My Little Kingdom

A day in the life of me and my kingdom. Thoughts of a mother of four amazing little boys, a wife of an incredible husband and a woman trying not to forget about herself.

September 25, 2009


I walked into the bathroom to find Hudson rubbing deodorant all over his tummy.

The boys have three styles of hair: flat, pokey and spy hair.

Hudson wanting a snack asked me for some 'bagel butter' aka cream cheese.

Everest helping cut slices of cheese for sandwiches, carefully carved a half pipe out of the cheese block.

The boys love using my dishes to bug hunt. One afternoon they gathered a Tupperware full of ants for pets.
Isaac: look at Jack.
Mom: which ones Jack?
Isaac: they're all Jack

Isaac(5yo) to Hudson(3yo): oh look how cute these ants are, aren't these ants cute?

Isaac while running across the grass at the city park slipped in a huge mud puddle. Quite unhappy he declared, “Great! now, I‘m going to smell like a gorilla. This is my worst day ever!”

The boys love to watch football with their dad. He explained that the vs. means verses as in opponents or one team playing against another. They always ask who’s “versing” who and when playing together such as when the wii or chess they’ll say, “Wanna verse me?”


Hudson came in from playing outside and announces, “I’m gonna put my flip flops on so my toesies don’t get cold.” and dashes back outside.

At the park one afternoon quite unexpectedly Isaac blurts out, “Push me woman, push me!” Apparently I was slacking off at swing duty.

That time of year when the cottony fluff that makes so many of us sneeze and wheeze was floating around in the sky, we were playing outside and it was quite heavy. Isaac delighted, shouts “look, pieces of the clouds are falling!”

Isaac not pleased with something I wouldn’t let him do packed his pillowcase and headed out the door. Over his shoulder he informs me “I’m staying outside for a few days but not for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”

In response to what he wanted for his 4th birthday Hudson replied, “A power miner thunder driller Lego set, Lego cake and meat.”

Eating out at the Olive Garden while passing the time until the food came the boys tied their dark green napkins around their faces and pretended to be robbers. It was such a hit that they kept their disguises on while they ate, laughing and demonstrating “Look I’m a robber eating”.

Every once in a while we’ll buy Grandma Sycamore’s White Bread. Isaac asked if we could get some and I said, “white bread makes you soft and fluffy” as I tickled him. He giggled and said, “I’m already soft and fluffy” (he’s really not, but it was cute to see him blush)

Isaac: Mom you lived in the old fashioned. Dad lived when it was old fashioned so that means you did too.

MoM: the perception of age changes with… well… age.

Mom to Hudson and Everest: I think you’re tired and he’s fiesty. And when tired and fiesty get together it’s a disaster.

I received a call from school, Edison insisting his throat was too sore to stay. So I go and pick him up. Later upon walking into the room he exclaims, “I’m playing cause it’s just my throat, the rest of my body is ok”.

Hudson came running into the kitchen wedging himself in between me and the cupboards as he locks his arms around my legs. Everest taunting him from the other room, “Hudson, come and get me”. Hudson unable to resist, “I have to go get him, can you come with me?”

After watching the movie KungFu Panda the boys liked to mimic one of the lines, “enough talk, lets fight”. So we heard all kinds of versions such as ‘enough work, let’s play’, ‘enough play lets sleep’ and ‘enough talk, let’s eat’… I overheard Everest telling his brothers that his teacher stepped out of the class and instructed everyone to quietly work on their assignment. While the class was chattering up a storm. He chimed up and instructed the class, “ enough talk, let’s write.”

Hudson: You’re not the boss.
Mom: Sure I am.
Hudson: No. You’re not.
Mom: Then who is?
Hudson: Daddy
Mom: Oh yah? Why’s he the boss?
Hudson: He’s the tallest.
Mom: Well, then who am I if he’s the boss?
Hudson: The King. And the king tells the boss what to do.

On my way out to some stores I commented to Cameron, I’m going to go putt around for a bit. Isaac overheard and blurts out, “I wanna go golfing with you!”

The boys will try anything for ice cream such as:
“I’m too skinny, I need something to put the chubbies on. Like ice cream...serious, I’m too skinny.”
“It’s hot out there, I need something cold… I know, ice cream... Really I’m sweating.”

August 18, 2009

Summer Sno

The other day the boys minus one and I headed out for an evening of our own since one of our sons had a special evening lined up with his dad. As we headed to the city park I spotted a sno cone shack and held the vehicle in a hard left turn through the round about. The boys all piped up this isn’t the way, what are we doing, where are we going…. It didn’t take long for them to spot the sno cone shack either and their hopeful excitement got the better of them. After they each picked out their flavors we made our way back through the round about and to the park.

As we filed out of the car the boys all jabbing their ice with their plastic straws panic filled the air, “Moooooooom, I poked a hole in my cup!” Overwhelming disappointment washed over his little face as flavored syrup began trickling out the bottom. I had to act quick or the evening would be left to ruin. Rummaging through the console, AH! a band aid. Of course. I could tell the boys were impressed with my quick fix as we chuckled and joked mom pulled a MacGyver. And off we went with not another thought of the near devastation.

It was a gorgeous evening. My favorite time of day in fact. The sun's rays filtering through the sea of emerald leaves as they gently swayed back and forth in the evening breeze. The sky a flawless clear blue overhead framing the soon to be setting sun. The sound of water babbling over pebbles in a nearby brook. With sno cones in hand we made our way to a relaxing little spot to finish off our refreshing treats.

The boys still each jabbing their ice while mixing their syrup, after all this is how you eat a sno cone. Casually talking and enjoying each others company. Pure bliss. Until. “Moooooom, I poked I hole in my cup!” For some reason I happened to have another band aid on me. Another disaster diverted. Our chattering, playing and jabbing ice resumed. Only moments later to hear the earth shattering “Mooooom, I poked a hole in my cup!” Unbelievably I had yet another band aid on my person. Seriously I am not a walking first aid kit. Even though I like to think I’m ready for anything and we really do have a first aid kit in the car, I honestly never walk around with band aids in my pockets. It was like a magic trick and the boys thought it was great in fact I was just as astonished as they were.

Three sno cones, 3 holes, 3 band aids, 3 happy boys thank goodness for 1st aid kits. And 2nd aid kits. And 3rd aid kits.

Though summer is winding down here in our neck of the woods sno cones will never be out of season. They are a year round treat in our house. Last winter our boys invented their own sno cones. Our freezer was full of them all season long until the sno shacks started showing up. With a natural ‘sno’ maker outside the boys took advantage of the snow and would bring cups full inside then pour various liquids over the top. Some they’d eat, some they’d offer me to eat while some remained in the freezer to admire. My favorites (not for taste but for creativity) were the o.j. sno cone, the gatorade sno cone, the milk sno cone and the mystery mix sno cone.

August 11, 2009

Saved by Creative Inspiration

Today I awoke in a funk. Wallowing in pillows clambering for something to pull me up and into the day. Slumped in a heap on my bed my eyes fixated in the corner of the room still dim from the early morning hour. There in the corner of an already undersized out grown bedroom is a space. A space Cameron cleared just for me. Placed in this space is an enormously gorgeous easel that spans well above my head. Upon it’s poised frame was a canvas to match it’s beauty. It had sat there pristine white for weeks as I lay and gazed at it’s beauty. Endless images running through my mind’s eye of the possibilities. Until one morning I covered it in blues. Again it sat in the corner as I scrutinized it’s color.

But this morning while sitting on my bed in a mood a spark of creativity took light. Staring more intently at the canvas held in it’s grandeur the vision was coming. Out came my palette and oils and brushes. Creative inspiration quickly replaced the mood I was in and emotion began to expressively engulf the canvas.

To sum up my day I awoke in a funk, was rescued by creative inspiration which led to an enormous canvas filled with expressive emotion and a really great day.

Days Later...
The other morning I found myself stir crazy. Not wanting to delve into any of the usual or not so typical chores. Only 11am and I was feeling compelled to take a nap. I refused after all I hadn’t even had lunch yet. There’s just something about taking a nap in the morning that seems strange to me, unless I’m ill or recovering from childbirth. Looking for something to do to keep me occupied, rebelling against any chores or ‘to do’ items. I do those every day. I craved something that would challenge me, something I could find growth in, development, improvement, progress, expression. Something to send me spiraling along my own personal path.

There it was resting waiting calling from it’s easel. The oil painting I had started weeks ago. I’ve been letting it dry before I began phase II. It’s time I thought, even if it’s still tacky it’ll add to the texture giving it the character I want it to have. But it’s in three pieces the large canvas sits in the corner of our bedroom approximately 2’x4’ and the other two canvases rest down in the basement on my art table each approximately 2’x18”. I started racking my brains. I have two large art tables but neither could accommodate all three canvases. And I really needed all three pieces to be lined up beside each other to complete this phase. Our poor little rental is too tiny and the floor plan quite poor. There was no where to paint. Do I dare take it all outside? Frustration was really beginning to set in.

When suddenly the creative inside me took over. Or maybe just desperation. I removed all of the dinning room furniture and shoved it all into the front entry. What are the chances someone is randomly going to stop by to visit anyways. Piled the dishes into the sink, I know they’ll be kind enough to wait there.

The boys all begin to pop up one by one watching and wondering. When they see the art supplies come out they all exclaim, “You get to paint?! Aw can we?” Of course they can paint. I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I spread my canvases across the dining room floor and spread newspaper across the dining table that is now in the entry and set them up along side me. And for the remainder of the afternoon we painted side by side. We would check each other’s art out and ask for opinions while literally rubbing elbows. I still have the paint on mine to prove it.

Lunch proved to be an obstacle but we managed through and back to painting we went with little paint footprints tip toeing through out the kitchen and dining room. They were thrilled and Isaac was so excited he commented, “Wouldn’t it be great if our whole house was an aquarium? Could we make our house an aquarium?” I guess he could see the thought process in my eyes because he went on to explain, “you know where we can hang up all of our art work for people to look at.” “Oh a museum, you mean an art museum, of course, I think that’s a great idea”.

When they were really young, like all of about 3 years ago. I would post all of their art work on colored paper as if on a frame and then hang them in the laundry room. It didn’t take long before my entire laundry room was filled with their bright cheerful imaginations. It made me smile every time I went in there and became one of my favorite rooms believe it or not.

That evening a request came in, Everest has requested we paint in the park like we used to. I have forgotten about all of the art opportunities I used to expose them to. I love that they enjoy it so much and that it’s something we can do together. Next adventure will be at the park with our paints. I think it’s time to redo my laundry room too.

July 28, 2009

Molls on a Mission

A last minute trip to the store arose the other morning. I knew this was the last place my little troop would want to spend a gorgeous summer morning like this. It certainly wasn’t what I had in mind either. However, creative inspiration struck and I was minus a couple of supplies to carry it out plus running short on milk. I know from experience that the later it gets in the day the harder it is to get them in the car. Not to mention I wanted as much time as I could get to unleash my creativity.

“Where are we going, what are we getting, why do we have to”, sang the chorus. “We’re on a secret mission” I informed them. That got their attention. The questions then shifted to curiosity with me replying with “I’ll tell you when we’re all in the car”. That was my elbow grease for getting them in with minimal hassle. Not being able to keep them at bay any longer I announce, “Silly faces, we’re looking for silly faces”. Bewildered this only brought on more curious questions. With fingers crossed I pulled up to the nearest dollar store and in we marched. With a personal sigh of relief, thank goodness they had silly faces. I had been banking on it. If they hadn't have had what I was looking for I would’ve really needed a creative streak to come up with a back up plan. The boys went bonkers picking out which pair of thick black glasses and big noses with mustaches they wanted.

Now masked with humor we were ready to tackle my errands. This was just the distraction we needed to get us through a few unplanned errands that had pulled us away from summer play. We giggled and snickered our way through the grocery and art stores trying to act as normal as possible. Not only did we liven up our own errands but we cheered up a few long faces and left a wake of chuckles in our path. I’m just really grateful that no one mistook us for holding up any of the joints.

I'm pleased to report that our mission was a success and then some. Please be aware this memo will self destruct in 5, 4, 3, 2...

May 28, 2009


I had the sheer and utter thrill of off-roading today while riding shotgun with my son behind the wheel of his rugged well used jeep 4x4. It was spontaneous and exciting. I had barely stepped outside to see what was going on when he asked if I wanted to take a ride with him. How could I resist!? Barefooted, I hurdled the side of his jeep throwing all caution along with dinner preparation to the wind. I could feel the adrenaline rising with the thought of my hair blowing circles around my face. Not to mention a wild rush of excitement coinciding with the precariousness nature of our expedition.

Pleased as I could be I nestled in as best I could as it was a rather tight fit. Did I mention my son is 4 and his jeep well… with my knees up to my chin, grinning from ear to ear, my backside resting on the back of the seat stretching my arms behind us I gripped either side of the jeep. He lurched into reverse to back us out of the front walk and then paused. Leaning into me he kindly whispered, “um I might not be able to go too fast cause your too big”. He had a point as he looked up into my eyes with me towering over him. I must admit I felt like and most likely looked like a giraffe squeezed into a tissue box.

Nonetheless, it didn’t deter his enormously adventurous heart from giving his mom the ride of her life and off we went. Simultaneously as he floored it the front wheels lifted up off the ground high into the air, we popped a wheelie! A surge of giggles erupted from the both of us. My mother’s heart melted in his little sparkling eyes filled with pure joy. Needless to say I quickly discovered how to anticipate and maneuver in order to keep us from flipping his jeep.

Oh the thrill as we drove through thick green lawns catching air over curbs, speeding through bark filled landscaping leaving a wake of wood chips in our tracks, dodging and clipping all sorts of obstacles. What a rush! I can’t remember the last time I roared with such uncontrollable delight.

February 21, 2009

The Great Salt Blog

So a very small few of you know this and I’m only blogging about it because it was such a bizarre and somewhat humorous experience. For the past 2 years we’ve been trying to discover the cause of a couple of odd symptoms one of which is high blood pressure. Yes, I have high blood pressure, really high. I’ve been to four different doctors, five if you include the nephrologists. OK, make that six including the cardiologist. I’ve undergone all kinds of lab work and wonderful tests including an angiogram. I even have my very own blood pressure monitor gizmo. The first thing I hear from each new physician accompanied with a puzzled look is, “You are too young, fit and healthy to have high blood pressure. If you were overweight or older, yes, but this isn’t right. Something isn’t right.”. To make things even more fun the last two visits with two separate doctors I was told, “You are a mystery” in fact one called me a “mystery girl”. Um, mysterious is OK. But “mystery girl”?! What am I a character on PBS’s Word Girl? Not what I want to be dubbed as in the land of medicine and health.

We’ve pretty much ruled out any problems with the heart and now we are looking at the kidneys, hence the nephrologists. He is conducting some more extensive labs in hopes of avoiding having to put me through more invasive testing. As part of these labs I was required to take sodium chloride. Yes, table salt. He said that he could just send me home and tell me to pour salt on everything I eat until it tastes bad for three days or he could give me tablets. I opted for tablets. Especially since he said that every one who has opted to over salt their own food had not poured on enough salt and therefore was required to redo the lab work.

Salt tablets, I can do that. Simple enough. Not so, just finding the tablets (we’re talking table salt here folks) in and of it’s self was an ordeal. I couldn’t find a pharmacy that carried salt tablets, which are mostly used by marathon runners I am told. The one pharmacist suggested I go home, take my saltshaker, measure out the proper amount of spoonfuls of salt and shovel it down. Hmmm, that is unthinkably disgusting! I can’t even imagine taking a spoon full of salt and eating it! Let alone multiple spoonfuls.

Rehearsing all of this to Cameron (he's always able to see the humor), he jokingly said, “Well you know, the feed store down the road carries blocks of salt.” Yes, I can see it now, a big giant salt block in the middle of our dinning room table. Neighbor kids asking, "dude, what is your mom doing?". While throwing a waded up napkin and laughing at him I responded, “Well then don’t be surprised when the neighbors mention they saw your wife down the road fending the cows off for their salt lick”.

Finally I find it at a specialty pharmacy. Thank heavens, I was getting worried I would have to face those cows. However, they are out of the tablets and will have to order some in. So a few days later I have the coveted salt tablets. I thought the worst was over. By the second day I was miserable, I couldn’t eat anything. My appetite was ruined. Nothing tasted right, foods I normally loved I couldn’t eat. A perfectly wonderful batch of chocolate chip cookies I had made, couldn’t even get through one cookie. I kept double checking everything I ate because it didn’t taste anything like what I had put in my mouth. Anything salty like tortilla chips and salsa sent me into a down hill spiral of endless nausea. I could see the look in my boys eyes, their expressions said something like “uh, there’s something wrong with mom”. One even asked, “Have you thrown up yet?”

If any of you happened to see me around town and wondered why my mouth was gapping open like a frog with a fly stuck in its throat, well now you know. It was the salt. No amount of water or other liquids helped either. In fact the more I drank the more I felt like the Dead Sea was churning within the very depths of my belly. If you’ve ever been to the beach and caught an unexpected mouth full of salt water you’ll understand how it burns inside your throat and nose, your stomach feels ill and your lips and tongue are so salty you can’t stop smacking them together. Well multiply that by the Pacific Ocean. It was literally uncomfortable to close my mouth, as this seems to produce more saliva, which was saturated with salt. I constantly felt like I swallowed a wave right out of the Gulf of Mexico. I’d say the Great Salt Lake, however, there are no waves in the Great Salt Lake.

Seriously I was so overly saturated with salt I made sure to stay clear of any cows. A human salt lick is what I was. I highly don’t recommend it unless of course your doctor does. And if you are unfortunate enough that he does, you now know what to expect.

Friday morning I anxiously went to the nephrologists to finish the lab work. As I left his office with a skip in my step singing rapturous melodies I couldn't help but to think it was a grand day indeed not only was the sun shining but no more salt tablets!

February 03, 2009

A Day in the Life

Grocery shopping with Hudson: we found ourselves on the cracker/cookie aisle and he asks for Oreos. Now we are really not an Oreo family however they had a cool limited addition NFL packaging that really caught his eye, the power of marketing in play. I told him I’d like us to pick something healthier. I could see the wheels turning in his head and then he quickly came back with, “If you dip them in milk like this then they are healthy”.

Isaac was saving up money to buy the Lego Batman Wii game. He was earning money by doing his chores. Hudson in anticipation to play the game too, was losing patience in how long it was taking his brother to earn the money. One afternoon Hudson came to me begging, “mama can you please go do Isaac’s chores so we can play Batman Wii?”

Cameron was complimenting the boys at the dinner table and expressing his appreciation and love for them. He made a statement about how important they each are to us. Isaac, immediately responds with, “say it again, a hundred times”.

Discussing the levels of maturity one afternoon Edison declared, “I can tell I’m getting old, I’m having trouble remembering what it’s like being a kid”.

I don’t really remember what Everest and I were talking about. I think I was trying to encourage him to do something out of his comfort zone when he innocently made the comment “yah but you’re old”. Even though it was meant in the sense of me being the experienced parent. I teased him and my eyes got big, he instantly replied with, “bold, I said bold, You are bold”.

In response to watching safari animals stealing food from people on TV one night, Hudson exclaimed, “Dude, that’s just not nice.”

The first sounds of Christmas as Cameron and I lay in our bed listening to the wrestling of blankets and jingles of the boys discovering their stockings lying next to them on their pillows. We hear Edison exclaim “Holy Moley!” from out of the predawn darkness.

Sloshing through an ankle deep ice-y parking lot Hudson clinging to my side seeking shelter from the frigid bone chilling wind Hudson remarks in all seriousness, “we should be in Florida already”.

Isaac wanting to be excused from the dinner table while patting his tummy, “my tank is full”.

Taking the boys out to a burger joint called Five Guys Burgers and Fries one evening, the name quickly transformed to Five Guys Boogers and Flies on the way there. Our youngest grew worrisome and adamantly exclaimed he was not going to eat there. I had to reassure him it was called Burgers and Fries and we were not going to eat boogers and flies. Upon realizing his brothers’ joke he was all over the boogers and flies chant.

From the other room I hear Hudson struggling with something. I hear him muttering something about his fingers. Just as I’m about to inquire he comes to me holding his hand. I ask him what happened thinking he pinched them in a door or something. Uncovering his hand there is a gold ring on his pointer. He found a gold washer in his brothers’ room. It was not going to budge from his chubby little three-year old finger. I scooped him up. Went straight to the kitchen. Set him on the counter with his hand over the sink. Poured extra virgin olive oil on his finger. Lubricated it real good. Spun it off. Good as gold. Gotta love EVOO.