Baseball pictures

Ben has had a fun year of baseball, and only has a couple games left! He played Pee-Wee baseball this year, on a coach pitch team. He has improved so much this season..Here's a few pictures and then of course, I have to share a story....

The Friday night before Mother's Day Ben had a game. He struck out his first time up to bat. He shook it off and spent the next few minutes playing right field. When it was almost his turn to bat again, he came over to grab a quick drink of water. I jokingly said, "Hey, why don't you get an awesome hit this time for me for Mothers Day?" He stared me down and then said seriously, "OK, I will." 

He walked back over and when it was his turn, he grabbed the biggest bat he could find. When he walked out to the plate the coach even said, "Ben, that bat is pretty big, maybe you should go get the black and yellow one- it's smaller." He just stood there with a look of determination. The kid wasn't changing his mind. 

The coach pitched the ball to Ben, and I am not kidding you- he cranked that ball into left field, his best hit of the season. Happy Mothers Day to me!  Here he is running to third, pretty happy with his hit, and probably happy that he didn't have to buy me anything!! 

Astoria trip

     We took a spur-of-the-moment trip to Astoria this past weekend. Very good for the soul just to get away even for just a couple days.  The kids were SO excited. They even made up a song on the way there, that went like this - “Astoria, Astoria, the place where all your dreams come true.” They sang it over and over and OVER. Apparently they are easy to please.
     We stayed overnight at a hotel on the Columbia River. The kids were glued to that window whenever we were in the room, watching the boats, sea lions, and runners who were exercising on the walking trail. Ben had brought his binoculars and basically stood perfectly still staring out of those things the whole time. He would make a good lighthouse keeper or undercover spy someday.
     In the morning as we were packing up, Ben was still standing there at his post, binoculars glued to his eyes. All of the sudden he said excitedly “Check out that great booty out there!” Say what? Dave walked over with a look of confusion on his face. “What did you say?” He asked Ben,  probably secretly afraid to know that answer.
     “I see some awesome booties out the window!” Ben exclaimed again, never averting his gaze. Hmmmm…. This could be an interesting conversation. Dave wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked out the window, but much to his relief, there were no beautiful women in sight. Upon closer inspection, he realized Ben was staring out into the river. “What do you see again?” Dave asked. Ben replied, “I see booties, floating out there on the water- green ones!”
     Ahhhhhhh…. Mystery solved- The boy sees Buoys. Not booties.
Big sigh of relief. I have not raised a peeping tom after all, just a boy that loves him some nautical excitement. Thank you Lord…

Pictures of our trip in the next post :)

Astoria Pictures

Dave and Em in front of the Peter Iredale

Miss Kate

Ben doesn't mess around when we go to the beach- he's dirty the WHOLE time..

We even got some swimming in!

Me and Emma

The kiddos at the Astoria Column

View from the top!

Dave and Ben and Indian Head beach

So excited to see starfish!

Totally busted

     While Katie was climbing up into the car today, I snuck a few of her whoppers out of the box- I didn’t think she saw me. I tried to chew quietly as I buckled her into her carseat, so as not to incriminate myself. She was staring intently at me and I was avoiding eye contact at all cost. She finally said in a very serious tone, “Mommy, you are now on my naughty list for sneaking my whoppers.” She was shaking her head in disbelief and clutching her box of whoppers for dear life.
Busted. By a 3 year old.

Flashback

       So I had a flashback today as I sat in the bathroom. I had only been in there 30 seconds or so when I heard a knock on the door- “Mom, are you in there?” They had been watching a cartoon but apparently they heard the sound of the bathroom door close. And they found me- that fast. I was silent because I was mad. Mad that they couldn’t just leave me alone long enough so I could go to the bathroom BY MYSELF. Mad that I no longer had any personal space. Just plain mad.
     They quit yelling and started whispering. “what’s she doing in there?” I heard Ben say. “Why did she lock the door?” Katie whisper-yelled, “I don’t know! Maybe lets yell again!”
      I finally said in a low freaky kind of growling voice, “I am going to the bathroom, leave me ALONE!” Silence. For about 10 seconds. Then a comb was shoved under the bathroom door. Then a quarter. And some pennies. Lots of quiet giggling followed. Then some little fingers pushed a pretty purple bracelet under the door. “For you mom!” she yelled and then ran away laughing.
     That’s when my flashback came- 3 little girls standing at a bathroom door trying to open the lock with the top of a pen cap, while my mom sat on the other side of the door feeling mad. And tired. And frustrated.
Unfortunately for her, we got that door open, and all yelled “Ta-da!” in perfect unison. Mom, for this I am so sorry. For all the countless times we wouldn’t let you go to the bathroom in the early 1980’s I am very sorry. I understand now how you felt and it’s just not cool at all.
     I waited in the bathroom until I was sure they had gone back to their cartoon. But when I opened the door there they were, waiting for me to come out. “Hi mommy!” Katie yelled as she ran to give me a hug. “I need juice.” Ben chimed in, “Did you like the comb I sent you?”
    It’s a good thing I love them with every fiber of my being. And I know you always felt the same. Happy Mothers Day a little early- thanks for putting up with me and my shenanigans. If it makes you feel any better, your grandkids are paying me back big-time. Love you...

Peaches the chicken

        I want to tell you a story. A very true story that I have waited awhile to tell because we needed to get through a time of ‘mourning’ in our house. But now that life seems to be back to normal (if there’s such a thing as normal), I think I’m in the safe zone.
A few weeks ago, one of our chickens met an untimely death. Somewhat traumatic for all involved, but especially for a certain 6 year old boy. Now, my kids are not naïve to death. Unfortunately, we’ve faced it head-on a number of times, whether it be people we love or numerous animals that had become our friends. And they do realize (to some degree) that every time they eat a beloved chicken nugget or grilled chicken off the BBQ that those are, in fact, dead chickens.
But, when they become your friends, even a chicken’s passing is very hard to take. It did not die right away, and not 10 minutes had passed by and Ben had created a prayer sign-up sheet so we could all take shifts to pray for healing for Peaches. He also used color-coded markers to create a graph with sign-ups for bringing food and water. He is our problem solver and crisis manager.
Dave and I knew the chicken wouldn’t make it. But we did sign up for a shift on the prayer vigil- it was the right thing to do. The next morning, we explained that Peaches did not make it through the night. Emma and Katie seemed somewhat reflective, but then asked for Toaster Strudels and cartoons- obviously they were ok with the whole thing.
Ben immediately went and got another sheet of paper and began drawing pictures. “Are you ok, buddy?” We asked him, “What are you doing?”
“I’m planning Peaches funeral. We’ll have to have it tonight before baseball practice,“ he said with complete sincerity, “Will you be home in time to help me with the funeral, dad?” He looked up at Dave with his big brown eyes and pen poised ready to begin writing Dave’s duties for said funeral. Dave stared at him for a few seconds of uncomfortable silence- I’m assuming he was trying to choose his words carefully and remember what it felt like to be 6.
“I will be home in time,” Dave said seriously.
I forgot about the dead chicken. Until Ben got home from school and the planning commenced. By 5pm that night, he had everything ready- a table set up with a few flowers, some snacks and ice water, and he sat soberly in his black baseball pants and black underarmor shirt waiting for Dave to get home. Emma and Katie were running through the house playing hide and seek and Ben kept saying, “We need it quiet in here before the funeral.”
I was trying to occupy myself with making dinner, but it’s hard to feel sad about the chicken when you’re making chicken and rice for dinner. I maybe should have thought that one out a little better. Finally Dave got home and we all filed out into the backyard.
A hole had already been dug and Peaches lay wrapped in an old towel with just her head sticking out. Dave said, “Ben, why don’t you lay Peaches in the hole now.”
“Wait, dad,” he said quickly, “I need one more picture with her to remember her by.” He gently picked her up. Dave and I exchanged confused glances and I just shrugged my shoulders, mostly just wanting to get this over with. Dave pulled out his phone and said, “Ok, one picture.” I expected a picture with a somewhat somber tone, but Ben smiled his biggest smile while holding that dead chicken up in the air. I sincerely hope he doesn’t ask for that one to be framed.
Then, as he went to lay the chicken in the hole, he flipped it over and her other eye was wide open. “She’s ALIVE!” screamed Katie at the top of her lungs. Emma started jumping up and down yelling, “She’s not dead, Ben!” All chaos broke loose as Ben quickly set her on the ground to investigate. “Dad, her eye is open! I think she made it!” Darn freaky chicken eye. Dave quickly de-escalated the situation by explaining, once again, that the chicken was indeed dead.
We buried her and then stood around in awkward silence. I could tell the girls were bored with this whole situation, and we needed to move on. I was just about ready to say dinner was ready when Ben said, “Now we can each say a memory or a little prayer.” I could feel the giggles welling up inside me, but there was no way I was letting them out. Emma and Kate both said a little prayer, and I’m pretty sure Katie’s included, “Thank you God for this food” but I’m not entirely sure. I was just trying not to lose it. When Dave’s turn came, he just seriously said, “I’ll pass on this one”. Ben took a big deep breath and said, “Ok, I guess I’ll pray then.” He bowed his head down and this is what he said: “Thank you God for Peaches, she was a very fun chicken to play with. We will miss her and we are all heartbroken.”
I couldn’t stop it from coming. A giggle escaped my lips and I quickly put my hands to my face to muffle it. Ben looked up fast and I dipped my head down. He came over and grabbed my hand, “Now mom’s crying.” He said to Dave. Dave took off for the house and barely got the slider door closed before he started laughing. “Where’s dad going?” He asked seriously.
“I think Dad just needs some time alone,” I managed to say through my hands that were still covering my face.
Ben seemed satisfied that we were all feeling so much emotion. “The funeral is over now,” he said, “thank you for coming.”
We went about our business as usual the rest of the night. Dave and I waited till about 11pm that night to really laugh about the whole thing. And the question still remains- How long is too long to keep a picture of a dead chicken on your phone? In the weeks since this dramatic event, life has gone back to normal. And just so you know- we have a new chicken to take Peaches place, and her name is Little Chocolate Campfire. And don’t ask - I have no idea why that’s her name.

Ok- I know, the blog has been neglected! But I've caught up on some things :) Here are some of the things that have been going on in the Hughes house the last few weeks! Hope everyone is doing great and enjoying spring!

Putting himself on time-out

     Yesterday afternoon I sat down at the computer to just chill for a few minutes.  The crazy part of my afternoon was over- kids had all been picked up from school, snacks had been given, homework folders gone through, and lunch boxes emptied out.
I had been brought up to date on who said what at recess, who got in trouble at circle time, and how interesting learning about fractions is. The neighbor girls had rung the door bell so I sent everyone outside to play. I knew 2 loads of laundry needed to be folded, but I also knew I should take advantage of the quiet. I sipped on my iced tea and got caught up on some news.
That’s when I heard it. I literally had only been sitting for 3.5 minutes when I heard a loud BANG. Hmmm. I glanced outside and all the kids seemed to be fine- laughing, playing, running around. I went and checked rooms, nothing was out of place. Weird. I went and sat back down.
Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw Ben pass by the front window on his way to the garage. He looked…….nervous. I heard the garage door open and reluctant footsteps shuffling my way. I turned as he came into the room, his head hung low and shoulders drooping. He walked right up to me. “What’s the matter?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“Well,” he mumbled, “I am definitely going to have to go on time-out for this one.” Uh-oh.
  “What did you do?” I asked.
“I just got way too hyper and a rock accidentally broke the window. I am so s sorry.” He said.
A few seconds of silence as I tried to process the news. “I guess you need to go show me,” I said as I stood up.
“Okay, I’ll show you, but maybe we should hug first before we go out there.” He said back. The kid is always trying to butter me up.
We walked out front to the other side of the house and there it was- a very broken window, and one little rock laying underneath as evidence. Now my head drooped. I took some very deep breaths. I was about ready to lose my temper when an image suddenly popped into my head:
I’m 15 years old and I’m pretty into my own awesome self. I had been driving with a permit for almost a year and of course, I thought I was an amazing at it. My mom was sitting in the front seat, the music was on and I was feeling well, let’s face it- a little too hyper. I took the corner pretty tight as we pulled onto the main road and my mom yelled out, “Nikki, you just hit the mailbox!”
“I did not hit it!” I said back, “I didn’t even feel anything!”
“Yes, you did,” she said back. “It scraped the side of the car!”
“Did I hit the mailbox?” I glanced back at my two little sisters sitting in the back seat looking like deer caught in the headlights. Being very wise beyond their years, they both sided with my mom.
“Keep going because we don’t want to be late- we’ll check the car when we get there.” My mom said.
“Nothing’s going to be there.” I was absolutely positive I didn’t hit it. The rest of the car ride was eerily quiet.
When we pulled into the parking lot everyone got out. And there, scraped all down the side of the car was the evidence. And my mom’s head drooped. And I felt nauseous as I looked at her and saw the frustration in her face. But she didn’t yell.  She didn’t lose her temper. She was disappointed and that was enough for me. She hugged me and said, “you have got to be more careful!” We talked about not being too cocky- not letting your excitement overrule common sense. And I’m sure I paid my dues for that one- but I remember feeling loved even when I did something wrong.
I felt my anger drain away as I glanced from the window to a little boy with tears running down his cheeks. A little boy who was already promising to help dad fix it. A little boy who needs to learn from his mistakes. I knelt down and gave him a hug, and felt like I was going back in time 20 years as I said to him, “You have to be more careful.”
We talked about why it happened, and what he did wrong. The he said, “I’ll just go put myself on time-out now.” And he did.

A lesson learned

     I’m halfway down the frozen foods aisle intently trying to decide which popsicles to buy. The freezer door is open and Ben is begging for ice cream sandwiches and Katie is making handprints on the fogged up glass. I have NO IDEA what possessed Ben to do what I was about to witness. Out of the blue he decides to lick the shelf inside the freezer. I have no words. And of course, it got stuck. He froze in what I’m only assuming was instant panic and regret all rolled into one. A few seconds passed while I could only stare at him- did he just lick that frozen shelf? Before I even had time to think about what to do, he yanked himself off, leaving some of his poor skin behind (is it called skin if it’s on the tongue??-not sure).
     Some blood followed. Some screams followed. Some stares followed. I tried to paste on my stressed out mommy- smile that I’m sure freaks people out more than if I actually lost it. Luckily no frustrated words from me were even necessary. I actually never said anything until 2 more aisles over. He had stopped crying and finally said, “I’m not sure why I did that, but I’m never doing it again.” Lesson learned.
For some reason I’m thinking A Christmas Story needs to be watched in this house…

Easter and Spring break

We had a great time celebrating Easter at my mom's house in Dallas! Such a fun filled weekend with family, remembering the miracle of the empty grave, and of course, an awesome Easter egg hunt... The, we stayed a few more days to take a quick trip to the beach and get some much needed rest. It was a fun spring break!

Nana and the grandkids in their Easter best :)

Jackson, Ben, Austin and Charlie looking very handsome

Bodine ladies!

Emma and Katie picking daffodils for the cross

Hanging out in Depot Bay, Oregon

Me and my man :)

Dave and the kids

Emma loved riding the quad with Dave (and so did Ben and Katie- it was hit for all!)

Ready, set, go! It's a HUGE cousin egg hunt- thanks Uncle Randy for filling SO MANY eggs!

 Hughes fam!

Brutally honest

     We all know that kids are brutally honest. Not a day goes by that they keep their opinions to themselves- which I guess keeps me humble. I might have a day where I’m thinking, “Dang, I am looking pretty good right now”, only to be told 5 minutes later by my 3 year old that I’m “huge compared to her.” So good for my self esteem.
      Here’s a few of my absolute favorite ‘opinions’ my kids have felt necessary to tell me:
“You kinda still look like there’s a baby in there.”
“You smell.”
“Your hair looks like gross noodles.”
“If you sat on me I would die.”
“You should wear prettier shoes.”
“Maybe you should go running like that lady.”
“This chicken doesn’t taste at all like chicken.”
“Your breath is so gross.”
“You could take a cooking class.”
“Do you brush your teeth at all?”
     People, I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea- and if you’ve been around kids at all, you’ve been there too. So, the last couple days I’ve been trying to reinforce (AGAIN), the idea of a positive compliment. Now, I’m all for kids having their own opinions- but I’m also for teaching them to FILTER them a little better. For instance, if they’re at school and somebody stinks to high heaven, instead of saying, “You smell disgusting!” they could try and find something positive about that person that they DO like.
    Which brings me to today. I’ve been getting LOTS of compliments by all 3 kids. And that’s wonderful. But it’s led me to some sort of uneasy conclusion: either I am having a rockstar day as a mom and they just can’t control themselves with how amazing I am, OR-  they are still thinking the negative stuff and trying hard to come up with positive things to say. I’m actually a little more self-conscious NOW then I was before. Just do me a favor- if my kids pay you a compliment, just try and take it at face value, ok? I know that’s what I’m gonna tell myself anyway….

A couple of Katie stories

Katie: (Standing right by my feet as I was making her dinner) : “Are you thinking what I’m thinking mom?”
Me: “I don’t know, what are you thinking?”
Katie: “I’m thinking that I want candy corns for dinner.”
Me: “No, I wasn’t thinking that at all. Sorry.”
Katie: “Then I don’t want dinner.”


     Katie was helping me make homemade cookies today. I was measuring stuff and she was dumping it in the bowl. Simultaneously I was also making dinner, which I would highly NOT recommend EVER. So, I was a little distracted and frazzled, but we were having fun anyway.
     We had just dumped in the flour and turned on the mixer. I turned my back for a couple minutes to check dinner and that’s when I heard a thump-thump-thumping sound coming from the Kitchenade. I turned and Katie was looking at me with a panicked look and the bowl was doing it’s own little crazy dance.
     “What did you do?” I asked while I quickly turned off the mixer.
      She looked into the bowl, and then touched my face with her butter-covered hands and said, “Please don’t be mad at me, Mama Bird.”
      I wasn’t mad. How could I be mad when she calls me Mama Bird with flour streaks across her face and chocolate chip lips? I investigated the dough and fished out a plastic spoon and measuring cup. I think they’ve seen better days.
       That’s just how it goes when you choose to bake with a 3 year old- Never turn your back on them…