Friday was a success when it came to Elias versus The Wind. I came to recess. He fought back tears when it started, but I just kept encouraging him and telling him he was fine, look!, he’s not blowing away!, what kind of toy do you want later?, and then moving to an arbitrary star rating system. “How many stars I got now?” he’d ask, still nervous, and I’d be like, “SEVEN! Now go play with your friends and you’ll get EIGHT!” By the end of recess, he punched a fist in the air and announced, “I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU, WIND!” All his friends congratulated him. I love that age. Everything you overcome is cool. Just managing to make it through the day without peeing in your pants is an accomplishment.

I bought him these gloves that said Pablo the Strong; which is a Backyardigans character. They seemed to help with his confidence. That’s the trick– finding some item you can imbue with parental magic. The strong gloves helped all weekend, then this afternoon he said he was afraid of wind again. WHAT. “Your gloves!” I insisted, and he countered, “Those are not so good.” AHH. Back to square one. I talked to him for like an HOUR about possible solutions. I told him he could get an instrument that measures wind speeds, so he’d always know what the wind speed was. Nix. I showed him current weather maps that had NO tornadoes anywhere. Nix. I offered a poncho to keep out the wind (yeah, not cool, but I’m throwing out anything) and earmuffs to block out the whistle of the wind. He was the most interested in those options, but still not sold.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of his crying about wanting to stay home FOREVER (“Write a letter to my teacher,” he begged, “and say Elias will never come to school again), he asked, “How we meet?”

“What?”

“How we met? When we meet? You and me?”

“How did you and I meet?”

“Yeah.”

“Wellllll.” I pulled him into my lap. Oh God. He’s so perfect, all little boy shoulders and muscles and gangly colt legs. Shaggy hair, blue eyes. Beautiful. I get into the story, remembering the first time I held him. “I had you in my tummy and I was REALLY BIG and then I went to the hospital, and they took you out, and I got to hold you LIKE THIS–” squeeze– “and I thought you were the most amazing thing I had ever seen. You were so tiny and quiet. I loved you with my whole heart. And they said, ‘You have a son! What is his name going to be?’ and I said, ‘Elias’, because it was the most beautiful name for the most beautiful boy.” He is gazing up at me, sniffling. “And you had a little bed next to mine, and it was plastic so I could see you, and I would take you out and feed you and hug you and change your diapers when you went to the bathroom.– Did you want to see a picture of you as a little baby?”

“Yes,” he says. I show him one on Flickr. “Look at you!” I swoon. “Oh, and here’s one of us hanging out together. See. You were always my best friend. We liked each other right from the start.”

He starts crying again, harder, and I tell him it’s okay, we’ll figure out the wind thing, and he wails, “No, I not crying because of the wind anymore. I crying because that is so sweet. How we met, when you tell me about that. It is so sweet.” He wraps his entire 5-year-old body around me in a bear hug. “You are the best mommy for being my friend. And also when you changed my diapers, that is so sweet too, because I didn’t know how.”

I had to make sure I wrote that down somewhere. It was one of the most wonderful moments of my life. Really thought I’d have to wait another fifteen or twenty years for any kind of thanks of that magnitude. Heh. He is the best. I hope you’re reading this someday, Elias. You are a doll. Even when I’m stuck looking at rain ponchos online with you at 9 PM on a Sunday.

Becky Jo left today after a weekend of Insane Awesomeness. It’s going to be hard trying to recount everything that went down. Uh. Okay. They arrived very, very early Saturday morning– I think around 1:30 AM. Like normal, everyone is tired until we see each other, and then we shrill gossip and jokes at each other for another forty minutes. Becky and Dave are on the Atkins diet. Becky definitely lost weight (Dave might have too, but I can’t tell. He wears a lot baggier clothes). Her face looks totally different, but good– I mean, she’s pretty regardless, but she looks even more gorgeous. I feel like such a fatty. You know what I ate tonight? Guess. CHEESE AND OLIVES. IN OIL. What. I’m going to shop tomorrow morning and fill our pantry with only guilt-free items.

Anyway, we all go to sleep. Wake up at 8 to Becky Jo in Eli’s room, playing with the kids. They love her, and she loves them. I think children can tell when an adult REALLY likes them or when they’re just pandering, and Becky sincerely enjoys all their random observations and games. “AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” she’s asking as I come in. “WHAT DID HE SAY?”

I told Becky my kids are so lucky that she’s so great to them. Not to talk any smack about my parents, but I did not like most of their friends, and as I recall, most of their friends did not like us. Like, when they had adult buddies visit (with minor exceptions), we all steered clear of each other. On the rare occasion, it seemed like we were tolerated, but I honestly don’t have any memories of an adult going out of their way to bond with us. So I thoroughly appreciate what great adoptive aunts my friends are. Did you know Audrey called me to make sure she worked her April schedule around Eli’s birthday party? This is a total aside, but. Yeah. My friends FTW.

I make us bowls of the most delicious cereal in the entire world, which Dave and Becky agree is thoroughly delicious. Eat upstairs, then relocate downstairs. Take the kids out, look at model homes. The first part of our day was really fun to live but boring to recap. Heh. Like, we just walked around a lot. We go through an open home in a new development, which is basically finished and ready for sale. There’s no one but us, so we run through the house yelling and chasing the kids. Becky hides in a closet. When Eli and Addie and I find her, she screams, then we scream. It’s awesome.

Try to look at another model community but are thwarted by a rude salesman. Do we not look like we have money? Geez. This community has been jerks to me TWICE when I’ve come to visit. And now I’m going to tell you a little story I told Becky Jo– it pays to be nice to me if you’re a home salesman. When I was 17, I looked at model homes for my parents because they were busy working, making the money to pay for said model home. Virtually every time I asked for brochures or questions about pricing, I got totally blown off. Legitimate questions, too, about upgrades and lot sizes and delivery dates. They just acted like I was teenage riffraff. I finally found the PERFECT house and the saleswoman sat down with me, answered everything I put out there, shook my hand. I told her I’d bring my parents back. And I totally did. And they totally bought it. And then when I came back with friends to show it off, this new salesguy was there, and he was like, “This is a model home, not an hangout spot for delinquents. Why don’t you just walk yourselves out of here?” and the original saleswoman came out and ripped him a new one because my parents were clients, and really, what were you thinking– please, Becca, take your friends and get some diet drinks. They’re in the fridge.

BECKY JO: AWWWW. That must have been so sweet. You always hope for karma to get those people but you rarely get to witness the comeuppance.

BECCA: I know. It was magnificent.

Lunch from Dairy Queen. Bring it back. Everyone eats.

Becky and Dave brought the Wii Fit. We all take turns playing. Nobody is overweight, we’re all varying degrees of Healthy BMI. I am right in the middle, though I’d like to be on the lower end of the middle. Eli’s Wii is a literal stick. It’s just a big head with a pencil body.

Dave and Jason play Warcraft together. Elias and Addie do joint Fitness games. They like the ski jump the best, because it just involves squatting together and then yelling JUMP! and standing straight up. Their timing is a little off, but whatever. They’re cooperating and sharing. Good deal.

Next is shopping for genuine North Carolina furniture for Dave and Becky, who want a new living room set. We drive all over. This part is kind of like the house hunting. Vague and sounds boring to recap, but we all had a good time. They end up buying an endtable, sofa table, and coffee table– all matching– from a store in Durham. It’s unfinished wood, and they decide to stain it at home. Becky is thrilled. You’d think she just bought a puppy. I guess they’d been talking about buying this furniture for two years and could never agree on anything.

AND SPEAKING OF PUPPIES. The store has a huge black poodle that appears out of nowhere between two entertainment centers. It’s the size of a deer, seriously. And so gentle. I really want this poodle. “Can I take you home?” I ask the dog (who is named Cole), and he walks away for a moment. He returns with a price tag in his mouth. I’m not making this up.

Home. Dave brings up a TV show in the car named ‘Small Wonder’, which I have never heard of but apparently involves a man who makes a robot daughter. He says I HAVE to hear the theme song when I get back. He remembers to find it, and I listen. It’s so ridiculously bad it’s almost good all over again.

After furniture is dinner, which I eat too much at. Why am I eating so much lately? It’s not even hunger or boredom. It’s just like blind compliance. Here is food in front of you. And I’m like, Okay. I’ll eat it. It’s there.

Drive the kids around till they fall asleep. Tuck them into bed. Boys are back on computers, and the girls go out to the mall. We look for bras. This is a Becky Jo story, so I’ll save all the embarrassing details. Heh. Suffice to say, Victoria’s Secret disappoints us. We try two other stores with similar outcomes. Go to Super Target to pick up midnight snacks. Somewhere in the snack aisle, this conversation happens:

BECKY JO: I would seriously not want to be called anything on these boxes. They all sound like an old-school insult.

BECCA: Hey, ding-dong.

BECKY JO: What’s up, Twinkie.

BECCA: Shortcake roll.

BECKY JO: Nutter bar.

BECCA: Devil square.

BECKY JO: FUDGE ROUND.

I freaking LOSE IT. Fudge round? Are you kidding me? Why hasn’t that been an integral part of my banter before?

We go back to the boys armed with sugar and a new board game. Convince them to play. This is kind of like Balderdash, where you have to make up definitions for unusual words and then get people to pick yours, but in this version, a question is asked– everyone else answers– and the asker has to guess who said which one. By midnight, it just gets ridiculous.

BECCA: This is a good one. Get ready… ‘If you were butter, what would you spread yourself on?’

Everyone is already giggling as they write answers down. Jason reads the choices out loud: “Hardwood floors… your mom… ‘Small Wonder’.”

I am laughing all over again recapping this.

After the game, Jason heads to bed. The three of us stay up to watch ‘Fireproof’. That’s the Kirk Cameron movie that looked so bad it might also be hilarious. I know a lot of people LOVE this film and so I’m sure I’m going to be stepping on some toes writing this, but man. As a Christian– why do we have such lame movies? They’re all so heavy-handed and have unrealistic dialogue and one-dimensional characters and predictable plots and borderline cardboard acting. I fell asleep about thirty minutes in, but Becky said it got kind of better. The next morning, I tell her about the ButterCream Gang, which is a For Real movie my parents had that we watched growing up. It was from a Christian distributor, about a gang of kids that does good things for everyone. Like helping old ladies who fall down. Yes. They really did. Although they had to break into her second story window to do it.

BECKY JO: Oh my gosh. The ButterCream gang? For serious?

BECCA: YES. And it had these BLATANTLY homosexual undertones, that I’m sure the actors and writers would be shocked if you pointed out. The oldest Butter Creamer–

BECKY JO: They called themselves BUTTER CREAMERS?

BECCA: Yes. YES. YES. There was some story in the town about how when the men went off to War, the women stayed at home to make butter and the boys helped churn it. That was the first ButterCream Gang. And the legend lives on.

BECKY JO: No.

BECCA: Oh yes. And the oldest one was always hanging out with the second-oldest, but the oldest was like 17 and the other guy was like 13, and he’d sneak into his room at night for ‘surprise sleepovers’ and stroke his hair and tell him he’d never leave and everything. I remember being like 10 and thinking there was TOTALLY something happening between them.

BECKY JO: BUTTER CREAMERS. It’s so bad. It’s like the FUDGE ROUNDS.

Which makes us die with laughter all over again.

They had to go this morning, but we’ll all hook up again soon. I have to come up in March for Shelly’s birthday, and Ben’s baby (who is not here yet, but there was a false alarm), and to deliver Becky Jo’s last endtable whenever it’s done. I pretty much ended the day by napping in bed, then comforting Eli, then eventually buying a poncho. Let’s hope it helps. I’m completely out of ideas over here.