Dearest Tyler,
Today, you made me some promises. And, since you are four (and a half), I am documenting them here because I plan on claiming these promises for about the next five, ten, fifty years.
Today, you were not so happy you are not yet in kindergarten. You express your utter disdain for that fact every single week. It is one of many elements of your life with which you get disgusted. I get it. Kindergarten sounds so fun when Noah talks about parties, bingo nights and all the fun things he gets to do. At least once a week when we drop Noah off, I get to hear you, very indignantly, state that you are going when you are five.
Today, I tried to offer some solace by telling you how very grateful I am that you're four (and a half). I told you that I'll be sad when you're all grown up because there will come a day when you won't fit in my lap anymore. To which you made your first promise...
Even if I can't fit in your lap anymore, I will still kiss and hug you, Mommy.
And then this string of promises...
I will still see saw with you.
I will still draw you pictures. And drawings of hearts.
And I'll still draw you snowballs. If we get white paper.
Today, you made me the best promises a four (and a half) year old can make a Mommy.
Someday, I'll hold you to them.
Especially the kisses and hugs part.
And maybe even the see saw part.
Showing posts with label The sons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The sons. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saturday, December 18, 2010
A few years ago, a friend shared a very helpful way to keep from being overwhelmed by all the artwork the boys create. Because, seriously, between MOPS, church, school and just playing at home, the boys create a lot of masterpieces. Sometimes I actually wish they'd station a recycle bin by the exit doors so parents can discreetly leave some of the fistfuls of papers we get every week (our minivan wishes that, too). While we are faithful to give each piece of art the ooh's and aah's it's due and while we truly are touched by and proud of the effort put into them, it would be pretty well impossible to keep each and every one.
Instead, Brenna's strategy is to keep the most special pieces and take pictures of the others before tossing them.
Anyhow, I'm sharing some personal favorites (that I'm keeping) from recent weeks.
First, here's a photo of some "flowers" Tyler picked for me. The Homeowner's Association is all for "Show Your Mom You Love Her by Picking Her a Weed." I totally love my weed.
The boys love Chuck E. Cheese's photo booths. The problem is the pictures fade within weeks because of the poor ink they use. Tyler has one pretty standard face he makes when getting his picture taken. I simply couldn't let this darling photo fade into history.
Sometimes Noah practices his spelling on construction paper...
That would be his version of "buttocks."
Noah fondly recalls the camping trip we took with some friends.
This is Kennedy, Kendyl and Noah (Tyler is nowhere to be seen because that's how fondly Noah recalls Tyler) dancing to Boom Boom Pow.
And here is a gem Tyler colored. He told me he drew a picture of me and I was so touched because he drew those red roses and hearts to show me what a very loving and loveable Mommy I am.
And then he set me straight and told me, "This is a picture of you yelling when we are being naughty."
I guess if the gigantic red fireball coming out of my head wasn't clear, the crazy eyes should've been a dead giveaway.
But then there are really tender emotions expressed in art and they make up for all the naughty behavior...
And, once in a blue moon, your child may start out writing a letter to one of his grandmothers and instead turn it into a note to you because you let him help you cook dinner.
Instead, Brenna's strategy is to keep the most special pieces and take pictures of the others before tossing them.
Anyhow, I'm sharing some personal favorites (that I'm keeping) from recent weeks.
First, here's a photo of some "flowers" Tyler picked for me. The Homeowner's Association is all for "Show Your Mom You Love Her by Picking Her a Weed." I totally love my weed.
The boys love Chuck E. Cheese's photo booths. The problem is the pictures fade within weeks because of the poor ink they use. Tyler has one pretty standard face he makes when getting his picture taken. I simply couldn't let this darling photo fade into history.
Sometimes Noah practices his spelling on construction paper...
That would be his version of "buttocks."Noah fondly recalls the camping trip we took with some friends.
This is Kennedy, Kendyl and Noah (Tyler is nowhere to be seen because that's how fondly Noah recalls Tyler) dancing to Boom Boom Pow.And here is a gem Tyler colored. He told me he drew a picture of me and I was so touched because he drew those red roses and hearts to show me what a very loving and loveable Mommy I am.
And then he set me straight and told me, "This is a picture of you yelling when we are being naughty."I guess if the gigantic red fireball coming out of my head wasn't clear, the crazy eyes should've been a dead giveaway.
But then there are really tender emotions expressed in art and they make up for all the naughty behavior...
And, once in a blue moon, your child may start out writing a letter to one of his grandmothers and instead turn it into a note to you because you let him help you cook dinner.
Friday, October 15, 2010
A is for "Apple." B is for "Buttalks."
There is that phrase, "All I need to know about life, I learned in kindergarten."
Hot dog. It's proving to be true.
And then some.
Noah has come home with all kinds of new words lately.
A couple weekends ago, we went camping with some friends. And, in the midst of all our getting back to nature activities like dancing to Boom, Boom Pow (blaring from the speakers attached to the MP3 player) and playing Go Fish, I hear Noah say something to Kendyl about, "my Mom." As in, not "Mommy." Just "Mom." As in, he's suddenly too cool to be my baby. I am secretly licking my "I Want to be Mommy for Awhile Longer" wounds when I hear him say something like, "Give it to Jen."
So now the six year old and his "Mom" are on a first name basis.
Wounded.
We are a few weeks into kinder when Noah trots through the door one day and announces, with a little too much gleam in his eyes, that he needed to "take a wizz." Kid, I realize as I type this, I don't even know if wizz is spelled wizz, whiz or wiz. But, it turns out, "Jen" is not cool with the phrase, "take a wizz."
Then there was something about, "I can fit my butt in my mouth." And though I'd like to think I have a sense of humor, I'd also like to think that "butt" of his isn't so small it can't be swatted because he knows a line has been crossed. Oh, the boy knows. I see the gleam in his eyes. I see right through you, Noah Jack.
So, yes, we have had some nice Jen and Son convos about choosing good words and not repeating everything others say, etc., etc.
I have a feeling we'll be having these conversations for the next 12 years.
Then there are some things that just go with boyhood that I'm, oddly, finding myself okay with.
Take, for instance, the armpit toot.
Noah came home one day, hand in his armpit, pumping his elbow up and down so fiercely I almost called him derrick and checked for oil. It was fruitless labor as he didn't quite have the proper technique to achieve what he was working toward. That is one of those delicate balances where much more can be achieved with much less effort. Sort of like whistling. You wouldn't get a good whistle by blowing with too much force.
Did I just devote an entire paragraph to the art of the armpit toot?
Why, yes. Yes, I did.
Did I ever in my life expect to string together the words, "the art of the armpit toot?"
Why, no. No, I didn't.
But, it turns out, I'm the "Mom" of two boys and, I'm sorry, but when your kid is sitting in the tub and he looks up at you with big, sweet brown eyes and sincerely asks, "Mommy, can you teach me how to do armpit farts?" how can you say no? I felt like I'd be letting him down if he couldn't join in the playground symphony of the armpits. There are just some things a boy ought to know, I suppose.
So, a few weeks into kinder, I find myself in an out of body experience as I take a deep breath, place my hand under my shirt, cup it over my armpit and do my best to demonstrate. And to take this to a new level of surreal, I am actually adjusting and readjusting his hand over his armpit and encouraging him to never give up because, "you just have to practice and I know you'll get it, buddy."
Out. of. body. experience.
The problem is (there are so many problems with this), I've never in my life actually been able to produce an armpit toot. I just know of the ideal hand placement and I do all I can to talk him through it. I find myself the next day actually encouraging Brian to get in there and show Noah how it's done.
And, I feel I must add, Noah conquered the art of the armpit toot within 24 hours.
Pride. It's right here. In Jen's heart.
Two nights ago, I wanted to spend some one on one time with Noah. He'd had such a great evening and I was looking forward to reading to and just hanging out with him. We were shoulder to shoulder as he listened intently to the story of the blind man healed by Jesus in John 9. I tried to make the story come alive as we pictured together how it must've been before and after the man's healing. We imagined Jesus spitting into the dirt and creating a clay to place on the man's eyes. And, man, what it must've been like to see for the first time. Ooh, such good, good stuff.
As that story finished, Noah asked me to tell him a "fiction" story. So, I weaved together a tale of a sapling who, year after year, grew more jealous of all the things around him that were taller...the grass, the weeds and the flowers. And in the end, while the sapling so longed to be like the things around him, what he didn't realize was that his roots were deeper and stronger and how it's so much more important for what's unseen to grow than it is to be tall or beautiful, etc. on the outside. I was so proud of mine and Aesop's ability to piece together a good fable as Noah and I started to list how we grow our insides to be strong...by loving others well, being kind, using nice words, etc.
And that is precisely when Noah knocked me back down to earth by saying, "Like, we shouldn't call someone a buttocks..."
Here is where I wanted to say...Hey, Kid. I told you a cool story about Jesus and His awesomeness in giving the blind man sight and then I went all Aesop on you and made up a pretty sweet story with a moral to it and now you are concluding this special Jen and Son time by pointing out that we shouldn't call someone a "buttalks".
While we're at it, let me just clear things up for you.
No, it is not okay to call someone a "buttalks."
No, it is not okay to call someone a "little big butt."
And, no, it is not okay to use the phrase, "butt crack."
In fact, let's just do away with the use of "butt" altogether.
No, you will not "take a wizz" or, let's just establish it before you ask, "take a leak" or "pinch a loaf" as long as you are under this roof.
No, I am not interested in hanging out with anyone whose "butt can fit into their mouth." For one thing, that's not even possible.
And I am glad you are so super duper excited that you have achieved the perfect armpit toot. So much so that you now greet me with the sight of you vigorously pumping them out as I make my way up the carpool lane to pick you up. I am one proud Jen. (Though I am sorry your armpit is red and raw from all the practice you put into learning how to do armpit toots. In one day. There is a such thing as being overzealous. Maybe you'll learn that in Kindergarten, too.).
And, one last thing, child of mine. You are a boy. And you are in kindergarten. And you know how to armpit toot. And, you may call me Mom in front of your friends.
BUT. The fact is, I notice you still call me "Mommy" when it's just the two of us.
Yep, I see right through you, Noah Jack.
Hot dog. It's proving to be true.
And then some.
Noah has come home with all kinds of new words lately.
A couple weekends ago, we went camping with some friends. And, in the midst of all our getting back to nature activities like dancing to Boom, Boom Pow (blaring from the speakers attached to the MP3 player) and playing Go Fish, I hear Noah say something to Kendyl about, "my Mom." As in, not "Mommy." Just "Mom." As in, he's suddenly too cool to be my baby. I am secretly licking my "I Want to be Mommy for Awhile Longer" wounds when I hear him say something like, "Give it to Jen."
So now the six year old and his "Mom" are on a first name basis.
Wounded.
We are a few weeks into kinder when Noah trots through the door one day and announces, with a little too much gleam in his eyes, that he needed to "take a wizz." Kid, I realize as I type this, I don't even know if wizz is spelled wizz, whiz or wiz. But, it turns out, "Jen" is not cool with the phrase, "take a wizz."
Then there was something about, "I can fit my butt in my mouth." And though I'd like to think I have a sense of humor, I'd also like to think that "butt" of his isn't so small it can't be swatted because he knows a line has been crossed. Oh, the boy knows. I see the gleam in his eyes. I see right through you, Noah Jack.
So, yes, we have had some nice Jen and Son convos about choosing good words and not repeating everything others say, etc., etc.
I have a feeling we'll be having these conversations for the next 12 years.
Then there are some things that just go with boyhood that I'm, oddly, finding myself okay with.
Take, for instance, the armpit toot.
Noah came home one day, hand in his armpit, pumping his elbow up and down so fiercely I almost called him derrick and checked for oil. It was fruitless labor as he didn't quite have the proper technique to achieve what he was working toward. That is one of those delicate balances where much more can be achieved with much less effort. Sort of like whistling. You wouldn't get a good whistle by blowing with too much force.
Did I just devote an entire paragraph to the art of the armpit toot?
Why, yes. Yes, I did.
Did I ever in my life expect to string together the words, "the art of the armpit toot?"
Why, no. No, I didn't.
But, it turns out, I'm the "Mom" of two boys and, I'm sorry, but when your kid is sitting in the tub and he looks up at you with big, sweet brown eyes and sincerely asks, "Mommy, can you teach me how to do armpit farts?" how can you say no? I felt like I'd be letting him down if he couldn't join in the playground symphony of the armpits. There are just some things a boy ought to know, I suppose.
So, a few weeks into kinder, I find myself in an out of body experience as I take a deep breath, place my hand under my shirt, cup it over my armpit and do my best to demonstrate. And to take this to a new level of surreal, I am actually adjusting and readjusting his hand over his armpit and encouraging him to never give up because, "you just have to practice and I know you'll get it, buddy."
Out. of. body. experience.
The problem is (there are so many problems with this), I've never in my life actually been able to produce an armpit toot. I just know of the ideal hand placement and I do all I can to talk him through it. I find myself the next day actually encouraging Brian to get in there and show Noah how it's done.
And, I feel I must add, Noah conquered the art of the armpit toot within 24 hours.
Pride. It's right here. In Jen's heart.
Two nights ago, I wanted to spend some one on one time with Noah. He'd had such a great evening and I was looking forward to reading to and just hanging out with him. We were shoulder to shoulder as he listened intently to the story of the blind man healed by Jesus in John 9. I tried to make the story come alive as we pictured together how it must've been before and after the man's healing. We imagined Jesus spitting into the dirt and creating a clay to place on the man's eyes. And, man, what it must've been like to see for the first time. Ooh, such good, good stuff.
As that story finished, Noah asked me to tell him a "fiction" story. So, I weaved together a tale of a sapling who, year after year, grew more jealous of all the things around him that were taller...the grass, the weeds and the flowers. And in the end, while the sapling so longed to be like the things around him, what he didn't realize was that his roots were deeper and stronger and how it's so much more important for what's unseen to grow than it is to be tall or beautiful, etc. on the outside. I was so proud of mine and Aesop's ability to piece together a good fable as Noah and I started to list how we grow our insides to be strong...by loving others well, being kind, using nice words, etc.
And that is precisely when Noah knocked me back down to earth by saying, "Like, we shouldn't call someone a buttocks..."
Here is where I wanted to say...Hey, Kid. I told you a cool story about Jesus and His awesomeness in giving the blind man sight and then I went all Aesop on you and made up a pretty sweet story with a moral to it and now you are concluding this special Jen and Son time by pointing out that we shouldn't call someone a "buttalks".
While we're at it, let me just clear things up for you.
No, it is not okay to call someone a "buttalks."
No, it is not okay to call someone a "little big butt."
And, no, it is not okay to use the phrase, "butt crack."
In fact, let's just do away with the use of "butt" altogether.
No, you will not "take a wizz" or, let's just establish it before you ask, "take a leak" or "pinch a loaf" as long as you are under this roof.
No, I am not interested in hanging out with anyone whose "butt can fit into their mouth." For one thing, that's not even possible.
And I am glad you are so super duper excited that you have achieved the perfect armpit toot. So much so that you now greet me with the sight of you vigorously pumping them out as I make my way up the carpool lane to pick you up. I am one proud Jen. (Though I am sorry your armpit is red and raw from all the practice you put into learning how to do armpit toots. In one day. There is a such thing as being overzealous. Maybe you'll learn that in Kindergarten, too.).
And, one last thing, child of mine. You are a boy. And you are in kindergarten. And you know how to armpit toot. And, you may call me Mom in front of your friends.
BUT. The fact is, I notice you still call me "Mommy" when it's just the two of us.
Yep, I see right through you, Noah Jack.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Bingo
I finally came down with the sore throat that plagued Brian at the end of last week. I knew it was coming. Just knew I'd be tacking it on to the string of physical ailments that have been my thorn in the flesh since Anniston was born. The cold sores are going on 7 weeks, so it's only fitting that I'd catch the first bug Brian brought home from high school.
My ailments like to tag team. They are little wrestlers.
Today was also our first PTA meeting. It was so tempting to stay home and skip the meeting and the Bingo tournament following. But, the elementary schools know how to get parents in the building. THEY TELL YOUR KIDS ABOUT THE PRIZES, BINGO TOURNAMENT, PRIZES, PIZZA AND, YES, THE PRIZES, ALL DAY so that, when your child comes to you and says the word, "Bingo," like it was gold, you know you're going.
It soon followed that Noah, Anniston and I found ourselves pulling up to the school driveway, ready for somePRIZES Bingo. Brian and Tyler stayed home. Apparently, daddies were not born with the guilt gene that all mommies are saddled with. Right next to the gene that hears your kid throwing up in your doorway in the middle of the night and you hear it but, miracle of miracles, your hubby sleeps right on through it.
Not that we have ever experienced that in our household.
Anyhow, so began the Bingo tournament and the lesson I didn't see coming.
Noah and I must share a little superstitious gene because both of us stayed loyal to our cards through most of the rounds we played. We figured our respective card's one shining moment had to come at some point. With each round, our cards disproved our theory and the tension mounted.
TENSION.
Because there were PRIZES involved. Glorious water bottles, sticky hands, silly bandz...the stuff dreams are made of. Oh, the excitement. Oh, the PRIZES.
And I pray and I pray. I so deeply want this for him, my competitive child. I want victory, I want success, I want a prize, a thrill for him. I glance at his card and at mine, double, triple checking. I long to hear his voice call out, "Bingo!" For him to know the proud march to the front to prove his win and gain his prize. At some point, I realize I am not even enjoying the game, so badly do I want this for him.
And I see he wants it, too. His eyes are dancing, he's on the edge of his seat. He scans his card diligently, boldly marking his card and even counting down how close he is to winning. He has to pee so bad, he's squirming, but he's afraid to leave. Finally, rounds into it, I convince him he needs to get thee to a bathroom. We make quick plans for me to watch over his card as he races to the boys' room. In no time, he is back, ready to re-join the competition.
And I pray and I pray. My prayer is in nearly every breath. Lord, I want this for him. I want him to have this win. Please, God, let him win. Not for any glory. Not for any competitive nature in me. Not for the silly bandz. Simply because he's so excited and what parent doesn't want their child to know the thrill of the win?
And then he speaks The Words and I know instantly he will not win tonight. I keep praying, but I know. He says, "I just know I'm going to win." And, with those words, I knew. I knew. Something told me there would not be sweet victory. Instead, he would learn something tonight in heartbreaking defeat. He would learn that we can set our minds to some things, but simply deciding we will win will not, in fact, make us win. And, he'll learn something else that's hard for any of us to learn. Maturity and completion come through trials. Hmm...seems like that's Biblical. Something/Someone tells me Noah will walk out with a character lesson instead of a school water bottle and silly bandz tonight.
All of this forces me to examine myself. What is it that I truly want for him? The easy win, the luck of the draw, the victory for which he truly did not work? Or, do I want the big picture? The hard lessons that must come if he's to be any man I hope for him to be. The lesson that says you will not always get what you want no matter how hard you believe you will. Believe and work hard, yes, but know that belief does not have the final say.
"I hate myself." I don't know why or even how a six year old speaks that. But he did. As soon as we were in the car, he declared it. So deep was his disappointment. And this is where I really knew that Noah was meant to learn something tonight. There is so much pressure to say the right things, to shift his focus to the correct perspective, to balance understanding and sympathy with truth, to teach him that we can have gratitude for the time spent together and for the chance to compete despite defeat, to say that we'll fight another day at the next Bingo tournament...so much I wanted to say just right. Because I know I was given that moment.
I don't know how much he heard tonight. How do you reason with a six year old? But, if he hears us say these things enough times as he grows, maybe they will sink in someday. I don't have all the right words, I'm sure of it. I only know that I am his mom and I'm given moments like these to mold him. I do my best and I rest in the fact that Noah got a dose of character building tonight. That he did not walk away with a prize in hand, but with the testing of his character as his prize.
Sigh.
This parenting thing makes my brain and my heart work too hard sometimes.
Noah, Tyler and Annison, I want victory for you. I want you to taste the thrill of the competition and to know the proud march to claim your prize. I want to see the dance of your eyes. I love the childlike belief that you can do anything you put your mind to.
But, I want for you to be humbled, too. I want you to know defeat so you will learn how to handle victory with class. I want for you to be disappointed so you will know how to be grateful. I want you to fall on your face so you'll know the kind of digging deep it takes to stand up again. I want you to believe you can do all things IN CHRIST, but to know that, win or lose, the big picture is that it truly is all about Christ's glory. And I hope Christ got some glory tonight. Noah, I hope your little heart got something bigger and better than a bouncy ball and some candy. Something more lasting, more eternally focused. Something that makes you a better winner and a better loser. A better man. A man who knows all things are temporary and who learns to set his heart and mind on things above.
Because THAT is the ultimate prize.
My ailments like to tag team. They are little wrestlers.
Today was also our first PTA meeting. It was so tempting to stay home and skip the meeting and the Bingo tournament following. But, the elementary schools know how to get parents in the building. THEY TELL YOUR KIDS ABOUT THE PRIZES, BINGO TOURNAMENT, PRIZES, PIZZA AND, YES, THE PRIZES, ALL DAY so that, when your child comes to you and says the word, "Bingo," like it was gold, you know you're going.
It soon followed that Noah, Anniston and I found ourselves pulling up to the school driveway, ready for some
Not that we have ever experienced that in our household.
Anyhow, so began the Bingo tournament and the lesson I didn't see coming.
Noah and I must share a little superstitious gene because both of us stayed loyal to our cards through most of the rounds we played. We figured our respective card's one shining moment had to come at some point. With each round, our cards disproved our theory and the tension mounted.
TENSION.
Because there were PRIZES involved. Glorious water bottles, sticky hands, silly bandz...the stuff dreams are made of. Oh, the excitement. Oh, the PRIZES.
And I pray and I pray. I so deeply want this for him, my competitive child. I want victory, I want success, I want a prize, a thrill for him. I glance at his card and at mine, double, triple checking. I long to hear his voice call out, "Bingo!" For him to know the proud march to the front to prove his win and gain his prize. At some point, I realize I am not even enjoying the game, so badly do I want this for him.
And I see he wants it, too. His eyes are dancing, he's on the edge of his seat. He scans his card diligently, boldly marking his card and even counting down how close he is to winning. He has to pee so bad, he's squirming, but he's afraid to leave. Finally, rounds into it, I convince him he needs to get thee to a bathroom. We make quick plans for me to watch over his card as he races to the boys' room. In no time, he is back, ready to re-join the competition.
And I pray and I pray. My prayer is in nearly every breath. Lord, I want this for him. I want him to have this win. Please, God, let him win. Not for any glory. Not for any competitive nature in me. Not for the silly bandz. Simply because he's so excited and what parent doesn't want their child to know the thrill of the win?
And then he speaks The Words and I know instantly he will not win tonight. I keep praying, but I know. He says, "I just know I'm going to win." And, with those words, I knew. I knew. Something told me there would not be sweet victory. Instead, he would learn something tonight in heartbreaking defeat. He would learn that we can set our minds to some things, but simply deciding we will win will not, in fact, make us win. And, he'll learn something else that's hard for any of us to learn. Maturity and completion come through trials. Hmm...seems like that's Biblical. Something/Someone tells me Noah will walk out with a character lesson instead of a school water bottle and silly bandz tonight.
All of this forces me to examine myself. What is it that I truly want for him? The easy win, the luck of the draw, the victory for which he truly did not work? Or, do I want the big picture? The hard lessons that must come if he's to be any man I hope for him to be. The lesson that says you will not always get what you want no matter how hard you believe you will. Believe and work hard, yes, but know that belief does not have the final say.
"I hate myself." I don't know why or even how a six year old speaks that. But he did. As soon as we were in the car, he declared it. So deep was his disappointment. And this is where I really knew that Noah was meant to learn something tonight. There is so much pressure to say the right things, to shift his focus to the correct perspective, to balance understanding and sympathy with truth, to teach him that we can have gratitude for the time spent together and for the chance to compete despite defeat, to say that we'll fight another day at the next Bingo tournament...so much I wanted to say just right. Because I know I was given that moment.
I don't know how much he heard tonight. How do you reason with a six year old? But, if he hears us say these things enough times as he grows, maybe they will sink in someday. I don't have all the right words, I'm sure of it. I only know that I am his mom and I'm given moments like these to mold him. I do my best and I rest in the fact that Noah got a dose of character building tonight. That he did not walk away with a prize in hand, but with the testing of his character as his prize.
Sigh.
This parenting thing makes my brain and my heart work too hard sometimes.
Noah, Tyler and Annison, I want victory for you. I want you to taste the thrill of the competition and to know the proud march to claim your prize. I want to see the dance of your eyes. I love the childlike belief that you can do anything you put your mind to.
But, I want for you to be humbled, too. I want you to know defeat so you will learn how to handle victory with class. I want for you to be disappointed so you will know how to be grateful. I want you to fall on your face so you'll know the kind of digging deep it takes to stand up again. I want you to believe you can do all things IN CHRIST, but to know that, win or lose, the big picture is that it truly is all about Christ's glory. And I hope Christ got some glory tonight. Noah, I hope your little heart got something bigger and better than a bouncy ball and some candy. Something more lasting, more eternally focused. Something that makes you a better winner and a better loser. A better man. A man who knows all things are temporary and who learns to set his heart and mind on things above.
Because THAT is the ultimate prize.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Warp Speed...Ain't Happenin'
Noah had his first homework assignment of his school career his first week of school. To help generate ideas for creative writing on their journaling days, each kiddo had to fill out a Me Tree. On one side, we helped Noah think of his favorite things (food, friends, interests, etc.). On the other, he was to find magazine pictures of things that interest him. Easy enough.
Or so I thought.
If you know Noah, it should come as no surprise that he cut out pictures that were related to sports and video games. He had the Aggies, sports equipment, Wii, Playstation 3 and Nintendo DS covered. Allthings that mean Brian can't deny his paternity very six year old stuff of interest.
Then he spotted a full-page ad and insisted he wanted it on his page.
Now, it's only kindergarten and I certainly don't want to be "that" parent that hinders their child's creativity and initiative when it comes to doing their own homework. But, for this, there needed to be an intervention.
And, naturally, the kiddo wanted to know, "WHY?" On the spot, the only thing I could think of was that I didn't think it was a good idea because it was too large to fit on his tree and, um, would cover everything else up and, um, wouldn't he rather put his twenty seventh picture of a video game on there instead?
I was able to refrain from saying...
AND ALSO BECAUSE IT IS A PICTURE OF A LIFE-SIZED MAXI PAD, NOAH.
Or so I thought.
If you know Noah, it should come as no surprise that he cut out pictures that were related to sports and video games. He had the Aggies, sports equipment, Wii, Playstation 3 and Nintendo DS covered. All
Then he spotted a full-page ad and insisted he wanted it on his page.
Now, it's only kindergarten and I certainly don't want to be "that" parent that hinders their child's creativity and initiative when it comes to doing their own homework. But, for this, there needed to be an intervention.
And, naturally, the kiddo wanted to know, "WHY?" On the spot, the only thing I could think of was that I didn't think it was a good idea because it was too large to fit on his tree and, um, would cover everything else up and, um, wouldn't he rather put his twenty seventh picture of a video game on there instead?
I was able to refrain from saying...
AND ALSO BECAUSE IT IS A PICTURE OF A LIFE-SIZED MAXI PAD, NOAH.
I think the "warp speed" was the hook. You can't tease a kid with a product that promises warp speed anything. This thing even looks like it's about to take flight. Wings expanded, sparkly stars in the sky. All things that get pilots and little boys excited. Not sure why it's marketed to women this way. Of all the things I look for in a solid maxi pad, "warp speed" never occurred to me.
But, really.
Ain't happenin', Son.
(I do, however, thank you for generating an idea for this blog).
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Insert Sappy Celine Dion Song Here
For some unknown reason, Noah's been saying this last week that he wants to see the sunrise. He even asked me to wake him early to see it. As he was birthed into a family of night owls, I have a feeling he's in for a rude awakening in the morning. Tomorrow is the first day of school. The first day he'll likely see a sunrise. And, possibly, the last day he'll ever make that kind of crazy request again.
KINDERGARTEN.
Be still my heart.
How did we get here so fast?
How did we go from the sleep all day phase that Anniston's in at four weeks to a sixth birthday last Wednesday?
Sometimes I think the scenario in the movie Groundhog Day doesn't seem so bad. I could re-live these last six years over and over. They have had their low points, but those low points would be worth re-living the days of seeing his toothless first grin, watching his ape-like toddler walk, the way he called me, "Boppy" instead of "Mommy," the fact that he still loves to be tickled...yeah, these six years have been full of the highlights of my life.
We had a good last day of summer, all things considered. My cold sore bout has been a thorn in my flesh the last three weeks, but today was still special. Brian and Tyler spent a few hours at school while Brian got his classroom ready for tomorrow. Noah and Anniston stayed home with me. As Anniston sleeps all day, it gave Noah and me plenty of time to play. Which always magically makes him pleasant to be trapped in a house with. He is just a different kid when he's got all the attention and we're doing things he likes to do. We played dominoes, soccer, dodge ball and read three Berenstein Bear books. I don't always do a good job of treasuring how much he craves my attention, but I recognize what a gift it is that Noah is young enough that he wants to play with me. I know that won't always be the case.
Until today, Noah had displayed a surprising level of excitement over kindergarten. He loved seeing his classroom and finding his desk at Meet the Teacher. He smiled and made eye contact with his teacher as he shook her hand. And that is huge for my shy guy who still wouldn't greet his preschool teachers at the end of the school year in May. I think that one year of holding him back made a huge difference in his confidence and I'm grateful. His courage has given me courage. But, this afternoon, I think the anxiety began to set in. He began to say he was going back to preschool tomorrow. That he wanted me to come teach his fitness class as I have the last three years. He began to call tomorrow "the sad day."
I had hoped to read The Kissing Hand to him tonight. A friend was going to give me her copy and I found out a few days ago that it had been misplaced and was likely donated to the church preschool department. That's okay, some other child will be blessed by it. But, as the day was winding down, I found myself needing to mark the start of this new phase of life with some sort of special reading. As Lord of the Flies is neither topically fitting for this situation nor age appropriate, I settled for a made up story. I knew enough about the story of Chester the Raccoon and his fears about the first day of school that I decided to wing it. I had the boys' rapt attention as I went on about a raccoon and what I supposed his fears might be. In the middle, I nearly got too choked up to finish my made up story (how pathetic was that...didn't I know what was coming?) but was able to regain composure. We concluded with the promise that Daddy and I would plant kisses that stick on Noah's palms in the morning. Mine may turn out to be air kisses because kisses full of herpes viruses that stick are no bueno. He, of course, asked what happens if he opens his hands. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy kisses are really, really sticky and they don't fall out. At least, that's what I told him. So, we'll see if holding our kisses to his cheeks helps him get through the day. I'm really looking forward to seeing the grin on his face when his whole family goes to pick him up.
Anyway, the boys are now tucked snug in their beds. Noah's favorite bedtime wish is, "Sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the big buggy bite you." And, if he hasn't said it to every member of the family, he tells one of us to pass it on. Tonight, it sounded especially sweet to me. Again because there will be a day that he no longer says that and this kindergarten thing is a great reminder of how fleeting time is.
So, here I am, on the eve of the first step to letting go.
My Dear Noah Jack,
I'm sitting here on the couch, wondering how we got here so soon. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up bright and early (maybe even dark and early) and get you ready for the first day of your school career. Preschool was practice, this is the real thing. Tomorrow begins a 17+ school career. But, really, it signals to me how one third of your time under my care has already flown by and how much faster these school years are going to go.
Tonight, you and Tyler played in the backyard while Daddy mowed. You ran in for a drink (cheeks all flushed, body all sweaty and heart all HAPPY) and I gave you a five minute warning. Just as I gave it, I realized that was the last one of the summer. Then I began to think that it was really the last one of your childhood, pre-school. From here on, you'll know what the end of summer brings. From now on, play days are no longer unlimited. You will not have seven days a week with which to play and be a kid.
Tonight, you are innocent to what it really means to be in school five days a week for seven hours each day. Tonight, you are still my baby but there is something new on the horizon. It is the last night before the lifelong process of letting go each parent faces. Tomorrow, August 23, marks the day that you step out into the world as your Daddy and I release you into God's care. Before we know it, we'll be making the drive to drop you off for our first night in your college dorm.
Shudder...
I think the weight of that is still hitting me. It's been so hectic the last few days with me fighting this cold sore outbreak from Hades and preparing for your combined birthday party with Tyler last night. This evening, I finally paused long enough to realize what it meant that I was making your lunch, setting out your clothes and writing you a love note for you to find in your lunch. I felt compelled to go into your room, where you and Tyler are soundly sleeping. While I normally pray in whatever position I'm in, tonight I felt the need to get on my knees as I faced your bed and prayed aloud. God had a Son, too, that He had to let go of so He could fulfill God's purpose for Him. Because He knows the love of a parent, I know God gets my Mommy heart. My heart tonight feels something like this...
Father, I thank you for the blessing of raising these three children. For the gift that you've given Brian and me in calling them ours. Father, I pray that our children are a blessing to You and that we are equipping them in the way that brings You glory. I pray for courage tomorrow, for Noah and us. I ask that You release him from any dread in the morning and allow him to fully enjoy his first day. Please help everything to go smoothly in the morning and let Him feel your peaceful presence throughout the day. I pray that he will be a blessing to You even as he is learning who You are. I pray that we have equipped him to be a blessing to those around him. I ask that You will help us release him and live with open fingers, knowing that these children are first Yours. You know how very much I long for these children to stay as they are; young and simple and free from the cares of the world. I want so much for them to stay this innocent and have such a funny way of looking at life. But, God, I know one of my most important roles as their Mother is letting them go, so help me do that. Let him be fully clothed in Your armor as he goes into the huge, wide world. Please help Noah to bless You in his mannerisms, his words and his thoughts. Father, I ask that you would bring people into his life that will strengthen his developing faith this next year. Please protect his heart and his mind as he goes into the world. Thank You for blessing my heart with his life.
P.S. Dear God, help me survive this letting go thing. And, also, sunrise.
In Jesus' name. Amen.
I love you with all my soul, Noah Jack. You'll always be my baby. I am so THANKFUL to be your Mommy!
KINDERGARTEN.
Be still my heart.
How did we get here so fast?
How did we go from the sleep all day phase that Anniston's in at four weeks to a sixth birthday last Wednesday?
Sometimes I think the scenario in the movie Groundhog Day doesn't seem so bad. I could re-live these last six years over and over. They have had their low points, but those low points would be worth re-living the days of seeing his toothless first grin, watching his ape-like toddler walk, the way he called me, "Boppy" instead of "Mommy," the fact that he still loves to be tickled...yeah, these six years have been full of the highlights of my life.
We had a good last day of summer, all things considered. My cold sore bout has been a thorn in my flesh the last three weeks, but today was still special. Brian and Tyler spent a few hours at school while Brian got his classroom ready for tomorrow. Noah and Anniston stayed home with me. As Anniston sleeps all day, it gave Noah and me plenty of time to play. Which always magically makes him pleasant to be trapped in a house with. He is just a different kid when he's got all the attention and we're doing things he likes to do. We played dominoes, soccer, dodge ball and read three Berenstein Bear books. I don't always do a good job of treasuring how much he craves my attention, but I recognize what a gift it is that Noah is young enough that he wants to play with me. I know that won't always be the case.
Until today, Noah had displayed a surprising level of excitement over kindergarten. He loved seeing his classroom and finding his desk at Meet the Teacher. He smiled and made eye contact with his teacher as he shook her hand. And that is huge for my shy guy who still wouldn't greet his preschool teachers at the end of the school year in May. I think that one year of holding him back made a huge difference in his confidence and I'm grateful. His courage has given me courage. But, this afternoon, I think the anxiety began to set in. He began to say he was going back to preschool tomorrow. That he wanted me to come teach his fitness class as I have the last three years. He began to call tomorrow "the sad day."
I had hoped to read The Kissing Hand to him tonight. A friend was going to give me her copy and I found out a few days ago that it had been misplaced and was likely donated to the church preschool department. That's okay, some other child will be blessed by it. But, as the day was winding down, I found myself needing to mark the start of this new phase of life with some sort of special reading. As Lord of the Flies is neither topically fitting for this situation nor age appropriate, I settled for a made up story. I knew enough about the story of Chester the Raccoon and his fears about the first day of school that I decided to wing it. I had the boys' rapt attention as I went on about a raccoon and what I supposed his fears might be. In the middle, I nearly got too choked up to finish my made up story (how pathetic was that...didn't I know what was coming?) but was able to regain composure. We concluded with the promise that Daddy and I would plant kisses that stick on Noah's palms in the morning. Mine may turn out to be air kisses because kisses full of herpes viruses that stick are no bueno. He, of course, asked what happens if he opens his hands. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy kisses are really, really sticky and they don't fall out. At least, that's what I told him. So, we'll see if holding our kisses to his cheeks helps him get through the day. I'm really looking forward to seeing the grin on his face when his whole family goes to pick him up.
Anyway, the boys are now tucked snug in their beds. Noah's favorite bedtime wish is, "Sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the big buggy bite you." And, if he hasn't said it to every member of the family, he tells one of us to pass it on. Tonight, it sounded especially sweet to me. Again because there will be a day that he no longer says that and this kindergarten thing is a great reminder of how fleeting time is.
So, here I am, on the eve of the first step to letting go.
My Dear Noah Jack,
I'm sitting here on the couch, wondering how we got here so soon. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up bright and early (maybe even dark and early) and get you ready for the first day of your school career. Preschool was practice, this is the real thing. Tomorrow begins a 17+ school career. But, really, it signals to me how one third of your time under my care has already flown by and how much faster these school years are going to go.
Tonight, you and Tyler played in the backyard while Daddy mowed. You ran in for a drink (cheeks all flushed, body all sweaty and heart all HAPPY) and I gave you a five minute warning. Just as I gave it, I realized that was the last one of the summer. Then I began to think that it was really the last one of your childhood, pre-school. From here on, you'll know what the end of summer brings. From now on, play days are no longer unlimited. You will not have seven days a week with which to play and be a kid.
Tonight, you are innocent to what it really means to be in school five days a week for seven hours each day. Tonight, you are still my baby but there is something new on the horizon. It is the last night before the lifelong process of letting go each parent faces. Tomorrow, August 23, marks the day that you step out into the world as your Daddy and I release you into God's care. Before we know it, we'll be making the drive to drop you off for our first night in your college dorm.
Shudder...
I think the weight of that is still hitting me. It's been so hectic the last few days with me fighting this cold sore outbreak from Hades and preparing for your combined birthday party with Tyler last night. This evening, I finally paused long enough to realize what it meant that I was making your lunch, setting out your clothes and writing you a love note for you to find in your lunch. I felt compelled to go into your room, where you and Tyler are soundly sleeping. While I normally pray in whatever position I'm in, tonight I felt the need to get on my knees as I faced your bed and prayed aloud. God had a Son, too, that He had to let go of so He could fulfill God's purpose for Him. Because He knows the love of a parent, I know God gets my Mommy heart. My heart tonight feels something like this...
Father, I thank you for the blessing of raising these three children. For the gift that you've given Brian and me in calling them ours. Father, I pray that our children are a blessing to You and that we are equipping them in the way that brings You glory. I pray for courage tomorrow, for Noah and us. I ask that You release him from any dread in the morning and allow him to fully enjoy his first day. Please help everything to go smoothly in the morning and let Him feel your peaceful presence throughout the day. I pray that he will be a blessing to You even as he is learning who You are. I pray that we have equipped him to be a blessing to those around him. I ask that You will help us release him and live with open fingers, knowing that these children are first Yours. You know how very much I long for these children to stay as they are; young and simple and free from the cares of the world. I want so much for them to stay this innocent and have such a funny way of looking at life. But, God, I know one of my most important roles as their Mother is letting them go, so help me do that. Let him be fully clothed in Your armor as he goes into the huge, wide world. Please help Noah to bless You in his mannerisms, his words and his thoughts. Father, I ask that you would bring people into his life that will strengthen his developing faith this next year. Please protect his heart and his mind as he goes into the world. Thank You for blessing my heart with his life.
P.S. Dear God, help me survive this letting go thing. And, also, sunrise.
In Jesus' name. Amen.
I love you with all my soul, Noah Jack. You'll always be my baby. I am so THANKFUL to be your Mommy!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A Time to Scatter Stones and a Time to Search
Tonight was one of those nights I hope to always to remember. Sometimes I actually ask God to help me have memory snapshots of moments like these where I can think back years from now and remember just how rich it was when our kids were young. But, lest I have a lapse in my memory, I suppose that's what this ol' blog is for.
Anyway, after we grilled some steaks and fixins, we decided to surprise the boys with a late evening firefly hunt. Oh, how I love the easy-going-ness of summer.
We walked down toward our neighborhood park and positioned ourselves in a grove of trees. While we spotted several fireflies, we were never able to get close enough to catch them. Hindsight is such a humorous thing. It turns out that spraying on gobs of insect repellent before going hunting for bugs is counterproductive. Ya think? We caught exactly zero fireflies. Next time we'll know we must make blood sacrifices and possibly risk the West Nile virus in order to secure such treasures as fireflies. But does anyone disagree it is worth it to have that jar full of lit up bugs at your bedside all night?
Anyway, after our lack of success with fireflies, we did the next best thing and let the boys run down to the playground and have some fun. I just love summer nights with no set schedules and places we have to be in the morning. It was pitch dark by then and Brian and I made our way over to the benches to watch the boys. And, as I ungracefully stretched out my pregnant self on the bench and laid my head in Brian's lap, we watched our offspring do what all puppies, bear cubs and children do best...PLAY.
You know those times where your blood pressure drops and your breathing slows down? I don't mean the kind where you are near death and you see angels flocking overhead, but the kind where everything negative fades away and all you see is the blessing before you. Well, that was tonight. Total contentment.
The boys found a new bug to hunt, June bugs, and gathered up at least 15 of them. We were far enough apart that I couldn't hear every word, but I delighted in their squeals with each new catch and watched their silhouettes run toward us, prizes in fist. Tyler, with his floppy hair, and Noah, with his steady-footed run. They showed us most of the bugs and we pretended to admire every one of them there in the pitch dark. After securing the bugs in the jar, they ran back to the lamp post across the playground and kept up the hunt. At some points, they dug through the pebbles and Tyler did some spontaneous somersaults. Because if there's one thing that makes this kid want to do somersaults, it's catching bugs. He also made a couple of pebble angels, which are similar to snow angels except that it's June and it's Texas and we barely remember what snow looks like by now.
I love watching the boys explore and soak in the wonder of God's creation. Except when it's 95 degrees and I'm swelling and I just want to sit in a dark room with a fan turned on high. Which is why it is a good thing for us to venture out when it's pitch dark. I asked Brian several times what he thought the boys were saying to each other or what he thought they were thinking about. Children are the coolest things. I often wish I could think like they think, just living in the moment and being fascinated by simple things. It filled my heart so much to see them being each other's best friend. Brian mentioned that he's kind of sad Anniston won't know her brothers at this age. By the time she's ready to go exploring for bugs, the boys will probably have moved on to other things, like video games. I wondered if they'd still squeal during bug hunts and RUN full speed to show us their catches at ages seven and nine when she's three. I sure hope so. I don't think I'll still want that for them at ages seventeen and nineteen because that would just be weird, but I could use a few more years of this childlike delight in my life. It's good for my soul.
I doled out a couple of half-hearted warnings that we had just five minutes left before we had to go, but I knew I really didn't mean them even when I spoke them. Someday, I will remember watching my boys catching June bugs under the light of that lamp post and not that they went to bed on time. And how they chased after that rabbit full speed (supersonic speed, as Tyler says) believing they really would catch it. I will, hopefully, remember the smallness of their busy bodies while they squatted low to the ground and dug through the pebbles. I hope I recall the way the lamp light shone down on their hair that remained shiny despite the dust. And how they romped through the unsteady pebbles to get to us. My heart will treasure the way they kept up their excited chatter even though I couldn't hear every word they said. Just watching them being brothers and deepening their best friendhood is enough for me.
And, when we finally did leave, Noah carefully protected the jar of treasures tightly in his arms while Tyler sat tall on his Daddy's shoulders and brushed his hands through every branch we went under. The boys took a shower to get all the pebble dust off and then hung out with me in the living room for awhile. Noah was so busy talking to me about his upcoming birthday (in two months), he didn't notice Brian sneak up until he had him tackled. Of course, Tyler just joined in the dogpile and there were more squeals of delight. And, again, I loved watching my three guys being buddies and deepening their best friendhood.
Although I have to say that wrestling right before bed, it turns out, is also counterproductive.
Doggone hindsight.
Anyway, after we grilled some steaks and fixins, we decided to surprise the boys with a late evening firefly hunt. Oh, how I love the easy-going-ness of summer.
We walked down toward our neighborhood park and positioned ourselves in a grove of trees. While we spotted several fireflies, we were never able to get close enough to catch them. Hindsight is such a humorous thing. It turns out that spraying on gobs of insect repellent before going hunting for bugs is counterproductive. Ya think? We caught exactly zero fireflies. Next time we'll know we must make blood sacrifices and possibly risk the West Nile virus in order to secure such treasures as fireflies. But does anyone disagree it is worth it to have that jar full of lit up bugs at your bedside all night?
Anyway, after our lack of success with fireflies, we did the next best thing and let the boys run down to the playground and have some fun. I just love summer nights with no set schedules and places we have to be in the morning. It was pitch dark by then and Brian and I made our way over to the benches to watch the boys. And, as I ungracefully stretched out my pregnant self on the bench and laid my head in Brian's lap, we watched our offspring do what all puppies, bear cubs and children do best...PLAY.
You know those times where your blood pressure drops and your breathing slows down? I don't mean the kind where you are near death and you see angels flocking overhead, but the kind where everything negative fades away and all you see is the blessing before you. Well, that was tonight. Total contentment.
The boys found a new bug to hunt, June bugs, and gathered up at least 15 of them. We were far enough apart that I couldn't hear every word, but I delighted in their squeals with each new catch and watched their silhouettes run toward us, prizes in fist. Tyler, with his floppy hair, and Noah, with his steady-footed run. They showed us most of the bugs and we pretended to admire every one of them there in the pitch dark. After securing the bugs in the jar, they ran back to the lamp post across the playground and kept up the hunt. At some points, they dug through the pebbles and Tyler did some spontaneous somersaults. Because if there's one thing that makes this kid want to do somersaults, it's catching bugs. He also made a couple of pebble angels, which are similar to snow angels except that it's June and it's Texas and we barely remember what snow looks like by now.
I love watching the boys explore and soak in the wonder of God's creation. Except when it's 95 degrees and I'm swelling and I just want to sit in a dark room with a fan turned on high. Which is why it is a good thing for us to venture out when it's pitch dark. I asked Brian several times what he thought the boys were saying to each other or what he thought they were thinking about. Children are the coolest things. I often wish I could think like they think, just living in the moment and being fascinated by simple things. It filled my heart so much to see them being each other's best friend. Brian mentioned that he's kind of sad Anniston won't know her brothers at this age. By the time she's ready to go exploring for bugs, the boys will probably have moved on to other things, like video games. I wondered if they'd still squeal during bug hunts and RUN full speed to show us their catches at ages seven and nine when she's three. I sure hope so. I don't think I'll still want that for them at ages seventeen and nineteen because that would just be weird, but I could use a few more years of this childlike delight in my life. It's good for my soul.
I doled out a couple of half-hearted warnings that we had just five minutes left before we had to go, but I knew I really didn't mean them even when I spoke them. Someday, I will remember watching my boys catching June bugs under the light of that lamp post and not that they went to bed on time. And how they chased after that rabbit full speed (supersonic speed, as Tyler says) believing they really would catch it. I will, hopefully, remember the smallness of their busy bodies while they squatted low to the ground and dug through the pebbles. I hope I recall the way the lamp light shone down on their hair that remained shiny despite the dust. And how they romped through the unsteady pebbles to get to us. My heart will treasure the way they kept up their excited chatter even though I couldn't hear every word they said. Just watching them being brothers and deepening their best friendhood is enough for me.
And, when we finally did leave, Noah carefully protected the jar of treasures tightly in his arms while Tyler sat tall on his Daddy's shoulders and brushed his hands through every branch we went under. The boys took a shower to get all the pebble dust off and then hung out with me in the living room for awhile. Noah was so busy talking to me about his upcoming birthday (in two months), he didn't notice Brian sneak up until he had him tackled. Of course, Tyler just joined in the dogpile and there were more squeals of delight. And, again, I loved watching my three guys being buddies and deepening their best friendhood.
Although I have to say that wrestling right before bed, it turns out, is also counterproductive.
Doggone hindsight.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Honey, I Love You, But...
Anyone ever play Honey, I Love You, but I Just Can't Smile?
Noah LOVES this game.
Basically, the other player tries to get you to laugh while you try to maintain composure.
Noah's problem is that he's the most laughing-est kid I know. He will laugh at anything.
And he should know by now that I have so little dignity I'm willing to do just about anything to win this game.
Oh, he did his best. He even did the "look elsewhere to calm yourself down" method.
Noah LOVES this game.
Basically, the other player tries to get you to laugh while you try to maintain composure.
Noah's problem is that he's the most laughing-est kid I know. He will laugh at anything.
And he should know by now that I have so little dignity I'm willing to do just about anything to win this game.
Oh, he did his best. He even did the "look elsewhere to calm yourself down" method.
Oh, yeah. He's about to lose it. Quick! Somebody tell him we haven't seen his cat in over two weeks and I'm guessing it became bobcat or coyote meal.
Too late...
It's a lost cause.
Brian decided to capture one round for posterity. And, also for proof when he tries to admit me to the nuthouse someday.
We will celebrate our tenth anniversary Thursday. Brian can't believe what a lucky guy he is. He would tell you he doesn't deserve me.
He really doesn't deserve me.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Days are Long, the Years Short
The number one piece of advice I heard from parents even before I became one is that the time with our young ones is fleeting and to treasure it while I can. I've tried to follow this advice very closely. It is one of those truly great pearls of wisdom. And, even while I've tried to daily be aware that this time is so very short, I still find myself putting my kids to bed nearly every night, ready to be done with the day. Nearly everyday, my mind and my energy are stretched to the limit. Many times, I complete the day feeling defeated. I question if I've done them right; if I should've/could've/would've done things differently if I'd stopped to remember this...the days are long, but the years are short. If I'd just faced all situations with that in the back of my mind, would I have reacted that way? Would I have ordered my days as I have? Would the television or cell phone have even been on? Would I have made more eye contact? Been more engaging in conversation?
Would I have had more adventures with the boys down by the tennis courts like we did last Friday? A day we needed the sunshine and fresh air so badly after Noah was sick for two days. It was a day when the house was in its usual state of Wreck but one where I didn't have an ounce of guilt over it. Because I knew I had not wasted that day on dusting, picking up or vacuuming. It was all about enjoying these short years with my boys.
Lately, I've been in a melancholy mood as I face Noah's departure from the preschool years and his entrance into elementary school. I feel no apprehension about his ability to do well in kindergarten or the quality of the school he will attend or any fears that this means that I, too, am growing older. Instead, my fear is that I've come to nearly six years with him and I wonder where the time went. One third of his life with us under one roof...gone. Poof. I wonder how much of it was wasted. I think, "Where is the reset button? I'm ready to do it right this time." Truthfully, even if I'd done it perfectly, I think I'd still be searching for that elusive reset button. No matter how I'd grade myself as a parent, pass or fail, my kids have exceeded all expectations with flying colors and I'd want to do it all over and over again.
As I watch both Noah and Tyler in fitness class, I'm well aware this is the last couple of weeks I'll be able to teach them. No longer will I have them for twenty minutes each Tuesday where I get to see their eyes light up because Mommy is their teacher. Everytime their classes come upstairs, I'm greeted by their huge smiles and love-filled shouts of, "Mommy!" I've made it a point lately to soak up their smiles and laughter as I get to watch them play in fitness. Their joy so refreshing, their gut-busting laughter so contagious. Lord, I thank you for the gift of teaching at their preschool.
And, speaking of preschool, today was Noah's first graduation practice. I stayed to help where I could but found it to be a struggle to keep the tears at bay. I could no longer stop them once they began singing. They sang some songs about the potential in them and about Jesus with them...and, oh yeah...weeping ensued.
My tear ducts opened and the tears rip-roared out of them. I had to leave so I could have a moment in the bathroom. And, if the ugly cry, complete with heaving sobs, red eyes and snotty nose is considered letting go, then, yeah, I let those tissues have it. I'm thankful they've got two more practices I can watch so I can practice staying composed during the real ceremony! And, if I don't, at least other parents can look and say, "Oh, that poor HORMONAL pregnant woman." In reality, surge of estrogen or not, this would've been a huge thing for me anyway.
I'm just not ready to let go of the preschool years. Such innocence in his curiosity, such fascination with the simple things, such unbridled love and joy. How long before he no longer says stuff like, "Hey! My weiner has a hole in it!" (yesterday) or how much longer will he chase me down for the third, fourth or fifth hug before he's mustered the courage to step fully into his classroom door (pretty much every Monday-Thursday)? How much longer will a rainbow make him jump and squeal (yesterday)? How many more kisses will he blow my way (five minutes ago)?
Please, God, let him still want to chase down butterflies this time next year. Please, God, let him still have the easiest laugh of anyone I know. He laughs at EVERYthing and always has. Please let him still make observations about the world he's still discovering. Observations that are totally wrong factually, but that are so very funny to hear. How much longer before he switches to "Mom" instead of "Mommy?" I love his tiny voice piping up from the backseat on our drives. I love that he loves to talk to me. And that the talk is nearly non-stop when we're in the car. How much longer will I have that? God, I love how his hand feels in mine. I'd like to hold onto it a bit, okay, a lot, longer.
Not to mention, ELEMENTARY school, the time when kids learn about the birds and the bees during snickered conversations on the playground. The years when their little ears pick up on words they've never heard before and they roll them around in their head before they try them out. The age when they start to notice the opposite sex and flirting begins a fleshly strugglefor the next 18, 65 years until blindness and/or dementia set in. And, heaven help me, Noah will learn that "it" is not really called a weiner and "that" is really not called "something else."
Noah, there will never be enough words, they could never be worthy. You are in the core of my being and I consider it my greatest privilege to be called Mommy. To be called your Mommy. I will never have enough of you. Will never be ready to stop hearing your thought-provoking questions, will never tire of your fascination with the little things, will never be ready to stop hugging you when you get boo-boos, will never forget how you've added so much laughter because the way you see things, will never be ready to move past this precious time I have with you. I am so thankful for the honor of raising you and I pray God will help me release you into this new phase, knowing that we are all still a work in progress, knowing that I'll keep making mistakes and having regrets along the way, but that I don't have to fear.
Because I know you are in God's hands.
But, you can hold mine for a little longer, too. Okay?
And, it's time for another trip to the bathroom now. Darn, estrogen surge...
Would I have had more adventures with the boys down by the tennis courts like we did last Friday? A day we needed the sunshine and fresh air so badly after Noah was sick for two days. It was a day when the house was in its usual state of Wreck but one where I didn't have an ounce of guilt over it. Because I knew I had not wasted that day on dusting, picking up or vacuuming. It was all about enjoying these short years with my boys.
Lately, I've been in a melancholy mood as I face Noah's departure from the preschool years and his entrance into elementary school. I feel no apprehension about his ability to do well in kindergarten or the quality of the school he will attend or any fears that this means that I, too, am growing older. Instead, my fear is that I've come to nearly six years with him and I wonder where the time went. One third of his life with us under one roof...gone. Poof. I wonder how much of it was wasted. I think, "Where is the reset button? I'm ready to do it right this time." Truthfully, even if I'd done it perfectly, I think I'd still be searching for that elusive reset button. No matter how I'd grade myself as a parent, pass or fail, my kids have exceeded all expectations with flying colors and I'd want to do it all over and over again.
As I watch both Noah and Tyler in fitness class, I'm well aware this is the last couple of weeks I'll be able to teach them. No longer will I have them for twenty minutes each Tuesday where I get to see their eyes light up because Mommy is their teacher. Everytime their classes come upstairs, I'm greeted by their huge smiles and love-filled shouts of, "Mommy!" I've made it a point lately to soak up their smiles and laughter as I get to watch them play in fitness. Their joy so refreshing, their gut-busting laughter so contagious. Lord, I thank you for the gift of teaching at their preschool.
And, speaking of preschool, today was Noah's first graduation practice. I stayed to help where I could but found it to be a struggle to keep the tears at bay. I could no longer stop them once they began singing. They sang some songs about the potential in them and about Jesus with them...and, oh yeah...weeping ensued.
My tear ducts opened and the tears rip-roared out of them. I had to leave so I could have a moment in the bathroom. And, if the ugly cry, complete with heaving sobs, red eyes and snotty nose is considered letting go, then, yeah, I let those tissues have it. I'm thankful they've got two more practices I can watch so I can practice staying composed during the real ceremony! And, if I don't, at least other parents can look and say, "Oh, that poor HORMONAL pregnant woman." In reality, surge of estrogen or not, this would've been a huge thing for me anyway.
I'm just not ready to let go of the preschool years. Such innocence in his curiosity, such fascination with the simple things, such unbridled love and joy. How long before he no longer says stuff like, "Hey! My weiner has a hole in it!" (yesterday) or how much longer will he chase me down for the third, fourth or fifth hug before he's mustered the courage to step fully into his classroom door (pretty much every Monday-Thursday)? How much longer will a rainbow make him jump and squeal (yesterday)? How many more kisses will he blow my way (five minutes ago)?
Please, God, let him still want to chase down butterflies this time next year. Please, God, let him still have the easiest laugh of anyone I know. He laughs at EVERYthing and always has. Please let him still make observations about the world he's still discovering. Observations that are totally wrong factually, but that are so very funny to hear. How much longer before he switches to "Mom" instead of "Mommy?" I love his tiny voice piping up from the backseat on our drives. I love that he loves to talk to me. And that the talk is nearly non-stop when we're in the car. How much longer will I have that? God, I love how his hand feels in mine. I'd like to hold onto it a bit, okay, a lot, longer.
Not to mention, ELEMENTARY school, the time when kids learn about the birds and the bees during snickered conversations on the playground. The years when their little ears pick up on words they've never heard before and they roll them around in their head before they try them out. The age when they start to notice the opposite sex and flirting begins a fleshly struggle
Noah, there will never be enough words, they could never be worthy. You are in the core of my being and I consider it my greatest privilege to be called Mommy. To be called your Mommy. I will never have enough of you. Will never be ready to stop hearing your thought-provoking questions, will never tire of your fascination with the little things, will never be ready to stop hugging you when you get boo-boos, will never forget how you've added so much laughter because the way you see things, will never be ready to move past this precious time I have with you. I am so thankful for the honor of raising you and I pray God will help me release you into this new phase, knowing that we are all still a work in progress, knowing that I'll keep making mistakes and having regrets along the way, but that I don't have to fear.
Because I know you are in God's hands.
But, you can hold mine for a little longer, too. Okay?
And, it's time for another trip to the bathroom now. Darn, estrogen surge...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Moment of the Day
Last Thursday, Tyler had a rough day at school, to say the least. I guess when you're three and you really, really, really wanted to be the line leader, it makes sense to hit your teacher when you don't get the coveted role. He has NEVER done anything close to this, aside from hitting his brother. And I think that just comes with the territory.
Needless to say, Brian and I were mortified and each had extensive conversations with him about respecting our teachers and not using our hands to hurt people. So, this morning, when he made his return to school after a sick day Tuesday, he again got a stern warning from Daddy about respecting his teachers.
When Brian got home from work, Tyler ran shrieking from his bedroom, "Daddy! Daaaaaaddy! Daddy!" And, as he ran into Brian's arms, he proudly announced, "Daddy! I didn't hit my teacher today!"
We aim high here, folks.
Needless to say, Brian and I were mortified and each had extensive conversations with him about respecting our teachers and not using our hands to hurt people. So, this morning, when he made his return to school after a sick day Tuesday, he again got a stern warning from Daddy about respecting his teachers.
When Brian got home from work, Tyler ran shrieking from his bedroom, "Daddy! Daaaaaaddy! Daddy!" And, as he ran into Brian's arms, he proudly announced, "Daddy! I didn't hit my teacher today!"
We aim high here, folks.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sick Day Snuggles
Day Three of The Cough.
But at least he's got a cute little friend to snuggle with.
And playing Playstation while wearing your cozy "feeties" doesn't hurt either.
But at least he's got a cute little friend to snuggle with.
And playing Playstation while wearing your cozy "feeties" doesn't hurt either.
The Slippery Slope I Just Ain't Ready to Tackle
Tyler just came crying to me, saying Noah had hurt his weiner.
So, I calmly called Noah over and explained that, not only is it not nice to hurt his brother, but it's especially dangerous to hurt his weiner. I thought I was rolling along as smoothly as possible, considering the topic.
Until he asked me the age-old question.
"Why?"
And the best I could come up with was, "Because he'll need it someday."
And then I prayed that would be the end of that.
Lord, have mercy.
So, I calmly called Noah over and explained that, not only is it not nice to hurt his brother, but it's especially dangerous to hurt his weiner. I thought I was rolling along as smoothly as possible, considering the topic.
Until he asked me the age-old question.
"Why?"
And the best I could come up with was, "Because he'll need it someday."
And then I prayed that would be the end of that.
Lord, have mercy.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tyler "Reads" A Bedtime Story
This little video makes me so happy. My boy likes to read!
Big brother thought he needed some guidance. I think Noah may have a career in teaching just like his daddy someday.
Incidentally, Tyler keeps sticking his tongue behind his upper lip because he had just had his upper labial frenulum (yes, I looked that up) torn by the box Noah threw at him. And the bandage on his right wrist is for the 3rd degree burn he got when he tried to reach for some brownies straight out of the oven. Thank goodness his black eye from falling/being helped out of the bunkbed by Noah finally cleared up or y'all might call CPS on us. Good gracious, these things called boys.
Big brother thought he needed some guidance. I think Noah may have a career in teaching just like his daddy someday.
Incidentally, Tyler keeps sticking his tongue behind his upper lip because he had just had his upper labial frenulum (yes, I looked that up) torn by the box Noah threw at him. And the bandage on his right wrist is for the 3rd degree burn he got when he tried to reach for some brownies straight out of the oven. Thank goodness his black eye from falling/being helped out of the bunkbed by Noah finally cleared up or y'all might call CPS on us. Good gracious, these things called boys.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Noah Bikes and Brian Curls
I'm going through some files and finding videos and pictures I never blogged about, but meant to. Thus, the recent postings from DECEMBER. From last September, I dug up this little treasure.
I love his concentration. And his laugh.
And, it's nice that he was barely five and unable to point out that I had a "whole street to stand on" when I told him he had a "whole street" to ride on.
As for Brian, if teaching doesn't work out, maybe he'll give Olympic curling a try. I think he has natural form. I love a man who curls.
I treasure these sweet moments.
I love his concentration. And his laugh.
And, it's nice that he was barely five and unable to point out that I had a "whole street to stand on" when I told him he had a "whole street" to ride on.
As for Brian, if teaching doesn't work out, maybe he'll give Olympic curling a try. I think he has natural form. I love a man who curls.
I treasure these sweet moments.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Oh, I Wish I Had An Oscar Mayer Weiner
A few weeks ago, our Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group had a seminary professor as a guest speaker. His talk was about teaching your kiddos about sex. Obviously, our little ones are too young to really grasp the entire concept, but he gave his opinion about what age to start introducing specific topics.
Starting with what to call your private parts.
He is of the opinion that children ought to know proper names for body parts from the start. I am indifferent to that opinion when it comes to someone else's children. I say teach them what you're comfortable with. Yes, it would oog me out to have a three year old walk up to me, replay the scene from Kindergarten Cop and deliver that famous one liner, "Boys have a p---- and girls have a v-----." But, to each his own.
However, for our household, "it" has always been addressed by it's proper scientific name - "weiner." Somehow, as Brian and I considered the vast list of options before us - willy, wee wee, tee tee'r, ding a ling and so on - we settled on "weiner."
And, as for "that," well, we just don't discuss Mommy's "that." I still can't write the word here, but I think I could handle using the proper term for men with the boys. HOWEVER, I GET ALL SQUEEMISH AND WANT TO GIGGLE AND RUN AWAY when I think of using the v word around my boys!!!! I even want to giggle when my gynecologist uses it. She does not think that is funny, though. So, for now, I'm at peace with the boys thinking I bring the fourth weiner to the family set.
At least I was until this professor's talk.
After his talk, I decided I'd like to be all progressive and secure with my privates and use the proper names like the cool, new millennium mommies do. The opportunity was perfectly presented when Tyler followed me into the bathroom one day. As he studied me sitting down, he asked, again, if I have a weiner. This is a topic of conversation, well, nearly everytime I go to the bathroom with an audience.
Don't you just love that precious, precious curiosity.
So, I sucked in my breath and decided this was the big day. We were going to have "the talk."
Not "that" talk, but the three year old version of "the talk."
I decided the best way was to make no big deal out of it and just state the facts. And this is what I gave him...
"Well, Tyler, you know what, girls don't have a, um, (cough), um, a...well, we don't have a...
Weiner."
Failure #1. Attempt #2...
"You know, Tyler, girls have a....(cough), um, mommies have....
Something Else."
Failure #2.
Attempt #1 to save the day and still be a fun, if not cool, progressive, new millennium Mommy with an abundance of maturity...
"Hey! Wanna go watch some cartoons?!"
I know, I know. I'm disappointed in myself, too. I thought I could do it, but, when the moment came, I couldn't make my lips go into those shapes and shove the words out.
But, you know what? That is why God made Blockbuster and why Arnold became an actor. And that is why, when they turn 13, we'll be renting Kindergarten Cop.
So what if I'm stuck in 1990? They made cool moms back then, too.
Starting with what to call your private parts.
He is of the opinion that children ought to know proper names for body parts from the start. I am indifferent to that opinion when it comes to someone else's children. I say teach them what you're comfortable with. Yes, it would oog me out to have a three year old walk up to me, replay the scene from Kindergarten Cop and deliver that famous one liner, "Boys have a p---- and girls have a v-----." But, to each his own.
However, for our household, "it" has always been addressed by it's proper scientific name - "weiner." Somehow, as Brian and I considered the vast list of options before us - willy, wee wee, tee tee'r, ding a ling and so on - we settled on "weiner."
And, as for "that," well, we just don't discuss Mommy's "that." I still can't write the word here, but I think I could handle using the proper term for men with the boys. HOWEVER, I GET ALL SQUEEMISH AND WANT TO GIGGLE AND RUN AWAY when I think of using the v word around my boys!!!! I even want to giggle when my gynecologist uses it. She does not think that is funny, though. So, for now, I'm at peace with the boys thinking I bring the fourth weiner to the family set.
At least I was until this professor's talk.
After his talk, I decided I'd like to be all progressive and secure with my privates and use the proper names like the cool, new millennium mommies do. The opportunity was perfectly presented when Tyler followed me into the bathroom one day. As he studied me sitting down, he asked, again, if I have a weiner. This is a topic of conversation, well, nearly everytime I go to the bathroom with an audience.
Don't you just love that precious, precious curiosity.
So, I sucked in my breath and decided this was the big day. We were going to have "the talk."
Not "that" talk, but the three year old version of "the talk."
I decided the best way was to make no big deal out of it and just state the facts. And this is what I gave him...
"Well, Tyler, you know what, girls don't have a, um, (cough), um, a...well, we don't have a...
Weiner."
Failure #1. Attempt #2...
"You know, Tyler, girls have a....(cough), um, mommies have....
Something Else."
Failure #2.
Attempt #1 to save the day and still be a fun, if not cool, progressive, new millennium Mommy with an abundance of maturity...
"Hey! Wanna go watch some cartoons?!"
I know, I know. I'm disappointed in myself, too. I thought I could do it, but, when the moment came, I couldn't make my lips go into those shapes and shove the words out.
But, you know what? That is why God made Blockbuster and why Arnold became an actor. And that is why, when they turn 13, we'll be renting Kindergarten Cop.
So what if I'm stuck in 1990? They made cool moms back then, too.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Clean "Teef!"
Tyler had his first dental appointment and was pretty excited about it.
I think it helped that he remembered the little play area from Noah's appointment.
I think it helped that he remembered the little play area from Noah's appointment.
Ooh, the anticipation. I wish I were this cool and collected in the dentist's chair.
But maybe if they gave me cool sunglasses and Scooby Doo to watch, that might encourage me a little.
Tyler's confused. He thinks, "Let me get this straight, we're paying them this much money and this little mirror is all they can afford? " He wasn't impressed.
He's just hoping they didn't skimp on their stickers.
Notice how rigid Tyler's hand stays in this video. He put on such a brave face, but his body language belied his tension.
My dad remembers a dentist appointment he took me to around middle school. As he waited in the waiting room just outside the exam room, he could see my feet rising off the bed. My feet stayed elevated nearly the entire appointment.
I miss having abdominal excellence like that.
Sigh...
Anyway, Tyler did great on his first vist to the dentist. What a champ! And, no cavities!
Time for stickers! And, yeah, they were awesome.
Twistaaaa
Noah decided to bust out Twister the other night.
Maybe holding your mouth a certain way helps pull off crazy yoga moves.
Daddy decided to get in on the action.
Noah decided playing tackle was more fun.
What do you think of our new flooring? It's still a work in progress, but I'm loving the easy clean-up and lack of stains!!!!
Let's just hope it can hold up to the continued tackling that's sure to happen with three boys in the house.
Maybe holding your mouth a certain way helps pull off crazy yoga moves. Daddy decided to get in on the action. Noah decided playing tackle was more fun.What do you think of our new flooring? It's still a work in progress, but I'm loving the easy clean-up and lack of stains!!!!Let's just hope it can hold up to the continued tackling that's sure to happen with three boys in the house.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Well, I'll Be. It's November.
Wow, November's been a silent blogging month. Even my friends haven't been updating their blogs as much. For me, it's a mixture of the busyness of back to back to back holidays and trying to cut back on time in front of the computer screen. It also seems I have a bad case of the "started a draft in my head, but never got it typed" thingy. Blogger's block, maybe?
One thing's for sure, we are getting to the stage where I'll be taping a lot of kid performances. Starting with the boys' preschool director's 25th anniversary last week and the songs the kids sang to her.
Here is Noah's performance. True to form, he has a laser-like focus on his music teacher. He is in the preschool music zone.
Here is Tyler's performance. The little long-haired girl next to him is Julia. True to form, he makes it about 53 seconds into the performance before he goes for a change offace pace.
Honestly, I'm just proud of him for standing on that stage for 2 1/2 minutes without kissing Julia.
Noah will make his big acting debut during tomorrow's Thanksgiving skit. He gets to be a pilgrim ready for a feast with the natives. Stay tuned for another video!
One thing's for sure, we are getting to the stage where I'll be taping a lot of kid performances. Starting with the boys' preschool director's 25th anniversary last week and the songs the kids sang to her.
Here is Noah's performance. True to form, he has a laser-like focus on his music teacher. He is in the preschool music zone.
Here is Tyler's performance. The little long-haired girl next to him is Julia. True to form, he makes it about 53 seconds into the performance before he goes for a change of
Honestly, I'm just proud of him for standing on that stage for 2 1/2 minutes without kissing Julia.
Noah will make his big acting debut during tomorrow's Thanksgiving skit. He gets to be a pilgrim ready for a feast with the natives. Stay tuned for another video!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Just Another Manic Thursday
Part Uno
I chose the most humid, windy day to get my driver's license renewed.
Incidentally, when did they start calling organ donation an "anatomical gift?" Creepy.
After spending some extra time getting ready because, you know, these things are part of your life for six whole years, I walked out of the house to about the thickest humidity and wind combination you can imagine for October.
I'm still trying to figure out this concept called "plan ahead."
I have a feeling I'm going to regret my lack of foresight when I get my new dl in about six weeks and I look like Nick Nolte's long lost love child.
I chose the most humid, windy day to get my driver's license renewed.
Incidentally, when did they start calling organ donation an "anatomical gift?" Creepy.
After spending some extra time getting ready because, you know, these things are part of your life for six whole years, I walked out of the house to about the thickest humidity and wind combination you can imagine for October.
I'm still trying to figure out this concept called "plan ahead."
I have a feeling I'm going to regret my lack of foresight when I get my new dl in about six weeks and I look like Nick Nolte's long lost love child.
For the next six years. Awesome.
Little known fact that he got passed up for the role of Han Solo. That went to Harrison Ford instead. But maybe he was the hair inspiration for Chewbacca, so I guess he didn't really lose out in the end. Chewbacca rocks.
Anyway, I walked in to the DMV to find that, GLORY BE, I was first in line. I'm not sure what was the greater shock: that the DMV was line-free or that I got somewhere before anyone else did.
As I stood at the front of the line, I glanced around and noticed a bathroom. I then had to wrestle with the question of whether one last mirror check was worth risking my place in line. Since no one else followed me in, I decided to tempt fate and walked into the bathroom to see about a mirror.
And one glance in that mirror affirmed my decision to check things out. Glory be, it is amazing what walking through a blanket of humidity will do to your hair.
It was then that I saw in the reflection a hand dryer...
The fates then turned the tables and decided to tempt me. And, I, the girl who is lucky to walk out of the house with matching shoes and, I, the girl who applies make up at stoplights, found myself feeling a little self conscious about being hair twins with Chewbacca the next six years.
So, I eyed the faucet, then eyed the dryer and then the faucet again.
Well, you know what I did.
Oh yes I did.
I took that glorious stream of water and ran my fingers through my hair to get it just damp enough to work with. It was like my own little Regis Salon, only with a commode just feet from me. And the possibility of being caught in my embarrassing state of vanity if another person walked in.
But, there turned out to be enough risk taker in me and, after some hurried primping, I walked out to find that in about two short minutes, I was suddenly the third person in line. And, though there were employees buzzing all around, that is one place where a lot seems to be going on, but nothing productive appears to be happening.
Sort of like my daily routine as a Mom. Sometimes I feel like I couldn't be busier, but then I look around and wonder what the heck I've accomplished.
Anyway, who knows what my hair did before I actually got to the front of the line and had my picture snapped. We'll see in a few weeks, I guess.
Well, I will. There's a high probability you never will.
Unless we are trying to one-up each other in who looks most like a Star Wars character in their ID.
In which case I win. And I have the photo to prove it.
Part Dos
I had it in my mind that I had some shopping to do that same day. Thursdays are my best errand days since the boys are in school. I had a couple of stops to make before going to a local grocery store's going out of business sale. I was tempted to go home, though, when the downpour that brought on all that humidity finally arrived mid-morning and left me with little ability to see very far. Once I made the mad dash to my car, I hurried to roll down my windows to clear them, wiped my mirrors and used the back of my hand to wipe my windshield so I could see through the fogged up window. I nearly re-parked, though, when I realized I could barely see. I had never seen it rain so hard I couldn't even see the road right in front of me. Glory be, it was bad.
It was then that I finally realized I didn't have my wipers on.
You know, the things you turn on FIRST when trying to see through rain.
I think the fates came back and taunted me for giving in to their earlier temptation at the DMV.
Nonetheless, I made it to the grocery store, where I saved 71%, but also stocked up on things I am not sure I would normally buy.
I was, however, excited to score a great deal on some dried fruit (raisins, cranberries, cherries, etc.) Until I noticed the Use By date was January.
2009.
Nine months ago.
Glory be. I think I see why they went out of business.
Part Tres
Picked the boys up from school only to learn that Tyler had found other "activities" to pursue during nap time. His teacher told me four of the kids, Tyler and three girls, were placed in one area for nap time. Somehow, all four ended up with their heads in the same corner where all their nap mats met. His teacher then noticed that Tyler was stroking all three of the girls' hair and giving kisses to one little classmate, Julia. It's like he has a harem now.
And when I think harem, I no longer think "Casanova."
I think..."Hugh Hefner."
Glory be.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Father/Son Campout & Mother/Son Girls' Night Out
Our church had a father/son campout Friday night in Van Alstyne. Tyler was supposed to go, too, but he's had some snotty nose thing going on and I didn't want him to get worse in the 40 degree weather. It might just be allergies since he has nothing else going on, but I wasn't willing to risk pneumonia or swine flu to test his immune system.
Ah, swine flu, how you have slowly sucked the fun out of life.
Instead, Tyler got to hang out with a bunch of women at girls' night at the Andersons' house. Thankfully, there was another little preschooler there for T to play with. (Girls' night outs have changed over the years. We bring our kids, wear pj's, drink hot tea and leave by 10 p.m. Before we know it, they'll consist of bingo, knitting, conversations about cold cream and a 7:30 bedtime.).
Anyway, I think he was impressed with Maggie's train playing skills. They played so well together and kept themselves entertained while the mommies played games and talked. After we got home, Tyler looked deep into my eyes and declared, "Maggie is so pretty." What can I say? He has a heart for girls. It's like I'm raising Casanova.
As for our camping men, they had a blast. This is Noah jumping around in the tent once it was erected. Pitched. Whatever.
This is the guys eating dinner (weiners and chips). After raining all of Wednesday, the ground was still muddy. I'm having such a blast getting the mud out of those jeans. Clorox 2...I heart you.
This is Noah making a smiley face out of chips.
I'm wondering if they also served some "special" brownies...
Noah thought it would be fun to make a bunk bed out of their cots. Not sure it worked out very well.
Brian noticed stadium lights not too far from their camp site (it's like he has an internal GPS for anything sports related), so they hopped in the car to watch some Van Alstyne football. Brian got to see several kids he used to coach and Noah scored a ring pop and some hot cocoa. 
This next pic is with one of the boys' buddies, Grant. I just love the mud splatters on his face. I'm sure his Daddy did, too. Poor guy ran out of clothes from all the falling in the mud!
Ah, swine flu, how you have slowly sucked the fun out of life.
Instead, Tyler got to hang out with a bunch of women at girls' night at the Andersons' house. Thankfully, there was another little preschooler there for T to play with. (Girls' night outs have changed over the years. We bring our kids, wear pj's, drink hot tea and leave by 10 p.m. Before we know it, they'll consist of bingo, knitting, conversations about cold cream and a 7:30 bedtime.).
Anyway, I think he was impressed with Maggie's train playing skills. They played so well together and kept themselves entertained while the mommies played games and talked. After we got home, Tyler looked deep into my eyes and declared, "Maggie is so pretty." What can I say? He has a heart for girls. It's like I'm raising Casanova.
As for our camping men, they had a blast. This is Noah jumping around in the tent once it was erected. Pitched. Whatever.
This is the guys eating dinner (weiners and chips). After raining all of Wednesday, the ground was still muddy. I'm having such a blast getting the mud out of those jeans. Clorox 2...I heart you. This is Noah making a smiley face out of chips. I'm wondering if they also served some "special" brownies...Noah thought it would be fun to make a bunk bed out of their cots. Not sure it worked out very well.Brian noticed stadium lights not too far from their camp site (it's like he has an internal GPS for anything sports related), so they hopped in the car to watch some Van Alstyne football. Brian got to see several kids he used to coach and Noah scored a ring pop and some hot cocoa. Back at the tent, there were a couple of card sharks playing Rummy and Old Maid. Looks like Brian is going down. 
And even though they had extra blankets, thick sleeping bags, sweatshirts and knit caps on, Brian got very little sleep from being cold and hearing people snore. Somewhere in the night, there was a thief who stole his extra blanket. We are not sure, but we suspect it was a five year old thief, judging by they muddy tracks he left behind. The next morning, they awoke to some kids using their tent as third base.
This next pic is with one of the boys' buddies, Grant. I just love the mud splatters on his face. I'm sure his Daddy did, too. Poor guy ran out of clothes from all the falling in the mud! Despite cold weather, stolen blankets, mud, special brownies and all, they still had a blast and Noah spent Saturday night seriously wailing about wanting to go camping again. THAT night. I mean, it was the ugly cry. For over 20 minutes. Or 30, I don't remember which. But, it was sincere and that's what counts.
I get it, though. The smell and warmth of a campfire, marshmellows roasting, sleeping outdoors, solitude, relating to each other with a lack of distractions, crisp air...I get it.
There is just something special about getting back to the simple things of life.
So, if the weather cooperates, I think the four of us will find ourselves on our own camping trip and dancing in a tent in a couple of weeks. Looks like I'll be buying some more Clorox 2. Oh, how I heart the Clorox 2.
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