My Sour Patch Kids

The first time I saw this commercial, it really struck my funny bone. It still makes me laugh.. and even more now... I'll tell you why. For those who couldn't pull up the link, it is a commercial for the candy called, Sour Patch Kids. In this clip, an animated piece of candy who cuts a girls hair off maliciously then takes a 180 degree turn to becoming sweet and cuddly as it warms up to its victim by hugging her leg. How strange that someone thought up such a profound commercial for a simple candy only to reveal the two tastes of sour and sweet that the candy dually offers.

Sour Patch kids happens to be one of the many candies that my husband and I really enjoy. It's actually one of our favorites!  At our first home we lived in in Virginia, I had this one drawer that I managed to always keep filled with all of our favorite candy.  We would dig into it prior to watching a movie and it was great for when we had friends over to watch with us! Yes,  Brandon and I both share a childish love for sour candy.  Ironically, most of our friends have a taste for the same sugary snacks that we like.  Some have asked us to this day if we still have our candy drawer.  We tell them we do, only now it is in a very high hiding spot that only a dwarf with super hero powers could get to.  Our dwarfs have powers, but they're no super heroes. :-)  Besides the fact that our candy drawer has changed location, it also has a  new feature added to it.  It now has chocolate!  Brandon doesnt care much for chocolate and I hated chocolate as a child, but for some strange reason after I gave birth to my first baby girl I became a chocolate fanatic.  I now have a chocolate stash, in addition to our sour candy stash which is primarily my husbands. :-)

What does this have to do with our children? Well, I am pretty sure that I ate a few too many of these while I was pregnant, because I have given birth to three Sour Patch Kids! (an orange one, a green one, and a yellow one, to be precise).  They are all very sweet, but they have a very sour side to them and I am not talking about aged milk.  These kids can turn in the blink of an eye, and its usually when you least expect it.  Speaking of eyes... the other day I told Austin I could see everything he was doing because I had eyes in the back of my head.  I told him they were hiding under my hair.  Busting out laughing he said, "Mom, thats silly. You'd look like an alien if you had eyes there.  Pull your hair up and let me see."  He was a little unsure as to whether I was serious or not.  I think he knows now... I hope.

Austin is my orange Sour Patch Kid. He is not the most sour one in the bunch, but never the less, still has a bite to him.  He can be very aggressive towards his sister, he can be playing and laughing with her one moment and then lashing out at her the next minute for taking his seat in the van.  He will pull hair and punch, even though he looks like he doesn't have it in him.  I only wish that this sour side, would kick into action out on the soccer field.  He has skills, but is not very aggressive.  If he could take the same aggressive behavior he has towards his sister and put it into his efforts on the field, he just might be a star player one day!  Until then, I'll be biting my tongue on the side lines as he allows the ball to roll right past him.  He is also very much a teddy bear.  He looks like one and he even acts like one most of the time.  He has a very thoughtful side to him and is very much concerned about others especially those he loves.

Ava Marie is my green Sour Patch Kid.  Yes, the most sour one in the bag, but a favorite of many. She is the one that makes me laugh so hard at the commercial above.  She is the most like the kid that cuts the hair and then immediately following, tries to butter up to you.  Ava will kick, scream, throw tantrums, push and shove.  She is very determined and I think this will take her far someday, if we can get her on the right path first and foremost.  My fear with her is that one of these days she's going to come cut a chunk out of my hair when I'm not looking.  I think my sour side would ferociously appear instantly if that ever happened, so lets just hope it doesn't! :-)  Like her brother, Ava can be very sweet.  She has this tiny little voice sounding as though she sucked up a balloon full of helium when she talks.  She is so caring and loving to Ainsley.  She likes to pretend that she is Ainsley's mommy, which is fine for Ainsley, but Austin is not too fond of it when she tries to mother him.  Such a cute bunch they are.

Ainsley is my yellow sour patch kid. At a very young age, she already has a pucker to her.  It's actually something new, this sour side, that she has recently picked up, and its probably due to residing in the same bag with the green kid.  Ainsley has developed a hitting and swatting problem. She has always had some defensive mechanisms to her, but lately if she becomes at odds with her sibs or even me, she will just swing out and slap her opposer.  My first inclination is to laugh, but this could become serious for the little 'gangsta'  if the problem at hand, (no pun intended) inclines and continues as she grows bigger and stronger.  She is a cuddle bug though.  She's mostly a mellow yellow Sour Patch Kid. She hasn't given us too many problems yet.  One thing that does concern me is her kissable face, but not too worried, because if it does stay as kissable when she becomes a teen, hopefully she'll put her slap into action to keep the boys off of her.

This blog has been a little rough on the AAA's so I will end it by saying they really are sweet kids. Brandon and I love them all and each of their unique personalities more than words can ever express. We love both their sweet sides and their sour sides, and just for the record, all of our kids share the same love for this sugary snack as we do. Even Ainsley has tried this sour candy at only a year old, due to the 'sweet' side of her sister who decided to share one with her.  I'm yet to find a candy my kids don't love, but glad that we can all share in the sweet and sour enjoyment of Sour Patch Kids, the number one candy for the home of the Parks, Party of Five!!

Gold Teeth, Bras, Mud Baths and Filet Mignon! What could this all mean?

I have been trying to pursue a goal of posting every Thursday.  On April 7th, I did not meet that goal, but I cannot let the week pass me by without taking the opportunity to share just a few enlightenments from the past few days. I usually find time to write after the kids go to bed, especially on Wednesday nights, as Brandon doesn't usually arrive home until midnight, so I have the quiet house to myself.  Due to this unusual week, after putting the kids to bed, I've found myself cleaning up the kitchen, doing some laundry, and then dragging my feet to the beckoning of my beloved bed. Oh how I love that bed, especially after long endless days. I don't even know where to begin, but I guess the first of the week is a great start...

It was going to be a long evening and we were out of milk and diapers. I would usually go to the nearest Publix for such essentials, but diapers are always cheaper elsewhere so I ventured out to Wally World with all three A's. Walmart in Homestead is probably one of my least favorite places to visit due to the high volume of interesting people you find there. I usually will put in an effort to get all three kids safe and sound in the shopping cart, where I dont have to worry so intensely about them getting snatched. This also puts a limit on how much I can throw in the cart. Three kids in one cart doesn't leave a whole lot of room for much of anything. On this particular evening Austin and Ava both wanted to be outside of the cart so I gave them a chance. They did alright at first, but as their energy accelerated, they began to stray further away from me and I finally had to stop them and say in my most serious lecture-type voice, "Do you see all of these people?  One of them is a bad man, but I don't know which one it is, and you don't want to find out." You could literally see the fear in Austin's eyes after I said this. Austin and Ava's definition of a bad man is, A very bad person who will take me from mommy and daddy when they're not around and never bring me back. I know it sounds harsh to put such a scary thought in the mind of a child, but it really does work for them, and if it keeps them a little more safe in this dangerous place we live in then its kosher.  From that point on, they clung close to me. When it was time to check out, it didn't surprise me when all twenty of the lines had at least six or seven people backed up with full carts, but it did give me a feeling of hopelessness like I was never going to get out of this hectic place. It ended up taking 45 minutes to get through the check out line. As I stood there, watching the milk drip with condensation and wondering if it would make it home before spoiling, the kids drooled over the candy rack. They must have sorted through, what seemed like, one-hundred different flavors and varieties requesting for me to pretty please purchase each one. Repeatedly they would keep going back to this particular gooey, sugar and food coloring gel candy that for some reason they both wanted. I was so weary and tired at that point, I caved and said yes to this child desirable treat that I later regretted getting them. Its always such a relief to return home after such a trip as the previous..to know I won't have to do it again for a little while, or at least until we run out of things..

Day two: Brandon has consistant meetings and appointments throughout the day, but its the ones at the end of the day that determine whether or not we will be eating dinner closer to six or seven. On this particular day, his meetings were backed up an hour or two. As dinner was blackening in the oven, I had the kids outside trying to wear them down, when a long came the meat man in his truck full of frozen meat. This man has been to my house numerous times trying to sell me his fresh seafood and lean steaks which he claims my neighbors consistantly buy and love. As he was going through his sales pitch, the kids managed to find some dirt to play in on the corner of our driveway. They didnt just play in it, they bathed in it. I was trying both to pay attention to Mr. Meat Man who was really starting to get on my nerves and keep track of all three children but when Ainsley waddled up to me looking like she'd just had some chocolate and a cigarette, I gave up and becoming a little delirious, I told him "Ok, why not" I was thinking maybe this would be one less trip to the grocery store, seeing where this meat looked as though it would last me a year.

Brandon walked through the door just as I was writing out the check with a dirty Ainsley on my hip.  He had the most puzzled look on his face as there were two men standing in my kitchen and packing my freezer with meat. I didn't even have to tell him where the other kids were. All he had to do was look down at the dirty trail leading to the bathroom where you could hear the mud flying. Brandon was not happy about the meat purchase. And we were both a bit concerned when one of the men returned thirty minutes later with Brandon's iPhone that he "claimed" must have stuck onto one of the meat boxes..???  After the kids had gone to bed I started regretting my 168 dollar purchase. To make a long story short, the following day I got online and determined to make these meats worth while. I found a great recipe for balsamic tuna steaks that I cooked to Brandon's liking and to ease my conscience about my unstable-minded purchase.

Day 3: In order for me to make the balsamic tuna steaks, I had to make yet another trip to the store to purchase some of the ingredients the recipe called for. So, the day after purchasing the meat and only two days after my last heinous trip to the store, I find myself having to make another round. I know Target has popcorn, so I thought, maybe I can bribe the kids with some popcorn to keep them all in the cart while I get what I need. One thing is absolute when I go to Target, and that is the fact that I love this store and always get more than what I need when I go there. With all three children in the cart I begin to walk past the bathing suits, shoes, and come across the bra and lingerie section. I stopped the cart for no longer than thirty seconds and the two oldest of the AAA's had climbed out of the cart, managed to get a bra over their heads and were twirling around singing, "I have boobies!  I have boobies!"  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw this and neither could the woman down the isle who was bent over laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. What would possess a child to do such a thing??  I must have gone through at least three shades of pink, but I think they heard laughter in my voice when I told them to take them off and get back in the cart, because they ran off and I had to chase them through the lingerie section while Ainsley was chillin' in the cart with the popcorn all to herself. This trip to the store ended with me out of breath and the kids wound up tighter than ticks by the time we got home.

The adventures of the week did not stop at Target. I could still write about the event where the garage door was going up with a screaming Ava Marie clung to the side, or  how the box of Trix cereal got from the top of my pantry to covering my kitchen floor. Oh, and I can't forget the gold toothed black man who showed up in my driveway, on a bike, as I was vacuuming out the van. The kids were outside with me, so I with my vacuum being the only weapon I had to use as a defense, had to think of a way to corral my kids to a safe haven while keeping the non-lucid man a good distance from myself...This put the icing on the cake as part of my unbelievable week, but these stories and their details will have to wait for another blog another time. For now I am just going to rejoice in the fact that this week can never repeat itself ever again but as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, there will always be crazy people, crazy acting kids, and crazy sales men, helping to make this world more of a CRAZY place!!

The Rocking Chair

Ok, the secret is out...I am a sentimental person, especially when it comes to my babies. Contrary to that, I am also very serious about getting rid of clutter, or anything that is surviving in my house primarily to collect dust.  Everyone's heard of the disorder known as hoarding...well, if there is an opposite disorder in which one removes from the house as much as one hoards, than I have that disorder.  No not really, but almost.

On the other hand, I have kept, reused, washed and stored everything from my first baby shower with Austin until just recently, where I found myself in a battle between the sentiments and the "consinements."  What to keep, and what to give away to consinement?

There were toys not being played with, baby paraphernalia unoccupied, and clothes Ainsley and Austin had outgrown that all needed desperately to find a new home. (Obviously Ava's clothes will be keepers until Ainsley passes through them.) It all sounds so simple; get rid of what you dont need, and keep what you do.. right?  I'm sure every mother will understand what I am about to embark on....It is never easy to get rid of the unique things that were once a part of such a special era in the life of you and your child. This is the time that a mother's bond with her little person is the strongest.  With that, I have managed to get rid of what we dont need, epecially the items which can always find residence in another family's infant-bound home, and keep just a few things of sentimental worth.

Upstairs in my closet sits three boxes that I will one day give to each of my children. Enclosed in the boxes are the outfits they wore home from the hospital, some booties, a plush toy, and brush etc. Each box is intricately packed with items from their "baby-life." I too have a box for myself with a few things they wont miss ;-)

There is one larger baby item that I will never part with, even after they've gone on to college and started their own careers and families... it is my rocking chair.  This was something that was more mine then there's, but they all spent their share of time in it. Actually, some of the most significant times of bonding were spent in this chair -- precious, priceless moments, where I nursed and rocked my sweet little ones every night as they drifted off into dream land.

In, The Rocking Chair, I found time to pray over my babies for health, wisdom, and knowledge of God's love for them.  I prayed for patience for myself in caring for them and rest for both of us as the night tarried on.  As I rocked them, I would relish in the moment, memorizing every little thing about them, from the unique curves on their tiny faces to the distinct soft spots on their round little heads. When placed on my shoulder nothing was so sweet as the soothing sound of their breathing and little baby snores, it was always such a peaceful time of winding down after a very, very busy day (and increasingly busy with each additional child :-) And as I would lay them in to the comfort of their crib, I would take one last look before leaving the room in all of its peacefulness, and lift up a prayer to the Lord one more time to keep baby (A___) safe and sound through the night. Anyone who has ever experienced any of this knows the immensity of God's blessings.

I recently stopped nursing Ainsley shortly after her first birthday.  Making it to a year is not an easy task for me, but I will say that this transition was bitter-sweet, and though I would love to anchor in the baby years for the rest of my life, things must move on.  Babies become toddlers, and toddlers become rascals!  I look forward to this new stage of having three walkers, three self-feeders and better yet, three independent potty-users!  I can almost smell the freedom as Ainsley becomes more self-sufficient each and everyday!  And once they are too old to be rocked and have moved on to taste freedom for themselves, I will still have my chair. And even in their absence, I will still cradle their worries, cares, and tears in my arms as I pray over them each night in my rocking chair.

From the Sunday Morning Rest to the Sunday Morning Rush.

I remember as a young girl Sunday mornings with my family. It truly was a day of rest. Of course this was also twenty years ago.  It was the one day of the week we could, if we chose to, sleep in.  When I woke up, mom would often have bacon, eggs and pancakes cooking on the stove. Dad would usually be sitting in his recliner by the big picture window reading a book and sipping on a cup of Folgers. The aroma of the coffee would fill the house silently telling everyone it was morning and time to wake up.  I think I drink coffee to this day just because of that familiar smell that takes me back.

At some point in the morning I would hear my two older sisters bickering for a spot in our quaint bathroom which was by no means fit for a family of four females. One of my sisters tells of her memory of the "single bathroom drama" in these words, " I know that as soon as she heard my feet hit the floor she would jump out of bed, race down the stairs and dash into the bathroom to stake claim on the shower".  With some screaming, pushing and shoving, they always managed to get showered and beautified with still enough time to enjoy some of Marty Stoufers, "Wild America"on our box of three channels. When it was time for Sunday School, all five of us would squeeze into the family car, where the saga continued..In the absence of air conditioning, dad preferred the windows down, contrary to my sisters, who did not want their hair to be tampered with by the wind. This was true of every Sunday until fall and winter arrived. Praise the Lord for cold weather!

All of the battles and conflict were only a minute part of our Sunday morning routine. I can look back at them now and chuckle. One thing that will always be magnified to me is the restfulness of the day. After church we would go to "Grams" for cheeseburgers and salad, spend some time with family and then back home for a bike ride or swim in the lake. We were able to pack so much activity into one day and still return for another hour of church in the evening.

Let's fast forward to present day and leave the end of I-95 North to come to the end of I-95 South, and I literally do mean the "end." Two decades later and some distinct cultural and economical differences actually moves us ahead thirty years, from the Sunday Morning Rest to what I now call the, Sunday Morning Rush.

My husband Brandon is the senior pastor of a seemingly large church in South Miami. His Sunday mornings start at five AM. He is usually out of the house before the AAAs even open their little peepers, with the exception of my early bird Ava Marie. I will quietly but quickly get myself showered and dressed in my Sunday best before the party starts.. Yes thats right.. you read, "PARTY" and it is nothing short of a party. Let me enlighten you...

This past Sunday It was my darling Ainsley's first birthday and I had a new outfit for her along with matching outfits for the sibs. Ava was elated about her dress until she put it on to find that the bow on the front wasn't directly in the middle. It was off to the side. I feared the worst, but with some non-sparing of the rod, I managed to get her calmed down so we could then tackle the shoes. Ava likes one pair of shoes and it wasnt the pair I had in mind. I knew this wouldnt be easy but eventually, I had the Ava Marie fixed, primped and ready to go.

Ainsley was a little less difficult. My biggest obstacle with her always revolves around a simple diaper. As soon as the diaper comes off, she crawls away, giggling and laughing, with impeccable speed. Once changed and fresh, she hobbles into her outfit without to much of a fuss. She's pretty consistant and throws me no surprises.

This particular day, Austin was the straw that broke the camel's back.  After setting the house alarm, locking up the house and latching in the girls to their carseats, I look down and discover to my surprise that Austin is in his bear feet. I bit my tongue, wiped the sweat off my forehead, and dashed inside for a quick pair of crocks, then back to the van, to peel out of the driveway.. :)

You see, all of these little mishaps take time, precious time that is hard to come by on Sunday morning. What our goal is for Sunday morning is to be out of the house by 8 AM. I have started a little Sunday morning tradition for the kids that I enjoy as much as they. I've tried to create something calming about the day that they can look back at as a pleasant family memory. Yes, daddy is missing from the picture, but some things we have no control over, so we make it work. What we look forward to every Sunday is something that all three of the A's equally love; a weekly visit to Panera Bread, where we all four enjoy our Cinnamon Crunch Bagel's with Honey Walnut Cream Cheese. Austin and Ava share one and I give Ainsley a chunk of mine which she takes with her tongue hanging out and her hands wide open. (she doesn't get the cream cheese:) They all sit like perfect angels who never give their mom any problems whatsoever, and cordially eat there bagel. I dont know how it is that they behave so pleasingly every Sunday morning at Panera, but they know if they don't, there wont be any more bagel stops.

 I wipe their faces and into the van we go again to finish our trip to the church. I actually love being on the road in Miami on Sunday mornings, due to the rare mild traffic. Its the one day that I just might not get honked at and may have the road to myself for a moment.

 From the smell of dads coffee, to a quick stop for a Bagel, its all about a childhood memory. Routines change no matter where we are, but its amazing how significantly time has changed one particular day of the week for our family.

This Season in Life...

I'm really not sure if this blogging thing is going to be for me or not, but right now all I know is that "In this season of life" I have the most interesting material straight from the mouths of babes! My days are never boring or dull, only eventful and full of life!

The other day as I was driving back home from a beautiful day at the park, Ava and Ainsley had fallen asleep in there seats and Austin was, as usual, full of questions. This particular day the question was, "Mom, who came first, you or daddy?" I just knew there wouldn't be a quick easy way to answer this. It would take some effort and creative detail made into a long story, fit for a four year old. I came up with a quick plot of where his dad and I were born... met... fell in love... married and then grew a bump and named it Austin...He got so into the story that when I got to the third bump he finished the story and said, " and then came Ains!" It filled my heart with laughter and joy just to hear him say that. He calls his baby sister Ains, short for Ainsley.

I've always found it interesting to see how the next child changes the dynamics of ones family. When I was pregnant I would wonder what it would be like adding another sibling to the mix. Would Austin and Ava miss having more of my time, and attention? But when she came....I realized that in time they would never remember life without her.  Austin, Ava, and Ainsley have a strong bond with each other that nothing could ever break, except for maybe a small toy, piece of candy, or the last Pop-Tart. I find it so intriguing how they can be loving and hugging one another in one moment and then screaming and pulling hair the next. Even Ainsley, who loves her brother and sister so unconditionally and has the blindest of faith in them, will swat a sassy paw at them if they're trying for a food item or toy that she doesn't want to give up.

All in all, they've got each others back, whether it be on the playground or in the home. When Brandon and I are disgruntled with one of them for how they've behaved while out in "public, the other one will almost always run to the accused to give comfort and support during times of punishment. I really do hope this continues straight through the teen years. Adolescent years are tough, and everyone needs a brother or sister to get through the toughest of this so-called thing known as life.

Brandon and I look forward to our future with the triple A's as we watch them grow and become more independent and less dependent on us to do everything for them; from tying their shoes to wiping their little bums. But, I do know I am going to miss these days of changing diapers, night wakes, and cries for mommy because she is the ONLY one who will do. The memories of today are priceless,  so for now, I am cherishing every moment of this season.  George Straight has a song that says it all in this phrase: "Life's not the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away" I've had at least three of those moments when I gave birth to each of my little luv bugs.