Tag Archives: Luc

lucisms part 4

My little guy, Luc, 9, is hilarious.  I’ve done a couple of posts on Luc-isms over the years.  He constantly says things that surprise me.  For example, the other night, lights out, I realize I’ve forgotten to turn on the alarm and say into the dark, “Can you turn on the alarm?  I forgot.”

Luc answers in superhero voice: “I will find it using…my sense of smell.”

I…would never have thought of that.

He’s also always seeing things I miss.  Like the other day in Whole Foods he pulls me down to whisper solemnly into my ear, “grass roots…begin to grow.”

“Wha–?”

Finally I notice this enigmatic phrase is printed on the wall as part of a “history of organic foods movement” display.  His delivery turned it into some kind of spy phrase, for which I am supposed to have the encoded reply. Serious, even deadly.  Now we whisper this to each other frequently.

Or this, in the shoe store, buying boots for Sophie last month, he calls, all urgent excitement, “Mom!  Mom!  Come here!”

I walk over.  “Yeah?”

Whispered intently: “LOOK.”

I see shoes on display, customers, chairs.  “Um?”

He points.  “Foot mirror.”

HAHA—he’d zeroed in on the short, angled mirror that reflects people’s feet, presumably in the shoes they are trying on.  I had barely registered that the thing was there.  He spends several moments admiring his feet in different positions.  “This is awesome. I never knew I needed a foot mirror.”  He’s always got a different perspective.

His favorite question is, of course, who would win.

“Who do you think would win, Hulk or Yoda?”

I have to be ready for these at a moment’s notice.  “You know, actually, I don’t think those two would fight. I can’t see either one attacking the other.”

“Well,” he says.  “They are both green.”

HAHAHA!  So true.

Sophie, my eldest, has her own moments of comic genius.  Like last night:

Husband, flipping through Netflix options, “I think this show may be a bit too intense for the kids, what do you think?  Maybe when they’re bigger.”

Sophie: “What, you mean your balls?”

Oh my god, we were laughing so hard.

Isn’t laughing at silly stuff like this just the best thing EVER?  It seems to me you’ve just got to salt your life with as much silly laughing as possible, the more the better, or else what’s the point?

my son has mermaid hair and I am intensely jealous

Luc, 8, has never cut his hair.  As in never.  The fringe ends of his hair are the baby fuzz he was born with.

luc hair 1

His hair has grown down to his cute little butt now and is this gorgeous golden yellow.  It’s amazing.  I covet it, I do.  It’s my shameful secret.

luc hair 4

Here’s a totally bizarre fact: he never washes it.  Seriously!  Maybe once a year or if he spills food into it.  Before you call social services, please look at these pictures—he does not have dirty, greasy looking hair.  I have no idea why.  (And he does bathe the rest of himself daily, in case you were wondering.  I’m just saying.)

He hated, hated, to have me wash his hair as a baby, so I would only do it when it looked dirty.  But then it almost never looked dirty so I’d just remember suddenly that it had been a long time, and I would guiltily subject him to a washing….but the interval between washings stretched and stretched until I realized it had been months and still his hair didn’t look dirty, so….why were we washing it again?  I swear, it’s like the Bermuda Triangle or how the Egyptians built the pyramids.  His hair always looks like a million bucks with no effort on his part at all.

He does swim almost every day in the summer, so it gets rinsed in pond water four months out of the year….

luc hair 5

See?  Mermaid hair!  IT’S SO UNFAIR.

He usually wears it in a braid.  That is, I usually braid it for him.  I’m the hair wench.  Don’t tell anybody, but I kind of love doing this, playing with the pretty hair.  I fear the day when he’s all, “Mom, I can braid my own hair, sheesh.”  It’s coming all too soon.

luc hair 7

If you watch Adventure Time (you should! It’s cool!) you might remember the very first time young hero Finn removed his white bear hat.  It was season 2, ep 10, so had been a long time that we’d only seen Finn in the hat…long enough to forget that it was indeed a hat, and therefore removable.  And then suddenly he whips it off and:

When we saw that we all, literally, jumped up shouting, “It’s Luc!  It’s Luc’s hair!!”

Finn is a bad-ass adventurer, a boy of great bravery, mad sword skills, and long, flowing, yellow hair.  There is also Thor, with his abs, his hammer, and his long, flowing yellow hair.  You don’t get more manly than Thor.  (See here for our first realization that LUC IS THOR.)

thor with hairNot as long and magical as Luc’s, but still pretty.  I’d braid it for him.

It might be due partly to Finn and Thor, but Luc has zero worries about having “girly” hair.  It never crosses his mind.  Has has BAD-ASS HEROIC HAIR and he knows it.

Despite this, the probability that someone will assume Luc is a girl when we are out is nearly 100%.  I’ve even had people question me when I correct them, as if I  might not know for sure, or possibly they think I think they are referring to some other kid.  Nope, he really is a guy!  A guy’s guy!  He has a weapons locker the size of a house, about a hundred toy dinosaurs, he wears boxers, and he will happily discuss who will win in a fight with any pairing you can imagine for hours.

And hey, I’m not saying that boys have to do these things or that girls can’t or won’t…I’m just saying that in all other culturally common gender markers, my little dude is, well, a dude.

A polite, “Actually, he’s a boy,” from me, or, “Actually, I’m a boy,” from him, and most people catch on quick and feel embarrassed they’ve gotten it wrong (no need, it’s a common mistake).  But some people really can’t grok it.  “This kid right here, this is a boy?” Incredulous looks. “Yes.  This is Luc, my son.  He is a boy.”

Other times we just shrug and let him be a girl in their mind long enough to check out at the register or whatever….

Luc is un-phased by this.  He really seems confident in his own masculinity.  He’s like, whatever.  I know I’m a boy.  Why should I care what they think?  He’s so cool.

The second thing people say is, “How long are you going to let him go like that?” or maybe “I could never let my son do that” or even, “I cried when I cut my son’s hair.”  To which I always reply, “It’s his hair.  His choice.”  Seriously!  It’s his body!  He can do what he wants to with his own hair. I’m shocked at how many people feel the need to control their kid’s bodies to this degree.  Hair is not a big deal.  It’s his hair.  He gets to pick.

I mean, if, say, my husband, made me cut my hair into the shape he felt was appropriate, I can tell you right now, I would NOT be thinking, “wow, we have such a great relationship.”  So why would I do that my kid, who I want to have a great relationship with?

The third most common thing people ask is, “doesn’t it get in his way?”

No.

luc hair 6

Unless you live in a place where conformity is a life or death sort of issue, hair is just this protein that grows out of your scalp.  Sometimes it is amazing and gorgeous like Luc’s—he won the hair lottery, for sure—and sometimes it’s little frizzy wisps like mine (SOB).  Maybe he’ll shave his head, or dread it, or mohawk it, or color it, or get a super conservative Normal-Guy cut.  Or all of these at different times.  It’s his hair.  He’ll have his reasons.  That’s fine with me.  I have had my reasons for doing all of these things with my thin, curly, scalp protein, at various times in my life, too.

Luc’s dad, SuperCoolHusband, had butt-length black hair when I met him.  It was hot.  Like, Native American day-um kind of hot.  He cut it when he got a real job after college.  I cried.  I still have it, the hair, in a box in my filing cabinet.

One day Luc will cut his.  I’ll probably cry then, too.  I wonder if he’ll let me keep it?  (Or he might have a partner-to-be by then who gets dibs?)

Moral of the story:  The rules lie!  Boys can have long pretty hair and be bad-asses.  Parents can support kids in having the appearance they want.  Heck you don’t even have to wash your hair, and I thought that last one was a truism.  But nope.

thor and loki

luc, rock star, rebel, artist

Time for a cute kid post!  Luc, 8, today’s featured Cute Kid (TM), is developing quite the clever brain, with which he cracks me up on a daily basis.  For example, just now he told me, “Mother, I won’t be wearing my shoes inside.”luc Dec 2013  To which I scowled darkly, because it’s freaking cold and his bare feet are making me colder just looking at them.

“Mom,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “We never wear our shoes inside. P.S. Your face looks hilarious.”

Oh, that’s rich.  Where’s my respect?  My scowling face is hilarious, huh?  I’ll show you hilarious….

Here are the lyrics to a recent Luc Song, invented in the car on the way home yesterday. Too bad I can’t give you the tune, but it is a driving rhythm, fast and dynamic.  He even got Sophie singing it.

“Pants-less assassin.  He jumps off of buildings.  He assassinates people.  ‘Cause he’s an assassin.  He doesn’t wear pants, and he doesn’t wish to.  But you don’t have to worry, cause he’s wearing boxers.  Pants-less assassin.  Pants-less assassin! Yeah!”

And here is Luc in the bath the other night, singing again, this time to the tune of ELO’s “Don’t Bring Me Down.”luc Dec 2013 part 2

“Mommy, I’m hungry, won’t you make me some food,

And don’t you dare say that you’re not in the mood.

Go make me food.

Now, Now, Now, Now, Now.  Oo We Hoo!

I’ll tell you once more, before I fall to the floor, go make me food!”

That was impossible to resist, let me tell you.  He got a three-egg ketchup omelet (his favorite) off of that.

I’ll leave you with a photo he took and later cropped to this square shape, of sunset over the sound in Eastern North Carolina near where my grandma lives.  I’ve blogged Luc’s photos ever since he was four and could hold the camera.  He has always had such a unique perspective.

sound side sunset

I was taking pictures that day, too, and I’ll tell you, none of mine look anywhere near this good.  It’s like an abstract painting, modern art.  I just…what a cool kid!  I guess the majority of mom’s feel that way.

toby streams the universe is FREE today and tomorrow, and i have lost my favorite sunglasses [sad face]

If you haven’t already, go get a copy of Toby Streams the Universe at amazon today because it is FREEEE.  (You can, of course, read any Kindle book on any device you already own by installing the free Kindle Ap.)  Go on, go get a copy!  I’ll wait.

Toby has acquired 24 four and five star reviews and a couple dozen letters from readers who enjoyed the book enough to write me and tell me.  This makes me tremendously happy.  It’s like having one of your babies out there in the world, doing good things….

Yay, Toby!  GO GO GO!

In other sad news, yes, as the post-title says, after over a decade of service, I have lost my favorite sunglasses and I am just in a funk about it.  They were these super-nice Revo wrap around things with all the special polarized NASA tech Revo’s are supposed to have.   Paul said they did not exactly improve my cool factor, but I didn’t care because they really, really worked, letting my eyes relax in this peaceful glare-free world.  They didn’t let in light from above or the sides, either, only to bounce it off the interior of the lens and into my eyes to drive me mad the way so many inferior glasses will do.  And no one could see my eyes which was fun because it frees a person to look wherever she or he might, hypothetically, want to look.

Those sunglasses have been with me to Miami, to San Fran, to Maui, Vermont, New York, my grandfather’s funeral, the beach.  I’ve worn them swimming a million times.  They were super spendy, bought back when I was single and child-less and could blow $100 on something as frivolous (but it turns out, really, wonderfully useful) as sunglasses.  (They are $200 nowadays.  Sob.)  It’s rare that an item can so profoundly make some part of life so comfortable.  Like having a great pair of hiking boots can make or break a camping trip, you know?  I didn’t realize how much I liked them until they went missing.

Sigh.

I’ve looked everywhere.  I’ve looked in places no one should ever look.  I feel pretty sure they are here somewhere, but they have become one of the items that disappears for years until we move the bed or the fridge and discover a lost trove of items hidden beneath.  In all this searching I have FOUND tons of lost things, my old favorite t-shirt, lots of the kid’s clothes, my copy of Beloved that I had been looking for, the old tv remote, Sophie’s missing shoe, Luc’s harmonica, etc.  But no sunglasses.  I’ve been quite depressed about it.  Foolishly so.

“I feel stupid for feeling so bad about this,” I said to the yurt after another round of seraching.

To which Luc answered, “I totally understand.  I felt the same way when the Playstation broke.”

I collapsed on the sofa and cried some pretend tears. “Thanks, Luc.  That helps.”  And then, “Did you cry pretend cries, too?”

Luc looks at me indignantly. “I did not cry pretend cries!  Those were real tears.”

He really was sad about his playstation (its been replaced, $50 on Craigslist, can’t beat that.  He said I was the best Mommy ever when he got it, and he hugged me.  Guy likes his Scooby-doo game.)

He added, “I think you should buy a new pair because then the old pair will instantly show up.  And you can return the new pair and get your money back.”

That just might work….!

Then, last night, we were driving through town to go see fire works which put us driving through the maze of the hospital and I realized that exactly one year ago, Luc and I were in that ER with his shattered elbow, preparing him for surgery, trying to squeeze in together on that stupid hospital bed to get some sleep before the surgeon got there, trying desperately not to jostle his arm, trying to deal with the IV, poor little guy—

Jesus, no wonder I was in such a weird mood all day!  This quiet freaked out feeling that I couldn’t attach to anything… It was Hospital Trauma Anniversary!

Turns out, Luc was thinking about it, too.  When we got ready for bed, he pulled out a t-shirt to put on then threw it on the floor.  “Why’d you do that?” I said. “It’s clean, don’t toss it on the floor, man.”

“It’s the shirt I was wearing the night I broke my arm,” he said.  “It’s the one I was wearing in the hospital.”

We both looked down at the shirt.

“Let’s burn it,” I said.

“No, Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “It’s a nice shirt.  I just don’t want to wear it today.”

I totally understand.

(I still might burn it.)

(Have you seen my sunglasses?)

(Go get a copy of Toby!)

it’s amazing what’s going on in there

In the pre-dawn light coming in from the dome, and me not really awake, Luc, beside me, had a busy little head this morning.  So many thoughts, so little time!  It started with, “Mommy, how high can an orca jump?”

I sort of jerked a little with the sound, although he was talking softly.  I want to grumble, because I mean, I really have no idea, and shouldn’t he be sleeping?  But then I dimly recall that maybe orca whales are sometimes in those Seaworld-type shows, maybe jumping up high to get a fish?  “High,” I mumble.  “Higher than the yurt.”

“Oh.”

I drift back into some dream about talking to Michael Caine (??) and me wearing a blue skirt.  (Wtf, right?)

“Who do you think would win in a fight, Han Solo, or Elliot?” Luc’s little voice comes in to my ears like a bell, and it takes me a moment to figure out that he is talking about Elliot Spencer from Leverage.  Han, of course, needs no explanation.  The who do you think would win question is asked dozens of times a day, with various parings.  Luc is endlessly interested in this.

“Um,” I say, bleary, face hidden by my sleep hat, “Are there guns?”  Sophie is snoring beside me.

“Han Solo doesn’t have a gun,” says Luc, confident.  “He has a blaster.  And Elliot doesn’t like guns.  So I don’t think he would have one.”

“Okay.  I’m going to go with Elliot for hand-to-hand, and Han for superior weaponry.”  I say this into my pillow.

He thinks about it.  “So, if Han Solo doesn’t have his blaster, you think Elliot would win?”

“Yes.  But I think they shouldn’t fight.  I think they would probably make good friends.”

“Oh.”

Ten, twenty, thirty minutes later, the light from the dome is still bluish, but a crow is cawing outside, and I feel him touching my chin, touch, touch, touch.  “Yes?”

“In a show once,” he says, “Wolverine was cooking sausages on the ends of his finger blade thingies, and then he ate them, the sausages, and then he sucked the blades back in.  But I don’t think he wiped them off first.  I mean, don’t you think that means he sucked sausage stuff back into his arm?  That’s gross.”

It occurs to me that I’m not going to get more sleep this morning.  “Maybe his healing powers mean that he doesn’t have to worry about germs or sausage grease.  Maybe his body just pushes the foreign stuff out of him.  Like that bullet when he got shot in the forehead.”  A cool scene.  Hugh Jackman was awesome in that movie, which one was it, X-Men 2?

“Oh.”

I snuggle Luc in tight.  He’s so warm!  I can practically feel the vibration coming off his brain as he works through all these important issues.

But just as I’m starting to drift again he says, “Do you think if you lay down in the bath, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything because your ears would be stuffed with bubbles?”

I laugh.

Sophie says, “No, and be quiet.” She’s always grumpy when she first wakes up.

But it is time to get up.  The light is yellow now.  Breakfasts, smoothies, milk the goats, walk the dog, yoga, play date at the park, go, go, go!

So much busyness makes these quiet pre-day conversations all the sweeter.

thor eats honey o’s!

Being the Avengers fans that we are, of course we watched Thor when it hit DVD.  Well, I mean, when I noticed that it had hit DVD.  We loved it, of course, because why not?  It’s full of spectacle and fun and we simply Can. Not. Wait. for the Avengers movie next summer.

But you can not imagine how we screamed when we saw this nondescript, quiet moment in an otherwise flashy to the point of insanity movie:

What?  You don’t immediately recognize that product placement sliver of cereal box  in this screenshot, taken in a frenzy with Paul’s mobile phone while we paused the movie, needing IMMEDIATE documentation of this momentous fact:  Thor Eats Honey Os!  What?  This doesn’t seem significant to you?  Okay. Let me lay it out.

Luc lives on Honey O’s.  In point of fact, his little body is at least 77% composed of Honey Os.  Sometimes more.  The Trader Joe’s brand, as pictured here, no other brand will do, don’t even think it.  When asked, at any time of the day or night, what he would like to eat, Luc’s answer is always, always, “A bowl of Honey O’s.”  Indeed, Luc will eat Honey O’s several times a day if free to do so.  We strive to broaden his choices to no avail.  Indeed, Luc is sick of our striving.

So, imagine Luc’s righteous vindication at seeing Thor and Honey O’s in the same fictional kitchen!  In fact, Luc jumped to his feet, right on the sofa, nearly shouting in triumph, “SEE, MOM?  HONEY O’S ARE WHY THOR IS SO STRONG!”

We are never going to hear the end of this.

And hey, maybe he is onto something because clearly, Luc is a small Thor, golden hair, blue eyes, it’s all there:

Can’t you see the likeness?

Luc is Thor to be.

luc vision 2

I’m continuing to wade through a gazillion photos on my camera from this summer—so fun to page back through some of our adventures.  But tucked away between my photos of this or that event I find strange images, clearly the world seen with a different set of eyes.  Luc Vision!

I’ve talked before about Luc’s photos, here when he was 3, and here when he was almost 4.  Today we have another installment, the world as seen by Luc, now 5.

Watch out, Luc’s world can be a scary place…

But a pretty place, too.

He told me this guy had to be upside down, not to rotate the image.  I love that.

RAWR.

And here we have the magician himself…

cast be gone!

Here are Luc and Sophie shortly after we came home from the hospital the first time, with Luc’s broken elbow and arm in many layers of cotton, bandages, plaster, ace bandages, and a sling.  That thing was massive.

I wonder what those kids were looking at?  I can’t remember now.  Anyway, he came home with that and then a few days later they put another layer on, purple fiber-glass.  I never thought to get a photo of it, though!  The purple club shall go undocumented.  Oh well.

Luc wore the purple cast for a month and then they cut it off and took the pins out of his arm, the pins that had been holding his bones together.  I saw the x-rays, the whole end of his humerus was broken off and at, maybe, 45 degrees from the rest of the bone.  He would have lost the use of that arm without those pins.  Sophie and I watched them take them out.  Those fuckers were four inches long, stainless steel, one going in on each side and crossing in the center of his upper arm bone.  They pulled them out with PLIERS, just got hold and yanked them out.  Blood spurted, I kid you not, but it was all over in seconds and they wrapped his poor little arm back up.  We brought the pins home as a battle-wound souvenir.  The doctor thought that was weird.

Here is the much smaller, blue fiber-glass cast he wore after that.  It was wonderful because he didn’t have to keep his arm tied in to his stomach all the time.

That was yesterday.

Here he is this morning…

“Are you sure it can’t cut me?”

…a little nervous about the saw.

Sophie held his hair back.

Then came the tearing of the cotton.  I think even this small act of Cast Destruction was extremely enjoyable for Luc.

His little arm!  It looks so skinny and…so…skinny!  Poor little arm, like a breakable toothpick…

The last bandages that had covered the blood-spurting pin-holes say good-bye.

“It feels funny.”

To celebrate, we got a Cast Away Ice Cream Cake with the international no cast  symbol on it:

They say the bones will take another month to fully heal, so my little guy is still on no run, no climb, no fall rules for a while longer.  But he can scratch, about which he is very happy.

Soon he’ll be back to Full Luc Strength!

Okay, this is maybe weird, but I cried a little on the way home, a few tears of that “the trauma is over” release sort of crying.  My little guy was broken but he’s getting better.

I’m so grateful that we had access to the surgery that saved his arm.