LISH: Two-wreck Mathew

May 26, 2008

Two-wreck Mathew

Andrew fell at school and bashed his knee up on some rocks. Dad, Jonah and Mathew went on a thirty-mile bike ride on Saturday. Mathew clipped a sign post and Dirk endoed over him. Road rash and bruises resulted. Sorry for the graphic display, it's all in the name of documentary. Mathew's new nick name is "Two-wreck". He crasehd twice--but only the second earned him an ugly knee.

1 comment:

aubreyannie said...: tough guys. i'm sure they will enjoy the documentary of their road rash.; 5/27/2008

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Kam: Mom, did you know that coffe is bad for your body? And beef strogonov is healthy for you you. But if you put poison in it then it's bad for your body.

Kam: Mom, look at that o-plane in the sky!
Mom: it's called an airplane.
Kam: oh--an o-plane. Where does it go?
Mom: in the sky.
Kam: I mean, where is it going?
Mom: from Boise to somewhere far away. where do you think it is going?
Kam: hmm...to the island where it's warm and where the turtles live. I want to go there.
Mom: me too.

Mom: hey Dirk--would you please make some copies for me?
Kam: mom, don't you know that copfee is bad? we don't drink it because it is not healthy for you.

Kam: mom, for my birthday can i have some mermaid lessons?
Mom: you want to learn how to swim like a mermaid?
Kam: yep--but I need the mermaid thing that goes on your legs all the way to your toes like down your body.

Kam: Mom are we going to pick Dad up?
Mom: no, we are going to take him some lunch.
Kam: oh--that's good. he's too heavy for me to carry.

Kam: Mom what are hips?
Mom: they are right here (showing of hips)
Kam: yep--where the hoop-a-loop spins around...I don't know how to learn to hoop-a-loop. I need to practice. A hoop-a-loop is round like a circle...like an orange.

Kam: where are we going?
Mom: to pick up Amy and her daughter at the airport.
Kam: is her a little guy or a big guy?
Mom: she is a little girl--just a baby.
Kam: oh no! I don't want her to sit by me--then she will pull my hair!

Kam: I want to go to Ruby's house.
aunt Melanie: No, you need to stay here.
Kam: I wasn't talking to you Melanie; I was talking to myself.

Kam: I hope we get a flat tire.
Mom: Why?
Kam: so we can get the tools to fix it.
Mom: I don't want a flat tire...we would not be able to get home for a long time.
Kam: but we could just patch it.
Mom: with what?
Kam: some BIG STICKERS!

Kam: Mom, if I get a cold, will you make me some soup?
Mom: sure--what kind of soup would you like?
Kam: some banana chocolate soup--that would make me feel better.

Kam: Mom, are we going home yet? I don't want to miss my field trip.
Mom: we will go home after we go to the bank. And you won't miss your field trip.
Kam: Okay, but I'm getting a little bit nervous, here.

Who knows?

Julie Beck and her quality list of mothers-who-know is the buzz amongst my friends. We all listened to her talk in General Conference. We all had different reactions. One friend asked her husband to hurry and turn the TV off before the wave of guilt became too much. Another wants to know if the requisite "house of order" means every day or once a year?

My first reaction was to stand up and shout, "Good for you, Sister Beck! Tell it how it is--stop apologizing for the mold-breakers!" But then I realized that my own intentions were not as squeky clean as I would like them to be. She hit the nail on the head all right--the one that pricks my conscience. Too much clutter, not enough clean. Too many indulgences, not enough straight-and-narrow. Will my boys be rewarded or revolutionized at the MTC?

I didn't feel guilty enough to want to turn the TV off. But I did make a mighty mental note. What do I know? Well, I do know that I should probably get off the computer and go play a game with my kids--one with a gospel-centered theme would be preferred, right? I do know that I signed up for the gig of mother-at-home. I now know that it is harder than I thought. But I will try to do it with a smile on my face. The next time I want to crawl into my unorganized closet, pull a pile of dirty laundry over my head and hide away from responsibilties, (as LDS mothers do best) I will remember what I know: That Heavenly Father loves me. I am His child--taking care of his precious children. And I know I can do it the way He wants it done!

Emma-isms

Updated on May 23:

One of the guys working on our basement is named Chuck. He comes in and out the back door. One day Emma was at the bar, in view of the back door. Chuck walks in. Emma says, "Ooh--it's Chuck the evil sandwich-making guy--heh heh!" What?? sorry Chuck--the truly nice tape and texture guy. We all found out later that she was referring to a PBS show called Word Girl. one of the villains is the sandwich guy named Chuck.

Handing me a deflated beach ball: "Mom, could you get this blowed?"

Dirk asked Emma if she wanted some "breakust" (breakfast). We like to copy her cute words. But now she is growing out of them. She said, "It's not breakust, Dad. It's breakfussit. I mean breakfussat. I mean....cereal!"

When told to get to bed she said: "I don't want to go to bed. My toes are not tired!"

When told to find her socks: "I can't find them. They are everywhere!"

"What time it is?" and "Wert for me!"

"My hair is wiggly" Translation: my hair is in my eyes.

When sent to her room for time out, she exclaims: "This is an OUTRAGE!"

Our sprinkler guy is an interesting person; he is very trustworthy, but you might not know it by his looks: long hair, eyebrow ring, black-painted fingernails, and a lip full of chewing tobacco. He came to the door for his check; when he left, Emma asked, "Who was that?"
Mom: "The sprinkler guy."
"The sprinkle guy? I don't like the sprinkle guy. He is SO not perfect!"

She gave me a big hug and told me: "You are my best family forever and ever!"

The old stuff:

"I want some more yoranges (orange) juice"

While twirling in her nightgown: I am a "beanarella" (ballerina)

Princents=princess

Mom is ironing in front of a chic flic. Emma wants to join in, but is told to go downstairs because she is not old enough to watch the movie. Five minutes later, she comes up with, "I am older now. I grew up downstairs!"

Shouted from the upstairs window to the sprinkler guy working across the street: "Bye! I love you! Thanks for coming!"

To Dad as he is leaving for work: "Don't get any owies in the car!"

To Dad as he sits down to watch TV: "Goodnight, Dad. Don't get any owies on the chair!"

Valentine's tradition in the Lish house calls for homemade Valentine's cards. This year the boys wanted to have Avatar as their theme. Thanks to the internet, we were able to come up with some pretty cool images. My favorite was Andrew's choice: baby Appa. We punched holes by his feet, inserted a dum dum sucker, and ta da: a flying bison holding a treat on the Valentine's card. Sorry--you'll just have to imagine the final product. I haven't blogged long enough to remember that one should take pictures of the trivial; it only sinks in now that I am taking the time to type about it. oh well...maybe next year.

The real reason for my "side bar" entry is this: what happened to episode 14? We have been valiantly checking TV guide, nick.com and Avatar uploader for any tidbit about the new episode. Every Friday the information is the same: watch the new episode next week! Another week has come and gone, and still no new Avatar. Sniff. We are going through withdrawals. We are desperate to find out about Uncle Iroh--will he join up with the team? What will the Zuko--Iroh reunion be like? I need to hear Zak Tyler's laugh again.

If you think we are obsessed, I recommend watching season one and two. Or call Ryan, Rob or Mike. They will back me up and convert you to the way of the bending masters. Then you can mourn along side us for the lost ending of season three. Dirk thinks it has something do with the movie that is coming out next year--the animation rights have been tied up for some reason. Thanks a lot, M. Knight Shalmalyathingymambob. You better cast a good Aang!

Well, enough said. I'll let you know when the new episode airs. There will be much rejoicing in the land of the Lishlings.