Being a mom...

Mother:
Calm and in control of her household, children and events. Serene and unflustered.

Momma/Mommy:
Loving and nurturing, calm and in control of her household, children and events. Serene and mostly unflustered.

Mom:
Up 5 minutes late (who knew that could make such a difference?!)

I have crazy hair, flopping nightgown, and can't find my shoes.

Nine year old boys can be so slow when they aren't going hunting or out to play.

Why are you brushing your teeth?! There is no time to cure rancid breath this morning! Any other morning I'd have to threaten you with bodily harm to even find your toothbrush.

Son!! Holding your jeans, looking at the wall is not 'getting ready'!

No, the hole in the knee isn't going to hurt anything. Stop putting your finger in it! Your whole leg is going to be sticking out of that hole!

Everyone at school is going to think you only have one shirt. Granny bought you all kinds of shirts to wear and you wear that worn out one every day.

Put on your sweatshirt. Now. You can't fit your head through the armhole!

How many times have you put on this camouflage pullover? Every day - exactly.

Lunch?! Oh my goodness where is the peanut butter?!

Who ate all the pretzels?! I just went to the grocery!

I don't care if bananas turn brown and rotty looking. You can't live on chips and peanut butter.

Ok, no banana. You can eat decent when you get home. If anyone has a problem with your weird lunch assortment, tell them to call me.

We are going to miss the bus! Let's go!

Where?! Did you just ask me where we are going?! To the bus!!

Oh, look at all the pretty yellow and red flashing lights! They are at the neighbor's.

Yes, we going to miss the bus.


We really need to put some gravel in those dippy spots in the driveway. Cars don't travel as well as trucks in muddy gravel.

I am listening to my now-very-much-woke-up-son say "this is embarrassing" and we nascar down the driveway. I realize I don't really care if he is embarrassed or not.

I am just thankful the bus waited.

Mental note: get our patient, lovely bus driver something nice for Christmas. She saved us 30 miles of gas money.

Running through the yard in the rain on the first day of December makes my bare feet really cold...so cold that I can hardly feel my toes.

There is immense relief that my son is safely on the bus, headed to school and his teachers.

There is a whole day's worth of stress crammed into a 15 minute timeframe.

It's like hanging on for dear life. It's insanity. It's living.

Trade it? Nope. It's the best high in the world - being a mom.

Growing, growing, growing...

Our son is now nine years old. 

  It seems like only yesterday I was standing in the bathroom, staring a little white plastic stick with blue lines on it, shaking like a leaf in the fall winds.

After years of uncertainty and preparedness that Jason and I may never be parents, those bouts of being car sick and thinking I had the beginnings of the flu was a blessing in disguise.

Many ultrasounds and stressful weeks later, we found out we were going to be the parents of a baby boy!

That baby boy arrived at 9 lbs. 4 oz., and our lives were immediately changed forever.
The days transformed into weeks, the weeks into months and now the years are starting to roll. 

 He is in the fourth grade. He is very active, loving, witty, funny, snarky, and sometimes exasperating.

 He is all boy - small scale tractors, Matchbox cars by the zillions, Legos by the quadrillions, pocket knives, bb guns, flannel shirts, Levis with holes in the knees, boots, 
fishing poles, camouflage shirts, billed caps, cowboy hats, frogs, snakes, sticks, bubble gum and Twix candy bars.

He has squirrel hunting dogs, loves his cousins and friends, his family and school mates.

He forgets to brush his teeth and wash his face. A shower is a quick zip under the water and towel off the really dirty spots, or he stays in the water forever, using a half bottle of shampoo for his buzzed hair and several squirts of man-smelling cologne.

He has his favorite flannel blankets, his stuffed animals and treasure box. He has a collection of shells, rocks, animal skulls and teeth. He has a coffee cup that looks like a racoon and is perfect for dunking cookies in milk.

He truly enjoys crackers, bacon, chicken strips, corn, peas, yogurt and french fries.

He loves to go shopping, but he has to be dressed in his country attire to go. He loves to ride with his daddy in the the truck to haul corn and is happiest when he is outside or in the garage tinkering with the lawn mower, tractor and his bicycle. He is picky over his collection of tools to the point of putting a lock on his toolbox so his dad can't borrow them without asking.

 He hugs for no reason. He gives the softest kisses.

He loves to make up jokes and curls up on the couch with a book to read for hours. He surprises me with words of wisdom and deep thought. He prays and already has a secure faith. 

He is a clone of his daddy. 

I love the glimpse of young man I am starting to see in my boy. We have many years of teaching and learning ahead of us; the best is yet to come. 

However, the past nine years have been without doubt, the most wonderful years of my life.

It is Monday

House phone is out

Business phone is working

Internet is too slow to send emails

Talk to phone/internet company for the second time in a week

My kid takes advantage of my inattention to make plaster molds

Gage with the plaster mold he made for his much-loved Dad

Neighbor kids show up

Neighbor kids are thirsty

There is no kool-aid

Because you drank it all last week, that's why

There is sweet tea with caffeine (hehe)

I have the beginnings of a summer cold

I am slowly losing my voice 

My kid and neighbors kids are hungry

Cook french fries

Stoves catches on fire because I am clumsy and spill oil

Hunt for fire extinguisher while flames ruin good pan lid

Wow, what a big fire - yes, I know, everyone go outside - Now!

Destroy cooked food with extinguisher foam

Three kids run around with their shirts over their noses

The smoke alarm works like it should

Cut up more potatoes

Cut off end of my finger with the chopper

Clean up and bandage and start over

End up with edible french fries

Find out all kids have eaten pop tarts and aren't really hungry anymore

Start to clean up kitchen

No, we are not going to print out pictures of Mustang cars today

Because the internet won't work, that's why

Get the dog out of the house, now 

Yes, you can take the saddle off of the horse and put it on the camel 

If I hear cap guns one more time everyone is headed for major discipline

All the tea is gone

Finally close all the doors and windows because the smoke has cleared

Realize I have eaten all the french fries because I was stressed

Neighbor kids are going home

My kid begs them to stay

Sit down long enough to hold my head

My finger is cut way worse than I realized

The house looks like a bomb has gone off right in the middle

There is a sleeve of stepped-on saltine crackers on the floor

Started to clean toilet with blue cleaner and got distracted 

Why is the toilet water green - never mind, just flush it

There are no clean towels

But the dryer does contain clean underwear

Break out into weird dance that only other moms can understand

I don't remember my real name 

The only sound I answer to is 'Mom' and 'Aunt'

Trying to remember a college class that makes me act that way

Think that conditioning process came from a guy named Pavlov who had a dog...wonder if he had a kid?

But I do have the presence of mind to remember that it is Monday and the rest of the week is ahead

My kid declares he sure has had a fun day

Can't really say it's been fun, but I sure have had a day

And the best I can figure out - this is the kind of day I am supposed to find joyous

And joyous it is; because under all the rubble called life, I am redeemed 

And that is the most wonderful thing of all   

My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations...
James 1:2 KJV



 

Wearing the Crown...

James 1:12

Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.

1 Peter 5:4

And when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.

Always Wear Your Invisible Crown.

 I was shopping (something I don't do very often) and saw this quote on a sign, and it has remained in my memory since.

Sometimes I have to remind myself of my redeeming qualities. Everyday life and the stresses that come with it can sometimes be a drag to my self-esteem. I get tired. I get weary. I get frustrated. I get grouchy. I want to go hide for just a little while.

And I forget that I am working in exchange for my crown. I am the queen of my humble family abode. I am the wife of a tough, marshmallow-hearted man. I am the mother of the most precious boy I've ever known.

Most importantly, I am a child of God. I am working toward my heavenly crown; but while I am here, God has given me a mortal crown. I am important. I am unique. There is only one of me, and I will remind myself to put on my crown each morning. 

My problems arise when my crown becomes precariously unbalanced. When it slips down over my eyes so that my sight grows too dim to see my blessings, I will reach up and adjust it.

When it falls down over an ear so that I don't take the time to listen, I want to take the time to put it back in it's place.

I have Salvation.
I have a man who loves me. 
I have a little boy who calls me "Mom" (about 200 times a day). 
I know many little people who call me "Aunt Glenda". 
I have Friday mornings to spend with my sister.
I have sweet family and friends who are always there for me.

And all these reasons are more than enough to make me hold my head up high enough to wear a crown.

Patience and pulling...

 James 1:2, 3 KJV
² My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;
³ Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.

Patience?? We've sure learned some this past week.
The Allis Chalmers pulling tractor had sat in the front yard for about five years. The beloved son and his cousins had climbed all over it and played for hours. They had mowed, bush hogged, plowed and pulled it to the finish line in their imaginations.

Gage and Jason and Allis -
 taking over the house garage

Gage (proudly) "getting greasy"

After much talk and planning and finally carving out some time, Jason and Gage rolled her into the garage. There Allis sat for another two months...waiting.

Finally, after yet another 14 hour work day, Jason went straight to the garage and I didn't see him until almost midnight. The work had started to get her back into pulling shape. He didn't work on the orange tractor alone, though. Gage helped. And talked. And chattered. And commented. And questioned. And wasn't quiet for even one minute. They both were greasy and smelled like gas night after night.

Work had been slow since a go-cart wreck
almost halted progress with a broken arm.

Our plans were to take the Allis to the USAP Independence Day Pull at John Lampkin's Farm in Philpot, KY. The week before the big day, the brace came off of Gage's once-broken arm, and the two Salmon men got down to business.

First, the smoke alarm went off. No biggie, I thought, just exhaust fumes making the sensitive alarm shrill. Then I heard an even shriller voice screaming there "had been a fire" and the ignition switch "just doesn't work any more. But it wasn't a big fire, Mom, just enough for the smoke alarm to go off." 

After another hour's worth of tinkering, I heard that young voice again, attached to running feet in rubber boots. The front door flew open and Gage ran through the house squealing like a chased pig. I felt like Fred Sanford...it was the 'big one', because I could hear my heart beating in my ears and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe. 

Me and my beloved boy

My boy's round blue eyes were huge. "We got it started! We got it started! Do you hear it?!" No, son, all I hear is the blood rushing around in my head and my knees are sorta wobbly. Go back and help your dad, and please, please don't scream any more. Your momma is getting way too old to go through this much longer.
  
After a loud trip around the yard, my men decided that a squirt gun in the radiator was very bad news. Two squirt guns and a green puddle were even worse. A quick fix...a box of black pepper, some sneezes and the hole was temporarily mended. And no one even dared to touch the radiator. Until it had to be taken out for the sheet metal to be put back on.

Then, there was the issue of the starter. After a lifetime of service, it was tired. Let's see how fast we can get it rebuilt on the Friday before Saturday's pull...$71 dollars and lots of new innards and we were back in business. Again.

Pull morning dawned cloudy and humid. Hot. Miserable. KY summer weather. Allis wouldn't stay running long enough to even drive upon the trailer. Someway, somehow fuel wasn't feeding. Out come the wrenches, shop rags and sweaty foreheads. A clog in the line resolved and let's try this again.

She was on the trailer, strapped, chained and ready to roll down the road. We gathered up the camera, cooler of ice, bottled water, chairs-in-a-bag and decided we could maybe start to relax a bit because now came the fun part...enjoying a day at the track. 

Watching the action

Jason - hooking to the sled

Allis pulled a respectable 122 - not bad considering the week we all had. We didn't place, but we had great time. Lampkin's Farm is always a fun place to be, and we've been attending the annual summer pull there for almost as long as we have been married. We were able to partake of the cookout and sit under the gazebo canopy we brought. We talked to our friends, created new friendships and sunburned our noses. 

Pulling Allis down the track
at Lampkin's Farm

Then Allis had the final say of the day. Sitting on the trailer, a front tire blew. After the week we had, we just shook our heads, laughed and piled in Jason's work truck to head toward home.

And oh, what a bonus - the patience we learned during the week turned into sweet enjoyment as we found out that yes, we did have time to stop at Mel's on the way home through Whitesville, KY and enjoy their famous ice cream.

Living by my faith...

I care not today what the morrow may bring,
If shadow or sunshine or rain,
The Lord I know ruleth o’er everything,
And all of my worries are vain.
Refrain:
Living by faith in Jesus above,
Trusting, confiding in His great love;
From all harm safe in His sheltering arm,
I’m living by faith and feel no alarm.

 ~James Wells, 1918

Romans 5:1 Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ

---

My faith is very important to me. Not religion, mind you, but my faith. Religion is a form that excuses us from thinking for ourselves. I have found that religion can be anything, and doesn't necessarily have to include anything heavenly. 

My faith leaves me open to feelings. Many folks have told me that feelings have no part in our relationship with God. I beg to differ.

On a daily basis, I have feelings. Feelings of accomplishment, defeat, happiness, sadness, triumph, failures, contentment, restlessness - these are part of everyday life. 

Why should my relationship with God be empty?! You see, I love my Heavenly Father. He has forgiven me of my trespasses and continues to guide me. Why shouldn't I have feelings for the Savior I love?!

I am blessed beyond measure, and I give God all the glory. And that makes me content in my life. And I can compare my daily life with my husband, son and all our dysfunctional mayhem to the realm of faith. 

Tomorrow is to yet be seen - but we all look forward to it in some fashion or the other. My faith is the same - I look forward to what it holds. It may not all be sweet. It may not all be what I dreamed. But it is what I need.

Because I have been blessed to develop faith, I have learned to live in my beliefs and make them part of my everyday walk. I don't have to put on my religion as I do my clothing and take it to church twice a week. I can use it every day and be thankful that it has developed me into the woman I am.

I am far from perfect. I have many needs that God only knows how to fix. But, I have found that everyone I come in contact with has needs that only God can meet. They may not be the same, but are similar flaws that we deal with daily, weekly, monthly, yearly and throughout our lifetime.

The only way I have the confidence to make my journey is because God promised He would never leave or forsake me. That's a mighty big promise, and I know He'll keep it. And that promise is not just for me, it's for us all.

Now I have a scrap box...

 Exodus 35:35

Them hath he filled with wisdom of heart, to work all manner of work, of the engraver, and of the cunning workman, and of the embroiderer, in blue, and in purple, in scarlet, and in fine linen, and of the weaver, even of them that do any work, and of those that devise cunning work.

When I was growing up, it was a common sight to see mom sitting at the sewing machine. She made most of my clothes and she and I spent many hours looking at patterns from the McCalls and Simplicity catalogs.

At the right hand side of her machine sat a cardboard box. This box was necessary for her and invaluable to me. It was the scrap box. Bits and snips of fabric filled it to the brim, and many times spilled over. 

It wasn't an ordinary scrap box...it was a craft waiting to happen, a Barbie doll dress to be made, a crazy-quilt block or a stuffed animal. It was a treasure trove that I would dig through on wintery evenings and boring Saturdays.

And no matter the color of the material, she had the thread to match it. I don't really remember her teaching me to sew...I guess I mostly learned because I sat beside her while she sewed.

I'm not a great seamstress by any stretch, but I can sew up a skirt, quilt block or owl pillow without much difficulty. I can also mend blue jeans and torn shirts for my "men". To do my mending, I often need small pieces of material and I automatically reach into my scrap box to find a suitable match. 

I was mending a pair of Jason's jeans and cut off a small piece from a mutilated piece of denim and it hit me...I now have my own scrap box.

When mom was my age now, I was young and excited over the possibilities in bits of fabric. Now I am a grown-up with a family of my own. I have a scrap box that my son loves to rummage through. 

Life has rolled a full circle and did it while I wasn't aware of the time going by. But looking back, I can see that it has been measured by things like the scrap box. It has taken a while to fill my box with the items I use now.

I have sewn many a piece of fabric to have the box filled up. I can measure time by the pieces that accumulated while I was busy sewing and carrying on with my projects.

My life is like that box...it is filled with all sorts of pieces that make me a whole. All those snips and bits have formed me, molded me. I am a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend. And I am a woman who is capable and prepared because I have my scrap box.

Happily working...

2 Chronicles 29:15

And they gathered their brethren, and sanctified themselves, and came, according to the commandment of the king, by the words of the Lord, to cleanse the house of the Lord. 

Families in our church congregation take monthly turns cleaning the church building. Gage was one and two years old while we were building the new building, and he sat strapped in the stroller many a day while we painted. He had to stay strapped in, because my niece had once found him standing on the top of the step ladder in the unfinished restroom, by himself, very proud of his accomplishment. Much like a mountain climber having reached the precipice.

So, when we take our turn cleaning, it feels as comfortable as home. It's a place where we gather to worship and be with God as a unit, and like all church houses, it is a restful place. 

It is also cold inside during the winter months because we keep the heat set low until the weekends. Gage and I ran through swirling snow in the parking lot to the door and dove inside the building.

The extreme quietness was broken by a chattering voice who announced he wanted to vacuum the carpet. He dragged the vacuum out and hauled it into the sanctuary. He unwrapped the cord and found an outlet. And he set to work. While I swept and cleaned restrooms and Sunday School rooms, he vacuumed. While I took out trash, he vacuumed. While I restocked supplies, he vacuumed. When I was finished, he was still battling that vacuum cleaner.

In and out of pews. Around the piano. Along the edge of the wall. Excited to find a few dead ladybugs. Finally, he stopped and looked at me, his eyes sparkling. "All clean, mom!" 

Yes son, you did a great job. He missed all the corners. There was still some lint here and there, along with a tiny scraps of paper. However, for an eight year old, he did a wonderful job.

We gathered up our cleaning supplies and turned out the lights. Gage dragged the vacuum cleaner back to storage and happily announced that he had done his part. I didn't redo his job, even though in my eyes it wasn't perfectly clean. I had a feeling the not-so-perfect work was perfect in God's eyes and that was enough. 

One day, Gage will have grown enough and be strong enough to clean the carpet to an adult's specification. Until then, he had provided all the service he was able to accomplish to our Heavenly Father. And I could feel His smile.

My son, oh my son...

Luke 18:15-17
And they brought unto him also infants, that he would touch them: but when his disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein. 

Gage loves to talk. He loves to think things out and talk as he goes. Thinking out loud. I love to look at the world through his eyes. It's all fresh and new and his perspective is brutally honest.

He talks when he plays. He talks while he eats his dinner. He talks when he rides in the truck. He talks when does his homework. He talks and talks. And drives us absolutely crazy sometimes.

Being eight years old, he's actually not talked all that long. His life is still very young and short, and he enjoys the sound of his voice droning on.

When he's not talking, he is singing or making noises. He sings in the shower. He sings as he rides down the road. He sings when he goes outside to play. He sings to his dog. He sings to me. And he makes it up as he goes along.

He randomly whoops and hollers. He makes drum sound effects to go along with his pencil pecking on the table. He growls like a dog and makes squacking sounds like a squirrel (just ask his bus driver!). He can imitate me and lots of other folks, and many times can carry on a two person conversation by himself, just by changing the sound of his voice. 

He also tells funny things that he doesn't actually mean to be funny. Like telling his teacher we were going to be renting a car (we did) for a trip. It was going to be miserable because his dad is 6' 8", we

were going to be getting a VW Bettle and he was going to be squished in the backseat. His teacher and I both had a laugh over that one and his dad is 6' 2".

I have tried to jot down many of his tales, but I still have forgotten more than I remember. I post many of them on facebook, since I am a fb junkie, but I have compiled most of them into one place. Here they are and attached is also a link to previous ones as well.

More Gage-isms...

After an extremely stressful evening of disciplining our young boy, Jason looked at me and said "I have a feeling that God is laughing at us because we asked for this." 

We were picking up toys in the living room. All of a sudden, Gage opens his mouth wide and asked “how big is my uvula?” Your WHAT?! “That dangly thing in the back of my mouth, Mom! The uvula!” Good grief. I’ve learned more in the 8 yrs since I’ve had a child than in the whole 35 before he was born.

Got myself a new gown…it’s cheetah print instead of the regular pink or purple flowery ones I usually wear. Gage found me in the kitchen making coffee early in the morning with it on. After giving me a shocked look he said “That’s just ungodly.”

Gage and his cousin Justin were playing cowboys...things got quiet and I went to check on them. Justin was taped up to the chair and the chair taped to the floor...Gage had just used a 1/2 roll of masking tape in the process and said they may start playing mummy. Of course, I messed that game up real quick...and people wonder why I am satisfied with one child?!

Gage was asking Jason about a truck, and Jason told him it was “old and worn out”. Never missing a beat, Gage said, “like you and Mom. You’re old and Mom’s worn out.” Excuse me?!

“Do you know that my teacher is younger than BOTH of you? She’s only thirty-two and you all are in your forties!” Ah, that makes us feel good, son!

Gage loves to collect things. He proudly brought me a rodent skull – groundhog to be exact. After telling him to “WASH YOUR HANDS!”, I bleached and scrubbed it. It has a place of honor on the top of his bookcase, right next to the coon teeth. Doesn’t take much to make him happy.

Gage stresses over his homework and forgot to put his folder in his backpack one morning...When he got home, he informed me "this makes the third time in my career that I've forgotten." For a third grader, that’s not too bad.

Visited Gage's classroom with birthday cupcakes and was so pleased when his teacher told me how well he is doing in class. When I bragged on him and thanked him for being good, he said "I like Mrs Blair being my teacher, but she has eyes like a hawk! She can see every time we twitch!" Go Mrs Blair!

Gage was doing homework and writing sentences using his spelling words - one of which was "smooth". I looked over at his paper, and saw this sentence: I have a smooth attitude.

“Mom, what does frumpy mean?” Gage was working on spelling homework again. After I explained the definition, he wrote ‘My mom is frumpy’. I had to laugh, because that day, he was super correct.

Gage wanted to make chocolate chip muffins and informed me that he could make them himself. He did a great job…until I noticed there were no chocolate chips in the muffins and he had muffin mix powder all over his face.

Gage helped me make homemade laundry detergent. He put the measured ingredients into a five gallon bucket and I gave him a long spoon to stir it with. I poured in the boiling water, and he asked if I was sure what we were doing was legal. Legal? “Yeah, are we making moonshine?”

We were out before 8am in the cold on a Saturday morning, walking home Gage’s pot bellied pig - who had decided to visit the neighbor. Gage looked up at me and said "I think that pig would make a good ham."

Jason eats lunch out on Fridays, after taking ham and cheese sandwiches all week. Today he told us he ate at Long John Silver's, and Gage asked "Did you bring me home any corn on a stick?!"

Gage talked non-stop ALL hours one day. He was chattering away at dinner and I thought I'd sneak in a sentence of my own. "Heello! You just erupted, Mom!"

I cut Gage's heavily iced cupcake into quarters so it would be easier for him to handle. "Why Mom! You know how to divide!"

Gage came home from school one day a bit irate. "Mom, we should get money for going to school. Do you know that the teachers can chew gum, munch on cookies when they want to, don't have to go to gym and get all sweaty, AND THEY GET PAID!" He hates to get all sweaty at school.

Got ready for school open house...Gage informed me "No offense, Mom, but you look sorta middle aged tonight." Since I've been battling allergies and feeling rough, 43 as middle aged didn't sound too bad. However, we had another talk about sometimes keeping the honest truth to ourselves.

Gage was waiting for some friends to come play. Told him they would be here "around lunch-time." When they weren't here by 12noon on the dot, he started pacing the floor. By 5 minutes after, he announced that his patience was hurting.

Having had one of "those" days, I announced to whoever was listening that I was just going to go somewhere and hide. Gage heard me, jumped up from where he was playing and ran to me "Oh! Go hide, Mom! I'll be the seeker and find you!"

Both Gage and Jason's middle names are Scott. So, to an upset Gage it just made sense to call me by three names: "Momma Scott Salmon!!"

Gage shoved a tote full of toys out into the hall so I could vacuum. He put his hands on his hips, looked at me with a smirk and said "Now, THAT'S raw power!"

All of a sudden Gage stopped playing with his trucks, ran and hugged me with all the strength in his small arms. (How did he know that was just what I needed?!)
"Do you ever get hugged so much that you feel like you are going to throw up?"
No...can't say that I have. Does that happen to you?
"Well sometimes you hug me too much, but I like it!"

I asked Gage if he'd like to go on a walk with me.
"Sure. We might as well walk to WalMart while we're at it. You'd be thin as a pencil when we got back, 'cause it's a long way to WalMart."

If I give my child a pair of disposable latex gloves, he will collect and take out the trash. He thinks he is quite important and he has a VERY happy momma!

Jason took Gage fishing one evening. They caught a brightly colored Sunfish and Jason made a remark that the fish was really pretty. To which Gage replied: "Yes, Dad, that's God's masterpiece."

Gage gave Jason one of those 'manly punches' in the arm as he walked by...Jason replied with a flexed muscle and a "You can't hurt this. You don't have an arm like this!" Gage's eyes sparkled and he rolled up his sleeve. "Prepare to be AMAZED!"

Jason and I were talking this afternoon, and didn't know Gage was listening. Jason said "between you, me and the doorpost" and we went on with our conversation. All of a sudden, Gage squeals and says "That's mean!! You called me a doorpost!" No amount of reassurance would do..."You have to be talking about me, because I'm the only other one here!!"

Gage's pup got into the trash - a whole bag of trash - and had a party. The pick-up process didn’t go very smooth...Gage told his daddy that he was going to be the supervisor and Jason could carry the garbage bag.

Nothing like an excited child jumping in our bed way too early in the morning..."My tooth fell out, my tooth fell out!" After scaring his parents half to death, he went back to bed and slept until time to go to school. We were awake for the day.

Jason: Gage, do you want to come and look at this magazine with me?
Gage: Does it have good looking tractors in it? If it does, I'm on my way.

"There is no school today, it's Saturday. Oh, Mom says no knives, so we can't make toothpicks today. Wear your coveralls; it's cold outside. Mom don't feel like babysitting. She says she has work to do, so we are going to play outside. I'll be waiting for you." Gage called and scheduled his own play date with his cousin.

Gage was fussing because he had to pick up his trucks from the hallway where they had gathered...my advice: 'Just close your eyes to it and keep working.'
His reply was incredulous "If I CLOSE my EYES, I can't SEE what I am DOING!!" He was looking at me like I had lost my brain.

We've been talking about what Gage can be when he "grows up".
"I'm going to be a bum."
Do you even know what a bum is?!
"Yes, they live under a bridge and push a shopping cart."
I think you need to pick something else...
"I'm going to be a clown."
A clown?! You are afraid of clowns!!
"No, mom! I won't be afraid of myself!"
I was hoping for higher aspirations.

Gage must have been cold. He put on my fuzzy red socks and they kept coming off of his feet. Solution: two rubber bands to keep them up.

Might want to batten down the hatches...according to Gage, who has been listening to the weather channel, we're going to have a tarantula rain fall. (torrential)

Went to town with my sister and her two kiddos...the two boys were having a serious conversation about "bad guys".
Justin: Bad guys can come down the 'chiminey' into your house!
Gage: That's why you need a firearm! A rifle, a shotgun, a pistol, a BB gun...

Gage brought home his report card...he's going to have buckle down on his math and stay in his seat more.
Jason told him: "I was in second grade once. I got distracted, too."
Gage: "Was it because of the pretty girls?"
Jason: "Pretty girls have been the downfall of many a man, son. Do you think you need a math tutor?"
Gage: "A tooter?! I don't need anyone else stinking around here!"
Dinner conversations around here can be a bit entertaining.

Was babysitting my niece and nephew and Gage gave out yogurt tubes to everyone. I usually freeze them so the kids can eat them like popsicles, but they were "melty" - just been in the fridge. When questioned because they were different, Gage said "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. We are going to eat melty ones today." So they all ate melty ones.

We were all in Jason's little pick-up. I was struggling to find my seat belt and evidently Gage was feeling a bit crowded. "Somebody's swelled up since we rode in here last time."

"Mom, am I 'noxious?"
No son, you aren't obnoxious.
"Do I just need a sense of direction?"
Yes, I'll agree with that. All boys need a sense of direction.

Gage and I were sitting on the couch, reading, listening to music. He leans over and smells of me - about three big sniffs.
I asked him "Do I stink?!"
"No, you just smell like a mom."

Gage and his cousin Justin were looking at an animal encyclopedia...
"that's a Saw Fish!! That's what the Flintstones use to cut their bread!!"

Babysat our great-nephew, who wasn’t quite 3 months old...I asked Gage to help out by getting me a diaper. He told Levi, very seriously, "You are little, so you still have to wear a diaper. I wear man underwear."

Gage and Justin (nephew) came home from school talking about a certain singer. I told them to stop talking about it, because we don't listen to that kind of music.
"Why?" -Gage
Because it has bad words in it.
"What kind of bad words?" -Gage
Words you don't need to say...dirty words (prob the used wrong adjective here...)
"Oh, I know!" said Justin. He leaned over and whispered to Gage: "Dirty words are like poop running down your leg!"

"Who is Munchie the Indian?" -Gage
WHO?! -Jason
"Munchie the Indian - it says it right here" -Gage (They were looking at a tractor magazine)
That's Muncie, Indiana, son, not Munchie the Indian!

Jason and I were sitting on the couch. Gage wiggled and wedged himself in between us -- then decided to get up. "I can't move! I am squooshed by a hot momma!!" Somehow I don't think he was insinuating that I was lookin' good.

We don’t celebrate Christmas with Santa – even though we don’t know the exact day of Jesus’ birth, Christmas is a time our family sets aside to remember the humble beginnings of our Savior. Gage and I were talking about Christmas and why we have the Holiday. “Well, sometimes I get all excited about presents and forget that Jesus is the ultimate gift. So I really don’t need presents for Christmas, but they sure are nice.”

Gage found a pair of his dad’s pliers outside, and they had rusted a bit. “Look at what I found, Mom. Dad left them outside and now they look like this, but they still work. I claimed them, though, because I didn’t want him to get into trouble for leaving them outside in the rain. He probably just forgot about them.”

“I don’t fold clothes. That’s woman work.” Wrong words for a little boy, who found out much to his chagrin, that folding towels was also boy work.

Gage has a pot bellied pig in a pen behind the house. I found him getting ready to feed Daisy a full bucket of hog feed. “That’s not too much, Mom! She eats it all!” She had eaten a 40 pound bag of hog food that week with the help of her small keeper.

Gage laid down by Jason in the bed. I asked him if he was going to sleep with his dad and he added “I’ve slept with that fuzzy man before in my life and I’m not going to do it again tonight.”

More Gage-isms <click> here