Linking and learning...

Okay, I'm going to be honest.

I've been hesitant to link my weekly writing for my church's Facebook page to this blog. I don't know why. Maybe because it seems, I dunno, self-promoting. It's also a little different from my normal writing here - so it may be a stretch. There's also the whole "Oh my gosh you'll know where I live and my name and you'll come stalk me and kill me" thing. But, um, since my 3 loyal Cyberbears are family and friends - that shouldn't be a problem, right?

Honestly, this Facebook writing takes a lot of my time and, therefore, pulls me away from this blog. Which sometimes frustrates me. Because, the guilt of leaving you guys hanging is monumental.

The simple solution is, I know, to link this blog to my weekly column. "Duh!" you say. I know. Sometimes it just takes me a while to get there myself.

Thanks for being patient.

So, going forward, each week - normally Thursdays - (unless I'm overcome by writer's block) you can come here and find a link to my weekly musings for my church. And for those of you who aren't Facebook savvy (Papa Bear and Big Sister Bear, I'm talking about you), you can follow the link without a Facebook account! Yeah!

Hopefully, you'll enjoy it. And, hopefully, you won't stalk me, or call me by my real name, or anything scary like that.

Because, that wouldn't be fun at all.

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Cross Training

Today on Facebook, I'm talking about cross training. Click here to read more..

Happy Halloween

BOO!!!

Hopefully this picture portrays that this year, Sugar Bear GOT Halloween. Let's just say she lived up to her name...

My Snow White and Darth Vader.

Discovery

The Four Bears set out on Friday night for our very first family tent camping adventure. (More to come later). We had to pack the car extra tight to get all of the items needed for 2 grown bears and 2 cubs to survive 2 whole days in the wilderness (read: everything but the kitchen sink, and only because it was bolted down).

So, in order to get everything tucked in the vehicle, I decided I needed to do a little light "housekeeping" in the car. And that is when I made a horrific discovery.

Let me back up a little.

The Four Bears Den doesn't travel on the road well (just read here if you need a reminder). So, Mama and Papa Bear like to waste as little time as possible while driving. And that means, no unnecessary stops. Brother Bear, on the other hand, loves unnecessary stops. Way back when he was potty training, he realized that he could get Mama and Papa Bear to stop the car immediately by simply saying, "I gotta pee!" Slowly but surely, we got wise to his little tricks and put a stop to them.

Enter, the pee cup.

Yes, you read that right. When we travel long distances I put an container with a lid in the car for the express purposes of the "urgent" tinkle. This genius idea saves us at least 30 minutes on every road trip. When we arrive at our destination, I simply empty and wash the container and return it to the car for the next time.

Or, so I thought.

When I was cleaning out the car, I noticed that one of the 45 cup holders in our car had something in it. Assuming it was something else, I grabbed it to throw it away and that is when I discovered my horrible mistake.

I know, you're already there aren't you? I can hear you groaning, and squealing, and retching. Because that's what I did.

I was holding a container of old urine. Did you know that urine can go bad? I could have gone my whole life without knowing that little nugget!

The really, really, awful part of this is: I'm not exactly sure how old that pee is.

Best case scenario: our family vacation in August.

Worst case scenario: our return trip from the Land of the Bears in July.

I. AM. MORTIFIED.

I'm thinking of having the car detailed, just in case.

Subtlety, thy name is Brother Bear!

Notes I found on my computer last evening:

(Phonetic translation of note #1 {lest you get seriously confused} "Please put my bike").

Lucky for him, I knew where he wanted me to "put bike". Because, heaven forbid, the cub put some effort into finishing his sentence instead of wasting my post-its with pleases and smiley faces!

Sadly, in full disclosure, I have forgotten to "put bike" several times, clearly causing Brother Bear to develop serious trust issues with me.

Good thing for him I buy post-it notes at Sam's. I'm saving all my money for his therapy sessions.

Dont ask, don't tell...

is normally my policy when it comes to Papa Bear and his adventures with the cubs. Because, what I don't know can't hurt me.

Let's face it. These cubs need their time with Papa Bear. If they spent all their time with me they would be freckle-less, book worms, who are afraid of germs and the dark. And that wouldn't be any fun at all, would it? Thus, they need Papa Bear to introduce a little adventure into their lives.

I know that. I understand that. I just don't want to know the details.

Exhibit A (a picture Papa Bear sent me from their adventures on Saturday):

I rest my case, Your Honor.

The moral to this story

A conversation overheard at the State Fair between a certain Mama Bear and a certain Brother Bear whilst observing what had to be the world's largest swine.

Brother Bear: (urgently, panic-ly interrupting Mama Bear and Sugar Bear's conversation about "what the big piggie is doing") Mama Bear! Mama Bear!! That pig is soooo fat, its bootie is sticking out!!

Mama Bear: (trying to get a mental picture of description and failing miserably) Huh? Uh, Brother Bear, what do you mean?

Brother Bear: (speaking in excited, almost frantic terms) Mama Bear! The pig is sooo fat, the part of the body where the poop comes out is sticking out of its bootie!!!

Mama Bear: (now officially picturing the world's largest hemorrhoid attached to the world's largest swine and becoming officially intrigued) Uh. Hmm. Brother Bear, why don't we head down to the other side of this pig and take a look at what you're talking about. (because, of course, if said piggie did have a raging case of hemorrhoids, said Mama Bear felt it was her moral obligation to call PETA.)

Brother Bear: (arriving at the "business" end of things and pointing) SEE, Mama Bear? Its bootie is coming out of its bottom!

Mama Bear: (gasping. stifling the urge to concurrently scream and laugh) Oh. Well. Um, Brother Bear, that's not the pig's bottom. Um. You see. That pig there is a boy pig. Apparently a very, very, very boy pig. And what you are seeing there is (insert very biological, very technical, very calmly, very confidently stated term for piggie's very large, ahem, accoutrements). All boys have 'em, even piggies!

Brother Bear: (making a face like he was being served spinach with a side of brussel sprouts) Oh. Ew. Well, that's just disgusting don't you think, Mama Bear?

Mama Bear: (calmly weighing her options between what she wants to say and what she knows she should say) Um, no, no, not really. That's just nature, Brother Bear! You know, God made everything and that's just the way He made that piggie.

Brother Bear: Oh. Okay. Can we go ride some rides now, Mama Bear?

Mama Bear: (exhaling for the first time in several minutes) Absolutely, Brother Bear. Absolutely!

And the moral to this humorous little tail (snicker, snicker)?

Never, ever take your kid to the State Fair.

(I told you I didn't like the fair....)

Love at first bite

So Sugar Bear is entering that fabulous stage that all Mama Bears love: potty training. (I sure wish sarcasm was visible on a blog).

Anyway. In our den, when a cub does what a cub needs to do in the proper location, ahem, a cub gets a treat. A sweet treat. A horrible-for-your-body-and-teeth reward. That's right. Feel free to judge. I'm waaaaaay past worrying about it. So, as I was saying, we give a treat: M&Ms, or as Sugar Bear calls them, "m-and-m-and-m's".

So, Sugar Bear has figured out how to manipulate the system ramped up her interest in potty training thus requiring a recent trip to the store for more treats.

And that, Cyberbears, is when I fell in love.

I had a coupon for $1 off 2 bags. I intended to buy 2 bags of the regular treats. But I was intrigued by a new version of M&Ms. Plus, Papa Bear was in a land far, far away and I was jones-ing for some chocolate rewards of my own for surviving the week without him.

Cyberbears, meet my new love. Pretzel M&Ms, meet my Cyberbears.

Oh my. They are the perfect combination of sweet and salty (just like the packaging says) and great for snacking while doing just about anything. (Not that I've tried that or anything).

These things are going to make me a contestant on "The Biggest Loser-Bear".

And when I'm crying and puking in a bucket after the world's hardest workout, holding on to the treadmill for dear life, and Jillian screams at me in her meanest voice ever, "WERE THOSE PRETZEL M&Ms WORTH IT NOW?" I'll look up at her with snot hanging from my nose, wipe the puke off my chin and reply, "HECK YES!"

They are that good.

**This blog entry was not a paid endorsement for either Pretzel M&Ms or The Biggest Loser-Bear**

Question

Brother Bear had a internet chat last night with his Cousin Bear. They were giggling and talking and having and absolute blast. At one point, Brother Bear ran out of the computer room to fetch something he wanted to show his Cousin Bear.

Later that evening, I returned to the computer room and found this:

Here's my question: Am I being invaded or protected?

With all the books, games, movies and lego creations around here, I should know the answer. But, honestly, unless they are Luke, Leia, Hans, Yoda or Darth Vader, THEY ALL LOOK ALIKE TO ME.

This is my life, Cyberbears.

Seven!

Seven!

Oh my heaven!

When did you get old enough to be SEVEN YEARS? I just can't believe it! Now, I wasn't quite lucid when they brought you into this world, so someone had to give me photographic evidence of the moment you entered this world:

I guess I'll have to trust it...

Brother Bear, It seems like yesterday that we brought you home all tiny and soft and placed you in this cradle hand-made by your grandparent bears:

And now, now you are a BOY cub. There's no more baby cub left.

You've grown so much over the past year.

Not as much physically, but in character.

You grew in courage, facing an uncomfortable surgery you didn't want.

You grew in strength, managing the post-op pain and rehab.

You grew in maturity, learning the ropes at school and on the playground.

You grew in compassion, finding ways to give to others with what little you have.

You grew in humor, learning how to tell jokes and master a well timed physical pratfall.

These are stats the doctor won't measure at your 7 year checkup. But rest assured, we've observed them. We cherish them.

We love you.

Our first.

Our boy.

Happy Birthday Brother Bear!

Head first into trouble

These two bear cubs are going to make their Mama Bears' fur go grey. Not that any of you would know because, well, there are treatments for that condition. But know that, underneath all the treatment, it's full on grey 'cause of these two-twos.

But you know what? They are worth every penny we might spend on treatment!

Sales Cub of the Year

How

can

you

say

no?

I certainly can't.

Looks like we'll be eating LOTS of popcorn this year..

Downhill slide

I'm a runner bear. (Those of you who know me well just said a collective, "duh!?!"). Anyway, I'm currently training for my 13th marathon and (most days) loving it.

As a marathon running bear, I sometimes battle something called ITBS. It's no big deal if you know what the symptoms are, and keep them in check. After 12 marathons, I know the symptoms well. I also know that, for me, the key to keeping ITBS at bay is stretching.

Thus, every day after my run, I take a moment to do some simple yoga poses that help stretch my IT Band. Now, normally when I do yoga I'm in yoga pants which tend to cover your legs. But when I'm doing these particular stretches, I'm still in my running shorts.

So the other day, I was in a quiet corner of the gym dutifully stretching and enjoying a nice "downward facing dog" pose. Whilst there, I got a hairbrained idea to take a look at my legs, instead of the floor as I normally do.

Bad idea.

When I looked at my legs, I let out an audible cry. For this is what I saw:

(I have been assured that no elephants were injured during the taking of this picture)

Okay. So maybe I exaggerated a little. That's what I felt like I saw. here's what I really saw:

(Rest assured, no Mama Bears were injured during the taking of this picture. A stunt camera-bear was employed)

But seriously, look at those knees. Do you see now why I gasped? Apparently the elasticity of my leg skin has a lifetime warranty of 37.5 years. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE WARN ME? I want my money back! Goes to show that you just don't realize how valuable skin elasticity really is until you NO LONGER HAVE IT!

I'm currently researching (read: google searching 'til my eyes turn red) knee skin lifts. Until then it's bermudas, capris and long pants for me. (I'm now realizing why culottes were all the fashion craze amongst the Mama Bears when I was a cub). I'm contemplating bringing the burqa to main street fashion.

Sigh. They really mean it when they call it the "downhill slide" don't they?

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Author's Post Script:

• It's not often that I get a chance to google search "elephant knee/leg pictures", "downward facing dog", "culottes" and "burqa" in one day. Let's just say that I might have wasted valuable Mama Bear time clicking and giggling today.
• I still can't believe I posted a picture of my nekked legs for all you Cyber Bears to see. Go easy with your comments please. Can't you see I'm fragile?
• I'm pretty sure that after this post, I've officially landed myself on some sort of government blog-watch list. Consider yourself warned.

I want my Hillbilly baby back!

Thanks to a mom/teacher bear known for her love of pulling teeth (why someone would love that, I have no earthly idea), Brother Bear's "tooth that just wouldn't come looth" was wrestled free last night at church. It wasn't without drama, or more blood than any of us would have preferred, but a visit from the tooth fairy seems to have eased all the pain!

I'm glad that the choking hazard is now gone from his mouth. However, I'm watching my precious baby shrink away with each subsequent tooth. I must admit that while the new smile is pretty darn cute, looking at it also makes me a little weepy. It's nothing but big teeth, braces and smelly socks from here on out.

So tonight, I cuddled him extra hard while I had the chance. It's my right as a Mama Bear! Right?

Hillbilly hello!

Alternately titled, "The tooth that just wouldn't come looth"...

Brother Bear has a loose tooth that has been hanging by a thread - literally - since Friday. I was certain that our corn on the cob with dinner on Friday would do the trick. Nope. This is one stubborn tooth.

Oh, and did I mention that I refuse to be a part of ripping a tooth from my sweet, innocent bear cub's mouth?

So, we wiggle and we wait and we wiggle some more. And we might also giggle a little every time we try to have a conversation with this:

Does anyone hear banjo music?