easy going, "My Little Ray of Sunshine" just seemed to fit (though some days I'm tempted to alter it to be "my little whiny ray of sunshine").
The names aren't picked to have a song go with them, but the songs are an important aspect of the Secret Name (Secret Names are a complex and arcane thing). Joaquin's doesn't fit exactly, but it still works.

Secret Name Song- Heart of Gold

Each child has their "secret name" (which isn't secret at all, really). It's a title that is revealed at some point, that sums up their personality. Yes, all very hippy, I know- stay with me.

Anyway, Lotus got hers first. She's our Heart of Gold. Then I remembered the Neil Young song, and it added a whole other layer on to her secret name.

So here you go- Lotus' Secret Name song:

Gabriel.

It's 9:50 a.m. The following is a list of all the things Gabriel has accomplished this morning:

1. put a whole egg in his mouth. An egg. Without breaking it.
2. licked the entire surface of an egg (the same egg, after being told not to touch it, having it moved from his reach, then moving a chair over to a stool to climb up on the stool, and from there, reach the egg)
3. eaten an unknown amount of Hyland's Homeopathic Teething Tablets (which involved unscrewing the lid. Can't work door knobs, but can unscrew lids)
4. hit his baby brother in the head with the plastic vacuum attachment
5. sent to his room

I am going running. With any luck, I'll be in Arkansas by lunch.

Phrases That Are Better Never Coming Out of a Parent's Mouth

I'm not kidding about this one.

Late this morning, I'm making lunch, the kids are outside playing. Still in their pajamas, but you know, it's homeschool. In Mississippi. Plus, I've seen the neighbor boy who goes to public school come home in his pajamas, so it must be all good.

Anyway, I digress....

Somehow my "Mama/Spidey Sense" went off, and I looked out the window just in time to see something that made me briskly walk about into the front yard and say a phrase a parent usually likes to avoid saying, "Gabriel, don't crawl into the storm drain."

That's right. Gabriel was belly down, into the storm drain up to his waist. It was only his sister, who was holding onto his hands for dear life, who kept him from going all the way in. And it's not like I could have gotten him back up myself if he had been successful. Oh no. It would have been a call to 911 for some backup and possible PS visit to follow.

I pulled him out of the drain, set him on the street, considered my options, which ranged from beating the shit out of him for trying such a stupid thing all the way to making MY escape via storm drain. I chose something involving a brief lesson on the dangers of storm drains (skipping the obvious "IT" references), and insisting Gabriel never do that again.

And that boy looks at me, very sorrowful and contrite, and says "Yes, Ma'am."

If that boy didn't look so much like his daddy....