Crazy Is as Crazy Does

All my life I’ve never wanted to run a marathon. I have, however, wanted to SAY I’ve run a marathon. I spent years figuring out a way I could honestly accomplish that goal and ultimately yielded to the fact that, sigh, in fact, I was going to have to actually RUN 26.2 miles to say I did one.

After coming to this sad conclusion, I conjured up the next best plan, for my “I’d-rather-not-self”: if I was in fact going to have to actually run over 26 miles (something only lunatics do btw), I was going to at least, run it with my Dad. (Who falls in the lunatic category simply because he typically runs more than one of these a year! In fact in the last 5 years or so, he’s run NINE. To me that equates to crazy times nine!)

This was a great idea – well, besides the part that included the 26.2 miles of running. Dad was a great choice. I love having Dad and Daughter time, he loves running marathons, and he knows what he’s doing. IF I had to actually do one of these things – this was the best way to go for it.  

So alas, I resigned myself to the fact that it was time to sign up to do one … and only ONE … race.

Next thought: might as well make it magical. Disney here we come!

So last January, against my better judgment, I signed up for the Walt Disney World Marathon. With a foreboding feeling in my gut, I not-so-eagerly paid my $140 entrance fee. To which I thought – “man, you really are dumb. (sometimes I sound like what my grandma Sanders used to say out loud to people) you are PAYING a lot of money to undoubtedly kill yourself.” (add “fool” to this conversation as well while we’re at it.)

When I started training, I required myself to have the perfect storm for running: good tunes in the itunes library, perfect weather (not too hot, not too cold) and cute running attire. ;)

Slowly (very slowly) I built up my mileage, all the while telling my friends, “I’m pretty sure I’m gong to die when I run Disney in January.” Sure, I can be a bit melodramatic I suppose, but I wasn’t entirely convinced I was created to be able to do this.

I was decent about getting out to run, but kept telling myself I had a lot of time before the race, I could take it slow. I think my Dad noticed that my “training” plan was a bit haphazard and being the engineer and dad that he is, somehow when I wasn’t looking, I got grand-fathered into his training plan. Doh!

That was good. Because he got me on track and kicked me into a higher gear so I could actually contend with the 26.2 monster in my future.

Then about four months ago, things came to a stabbing halt. One day after a run, I had a weird pain in my leg. It wasn’t that muscle pain you feel when you’re sore and want to whine. It was more one that when you take a step you get a sensation like someone is stabbing you with a knife … every step. Fun, right? It was so bad that at one point, I had a moment where I needed to run to catch Isaac and I couldn’t get there. (Side note: teach your kids the command “stop.” It saves lives.) Another time when Ben and I were crossing a road I got a flash of what it might look like to be road kill. So, I got a CT scan and an MRI, and a warning from my doctor that I might have to cancel my race.

8 months into training was when I realized how much I really actually WANTED to RUN this race – not just say I did it any longer – actually RUN it. By the Glory of God, my leg pain subsided a week or so after my CT and MRI showed up clear. I was back in business!

I’d lost two months so I had to really make up some ground. We worked hard and I kept on top of keeping my leg healthy. By the end of our training plan, I had become the running geek my dad probably always dreamed he’d have for a kid. (LOL) I was eating prunes instead of Gu (don’t knock it they are WAY better than that liquid snot stuff), tracking my runs on Nike Run, and actually looking forward to long runs. In fact, I have come to the point where I don’t enjoy the short runs as much any more.

This is all because I run my long runs with my dad and love running with my Dad. We have the best conversations and it’s just nice to get to have that Dad/Daughter time together. There’s no pressure when we run. We take it nice and slow and “enjoy the journey.”  I never dreamed running could be enjoyable. But it’s really very fun.

This past weekend I accomplished my goal. I ran the 2013 (20^th Anniversary) Disney Marathon with my Dad. I loved every minute of it! It was sooo super fun! 

Honestly, it felt like one big running party! We ran through all four theme parks, on the Richard Petty racetrack and the Atlanta Braves Spring Training field. There was entertainment, camaraderie and treats galore! I’m so proud of my accomplishment I’ve already donned the coveted 26.2 sticker on my car and I kind of think of might wear my medal for the next two weeks. Best part of the whole thing … I ran it with my Dad.

When I asked myself the night before the race why I was doing this … knowing that for a year I had said in my head, “because it’s on my goal list,” this time, the night before the race, I said to myself, “Simply because I can.”

And I can’t wait to do it again. 

Helen Keller’s Teacher Had Nothing On Me

What was her name? Annie right? That was one of my favorite stories when I was a little kid. In fact, at dance the other day Saylah picked up the level 1 reading book of it and it brought back memories. I was always so impressed with how stubborn and tenacious she was when trying to connect Helen to the world.

After this week, I’m pretty sure I’m tougher than teacher Annie.

When we first had kids I completely got on board the “pay now or pay later” mentality. You know the one … the theory that you either teach your kids now to do the right thing and go through the tough love when they are young so that when they are older they already have a good foundation of right and wrong. OR you don’t do that and realize when they have become terrors that you may not be tough enough for the tough love they are going to require to now achieve those principals.

Well, I still agree with the theory. HOWEVER, with Mr. I-man, I’m nearly a year behind. And, man am I paying for it already!

I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions, but after seeing how mouthy Isaac is becoming (yes, mouthy – even in toddler gibberish) and that our youngest is quickly showing signs of little Napoleon potential, I thought it best to make one primary resolution: Isaac Behavior Bootcamp. (I have to admit I stole the name from my bestie. Thanks Jenn!)

So IBB started this week when the girls went back to school. So far I’m winning … I think … and by a very narrow margin.  It has become clear to me that I’m not entirely within my wheelhouse of knowledge (like that sports reference? Thanks Ben.) on this one.  Isaac’s boy is coming out. It’s good of course, but it is entirely different for me.

With the girls, when they did something wrong, they’d get scolded which would typically be followed by them crying, carrying on, and the need to perpetually talk about it. Isaac on the other hand; when he gets scolded actually sticks out his bottom lip, then more often than not, he gets angry and withdraws.

He gets over it quickly but I have noticed he needs space to get himself back to center. (I wonder if that’s what Ben has been telling me all these years when we have our “discussions”? ;)  hmm)

So, whereas at one – heck, with Saylah it was like 10 months – I was putting her in timeout and talking to her about manners and respect, I am now starting that in full-force (as opposed to the “dabbling” I did in it last year) teaching Isaac ‘NOT to talk to Mommy and Daddy in that tone,’ ‘yes you do have to eat all of your food that I serve you’ and ‘no you cannot hit your sisters.’ Okay, we never let him hit, but he DOES hit. Typically it’s not in anger. Typically it’s because he is playing, gets worked up and wallop! Queue: ticked off sister tattling on brother. But we are in full swing of teaching him that WE are in charge … not him. And so far, I don’t think he’s convinced.

Speaking of hitting. I do have a super funny tale to tell … about a tail. Saylah’s in particular. Over break, Ben and I are sitting at the kitchen table after dinner, amused by our three kids chasing each other through the house, giggling up a storm. Back and forth they were going down and up our hallway into the family room. In zooms Audrey to the family room who throws herself facedown on the armchair. Bam, on top of her plops Saylah, keester up, face down on top of her sister. In gallops Isaac, who also propels himself on to Saylah. All three are laughing hysterically. Ben and I are smiling and I am personally loving how fun it is to watch my kids play together so sweetly. No sooner does that thought come out of my head then I see Isaac rear his head up, open his mouth and CRUNCH! take a bite out of Saylah’s backside. Yep, right on the right cheek.

She screamed – as anyone would who recently got bit on the butt might. Ben and I had to hide our laughs (because come on … that’s funny!). We did scold Isaac for it. (It’s simply not okay to bite your sister on the bootie.) But even Saylah admitted (after her bruise subsided) that it was a little funny.

So this week has been a rude awakening for him. He’s been forced to eat his whole dinner instead of part of it before getting dessert. He’s practically lived in timeout. And he’s even gotten a little swat on his diapered behind. To which, his little bottom lip protrudes and his face gets all crinkly and he cries. I really don’t care for this withdrawing thing of his because quite frankly my little heart cries too and all I want to do is scoop him up and kiss those sweet little crinkles. (I’ve become a softy).

I’ve also decided (because Jenn potty-trained her youngest this week) to add in potty training, despite all the people who tell me boys do it later. Has anyone else noticed all our brothers were potty trained the same age we were? Wish me luck. I’m sure I’ve bitten off more than I can chew! (no bun pun intended) ;)

I'm Baackkk!

There are a myriad of things I could blog about from the holiday season. That zany zany holiday season where every mom you talk to projects her weariness with slumped shoulders and the phraseology, “we have this to do, then this, and blah blah blah” … yep, literally the words “blah blah blah.”

Every year we do it to ourselves; and every year we all say we won’t do it again. Next year we’ll cut back, relax, spend more time with friends and actually enjoy the holiday moments. Hopefully none of us made this our new year’s resolution so that we won’t feel a sense of disappointment in our over-achieving selves come next December. (wink wink)

I know most moms said they were happy for school to start again. Trust me, now as a mom I totally get the cleverness of the favorite holiday song It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas. But this year, I was actually kinda bummed when school started back up.

 

I rather enjoyed late mornings, homebound evenings, and my two weeks of checking out of all responsibilities outside of my home. (I.e. work, girl scouts, anything beyond mom responsibilities). And I loved hanging with the kids in our jammies way too long each morning.

I thought I’d share some of my top fave funnies from the holidays.

10. We combo’d families this year for Christmas. (My side and Ben’s) It turned out great. Ben and I served yummy food and even yummier drinks: mimosas, wine, and Irish coffee. We have now concluded that for every event to go off without a hitch a Two Drink Minimum is required to be consumed by everyone over the age of 21.

9. My favorite Facebook post came from a friend who said that her “favorite Christmas present was putting that damn elf away.”

8. Speaking of the elf, this was my favorite shenanigan: (courtesy of the collective minds of my sister in law, brother in law, Ben and me)

7. Audrey is in a phase where she dreams of being other things. Anything from “I wish I were a kitty cat.” To, “I wish I had purple ears.” Latest, out of the blue from the back of the car I hear, “I wish I were an elf. (Yes the elf had a big influence in our house)

6. We allowed our 7 and 5 year old to stay up on NYE with our friend’s 8 and 5 year old. Who says alcohol is needed on NYE? I’ve never seen a “drunk” like the punch drunk of grade-schoolers hyped up on sugar and lacking of sleep.

 

5. I nearly DIED from a badminton birdie to the head. As you can see, my husband was very distraught over the incident. (Note 2^nd image, like father, like son) 

 

4. I’m not sure who was more excited about Saylah’s American Girl Doll from Santa. Saylah or me.

3. Same statement applies for Isaac’s light sabers and Ben. (Which Santa had to bring two … no kid can have a decent fight with an unarmed opponent I was informed.)

2. The kids rode horses at Oma and Opa’s campsite. Isaac rode for the first time. Nothing makes your smile wider than hearing your kids giggle with glee. None of us are sure if it was from the horse or the fact that he and Audrey got to bump helmets over and over again during the ride. Favorite quote afterward happened when Isaac kept trying to make Audrey a horse, “Isaac get off of Audrey, she is not a horse.”

1. We celebrated another Christmas at my Mom and Dad’s house on the 26^th. After an early dinner Ben took all three kids back home to hang out with his sister’s family while I stayed to have grown up time with my brother and his wife who were visiting from NYC. With Matt and Chris in the guest room and me seeking my own space and quiet sleep place I opted to sleep in the kid’s room on a toddler-sized fire truck bed for the night – and LOVED it. (Circle back to the beginning with the slumped over exhausted Mommy and add in being 5'2" and you'll understand!) ;) 

Happy New Year Family and Friends!

xoxo

Hello My Name Is: Private Parts

There is no reciprocity in Florida for therapists from Missouri. So, my mom, much to her chagrin, has been “forced” to take a few college courses so that she can oh-so-willingly sit for her counselor’s license – again. First off, she hates taking tests and secondly, she’s been licensed for over ten years I believe (if not longer). Needless to say, she is not thrilled.

If I had given it more thought when she was looking for the classes she needed to take, I would have realized right then and there that Mom’s class work would most probably involve me to some degree. First off, she is not a fan of writing and since she has a daughter who loves that, it works well that I get to edit all of her papers. This experience has reminded me that I too am not a fan of AP style … really is a royal pain in the butt.

I’ve also had the pleasure of answering Christian questions presented in a couple of her classes and offering my perspective (even if unasked) on whatever topic she was researching.

This last (and final) class she has though has proven the most fun for us all. The state of Florida requires that all therapists take a Human Sexuality course. So, now when most of my friends are probably talking to their moms about golf, over 50s groups and shopping; my mom is showing me diagrams in her textbook of, well, various human-sexuality-related items and talking to me about how we as a society refer to and represent our viewpoints on sexuality.

Who knew when she started this class that I’d get homework as well? She needed a sex survey filled out and well, being new here; she wanted my help to find more women to answer these questions. I have to say … I was pretty proud of my friends and bible study gals who helped out.

I actually don’t mind. I was raised to be quite open about sexuality. My parents didn’t make it taboo and therefore I don’t see it as taboo either to talk about sex. Of course, when in the presence of the proper age group (my peers).

Mom was recently assigned the task of reviewing a blog or some sort of medium. So, she reviewed this blog. In her review she pointed out that in fact, I don’t mention anything about sexuality – ever. And suggested that I did. So, I’m rising to the challenge and, well, here we go. 

Here’s the thing. I’ve not posted anything on sexuality really because in my house it hasn’t really presented the need just yet. I’ve not been graced finding my kids discovering God-made “rocket ships” and no one talks yet about how the shrinky dink … grows.

I’ve of course had many conversations with my friends on the looming topic: when to discuss sex with your kids. I’ll tell ya, as open as I am and plan to be on the subject matter, I’m pretty content that I don’t believe NOW is the time to start that conversation in my home. ;)

So I’ve not had much to discuss on the matter. I can tell you with the fun conversations I’ve had with many friends … boys seem to enjoy the toy God made for them … and that’s normal. Which is good to know for when my boy find “it.”

Really, thus far in my parenting journey, I’ve only had one big thing to deal with … what to call “it?”

It was years ago when I began potty training Saylah. I wasn’t sure what to call the little girl part. I asked my friends who also had girls and really no one has a great answer. Some call it, “your girl part,” or “your pee pee,” or nothing at all. But no one had a wonderful answer for me. As a starter-Mommy, I used to call it a “who” … which I really don’t know why I started that. But that was great … super cute … and worked well … until … Saylah started talking. She’d say something I didn’t quite catch and I’d say, “who?” to which she replied, with a giggle, “no Momma, not my who … “

Plus, around Christmas time when the Grinch showed up on TV and the Whos in Whoville came to town, I kind of thought that might be a tad bit disturbing to Say. So we had to change it. We changed it to a shortened version of the big “v” word. Which was okay until Saylah realized what its real name was, and then had no problem speaking the word in it’s fullest whenever we were anywhere. Yep … we became THOSE parents. You know the ones who teach their kids the proper name of the parts? It wasn’t intended … we simply didn’t have a better option.  So, we use the real word – and I think we are weirdos for that.

But I came to grips with being a weirdo and all was well. Until now, when I’m faced with potty training Isaac. Here’s the deal: I just can’t bring myself to call it a penis to him. It just seems weird. When he was a newborn I told the girls that was what it was – since they were incredibly curious about that little “tail” he had that they didn’t. And I thought it was hysterical when one night when eating a dessert that contained peanuts, Audrey piped in with “Isaac has a peanuts.” 

But with Isaac in the parrot stage (you know, where he repeats every new word he hears) I’m not so sure I’m down with my 22-month-old saying penis. So, like I swore I never would be, I’m just non-descript about it. Which has turned out odd, because well, now he calls it a bug. I can’t quite figure out why he calls it a bug. But I’m pretty sure that can’t turn out well, since his sisters lately have also been all about teaching him to squash bugs when they are outside. I can see a rather bad outcome on this one.  

So, alas, there it is, this is where we are on sexuality at my house. I’ve got great plans and strong beliefs about the importance of talking to kids about sex. I believe both mom and dad should talk to both our sons and our daughters about the matter. That we teach them our morals and values about sex and that we keep it so that it’s not viewed as the forbidden fruit … because we all know what happened with the forbidden fruit.

I’ve got big plans for them on this matter … but when they are older. Until then, I’m going to relish that my biggest sexuality issue is what to call Isaac’s thing.

Let's Play Doctor

I didn’t grow up having a relationship with Christ. In fact, I didn’t begin to know Him until I was about 27 or 28. Often I reflect on the blessing of my “late blooming.” Had I become a Christian when I was a child, there are a myriad of things I wouldn’t necessarily understand or things by which I would empathize. Had I been a Christian my entire life, I often wonder if I would take for granted the beautiful community that surrounds and supports us when we most need it.

In this day of high-tech communication and abbreviated emotive expressionism, I find it rather endearing and comforting when a friend texts me “praying for you.” I love that with a quick text or a Facebook post I can communicate with people my support for them, and vice versa towards me. 

We've had a doozy of a time the last two weeks and the out-pouring of love I got from my immediate community humbles me. I can sum up our last two weeks in the fact that last Friday we joked with our pediatrician that we were going to move closer to her office … and she replied with, you might as well move in to my house. LOL

It all started when a Leave-it-to-Beaver scene turned a little bumpy. The kids were staying at Mom and Dad’s house for the weekend, allowing Ben and I a kid-free, 48-hour date extravaganza! Now, my dad makes it a point to have at least one special thing he can do with each of his kids, and subsequently, each of his grandkids, simply to have a special point of connection with those he loves.

He’d decided that he wanted to take Saylah fishin’ as his “thing” he does with her (BTW, when a Grandpa takes a kid fishing … it’s necessary to leave off the “g” in fishing– makes it sweeter ;)) So Dad bought a brand new (princess) fishin’ pole for Say and had held on to it for weeks and weeks until we all finally were able to coordinate schedules (btw – it was my parents who were sooooo busy, trust us, we’d have given the kids to them any weekend – tee hee). ANYWAY, Dad gave Saylah the fishin’ pole and they practiced casting on the back lawn all Saturday morning. When finally it was time for Audrey and Isaac to take a nap, Say and Dad hopped on their bikes and headed to the pond Dad had been scoping out for the occasion.

They fished and we got cute text pics of the momentous event. On the way home, Saylah (going too fast on her new bike Gma and Gpa bought for the kids – who’s spoiled?) CRASHED into the side of a bridge. About 3 p.m. I got a text from Dad, “Say wiped out on her bike, she’s fine, lots of drama” – to which I replied. “Welcome to my world. Did you catch any fish?” you see, at the time, the crash wasn’t that big of a deal, aside from a little red cheek and some scuffed up knees.

She got back to the house; they gave her Motrin (for a sore throat she’d been fighting) and put ice on her cheek. Basically, all was well (aside from a little drama, of course). From there they went to Barnes and Noble with the kids, out to dinner and watched a movie. SIX hours later, things started to get wacky. We suppose the Motrin wore off and her cheek swelled – a lot.

After calling after hours, we deciphered urgent care wasn’t necessary. At 5 a.m. we got a text with a picture of Saylah’s eye swollen shut. Ben and I, recognizing the irony that we had pawned our kids off to Mom and Dad during Daylight Savings Time and YET still got woken up by them – got dressed and headed to Litha, FL, where we took Say to urgent care. $100 later we were told by the doc, “yep, it’s a really bad black eye.”

The rest of the week looked like this: Saylah looked like she lost a prizefight. Big time. She vomited every morning from Sunday through Thursday when she was given medicine to make her stop throwing up. She began to throw up again the following Tuesday and hasn’t ever since. She has complained of stomach pain and now has a stiff neck. (Which actually is most likely attributed to a second fall as she was running across the street a week later – eesh). We did a CT scan, an MRI, blood work and an X-ray -- all of which came back clear. Thank God. We basically ruled out that anything measurable resulted from her bike fall.

Yet, she was still having weird symptoms. We swabbed her for Strep, took a urine sample, had a meningitis scare, and had numerous, numerous doctor’s exams. Literally, in 14 days we’ve been to the doctor at least 5 times and the hospital, twice. Oh, and the X-ray place and lab once as well.

During all of this, I am certain I maintained my sanity because of the support of those who love us. We have had so many prayers and every friend I think I know in town has offered to, or actually, babysat my other two kids so I could focus on Say during this. I’ve changed plans, cancelled plans, and needed last minute help. All of which was of course graciously understood by the other party. Every need has been met by those in my immediate community; done with smiles and offers to help even further. 

Perhaps this is commonplace for you? To me, when I think about it, I know would do the same for them. But, I am still humbled and endeared by how awesome it is to know we’ve built these relationships and are blessed to be part of a community where if we need help, it’s there. There is nothing better than knowing you can trust someone with your kids. There is nothing sweeter than getting a text at 10 p.m. saying, “praying for you.” I’m thankful to be a part of that world.

These last two weeks have left an impact on Saylah. From her crazy black eye, she’s earned numerous stares, comments and lots of sympathy. She’s learned the phrase, “you should’ve seen the other guy” (lol) and once I gave her the line, “do you want me to show you what a black eye feels like?” (Don’t judge; the kid was a punk). She’s missed a lot of school, been bribed with a toy for getting her blood drawn, obtained a cute purple bear from the MRI team at Arnold Palmer Hospital, and given a free cookie the size of her head from Panera. I’ve bopped down the stairs a couple of times to overhear her playing X-ray or CT Scan with her sister or her new bear, which makes me giggle and think, well, at the least, this experience has rendered her a bigger insight to the medical profession, right?

All in all, I’m grateful for the love of our family and friends, who took the time out of their crazy lives to pray for Saylah, care about her well-being and to help me out – so that I might maintain my sanity. ;) Love to you all! 

A Woman's Juggling Act to Vote

I know that we are all incredibly over the political discussions. And I hesitate to even mention politics or voting for fear that you stop reading right here.

But if you’ve dared to read on … I have a thought about voting I’d like to share.

Every election since I’ve started staying home with my kiddos, my husband wakes up a little earlier than normal, gets ready and heads off to the polls before work. As I am preparing the younglings for school, I typically get some kind of text update on how long it took him to vote ...  by way of a kind reminder to me to vote.  (Not that he didn’t remind me the night before as well, and it’s not as if I really live under a rock and didn’t realize it was Election Day, but none the less, the reminder is nice.) 

This year it occurred to me when I was at the preschool to drop off my middle, that a husband voting before we even get out of our houses is not an anomaly in our home. It happens everywhere.

I think their commitment is awesome. I’m glad they get up early and make the extra effort to get to the polls. But, I have to say … we should really stand up and take notice of the dedication of moms who vote.

You see this seems no easy feat for a mom. For me alone, I think we had four different families helping each one of us get to the polls. Gone are the days when we just wake up and head to our poling spot, place our vote and get our little sticker. It’s not about getting up early. It’s about getting one kid to the bus by 8 a.m., one to preschool by 9 and one fed before he melts down. It’s about packing enough snacks and games and toys and flashy lights to keep one occupied while you wait three hours to vote and hopefully get done before you have to pick up the other from school.

I know one mom who dropped off her preschooler early and attempted to vote before she had to pick him up three and a half hours later and was unable. No fear, she figured out plan B after looking at the polls and was able to vote.

I’m not whining that we are busy or live by scattered schedules, ignorant or not, that decision was made when we chose to have kids. But I am impressed and honored by the community of women I know who support one another with such important matters. For us, we could have used a playbook or diagram to know who had whose kid and who was being picked up when last Tuesday. My friend offered to pick up my middle so I could go to the polls. In turn I was going to pick up her oldest from the bus stop after I voted and after I snagged another friend’s daughter from my eldest’s bus stop. Turns out friend one was in line with another friend (we’ll call her friend 3) who got out a might bit ahead of her, so she got her kid from the stop.

With long lines and staggered pick up schedules, I heard story after story of moms juggling drop offs and pick ups and multiple kids just like us, just so we could all vote.

Yes, it’s nice to get up early to vote. And man, I wish I had that luxury too. Because quite frankly, there are not enough “future voter” stickers to make taking three kids under the age of 8 to the polls sound like a fun time. Of course if I had to I would do just that. It is our right and privilege to vote. But, I am so very thankful for my community of women that help each other so that we can all exercise our right to vote – and maintain just a touch of our sanity in the process. =)  

In Loving Memory

I’d like to take a moment to pay my respects to a dear couple of friends who met their demise this week.

 

After a least four years playing antics in our house, taking innumerable trips around the world, protecting Saylah when she was scared, and serving as great siblings to Saylah, I am sad to say “Ghost and Another Ghost” were outted yesterday, along with their co-horts; Wally Weeber and Pirate.

I can’t exactly remember what they looked like, though she described them to me several times, and I’m unclear of their ages because they seemed to have birthdays like every five days for a while. I do know though that they were great kids who apparently were very mature (for whatever age they were), frequently sick with some weird ailment, and able to float through glass doors. Ghost and Another Ghost, Wally Weeber and Pirate offered endless heart giggles to me and many in our family.

If you’ve not figured it out yet, G and AG, Wally Weeber and Pirate were Saylah’s imaginary friends.

Ghost joined our house when Saylah was around two, shortly after Audrey was born, if I recall correctly. Soon after observing me with my brothers during a family visit, Another Ghost joined the scene. Even though Say was a new sister, apparently she wanted brothers because she has held on to the stance that Ghost and Another Ghost were her brothers ever since that time. Beginning her trend of social non-compliance with typical family rules, such as having the same mom and dad, Saylah insisted Ghost and AG (who had different parents) were her brothers. (Not adopted btw, because I asked that too.)

When they first arrived on the scene, my mommy skills were immediately tested. It was funny how Saylah would be sitting nicely in her chair, but Ghost would throw food on the floor or tell a tall tale. Not to be out-witted just yet by a then-two-year-old, this Momma got quick, real quick, and immediately put Ghost in time out for breaking the rules. Funny thing, he quickly stopped breaking the rules. (There’s a tip for you parents out there should you be visited by any imaginary friends.) 

My mom was the one who noticed that Ghost and Another Ghost tended to show up whenever Say was nervous about something or in a non-familiar place. I’d get a tickle watching her in my review mirror on the way to somewhere and she’d be giggling and talking to her “brothers.” Often they would help her stick up to someone or lend her an ear to vent her woes.

I can only assume that since Ben and I played along so well, she was inspired to invite Wally Weeber into our home. However we didn’t hear much about him too frequently because Ben and I adopted a theme song for Mr. WW. It went to the tune of “Let’s go Cardinals, clap, clap, clap clap.” Sung like: “Wally Weeber, clap clap, clap clap.” She, nor Wally Weeber, were amused. I guess that’s why he didn’t come around as often. Let this be a lesson to you – imaginary friend teasing is NOT. Nice.

After the pirate craze took over in Central Florida, Pirate joined their crew. We didn’t hear a lot about him either actually, but the foursome traveled together a lot. 

Once Audrey claimed Ghost told her something, but Saylah of course was quick to let her know that she in fact did not hear anything from Ghost because he only talks to her. Poor Audrey, even her imaginary ghost brothers ganged up on her!

As the years went on the brother crew “showed up” less and less in our house. I’d occasionally ask her how they were doing and she’d reply, “Oh fine. They are spending the night at their mom’s house tonight.” Or, “They’re good, but Another Ghost was just sick. Ghost coughed on him and now he’s throwing up.” (Probably should have washed his hands more.) 

She is now seven and up until last night, she has sworn they were real. I never came out and directly asked her if they were or weren’t, but she would describe them in great detail, so I know she 100% believed in them. But last night during tuck in, after I asked how G and AG were doing, and after she said fine, she sheepishly leaned over to me and whispered, “Mom, Ghost and Another Ghost aren’t really real.” Then she looked a little nervous. I replied, in a whisper, “I know.” She giggled.

I’ve been wondering for years when her friends would disappear for good. I’m kinda sad to see their time complete. I’d like to give them a hug to say thanks for all the fun they brought to our home and all the comfort they brought to Saylah. Unfortunately, I can’t find their shoulders to do so. 

POSSIBLE GUESSES ON WHAT WALLY WEEBER LOOKS LIKE: