Gay [gey] adj. having or showing a merry, lively mood

For the past two years, I've wished that San Francisco was just around the corner and not across the continent. You see, my sister and her family live there, and I miss them with every thread of my being. But last night, I found myself thankful that we are nowhere near this gay capital of the world.

Last night was the coldest night yet this fall season. The boys had taken their baths and had put on their usual t-shirt and boxers. Then Braxton went into his bedroom, and came out proclaiming that he needed to put on a day shirt since it was so cold. Well, instead of "day," I heard "gay." I said, "What did you say???!!!" He said, "I put on a day shirt since it is so cold!" I replied, "Okay, I thought you said gay." Immediately, I wished I could shove those words right back down my throat. But Braxton heard, and said..."What does 'gay' mean" I replied, "Happy." And obviously dictionary.com agrees with me, as that is their first definition. Well, my son, whom I like to think of as masculine, as much as any seven year old can be considered 'masculine,' proceeds to prance into the living room, proclaiming to all..."I'm GAY, I'm GAY, I'm GAY!!!!!!"

He looked like a natural, honestly. I'd like to think it was the influence of Santa's reindeer that we've been seeing a lot on tv lately, but in reality he reminded me of some fellows I saw in Key West a few years back. So, as much as I love Key West, and as much as I'd love to see my sister in beautiful Frisco, we may have to continue to plan trips elsewhere. Don't want Braxton getting any ideas.

Grandma

Welles never met his paternal grandmother. She was only alive for the first six months of Braxton's life, so he has no memory of her. Nathan was two when she passed away, and amazingly, he does have some memories of her. She kept him and Braxton at our house until she passed away. As a matter of fact, she was at my house keeping her boys during her last day here on this earth. I can't imagine that she would have rather been anywhere else. Nathan remembers her as the lady who brought him crackers and Mac bird. I know she remembers him as the grandson who reminded her so much of her own twin sons. She loved him so. She loved both of her grandsons, but I think Nathan had a special place in her heart as her first grandson, and one who looked so much like her own twins. She was a natural mother, and loved her three sons without reserve. Even before I grew up to date and later on marry one of those sons, I knew this family as a very close one. She was at every ball game that they played, and even after they were grown she remained a huge part of their lives, and they in hers. Her life fell apart on a dreadful August morning in 1999. Her worst nightmare came true when she lost her eldest son, Tony, and she never recovered. Three years later, she joined him.

Now, as a mother of three sons myself, I find myself understanding Mrs. Barbara more. I know the love that you only realize when you become a mother yourself. It is an indescribable love. I understand her constant worry, her deep unfaltering love for them, and even her warrines of all of the females who dared to steal their hearts. I am dreading the day when my sons bring lady friends home. Mama bear was coming out one day, and I was talking to Rick about how the girls today seem "looser" and more "eager" than I ever was, and I was telling him how they better not mess with my babies, and he said, "you know who you sound like, don't you?" Oh, Mrs. Barbara, you'd be so proud of me now. Save a game of rummy for me now, will ya? We'll have a toddy, and share stories about "those girls" as we pray that our boys only find one who loves them no matter what. That's what's important. Sleep tight rummy queen, and I'll do my best to take care of your boys til we see you again.

Step Up Yo' Vocab

My baby Welles' vocabulary has increased in leaps and bounds in recent months. I am loving watching him transform from the helpless little baby he was, to the independent toddler he is becoming. This transformation is not always easy, for us or for him, but there is so much love, laughter, and pride involved. For example, when I can't understand what he is trying to say, he will throw down and pitch a fit that would register at least a 3.8 on the Richter Scale - higher than that if he happens to be wearing his hard, white church shoes.

But as he is becoming more verbal, and his words are becoming more intelligible, I am sometimes finding myself wishing that he had come equipped with a mute button. We were sitting in the nursery at church a couple of Sundays ago, (alone thankfully) when he started scratching at one of his mosquito bites. As he was scratching, he looked up at me and just as plain as day, the word "Bitch" flowed out of his sweet little baby mouth. So many thoughts ran through my mind at that moment..."Where did he hear that?? Gotta cancel the HBO subscription! Why is my sweet baby calling me the b word??? How big a sin is it to say the b word at church???"

Well, that night in the bathtub, he did it again. Only this time it was obvious that he was referring to his mosquito bites. So I said, "Welles, do you itch?" And that precious little baby said, "Bitch?" I yelled for his father to come, and proceeded to ask Welles again, and got the same reply. Daddy, of course, thought it was the funniest thing since Eddie Murphy. So now, I'm trying to teach him to remove the b from the itch, and it is no easy task. Guess some folks just don't like words that begin with vowels...and if that is the case, can we please find another consonant???

Toad Hospital

I have come to the conclusion that my dear son Braxton has grown since my last post. He has gone from not knowing what buzzards and snakes are, to forming his very own toad frog hospital. That is an accomplishment.

I went outside this evening to find tackle scattered all over our garage floor. The only son outside at this point was Braxton, so I asked him about it. He wasn't very forthcoming at first, but pretty soon I figured out that the tackle in the tackle box had been replaced by something else. After inquiring a few times, he brought to me his tackle box, but instead of the usual hooks and lures, there sat a couple of toad frogs...and...band aids. He proceeded to tell me that he had found these poor infirm toads in need of medical assistance, (not his words) so he provided it for them. I asked him about the band aids scattered around the bottom of the tackle box, and obviously that was the only medical assistance Dr. Harrell was able to provide at the time. And also obviously, band aids don't stick very well to toad frogs, unfortunately.

But not only that, it seems he made a few friends from our amphibious world. He had another few over to the side that weren't in need of medical care. He was just watching and playing with them whenever he could get a break from the more needy toads.

Afterward:
I am pleased to report that the toad hospital has now been dismantled, as both patients are now feeling better. Dr. Harrell has been outside to check on them several times since their discharge.