"Crease Code"

I'm gonna tell you something you don't know – life is complicated.  Oh, well... I didn't know you already knew that.  Ya'll make it look so simple.  Which may be my point, I haven't decided yet.  Back to complicatedness (which I have now complicated into a noun), I know, in my heart, that this trip we are on is a simple one.  If we can unvelcro ourselves from the sticky layers of modernity; refocus our attention on the warm, caring hands in front of us and forget the cold screen and indifferent touch-pad in our own; if we can lift our eyes, if not upward in prayer, at least outward in recognition and connection, then perhaps we can remember the inherit, decent simplicity of our journey.

I am going to go with the lame and overused “that being said” as a segue instead of actually writing a clever and well-prepared transitional sentence.

This is an extraordinarily complicated age, this age of... hell, I don't even know what it's called.  I'll call it The Age of Saturation.  I am privy to way too much information.  I was going to make a long list of everything I am trying to keep up with and it daunted me.  I backed away from a sentence because it intimidated me.  True story.  The hardest part of it all - not just as a parent, mind you, but, that is my perspective - the hardest part, is not being sure what to focus on.

I am present for, and mindful of, my sons. That's great, right?  Well, hold on now, I'm not really sure of that.   I know what books they like, what they are afraid of, who they like, when they wake and when they're tired. I know their favorite food, color, shirt, pants, stuffie, tree, bird, pillow and pet.  I can read their emotions, predict their moods, practically read their thoughts.  I don't say this because I am particularly clever or clairvoyant, I just have spent a lot of time with them.  This isn't a bad thing, that's not my point – as if I had one – but, honestly, I take up a lot of room in my head with this stuff, and, well, it's complicated and... I still don't understand them.

I found this in Nick's, Nick mind you, backpack:

It is in Zack's hand and says:  make a stew a every Place you eat at.  the lead is rich mental Problem - the head is ate under the cafeteria s he dead.  Well, that's sort of creepy.  But, wait, there at the bottom it says crease code.  Oh, I see, let's read the letters down the crease, meet me under the playset.  I think we can learn two things here.  First, uh, Zack sucks at the crease code and, secondly, my boys are so freaking cute they meet under the playset at recess.  I think I know so much about them and yet, I had no idea they met sometimes on the playground... that is so cute.  (Sorry.)

I initially found this on the kitchen table, it apparently wasn't quite right:

That's cool, we all need a "redo" every now and then.  Just one thing - what the hell is that in his hand?  And, uh, can I have one?  Take a closer look:

It appears to be a handled candle with spinning diamonds.  I've no idea.  Here is how it ended up, the finished product:

I know, it is just an endearing, creative, um, hot mess of weirdness.  And I claim I know them.

Zack loves Baily.  Zack drew a picture of Baily.  I am glad he labeled it as such 'cause I'd've guessed a turtle in a cage:

So, this is the point where I make my point.

Life is complicated, little boys are complicated; loving little boys is simple, life is simple.


From Marci's "...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat..."

N: "I am a cheap steak."
B: "Buddy, the term is cheapskate."
Z: "I like steak."
B: "I like steak, too."
(love my boys)

I think a cheapsteak is actually a guy who's a cheap date.  Yum, chopped steak, oh, even better, Salisbury steak, in gravy...


Thanks for stopping by again.  I wrote once before about the things I find that confuse me in a post called Stumpers and Befuddlers.  Silly man that I am.


Oh, and this is who Nick was "versing" in battle:

Well, that clears up everything.  He's got a spinning candle thingee, too.  And, a really cool fez...