So today was the Hubsters birthday. I baked bread, made dinner, baked a cake...and for the first time since Soccer season really got going, we sat down as a family at the TABLE and ate together.
We were asking the kids about their days at school and what they learned.
Henry apparently went on a nature walk with his class. Where he saw a deer and a moose.
Don't get too excited yet.
He held his hands out about 1 foot apart and said "They were this big" and then he continued "The deer was just a baby because I saw it hatch out of its egg..."
huh, Kindergarten is working...right????
Friday, September 24, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
On Becoming a Soccer Mom
OK so as you may or may not have figured out, being a Soccer mom is a little out of the box for me...I am not sure that I have sporty enough attire and matching tennis shoes for the job...but none the less, I found my self scheduling my life around 5...yes that is 5 soccer games last weekend.
I am not sure what has happened to sports for the young since I was...young that is...But apparently now, all our young folks starting at 6 months, are “in training” to become the next Pele, Elway or Phelps. I say this with love in my heart for all those parents who are putting their eggs in that basket...Seriously????
I know after this weekend that Henry's basket has no eggs in it for soccer. His first soccer game was spent, doing lots of antics, and getting lots of laughs from the sideline, but not a whole lot of soccer playing. He was dancing, running off the sidelines and "chatting" with random people.
Mind you I was not close enough to hear the conversation, but I saw the confused look on the random Dads face that he picked to go and tell his story to. Lord only knows what he was talking about...I am just praying he was not being the Robot from the planet Shnerp with him...(I believe that is saved only for his Goddess Teacher, but still, I am a little concerned.)
He pretended to have a sword fight with an apparently very vicious wind monster in the middle of the field, while the other players kicked the ball around him. He spent a lot of time rolling around on the ground...and I spent a lot of time pointing to an innocent parent next to me and saying very loudly “Boy YOUR SON HENRY out there is having fun!”
They did not take kindly to this, as it was their son who was scoring the goals even through the complete interference of my son’s superman cape flapping with his shirt half off.
In the end, I had to admit he was mine...He picked a flower for me out in the field and brought it over to me.
I hugged him and said he played great. I guess that’s ok...It is very un-soccery of me and I may have hurt his chances to play for a big college now by telling him that what he did was actually playing soccer, I mean he is ALREADY 5 and all...
I Guess even though his entire performance was like a half time show, I think he had fun. I just took those virtual eggs out of that basket and made a deal with myself to just enjoy watching my son be a robot in the field, after all...he is ONLY 5!!!!!
I am not sure what has happened to sports for the young since I was...young that is...But apparently now, all our young folks starting at 6 months, are “in training” to become the next Pele, Elway or Phelps. I say this with love in my heart for all those parents who are putting their eggs in that basket...Seriously????
I know after this weekend that Henry's basket has no eggs in it for soccer. His first soccer game was spent, doing lots of antics, and getting lots of laughs from the sideline, but not a whole lot of soccer playing. He was dancing, running off the sidelines and "chatting" with random people.
Mind you I was not close enough to hear the conversation, but I saw the confused look on the random Dads face that he picked to go and tell his story to. Lord only knows what he was talking about...I am just praying he was not being the Robot from the planet Shnerp with him...(I believe that is saved only for his Goddess Teacher, but still, I am a little concerned.)
He pretended to have a sword fight with an apparently very vicious wind monster in the middle of the field, while the other players kicked the ball around him. He spent a lot of time rolling around on the ground...and I spent a lot of time pointing to an innocent parent next to me and saying very loudly “Boy YOUR SON HENRY out there is having fun!”
They did not take kindly to this, as it was their son who was scoring the goals even through the complete interference of my son’s superman cape flapping with his shirt half off.
In the end, I had to admit he was mine...He picked a flower for me out in the field and brought it over to me.
I hugged him and said he played great. I guess that’s ok...It is very un-soccery of me and I may have hurt his chances to play for a big college now by telling him that what he did was actually playing soccer, I mean he is ALREADY 5 and all...
I Guess even though his entire performance was like a half time show, I think he had fun. I just took those virtual eggs out of that basket and made a deal with myself to just enjoy watching my son be a robot in the field, after all...he is ONLY 5!!!!!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Kindergarten Memories
So here's the thing, I had girls first. And let me tell you, that is just not an OK order to go in.
I had little girls who wanted me to walk them to their classroom. I had little girls who got off the bus and couldn't stop talking long enough for me to ask a question about their school day, much less catch a breath. I heard all about their teacher, about their classroom, about all the friends that they made, and the shoes those friends wore, the classes they took, the letter A they wrote and what color they wrote it in.
Then....there is Henry...The boy....
The first day of school his favorite thing at school was: " I don't remember what I did mom, it was school"
The second day of school his favorite thing at school was: "I guess I like the bus"
The third day of school his favorite thing at school was: "I really liked Recess today mom"
The fourth day he came off the bus looking like someone shot his dog, when I asked him what was wrong he said: "They promised we were going to have a fire alarm, we practiced lining up and everything and then they didn't let me do it."
The fifth day of School his favorite thing was: "The fire drill."
The Sixth day of School his favorite thing was: "I kinda liked gym"
The Seventh day of School his favorite thing was: " MOM I am so tired can I stay home tomorrow and just watch TV...seriously mom...seriously...school is too long"
The Eighth day...I didn't even ask...whats the point? It will probably be tying his shoe because that was when he was outside, before he even entered the school....
I am pretty sure that he is going, he comes home with work, so unless he is stealing some other helpless Kindergartners work and shoving it in his own folder, I have evidence that he is actually attending school...and not just spending his day out at recess or sneaking into alternate gym classes, yet he cannot tell me the name of ANYONE in his class...and forget about the color of their shoes.
So I guess this is it...now that I am no longer witness to his everyday life, I will no longer be privy to what is going on in that little pea brain of his because it is very clear...I am not going to be told, unless I catch him during a fire drill.
I had little girls who wanted me to walk them to their classroom. I had little girls who got off the bus and couldn't stop talking long enough for me to ask a question about their school day, much less catch a breath. I heard all about their teacher, about their classroom, about all the friends that they made, and the shoes those friends wore, the classes they took, the letter A they wrote and what color they wrote it in.
Then....there is Henry...The boy....
The first day of school his favorite thing at school was: " I don't remember what I did mom, it was school"
The second day of school his favorite thing at school was: "I guess I like the bus"
The third day of school his favorite thing at school was: "I really liked Recess today mom"
The fourth day he came off the bus looking like someone shot his dog, when I asked him what was wrong he said: "They promised we were going to have a fire alarm, we practiced lining up and everything and then they didn't let me do it."
The fifth day of School his favorite thing was: "The fire drill."
The Sixth day of School his favorite thing was: "I kinda liked gym"
The Seventh day of School his favorite thing was: " MOM I am so tired can I stay home tomorrow and just watch TV...seriously mom...seriously...school is too long"
The Eighth day...I didn't even ask...whats the point? It will probably be tying his shoe because that was when he was outside, before he even entered the school....
I am pretty sure that he is going, he comes home with work, so unless he is stealing some other helpless Kindergartners work and shoving it in his own folder, I have evidence that he is actually attending school...and not just spending his day out at recess or sneaking into alternate gym classes, yet he cannot tell me the name of ANYONE in his class...and forget about the color of their shoes.
So I guess this is it...now that I am no longer witness to his everyday life, I will no longer be privy to what is going on in that little pea brain of his because it is very clear...I am not going to be told, unless I catch him during a fire drill.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Half Time Show
So it is the middle of the Hokie vs Boise game...a little intense...a few choice words, much pacing going on...and all of the sudden we hear rain in the hall way...or rather flooding coming down the stairs...as you all may or may not know we have had our experience with flooding this year so immediately we jump up and run to the stairs...
There is Henry...underwear around the ankles, shaking off at the top. Apparantly sleep peeing is his new trick. Standing half asleep at the top of the stairs the boy just peed the whole way down.
My oldest ran to the stairs and being so globally minded and concerned with others yelling "did he just pee on my art supplies?"
I am wondering if I should tell her now or later, that her art may have a "special" scent and we should hope that her art teacher doesn't have an alpha dog that gets theatened easily.
I am glad that it is half time because Jamie and I were laughing so hard it took us 20 minutes to stop long enough to clean it up. I put him back to bed, I am not sure that he knows yet what he did...
I can only laugh so much though, sleep peeing is genetic...I seem to remember at 5 backing into the linen closet in our bathroom and peeing on the blankets...But you have to know, genetic or not, its coming up at graduation...
There is Henry...underwear around the ankles, shaking off at the top. Apparantly sleep peeing is his new trick. Standing half asleep at the top of the stairs the boy just peed the whole way down.
My oldest ran to the stairs and being so globally minded and concerned with others yelling "did he just pee on my art supplies?"
I am wondering if I should tell her now or later, that her art may have a "special" scent and we should hope that her art teacher doesn't have an alpha dog that gets theatened easily.
I am glad that it is half time because Jamie and I were laughing so hard it took us 20 minutes to stop long enough to clean it up. I put him back to bed, I am not sure that he knows yet what he did...
I can only laugh so much though, sleep peeing is genetic...I seem to remember at 5 backing into the linen closet in our bathroom and peeing on the blankets...But you have to know, genetic or not, its coming up at graduation...
Friday, August 27, 2010
Uh-oh
So as you know, Henry is starting kindergarten...I am not totally sure how I feel about that. I will have to wait for my blog on September 1st. I could be a mess, trying to type while my computer board shorts out from the tears landing on it....or it could just look like this: alkd hfu lakhfoir lslirbh, due to the many mimosa’s I have already had at 5 in the morning, starting the celebration. I would say that there could be something in between...but, really? How well do you know me? There isn't a whole lot of in between with Pie!
So we went to his Kindergarten orientation the other day. He actually behaved very well...but some of this was due to the crippling anxiety surging through his body.
See, Henry is not a "change" kid, and unfortunately things got switched up on him. There must have been some kind of storm of flood or something in 2004 because the kindergarten class this year is HUGE. (For our small town that means that it exceeded its normal 38 kids and now is encroaching on 48! Heavens!) So they had to create a new class in order to keep the numbers below 20 in each class. Henry was one of the kids that got switched to the new teacher. He was not over enthusiastic about this change UNTIL....
He saw his new teacher.
Many of you know that Henry is a fan of blondes. He has been since he was born. If you had blonde hair you would get a charming smile...if not...perhaps the spit up was for you. I cannot control this, seemingly genetic flaw.
One of my best friends Dana, was plagued by Henry the first few years of his life, but she got over it since he referred to her as "pretty lady!"
His new teacher walks up to him, a six foot, long blonde hair, 20 something, Norwegian Viking. When she put her hand on his shoulder to say hello, Henry held his breath and turned so red I thought he was going to pass out.
I finally nudged him and said "Can you say Hi to your new teacher?"
At which point, the long stream of breath he had been holding let out right in her face and something that I think was English came out of his mouth..."
"Hoooolooooo" he rambles with a goofy look on his face and then starts to dance around in circles in some sort of demented pigeon mating ritual.
She looks up at me all sweet and says "A shy one huh?"
I didn't have the heart to tell her that really this was his way of flirting, and that I hoped she could get one sensible word out of him throughout the year. As my son waddled off in a strange robot walk saying "Shnerp, I am from the planet Shnerp" I just smiled and said "Well, I guess, good luck?"
That evening when Jamie asked about his new teacher, again the face got red, and he looked at me: "YOU TELL HIM" He screamed.
"Tell him what?"
He tilts his head to the side gave me the raised eyebrow, knowing look and says, "You know..."
"What? Whisper it in my ear" I lean over and he says...
"She's Blonde..."
And there we go...we are starting Kindergarten....Lord help the Norwegian Goddess from escaping Henry's primitive flirting techniques....pretty sure she is going to get gum in her hair at some point this year...
So we went to his Kindergarten orientation the other day. He actually behaved very well...but some of this was due to the crippling anxiety surging through his body.
See, Henry is not a "change" kid, and unfortunately things got switched up on him. There must have been some kind of storm of flood or something in 2004 because the kindergarten class this year is HUGE. (For our small town that means that it exceeded its normal 38 kids and now is encroaching on 48! Heavens!) So they had to create a new class in order to keep the numbers below 20 in each class. Henry was one of the kids that got switched to the new teacher. He was not over enthusiastic about this change UNTIL....
He saw his new teacher.
Many of you know that Henry is a fan of blondes. He has been since he was born. If you had blonde hair you would get a charming smile...if not...perhaps the spit up was for you. I cannot control this, seemingly genetic flaw.
One of my best friends Dana, was plagued by Henry the first few years of his life, but she got over it since he referred to her as "pretty lady!"
His new teacher walks up to him, a six foot, long blonde hair, 20 something, Norwegian Viking. When she put her hand on his shoulder to say hello, Henry held his breath and turned so red I thought he was going to pass out.
I finally nudged him and said "Can you say Hi to your new teacher?"
At which point, the long stream of breath he had been holding let out right in her face and something that I think was English came out of his mouth..."
"Hoooolooooo" he rambles with a goofy look on his face and then starts to dance around in circles in some sort of demented pigeon mating ritual.
She looks up at me all sweet and says "A shy one huh?"
I didn't have the heart to tell her that really this was his way of flirting, and that I hoped she could get one sensible word out of him throughout the year. As my son waddled off in a strange robot walk saying "Shnerp, I am from the planet Shnerp" I just smiled and said "Well, I guess, good luck?"
That evening when Jamie asked about his new teacher, again the face got red, and he looked at me: "YOU TELL HIM" He screamed.
"Tell him what?"
He tilts his head to the side gave me the raised eyebrow, knowing look and says, "You know..."
"What? Whisper it in my ear" I lean over and he says...
"She's Blonde..."
And there we go...we are starting Kindergarten....Lord help the Norwegian Goddess from escaping Henry's primitive flirting techniques....pretty sure she is going to get gum in her hair at some point this year...
Friday, August 20, 2010
Two Henryisms for the Day
So Henry has a little speech issue. He can't say R's...yeah I know it does totally add to his persona with lots of mispronunciations...like we ride in a Cow...not a Car. We go to a Sto, not a store, and he has Sistows not sisters. But sometimes He also mishears things and re-says them as though it is something that has been in his vocabulary for ages.
The other Day I had a Not so proud parenting moment where my eldest...getting to be an eye-rolling-sulking-sighing teenager, did one of those things while I was being a stressed-out-not-using-effective-parenting-skills parent and I called her a wench. Yes I did, not proud of it but I did. A few minutes later Henry told Marshall he "would shaaow his Lego's" but he didn't want to because she was being a "workbench."
I am thankful that my almost always annoyed at the sibs teenager has a sense of humor and was able to laugh, because now when she doesn't act nice Henry dances around her singing "Marshall is a workbench, Marshall is a workbench." He really thinks he is saying something edgy and forbidden, but at least it lightens the moment...for now...but come 14 I have a feeling he had better watch his step. Henry being cute won't go far with a surly teenager who holds my genes in there somewhere.
The problem in my family is that once one of those things happens, it becomes part of our regular speech. So now for real, when I am irritated I call her a workbench. It is something that happened in my family, a bad gene we get from my dad, who to this day calls pocket books, ocketbooks, and hairbands waddies, and people Creeps of the first Water. I believe that this may cause some strife for my children in their future when they are in a fight and in all seriousness yell "workbench" at someone...I am pretty sure that may end in laughter at their expense...
We have another new one that has been added to our Nautical collection of strangeness. The other day Henry hands me one of his Lego masterpieces and says "mom look at my boat!" I smile and dutifully look at the 4000 guns that he seems to have attached to his small fishing dingy, because you know...you never know when an alien or dinosaur may pop out of the lake on a peaceful day and start a war with you on your 10 foot boat...
Then Henry says "And right here is how it floats...it has two Boobies!"
I raise my eyebrows and say "What?"
"This is how it floats because of these two BOOBIES..." He says louder, because Clearly I did not hear correctly the first time.
I am thinking to my self...only a guy would come up with a boat equipped with 4000 guns AND boobies attached, when my miss never-pronounce-anything-wrong-future-literature-professor middle child says giggling "Henry, did you mean Buoys? like out in the water?"
"Oh I thought they were Boobies, because Boobies float."
Hmmmm.....I would say to Henry's future girlfriends...please do not accept an invitation to go fishing with him...I am not sure why he will be asking....
The other Day I had a Not so proud parenting moment where my eldest...getting to be an eye-rolling-sulking-sighing teenager, did one of those things while I was being a stressed-out-not-using-effective-parenting-skills parent and I called her a wench. Yes I did, not proud of it but I did. A few minutes later Henry told Marshall he "would shaaow his Lego's" but he didn't want to because she was being a "workbench."
I am thankful that my almost always annoyed at the sibs teenager has a sense of humor and was able to laugh, because now when she doesn't act nice Henry dances around her singing "Marshall is a workbench, Marshall is a workbench." He really thinks he is saying something edgy and forbidden, but at least it lightens the moment...for now...but come 14 I have a feeling he had better watch his step. Henry being cute won't go far with a surly teenager who holds my genes in there somewhere.
The problem in my family is that once one of those things happens, it becomes part of our regular speech. So now for real, when I am irritated I call her a workbench. It is something that happened in my family, a bad gene we get from my dad, who to this day calls pocket books, ocketbooks, and hairbands waddies, and people Creeps of the first Water. I believe that this may cause some strife for my children in their future when they are in a fight and in all seriousness yell "workbench" at someone...I am pretty sure that may end in laughter at their expense...
We have another new one that has been added to our Nautical collection of strangeness. The other day Henry hands me one of his Lego masterpieces and says "mom look at my boat!" I smile and dutifully look at the 4000 guns that he seems to have attached to his small fishing dingy, because you know...you never know when an alien or dinosaur may pop out of the lake on a peaceful day and start a war with you on your 10 foot boat...
Then Henry says "And right here is how it floats...it has two Boobies!"
I raise my eyebrows and say "What?"
"This is how it floats because of these two BOOBIES..." He says louder, because Clearly I did not hear correctly the first time.
I am thinking to my self...only a guy would come up with a boat equipped with 4000 guns AND boobies attached, when my miss never-pronounce-anything-wrong-future-literature-professor middle child says giggling "Henry, did you mean Buoys? like out in the water?"
"Oh I thought they were Boobies, because Boobies float."
Hmmmm.....I would say to Henry's future girlfriends...please do not accept an invitation to go fishing with him...I am not sure why he will be asking....
Thursday, August 19, 2010
This That and The Other
So I have so much to catch up on...and I am not even going to pretend that I will do it because, in my many attempts to get back to blogging every day I seem to get worse. But I think that the fact that Henry will be going to Kindegarten this year may help my time...but may also stunt my creative flow.
Can you believe that the boy is starting Kindergarten...ahhh yes it is true...for 6 hours a day he will be another persons blog material...I am quite sure that there will be another Maine blog about a boy named Henry fairly soon!
Our flooded house that we were hoping to have all fixed in June...you know because the damage was my mothersday present...Is JUST NOW BEING FINISHED. I will have floors other than plywood for the first time in MONTHS soon.
My first reaction to the tile was, huh, its a lot darker than I remember, I thought my husband was going to flip out...but hey, when you have been staring at ply wood for 4 months...its wierd to see a color. I think my Agriculture degree got the best of me though, and now I realize that my floor...is the color of soil. Oh well, at least it is the color of fertile soil.
So anyway, I just thought I would start out with a boring post to warn you that Henry is starting school...pictures and fun to come, the floor is down, the Garden is in, (and I really need to make sauce because the tomatoes are looking a little smooshy but I cant get into the kitchen yet, that is my excuse and I am sticking to it) and to let you know that your favorite delinquent blogging relative is back with her fingers on the keys and ready to roll.
The End.
Can you believe that the boy is starting Kindergarten...ahhh yes it is true...for 6 hours a day he will be another persons blog material...I am quite sure that there will be another Maine blog about a boy named Henry fairly soon!
Our flooded house that we were hoping to have all fixed in June...you know because the damage was my mothersday present...Is JUST NOW BEING FINISHED. I will have floors other than plywood for the first time in MONTHS soon.
My first reaction to the tile was, huh, its a lot darker than I remember, I thought my husband was going to flip out...but hey, when you have been staring at ply wood for 4 months...its wierd to see a color. I think my Agriculture degree got the best of me though, and now I realize that my floor...is the color of soil. Oh well, at least it is the color of fertile soil.
So anyway, I just thought I would start out with a boring post to warn you that Henry is starting school...pictures and fun to come, the floor is down, the Garden is in, (and I really need to make sauce because the tomatoes are looking a little smooshy but I cant get into the kitchen yet, that is my excuse and I am sticking to it) and to let you know that your favorite delinquent blogging relative is back with her fingers on the keys and ready to roll.
The End.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Scenes from the Trellises Part 1 2010
So since Maine has decided to turn into a Southern State this year...at least the part I am living in...(I do hear that my more northern counterparts had snow earlier this month...but here...it's been like...Africa hot this week) I have gotten my entire garden in and have even harvested stuff already.
Now I am not Acorn Farm Girl, but I do my best. Already have had lettuce, spinach and radishes fresh, and hoping that we don't get the biblical 40 days of rain like last year so I will have the opportunity to harvest more than a few moldy strawberries!
But here we are, my modest raised beds where the running list is: Sweet Potatoes, Blue, Yukon and red potatoes, wax beans, green beans (bush and pole), Lima Beans, Peas, spinach, lettuce (4 kinds), Beets, Turnips, Parsnips, radishes, carrots, Tomatoes (A bazillion types), cantaloupe, watermelon, eggplant, jalapeno's, Habanera’s, Green Peppers, Sweet Peppers, Pumpkins, summer squash, zucchini, acorn squash, butternut squash, broccoli, cauliflower, red cabbage, green cabbage, pointed cabbage, nasturtiums, basil, cilantro, thyme, oregano, mint, rosemary, lemon balm, red onion, white onion, spring onions, yellow onions, Brussel sprouts, cucumbers, Swiss chard, and Strawberries...I think that covers it... oh and chives...thats those things blooming in the garden!
Still haven't dared to plant Asparagus or Rhubarb, somehow I know that will mean I move the next year!
But I did plant Raspberry and Blackberry bushes this year, and hope to expand to grapes and blueberries next year!
So here’s to dirty hands and strung trellises...lets see what happens now!
Now I am not Acorn Farm Girl, but I do my best. Already have had lettuce, spinach and radishes fresh, and hoping that we don't get the biblical 40 days of rain like last year so I will have the opportunity to harvest more than a few moldy strawberries!
But here we are, my modest raised beds where the running list is: Sweet Potatoes, Blue, Yukon and red potatoes, wax beans, green beans (bush and pole), Lima Beans, Peas, spinach, lettuce (4 kinds), Beets, Turnips, Parsnips, radishes, carrots, Tomatoes (A bazillion types), cantaloupe, watermelon, eggplant, jalapeno's, Habanera’s, Green Peppers, Sweet Peppers, Pumpkins, summer squash, zucchini, acorn squash, butternut squash, broccoli, cauliflower, red cabbage, green cabbage, pointed cabbage, nasturtiums, basil, cilantro, thyme, oregano, mint, rosemary, lemon balm, red onion, white onion, spring onions, yellow onions, Brussel sprouts, cucumbers, Swiss chard, and Strawberries...I think that covers it... oh and chives...thats those things blooming in the garden!
Still haven't dared to plant Asparagus or Rhubarb, somehow I know that will mean I move the next year!
But I did plant Raspberry and Blackberry bushes this year, and hope to expand to grapes and blueberries next year!
So here’s to dirty hands and strung trellises...lets see what happens now!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Boys new look!
So the other day I had an eye appointment due to my being completely blind with out glasses and all. I of course had little man in tow as I went which...around complicated machinery can be a real challenge.
After about 20 minutes of "what is that?" "What are you doing... what are you doing now? what are you doing now?"
My eye Dr., in either exasperation, or excitement that someone cared about what he was doing, said:
"Hey do you want to try out the machine that your mom is looking in?"
"YEAH!" Henry was very excited...I was thinking...oh what a nice guy....
Then I heard it...
"huh," from the Dr. then a few minutes later another.."hmmmmm"
Long story short...Here we are a couple hundred dollars later!
Blimps
Before preschool Henry was watching Curious George, which I question letting him watch anyway because of his natural bent toward curiosity in a way that shuts down cities and saves ducks and stuff...
George and the yellow hat guy went up in a Blimp...
Henry exclaimed "Hey look its a giant flying football!"
my all too literal oldest says "No Henry, that's a Blimp..."
To which he looks at her quite indignantly and says...
"Nooo, its a giant flying football." In his best wise tail voice...
At least he knows what he knows right????
George and the yellow hat guy went up in a Blimp...
Henry exclaimed "Hey look its a giant flying football!"
my all too literal oldest says "No Henry, that's a Blimp..."
To which he looks at her quite indignantly and says...
"Nooo, its a giant flying football." In his best wise tail voice...
At least he knows what he knows right????
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
My Mother's Day Present
OK so I was remiss in the midst of my flooded house to not mention that I got a very nice mothers day gift. This year in lieu of lovely shell jewelry and tissue paper pins, I got these!
And the best part is...they are Hokie Colors...so how could they be bad?
Ahhh now I just need an umbrella drink, a nanny and a crew of carpenters to put my house back together again!
And the best part is...they are Hokie Colors...so how could they be bad?
Ahhh now I just need an umbrella drink, a nanny and a crew of carpenters to put my house back together again!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Gods Must be Angry
So this morning I felt like I was totally on top of things. I felt like mom of the year. I gave my kids cereal on paper plates since we have no kitchen due to the flood, thus no water…so dry cereal it was.
I had called my sister to drop the youngest and oldest off at their prospective schools, my neighbor agreed to put my middle one on the bus, all so that I could get to my meeting at 8:15. I am running out the door in my girl clothes shoving everything into the car, a change of clothes, a pear, and all the kids’ lunches, and yes I even remembered all the kids.
I pull out of the driveway and notice that as I am going my car seems to be dragging half of the rock with it…
Huh.
All of the sudden it dawns on me…this is not the way that my car normally feels… it is now 7:45 and I am getting perilously close to my deadline to get to my meeting on time.
I get out of the car only to see that the back tire is completely flat. After a long string of unmentionable things came out of my mouth… I just sighed and looked up and said:
“SERIOUSLY?”
(Thanks to Greys Anatomy it probably has a new entry in Webster’s.)
Clearly I have angered the Gods, I can only hope that perhaps I have started to pay off my debt…Because really I am totally expecting to wake up tomorrow looking up at the beautiful sky about to rain because a wind storm took off my roof during the night!
I had called my sister to drop the youngest and oldest off at their prospective schools, my neighbor agreed to put my middle one on the bus, all so that I could get to my meeting at 8:15. I am running out the door in my girl clothes shoving everything into the car, a change of clothes, a pear, and all the kids’ lunches, and yes I even remembered all the kids.
I pull out of the driveway and notice that as I am going my car seems to be dragging half of the rock with it…
Huh.
All of the sudden it dawns on me…this is not the way that my car normally feels… it is now 7:45 and I am getting perilously close to my deadline to get to my meeting on time.
I get out of the car only to see that the back tire is completely flat. After a long string of unmentionable things came out of my mouth… I just sighed and looked up and said:
“SERIOUSLY?”
(Thanks to Greys Anatomy it probably has a new entry in Webster’s.)
Clearly I have angered the Gods, I can only hope that perhaps I have started to pay off my debt…Because really I am totally expecting to wake up tomorrow looking up at the beautiful sky about to rain because a wind storm took off my roof during the night!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
It's Raining It's Pouring the Old Man is...
Pissed to find that it’s raining and pouring in his basement!Ahhhh, the happiness of homeownership! Friday morning I woke up feeling a little overheated…”huh” I thought to myself. When suddenly my oldest daughter runs up stairs and says…
“Daddy, you need to get down stairs, there is water in the kitchen floor.”
Ok so I am thinking, something leaked…no biggie…I look at my windows…in my bedroom…upstairs…and notice that there is sort of a dew covering them on the inside.
“Huh” I think to myself.
I walk down stairs and see even more dew all over the insides of the windows downstairs, and that there is a certain…oh rain foresty quality in the air…
“Huh” I think…
Then I walked into the kitchen…the “Huh,” turned to “Holy S%$^#”
There was literally inches of water from one end of the house to the other…then what I am hearing starts to register…rain…Although outside was looking to be a beautiful blue sky, I heard rain…in my basement!
I went down the stairs to find that the floor beneath that half of my house was literally raining into my basement.
The culprit? An overactive dishwasher that clearly was trying to prove its manhood to the rest of the appliances. It had been set to run at 11 that night…and ran until 6 that morning gushing hot water into the downstairs of our house until saturating the floor so much that it leaked through and RAINED in our finished basement.
Yes, I am now questioning my use of the word apocalyptic in my last post.
“Daddy, you need to get down stairs, there is water in the kitchen floor.”
Ok so I am thinking, something leaked…no biggie…I look at my windows…in my bedroom…upstairs…and notice that there is sort of a dew covering them on the inside.
“Huh” I think to myself.
I walk down stairs and see even more dew all over the insides of the windows downstairs, and that there is a certain…oh rain foresty quality in the air…
“Huh” I think…
Then I walked into the kitchen…the “Huh,” turned to “Holy S%$^#”
There was literally inches of water from one end of the house to the other…then what I am hearing starts to register…rain…Although outside was looking to be a beautiful blue sky, I heard rain…in my basement!
I went down the stairs to find that the floor beneath that half of my house was literally raining into my basement.
The culprit? An overactive dishwasher that clearly was trying to prove its manhood to the rest of the appliances. It had been set to run at 11 that night…and ran until 6 that morning gushing hot water into the downstairs of our house until saturating the floor so much that it leaked through and RAINED in our finished basement.
Yes, I am now questioning my use of the word apocalyptic in my last post.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Mowing the Lawn With Girls and Preschoolers....
The other day I had to mow the lawn again. First of all I find it slightly apocalyptic that I am even having to mow my lawn in April and May in Maine, but regardless of how odd being in a tank top in the beginning of May was making me feel, it had to be done.
I use this term, lawn, lightly because I believe that a lawn consists of lush green grass….ours is lush green clover, with lots of yellow dandelions dotting the landscape. And the moles have made lots of mounds where the dead patches are from the grubs…you get the picture…mowing is really more trimming the crabgrass and wild flowers than mowing…
This has become a battle between my husband and I, as he is from the south…the land of manicured lawns, and football games in the front yard. I on the other hand had a family that was akin to hermits and had big trees growing right up to the house, so lawn was more…well…pine needle covering.
As I was going over and over a patch of oh…400 dandelions, I looked up to find my daughter blowing the dandelion offspring onto my lawn to seed even more of the demonic flower that is taking over my yard. “Making a wish,” she yelled to inform me, incase I didn’t know what she was up to.
It was then, as I pictures all the jars, plastic sippy cups, bowls and pots full of these beautiful flowers that have been sacrificial offerings to the mommy god by a little boy who quite honestly needs to be sacrificing something to continue living, that I realized this was an exercise in futility.
I realize that I will not win the lawn battle…not with out waging a major chemical warfare, which frankly is just not really my style. So I will just continue to find containers for my flower offerings, make wishes on the baby lawn killers when I am asked to, and continue to expand my garden into the entire yard…until my husband kills me, or the kids stop wanting to give me flowers, or move out… Until then, I will have just gaze on my bluewhites, dandelions, crabgrass, and brown patches with a sense of defeat, and enjoy the sunshine on a nice May day.
I use this term, lawn, lightly because I believe that a lawn consists of lush green grass….ours is lush green clover, with lots of yellow dandelions dotting the landscape. And the moles have made lots of mounds where the dead patches are from the grubs…you get the picture…mowing is really more trimming the crabgrass and wild flowers than mowing…
This has become a battle between my husband and I, as he is from the south…the land of manicured lawns, and football games in the front yard. I on the other hand had a family that was akin to hermits and had big trees growing right up to the house, so lawn was more…well…pine needle covering.
As I was going over and over a patch of oh…400 dandelions, I looked up to find my daughter blowing the dandelion offspring onto my lawn to seed even more of the demonic flower that is taking over my yard. “Making a wish,” she yelled to inform me, incase I didn’t know what she was up to.
It was then, as I pictures all the jars, plastic sippy cups, bowls and pots full of these beautiful flowers that have been sacrificial offerings to the mommy god by a little boy who quite honestly needs to be sacrificing something to continue living, that I realized this was an exercise in futility.
I realize that I will not win the lawn battle…not with out waging a major chemical warfare, which frankly is just not really my style. So I will just continue to find containers for my flower offerings, make wishes on the baby lawn killers when I am asked to, and continue to expand my garden into the entire yard…until my husband kills me, or the kids stop wanting to give me flowers, or move out… Until then, I will have just gaze on my bluewhites, dandelions, crabgrass, and brown patches with a sense of defeat, and enjoy the sunshine on a nice May day.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Invisible Pee Monster
Now one would think that this was a Henry story, because conceivably, this is his type of imagination, but lo, it is not. This was the invention of a little 4 year old girl down the road...who may just be Henrys soul mate…
For the first time I let the girls ride their bikes across the road into the being built neighborhood. After about 30 minutes the freaky mom gene started working so I walked down to see where they were.
A little 4 year old girl, whom I have met on occasion, was walking with her cousin down the street. I asked if they had seen the girls, they had, so I decided to walk down to the little pond to see if the tad pole were out yet. The little girl looked at her cousin, dropped her hand, grabbed mine and said “I am going with her”
As we walked and she talked (I have forgotten how verbose little girls are.) We came across two plant pot looking things on the side of the road and she proceeded to tell me:
Her: “Don’t touch those, those are full of pee.”
Me: “Pee? Are you sure? Wait…how do you know?”
Her: Quite matter of factly, “Because the invisible pee monster left them.”
Me: Slightly amused, “The invisible pee monster?”
Her: “Yes, he is invisible, and he is trying to take over the world with his powerful pee. He sneaks around and pees when we don’t see him…but you can’t see him because he is invisible…except I can see him because I have super seeing eyes.”
Me: “OOooohhh, well I don’t have super seeing eyes because I can’t see him.”
Her: “Nope I have super seeing eyes because I am saving the world from his pee…”
Now folks, if this ain’t a match for Henry I don’t know who is!
For the first time I let the girls ride their bikes across the road into the being built neighborhood. After about 30 minutes the freaky mom gene started working so I walked down to see where they were.
A little 4 year old girl, whom I have met on occasion, was walking with her cousin down the street. I asked if they had seen the girls, they had, so I decided to walk down to the little pond to see if the tad pole were out yet. The little girl looked at her cousin, dropped her hand, grabbed mine and said “I am going with her”
As we walked and she talked (I have forgotten how verbose little girls are.) We came across two plant pot looking things on the side of the road and she proceeded to tell me:
Her: “Don’t touch those, those are full of pee.”
Me: “Pee? Are you sure? Wait…how do you know?”
Her: Quite matter of factly, “Because the invisible pee monster left them.”
Me: Slightly amused, “The invisible pee monster?”
Her: “Yes, he is invisible, and he is trying to take over the world with his powerful pee. He sneaks around and pees when we don’t see him…but you can’t see him because he is invisible…except I can see him because I have super seeing eyes.”
Me: “OOooohhh, well I don’t have super seeing eyes because I can’t see him.”
Her: “Nope I have super seeing eyes because I am saving the world from his pee…”
Now folks, if this ain’t a match for Henry I don’t know who is!
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Little Scary
So the other night we were doing the all American thing and eating fast food the other night. I know, I know, I am sure that all my arteries were screaming shut as I took my first bite but you know? I had taken 4 hours to dig out my middle child’s closet...if you need a reminder of what that is like I am simply just happy I came out alive and didn’t find neighborhood children lost in there.
So we are sitting there, my husband walks up to get some straws and Henry gets a devilish look on his face and says:"Hey I have a plan!"
Underestimating the grudge that Henry seems to have against my husband right now for no apparent reason was my first mistake, but busting out laughing was the second one since now he is telling everyone and I am concerned that perhaps people are putting him on a watch list.
Henrys Plan:
"When we get home if dad takes a long time to come inside....lets build a cage and catch him when we walks in the door. Then we can duct tape the cage to the ceiling waaaaayyyy up high until forever."
Silence falls over the table...with the exception of my cell phone dialing the psychologist I now have on speed dial...
So we are sitting there, my husband walks up to get some straws and Henry gets a devilish look on his face and says:"Hey I have a plan!"
Underestimating the grudge that Henry seems to have against my husband right now for no apparent reason was my first mistake, but busting out laughing was the second one since now he is telling everyone and I am concerned that perhaps people are putting him on a watch list.
Henrys Plan:
"When we get home if dad takes a long time to come inside....lets build a cage and catch him when we walks in the door. Then we can duct tape the cage to the ceiling waaaaayyyy up high until forever."
Silence falls over the table...with the exception of my cell phone dialing the psychologist I now have on speed dial...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The End of an Era
I don't know why I get attached to inanimate objects...it really doesn't make sense other than the fact that I am maybe 5 degrees off of half way normal. What ever the reason, I simply seem to personalize everything around me. I have since I was a kid.
I can remember having 1000 stuffed animals on my bed, because if I only picked one, the other ones would be staring at me from across the room with hurt feelings. I would feel bad for them so I would go get them and put them on my bed too.
I remember when I got married my parents gave us their old couch. It was canary yellow…and weighed 8000 pounds…and was HUGE…yet, when we had to leave it behind on our first move because it was bigger than the place we were renting…(seriously, it was) I got all teary and thought about how the couch was feeling to be left behind by the family that had sat on it for 20 some odd years…
I have always had a way of attaching feelings to things that, well…really don’t have them…trees, houses, movie ticket stubs, old goggles being retired.
So yesterday Jamie wisely didn’t tell me before he left for work that he was exchanging our old Explorer (nicknamed “the Exploder” because of its tendency to leave Jamie stranded…the fact that it had 230,000 miles on it probably had something to do with it too.)
He told me while he while he was at work, and I could not make a pilgrimage to the “Exploder’s” side to reminisce about how excited we were to get a car with a CD player, or how it was the used car we bought when Marshall was a little baby, or how it had brought Caroline home from the hospital for the first time, or how when we got our puppy she was so little she couldn’t even hop from the passenger seat to the drivers seat.
I guess it’s good to just rip the Band-Aid off when you have a wife that lives in Narnia where all things talk and have feelings.
However….I am just excited about having a car that won’t make that deafening humming noise when I drop Marshall off at school on the days that I happen to be driving Jamie car! I had to leave that parking lot behind big sunglasses and a hat many a day. (I am pretty sure Marshall is scarred from those mornings too!)
So out with the old and in with the new….just this once!
I can remember having 1000 stuffed animals on my bed, because if I only picked one, the other ones would be staring at me from across the room with hurt feelings. I would feel bad for them so I would go get them and put them on my bed too.
I remember when I got married my parents gave us their old couch. It was canary yellow…and weighed 8000 pounds…and was HUGE…yet, when we had to leave it behind on our first move because it was bigger than the place we were renting…(seriously, it was) I got all teary and thought about how the couch was feeling to be left behind by the family that had sat on it for 20 some odd years…
I have always had a way of attaching feelings to things that, well…really don’t have them…trees, houses, movie ticket stubs, old goggles being retired.
So yesterday Jamie wisely didn’t tell me before he left for work that he was exchanging our old Explorer (nicknamed “the Exploder” because of its tendency to leave Jamie stranded…the fact that it had 230,000 miles on it probably had something to do with it too.)
He told me while he while he was at work, and I could not make a pilgrimage to the “Exploder’s” side to reminisce about how excited we were to get a car with a CD player, or how it was the used car we bought when Marshall was a little baby, or how it had brought Caroline home from the hospital for the first time, or how when we got our puppy she was so little she couldn’t even hop from the passenger seat to the drivers seat.
I guess it’s good to just rip the Band-Aid off when you have a wife that lives in Narnia where all things talk and have feelings.
However….I am just excited about having a car that won’t make that deafening humming noise when I drop Marshall off at school on the days that I happen to be driving Jamie car! I had to leave that parking lot behind big sunglasses and a hat many a day. (I am pretty sure Marshall is scarred from those mornings too!)
So out with the old and in with the new….just this once!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The Reason I Love Anne Lamott
"I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much. We do not think that she has a rich inner life or that God likes her or can even stand her. (Although hen I mentioned this to my priest friend Tom, he said you can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out hat God hates all the same people you do.)" - Anne Lamott (Bird by Bird)
All I can say, is...there are quite a few people in this world who could stand an Anne Lamott tattoo!
All I can say, is...there are quite a few people in this world who could stand an Anne Lamott tattoo!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Things That Make You Feel Sooooo Good
…Or NOT.
So the other night I am sitting in the kitchen, shoes off, hanging out talking with the husband. Caroline, came in and was playing with my feet.
This is where I doubt that she is even my child, because feet are the one thing, besides spiders and obnoxious people that totally skeeve me out. I do believe that it may have stemmed from childhood trauma of having to pull my dad’s cowboy boots off after he got home from work, the ones that he insisted on wearing with his blue thin dress socks. I can only tell you that nothing could have survived in those shoes…nothing…including his feet which is why they were clearly rotting off the ends of his legs and that was the only explanation for the hot waft of stench that came out as the boot popped off sending me falling back onto the floor…
ANYWAY, I run, (OK so really? I try to run, I more bounce along panting and hoping that someone will stop and drive me to my destination and that I will adequately still burn the desired calories…) so my feet tend to be a little, well, calloused? Is that the right word? Or maybe I should just say I have old lady feet that are dry and a mess. Caroline looked at me with love in her eyes and said “why are your feet like that?”
“I said because I am old, and that is what they look like when you get old. You will have them too.”
At which point horror flashed on her face and she yells "Oh CRAP"
Ok, so perhaps I have gained another foot-a-phobe in my house now.
So the other night I am sitting in the kitchen, shoes off, hanging out talking with the husband. Caroline, came in and was playing with my feet.
This is where I doubt that she is even my child, because feet are the one thing, besides spiders and obnoxious people that totally skeeve me out. I do believe that it may have stemmed from childhood trauma of having to pull my dad’s cowboy boots off after he got home from work, the ones that he insisted on wearing with his blue thin dress socks. I can only tell you that nothing could have survived in those shoes…nothing…including his feet which is why they were clearly rotting off the ends of his legs and that was the only explanation for the hot waft of stench that came out as the boot popped off sending me falling back onto the floor…
ANYWAY, I run, (OK so really? I try to run, I more bounce along panting and hoping that someone will stop and drive me to my destination and that I will adequately still burn the desired calories…) so my feet tend to be a little, well, calloused? Is that the right word? Or maybe I should just say I have old lady feet that are dry and a mess. Caroline looked at me with love in her eyes and said “why are your feet like that?”
“I said because I am old, and that is what they look like when you get old. You will have them too.”
At which point horror flashed on her face and she yells "Oh CRAP"
Ok, so perhaps I have gained another foot-a-phobe in my house now.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Cat Maffia
I am thinking that the Don of the cat mafia is living in my house, with his brother the hit man. I have two cats that, well, are not subtle...in anyway. First of all they are man sized cats. These brothers each weighing in at close to 20 pounds, even scare the 60 pound boxer across the street. Because of this, you can imagine, they really like meal time…and I mean REALLY LIKE MEAL TIME.
In my recent life of 3 jobs, 3 kids, a grandmother and school board, I have gotten…er…a little behind. For the most part everyone in the family has been pretty understanding that sometimes you feel that you could make a meal off the kitchen floor, or that dinner may not get on the table until 7:30 because I am still thawing the chicken that I forgot to take out of the fridge, and even my children are understanding of having to go on safari through my jungle bedroom of laundry in search of clean underwear from the mountains of “to be folded” along the walls. They are great…the cats however? Not so much.
I forgot to buy cat food, now, this is not to say that I was starving them, I am fairly sure that they could sustain life off their bellies for 2 years if need be. But they had gone oh, maybe 12 hours over night without food, and frankly, they are less than forgiving about that sort of thing. I woke up to one of them staring me down in bed…you know that type of thing where you wake up in fear because you know you are being stared at? I went down to feed them, but we were out of food…I figured they could wait until I went to the store, so I went about my daily business.
At this point, I think they sensed that I was not going to be meeting their needs at that exact moment…so they proceeded to stalk me through the house. They followed me around taking turns tripping me until I fell on my face in the living room in my attempt to not step on the two slithering animals.
If I would stop and look at them, they would quickly adjust to their “I am pitiful and you are starving me” look.
There really wasn’t much I was going to do at that moment so I continued on my day. I went down to run on the treadmill that morning…Sugar Ray…otherwise known as “Fatty” sat at the table in front of the tread mill and proceeded to stare me down…and I don’t mean just a little while…that darn cat didn’t break eye contact for nearly 30 minutes and the whole time I was running right toward him…I actually laughed at one point because it was getting so awkward…still no break in the stare.
After about 35 minutes of running I was so unnerved that my husband was going to come down to find me laid out on the floor and fatty licking his paws after having eaten my face or something that I ended my run early.
I did finally get the food and I am pretty sure that they called off the hit cats that they had hired…but seriously…these felines are severe about their kitty chow. I will not forget again, because I am fairly sure I will find a fish in my bed as a warning…
In my recent life of 3 jobs, 3 kids, a grandmother and school board, I have gotten…er…a little behind. For the most part everyone in the family has been pretty understanding that sometimes you feel that you could make a meal off the kitchen floor, or that dinner may not get on the table until 7:30 because I am still thawing the chicken that I forgot to take out of the fridge, and even my children are understanding of having to go on safari through my jungle bedroom of laundry in search of clean underwear from the mountains of “to be folded” along the walls. They are great…the cats however? Not so much.
I forgot to buy cat food, now, this is not to say that I was starving them, I am fairly sure that they could sustain life off their bellies for 2 years if need be. But they had gone oh, maybe 12 hours over night without food, and frankly, they are less than forgiving about that sort of thing. I woke up to one of them staring me down in bed…you know that type of thing where you wake up in fear because you know you are being stared at? I went down to feed them, but we were out of food…I figured they could wait until I went to the store, so I went about my daily business.
At this point, I think they sensed that I was not going to be meeting their needs at that exact moment…so they proceeded to stalk me through the house. They followed me around taking turns tripping me until I fell on my face in the living room in my attempt to not step on the two slithering animals.
If I would stop and look at them, they would quickly adjust to their “I am pitiful and you are starving me” look.
There really wasn’t much I was going to do at that moment so I continued on my day. I went down to run on the treadmill that morning…Sugar Ray…otherwise known as “Fatty” sat at the table in front of the tread mill and proceeded to stare me down…and I don’t mean just a little while…that darn cat didn’t break eye contact for nearly 30 minutes and the whole time I was running right toward him…I actually laughed at one point because it was getting so awkward…still no break in the stare.
After about 35 minutes of running I was so unnerved that my husband was going to come down to find me laid out on the floor and fatty licking his paws after having eaten my face or something that I ended my run early.
I did finally get the food and I am pretty sure that they called off the hit cats that they had hired…but seriously…these felines are severe about their kitty chow. I will not forget again, because I am fairly sure I will find a fish in my bed as a warning…
Monday, March 22, 2010
Missing Bear: FOUND All is well with the world
Henry has a teddy bear that I got at a baby shower before he was even born. He has slept with this "lovey bear" that he named Green (surprise surprise it was wearing green) since he came out.This has been his constant companion. He has a bed for it that he made out of a shoe box. He “reads” to it, sings to it…you get the picture. This was not a dispensable part of our family…
About 2 months ago, in one of my weeks from Hell (which these days with three kids, two jobs, and school board are many) Henry asked me as we were getting out of the car if he could bring Green with him. Not wanting another battle that day I said “fine”
…For 2 months I have been racking my brain to try and remember where it was that I said this STUPID remark…
We checked Target, we checked book stores, friends houses, tore our house apart looking for this Green lovey bear.
Henry was in tears nightly, but it really came to a head this past week when sobbing one night he came downs stairs flailed himself across my lap threw his hand across his forehead in his best “woest me” pose and cried:
“He doesn’t know where I am, he is scared and lonely and I can’t find him mom…what and I going to do…he is scared…I AM THE WORST DADDY EVER!”
There are not many things that will break this girls heart folks, but this about did it.
I assured him that we would look more, to which I just got more sobbing and wailing. I have never seen him like this before…
I didn’t sleep much that night, thinking how sad I was, and racking my pea brain about where I could have possibly let him take it…
Saturday morning I went to work at the library. I usually work upstairs but was down in the children’s room this particular day… I looked across the room and in a cubby, staring back at me … was GREEN LOVEY BEAR.
The lights starting shining on him and I am pretty sure I heard the choir sing “Laaaaaaaa” as I looked at him. In my glee, then irritation I said:
“You have GOT to be freaking kidding me!”
This may seem like a momentous occasion…but mind you, I have been searching for this bear for 2 months, listening to my son berate himself for losing it, feeling guilty that I let him take it somewhere…and the whole flipping time it was in the library…
Folks, I WORK THERE EVERY WEEK….My SISTER is the DIRECTOR of the library….
Wouldn’t you think ONE of us would have seen the damn thing before I scarred my child for life about his parenting skills?
I guess I am just happy he is home, under lock and key, and may never leave this house again unless he is physically chained to my son…I am not taking any chances…
The moment of truth...Henry had a smile a mile wide!
About 2 months ago, in one of my weeks from Hell (which these days with three kids, two jobs, and school board are many) Henry asked me as we were getting out of the car if he could bring Green with him. Not wanting another battle that day I said “fine”
…For 2 months I have been racking my brain to try and remember where it was that I said this STUPID remark…
We checked Target, we checked book stores, friends houses, tore our house apart looking for this Green lovey bear.
Henry was in tears nightly, but it really came to a head this past week when sobbing one night he came downs stairs flailed himself across my lap threw his hand across his forehead in his best “woest me” pose and cried:
“He doesn’t know where I am, he is scared and lonely and I can’t find him mom…what and I going to do…he is scared…I AM THE WORST DADDY EVER!”
There are not many things that will break this girls heart folks, but this about did it.
I assured him that we would look more, to which I just got more sobbing and wailing. I have never seen him like this before…
I didn’t sleep much that night, thinking how sad I was, and racking my pea brain about where I could have possibly let him take it…
Saturday morning I went to work at the library. I usually work upstairs but was down in the children’s room this particular day… I looked across the room and in a cubby, staring back at me … was GREEN LOVEY BEAR.
The lights starting shining on him and I am pretty sure I heard the choir sing “Laaaaaaaa” as I looked at him. In my glee, then irritation I said:
“You have GOT to be freaking kidding me!”
This may seem like a momentous occasion…but mind you, I have been searching for this bear for 2 months, listening to my son berate himself for losing it, feeling guilty that I let him take it somewhere…and the whole flipping time it was in the library…
Folks, I WORK THERE EVERY WEEK….My SISTER is the DIRECTOR of the library….
Wouldn’t you think ONE of us would have seen the damn thing before I scarred my child for life about his parenting skills?
I guess I am just happy he is home, under lock and key, and may never leave this house again unless he is physically chained to my son…I am not taking any chances…
The moment of truth...Henry had a smile a mile wide!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Type A Little Man
I know that Henry is a bit on the particular side. Perhaps it was the lining his cheerios up on his tray when he was still in a highchair...or maybe it was the fit he would throw if his granola bar was put in front of him "upside down," that was his give away. What ever it was, it was clear to us a long time ago that the boy, well, is tightly wound!
The other day, I about got in hysterics over his brand of crazy. We went for a walk with our neighbor through the woods. There is a really cool waterfall that you can only get to in the spring before the militant pricker bushes get to the size that they like to capture small children and animals and eat clothing.
We wandered along the stream bed happily; Henry in his “Buggy Boots,” was splashing in the wet mud puddles and looking at everything. We came across a very cool vine growing up a tree. It was like a Tarzan vine…Seriously, even I could swing on it…and let me tell you…that is one strong vine!
All the kids were taking turns swinging on it. We started to walk away and I heard TWAP, and then waited the obligatory 10 seconds before the wailing set in. Henry swung on the vine right into the tree. He was OK no worse for the wear so I thought, but this really bothered him apparently because as we were walking through the field his boot caught on some vines and he fell. He stood up and screamed really loud
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY! I HIT MY HEAD ON THE TREE AND NOW THIS!!!!”
I thought my neighbor was going to pee in her pants. A bit of a perfectionist maybe? I reassured him that everyone trips once in a while and that it wasn’t going to be some black mark against him in his future search for a career.
We got on the road and low and behold he tripped again. Again exasperated he stood up stomped his foot and said:
“I don’t know what is wrong with me today, I keep falling! What is up with that?”
Um…I don’t really know, but I was pretty sure that it wasn’t quite as life altering as he thought it might be…
I am thinking I may be the wrong parent to be bringing him up, because, I probably scarred him for life with my giggling…
The other day, I about got in hysterics over his brand of crazy. We went for a walk with our neighbor through the woods. There is a really cool waterfall that you can only get to in the spring before the militant pricker bushes get to the size that they like to capture small children and animals and eat clothing.
We wandered along the stream bed happily; Henry in his “Buggy Boots,” was splashing in the wet mud puddles and looking at everything. We came across a very cool vine growing up a tree. It was like a Tarzan vine…Seriously, even I could swing on it…and let me tell you…that is one strong vine!
All the kids were taking turns swinging on it. We started to walk away and I heard TWAP, and then waited the obligatory 10 seconds before the wailing set in. Henry swung on the vine right into the tree. He was OK no worse for the wear so I thought, but this really bothered him apparently because as we were walking through the field his boot caught on some vines and he fell. He stood up and screamed really loud
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TODAY! I HIT MY HEAD ON THE TREE AND NOW THIS!!!!”
I thought my neighbor was going to pee in her pants. A bit of a perfectionist maybe? I reassured him that everyone trips once in a while and that it wasn’t going to be some black mark against him in his future search for a career.
We got on the road and low and behold he tripped again. Again exasperated he stood up stomped his foot and said:
“I don’t know what is wrong with me today, I keep falling! What is up with that?”
Um…I don’t really know, but I was pretty sure that it wasn’t quite as life altering as he thought it might be…
I am thinking I may be the wrong parent to be bringing him up, because, I probably scarred him for life with my giggling…
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Things I made for Christmas
Due to the economy I went all Little House on the Prairie this year for Christmas. I was pretty proud of some of my creations...so I thought I would brag. I am not sure about how the recipients felt...
There may have been a few that thought I was the crazy Aunt making bunny suits from A Christmas Story...but hey...when I start making sweaters with cats on them and a voice box that meows... then they can complain...until then, they are going to have to deal with my 1800's self!
The scarf was for a friends belated birthday. The girls together, show the dress (it has a big red bow in the back) for my eldest. But I cut myself out because Pie on Christmas morning is NOT PRETTY...the rest were dresses and sweaters made for my nieces....
There may have been a few that thought I was the crazy Aunt making bunny suits from A Christmas Story...but hey...when I start making sweaters with cats on them and a voice box that meows... then they can complain...until then, they are going to have to deal with my 1800's self!
The scarf was for a friends belated birthday. The girls together, show the dress (it has a big red bow in the back) for my eldest. But I cut myself out because Pie on Christmas morning is NOT PRETTY...the rest were dresses and sweaters made for my nieces.... So there you go...now I shall go churn butter and tend to my chickens....
Monday, February 8, 2010
Winter Fun
Here is my new thing to do with Henry. We built a skating rink this weekend. It is 20x30 feet, so I think it will be enough of a size that the kids can skate on it. It isn’t perfect, but it was a good solution to my boredom of playing cars…
So, there you go, that is the real reason I got into this project, (you knew if wasn’t from my stellar parenting skills!) I basically got tired of playing trucks with Henry. I never have been good at that. I used to have to play the same exact game with the girls, except they used Barbies and dolls as opposed to speaking vehicles. (Thank you Pixar...)There is something about playing these games with my little dictators that seems to go against the control freak in me.
When you play, you have to hold the car the way they tell you to, and they really aren’t about improv, they have the whole thing scripted in their head. They tell you what your car/doll is supposed to say, and do.
Yeah, I am not down with that. They get all mad at me because I purposely go rogue on them, and start doing my own thing with my character that clearly goes against what they have planned.
Sometimes I fear the future of small countries if my children ever set their sights on them… they will have a dictatorship for sure…and all of them will be going to dances, and having road races for sure!
So, there you go, that is the real reason I got into this project, (you knew if wasn’t from my stellar parenting skills!) I basically got tired of playing trucks with Henry. I never have been good at that. I used to have to play the same exact game with the girls, except they used Barbies and dolls as opposed to speaking vehicles. (Thank you Pixar...)There is something about playing these games with my little dictators that seems to go against the control freak in me.
When you play, you have to hold the car the way they tell you to, and they really aren’t about improv, they have the whole thing scripted in their head. They tell you what your car/doll is supposed to say, and do.
Yeah, I am not down with that. They get all mad at me because I purposely go rogue on them, and start doing my own thing with my character that clearly goes against what they have planned.
Sometimes I fear the future of small countries if my children ever set their sights on them… they will have a dictatorship for sure…and all of them will be going to dances, and having road races for sure!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Again?
OK so Caroline has a friend that she likes to have over. This would be the one that Henry likes to put underwear on his head in front of... Mind you her mother is who I coach with, and her dad is a teacher at Caroline's school...that Henry is slated to attend next year...
So her dad comes to pick her up and Henry is showing off in the hall way...this is what he says to his future teacher...
"I am the boss here...because I built this house and whoever builds the house gets to be the boss."
Caroline, who would like to think that she is the boss of the universe and has steep competition from her sister, was quick to say "you weren't even born when this house was built"
Henry thinks for a minute...and he says "You don't know Caroline...I came right out when I was borned with a hammer and nails and a chainsaw and builded the house."
I thought back to having him...I was pretty sure that there was no chainsaw, but you know? I was a little out of it I guess....
I am starting to wonder if the boy will have a reputation before he even gets to school!
So her dad comes to pick her up and Henry is showing off in the hall way...this is what he says to his future teacher...
"I am the boss here...because I built this house and whoever builds the house gets to be the boss."
Caroline, who would like to think that she is the boss of the universe and has steep competition from her sister, was quick to say "you weren't even born when this house was built"
Henry thinks for a minute...and he says "You don't know Caroline...I came right out when I was borned with a hammer and nails and a chainsaw and builded the house."
I thought back to having him...I was pretty sure that there was no chainsaw, but you know? I was a little out of it I guess....
I am starting to wonder if the boy will have a reputation before he even gets to school!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Things That Make You Say....
AARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
So last night I had a meeting until 10:30. I worked two jobs yesterday, didn't eat dinner, and went straight to my meeting after job number 2... This is not to say "Oh poor Pie, pity, pity, pity," but rather to let you know my frame of mind when I dragged my oversized butt out of bed this morning to get my children off to school.
I am downstairs feeding the boy, because apparently I am obligated to do so as he lets me know every morning by demanding breakfast. (We have had many conversations about how starving because of rudeness is not a good option, but it seems to fall on deaf ears…He clearly understands the idol threat...)
So my cranky grumbling stumbling self is filling my coffee cup for the second time, and my lovely middle child comes down "ready" for school. I could tell she was sort of hiding herself a little, and I could hear a swishing sound when she walked. This was my warning…
As you may or may not recall, my middle daughter is, well, a little fashion challenged. I like to call it unique, which it is, and many days I am OK with her bag lady approach to dressing...but somehow this morning when I laid eyes on my pretty little girl with a pony tail directly in the center of her head falling into her eyes, a red, yellow and navy blue striped sweater, with a black watch plaid taffeta skirt with crinolines, multi colored tights and black shoes....something broke inside the "let her be her unique self" part of my brain.
A voice from the old crabby lady within came out of my mouth, saying: "NO, NO NO, Absolutely NOT, What in the world made you think THAT was OK????"
(Yes I know, it was harsh...that’s why I prefaced the story with the pity me party.)
I sent her up to change, she emerges from upstairs in her best nasty teenager interpretation...pouty lips, arms crossed...in....COMPLETE BLACK.
Black tights, black shoes, black skirt, black shirt, black headband.Granted this was better in some ways than the eye assaulting outfit of earlier in the day, but I was really hesitant about sending my angry child to school as an angsty mortician.
Silently I went up to her room retrieved a bright pink sweater, came downstairs and popped it over her head...we didn't say another word until the bus came...
"I love you, have a great day"
And I meant it...as much as I meant to go get another BIG cup of coffee!
So last night I had a meeting until 10:30. I worked two jobs yesterday, didn't eat dinner, and went straight to my meeting after job number 2... This is not to say "Oh poor Pie, pity, pity, pity," but rather to let you know my frame of mind when I dragged my oversized butt out of bed this morning to get my children off to school.
I am downstairs feeding the boy, because apparently I am obligated to do so as he lets me know every morning by demanding breakfast. (We have had many conversations about how starving because of rudeness is not a good option, but it seems to fall on deaf ears…He clearly understands the idol threat...)
So my cranky grumbling stumbling self is filling my coffee cup for the second time, and my lovely middle child comes down "ready" for school. I could tell she was sort of hiding herself a little, and I could hear a swishing sound when she walked. This was my warning…
As you may or may not recall, my middle daughter is, well, a little fashion challenged. I like to call it unique, which it is, and many days I am OK with her bag lady approach to dressing...but somehow this morning when I laid eyes on my pretty little girl with a pony tail directly in the center of her head falling into her eyes, a red, yellow and navy blue striped sweater, with a black watch plaid taffeta skirt with crinolines, multi colored tights and black shoes....something broke inside the "let her be her unique self" part of my brain.
A voice from the old crabby lady within came out of my mouth, saying: "NO, NO NO, Absolutely NOT, What in the world made you think THAT was OK????"
(Yes I know, it was harsh...that’s why I prefaced the story with the pity me party.)
I sent her up to change, she emerges from upstairs in her best nasty teenager interpretation...pouty lips, arms crossed...in....COMPLETE BLACK.
Black tights, black shoes, black skirt, black shirt, black headband.Granted this was better in some ways than the eye assaulting outfit of earlier in the day, but I was really hesitant about sending my angry child to school as an angsty mortician.
Silently I went up to her room retrieved a bright pink sweater, came downstairs and popped it over her head...we didn't say another word until the bus came...
"I love you, have a great day"
And I meant it...as much as I meant to go get another BIG cup of coffee!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Play-dates with boys
Ok so I am entering into a new world of boy play dates. With girls, you go to pick them up, they come home, are quiet, play Barbies, dress up, Legos, what ever. They pretend that they are in these imaginary forests, and worlds that are enchanted. (Granted there is usually some evil mother symbol, thanks to dear old Disney) but never the less, they are quiet, and creative.
Boys? The way they interact is … well, interesting anyway.We go to pick up Henrys friend from his house, and immediately the boy showed Henry his "burp on demand" skills.
Henry giggling, says "That is very interesting" then continues the rest of the ride home to try to burp on demand...which he cannot seem to master, much to my pleasure. But this was the beginning of...well, BOY mode.They proceeded to scream from the moment they entered the house, running up the stairs as fast as they could to start an activity I like to call “shake the house down”
I cannot figure out what exactly they were doing, they were jumping, tumbling…or taking off drywall, I am not sure, but the entire house was shaking.
Thankfully, 4 year old boys seem to have the attention span of a gnat so that only lasted for a few minutes (before I had to go up and crack some skulls) and they were onto something new.
Did I say that I was thankful for the short attention span? OK so THAT was delusional. This short attention span turned into a continuous path of running from my sons room upstairs to the basement downstairs, with 1000 things in between… after they had played with every toy in the entire house for the allotted 10 seconds, they were bored.
Bored? Seriously??
I finally sent them down to play…I did not, however, for the benefit of my sons social future, give the “back in my day” speech about no such thing as play dates, and any mention of boredom led to more chores. The speech that always elicits the rolling of the eyes, and large sighs response. Secretly I don’t blame them, I got the same speech, as did my folks, and If I was a betting woman, I’d bet none of us appreciated the sentiment!
I have been checking on them periodically to make sure that they aren’t building bombs in the basement or somewhere they aren’t supposed to be (the girls rooms) and my son, who on a regular basis, just looks at me with love in his eyes, and says "I love you mom"... Now is in the basement and when I come down stairs he says: "WHAT? What do you want?"
I said nothing, and then he says "What? Why are you looking at me?"
(we will have a politeness discussion later and I doubt I will be polite about it!)
Somehow the extra Y chromosome in the room transformed his eyes from looking at me as lovable cool mom to “Persona non grata.”
He is worse than a teenager...is this a sign of things to come? I hope not. But Some where deep in the recesses of my heart, I am fairly sure that he is going to make me drop him off a block from school so he can walk in.
So I have just given in, I will listen carefully from afar and check on them periodically, and hope all gets calmer. Somehow when they see me they seem to think I am Julie McCoy cruise director, and am going to do something fun…I keep reminding them…”I am not that Mom”
So I am hoping if I stay hidden all will be ok.
Boys? The way they interact is … well, interesting anyway.We go to pick up Henrys friend from his house, and immediately the boy showed Henry his "burp on demand" skills.
Henry giggling, says "That is very interesting" then continues the rest of the ride home to try to burp on demand...which he cannot seem to master, much to my pleasure. But this was the beginning of...well, BOY mode.They proceeded to scream from the moment they entered the house, running up the stairs as fast as they could to start an activity I like to call “shake the house down”
I cannot figure out what exactly they were doing, they were jumping, tumbling…or taking off drywall, I am not sure, but the entire house was shaking.
Thankfully, 4 year old boys seem to have the attention span of a gnat so that only lasted for a few minutes (before I had to go up and crack some skulls) and they were onto something new.
Did I say that I was thankful for the short attention span? OK so THAT was delusional. This short attention span turned into a continuous path of running from my sons room upstairs to the basement downstairs, with 1000 things in between… after they had played with every toy in the entire house for the allotted 10 seconds, they were bored.
Bored? Seriously??
I finally sent them down to play…I did not, however, for the benefit of my sons social future, give the “back in my day” speech about no such thing as play dates, and any mention of boredom led to more chores. The speech that always elicits the rolling of the eyes, and large sighs response. Secretly I don’t blame them, I got the same speech, as did my folks, and If I was a betting woman, I’d bet none of us appreciated the sentiment!
I have been checking on them periodically to make sure that they aren’t building bombs in the basement or somewhere they aren’t supposed to be (the girls rooms) and my son, who on a regular basis, just looks at me with love in his eyes, and says "I love you mom"... Now is in the basement and when I come down stairs he says: "WHAT? What do you want?"
I said nothing, and then he says "What? Why are you looking at me?"
(we will have a politeness discussion later and I doubt I will be polite about it!)
Somehow the extra Y chromosome in the room transformed his eyes from looking at me as lovable cool mom to “Persona non grata.”
He is worse than a teenager...is this a sign of things to come? I hope not. But Some where deep in the recesses of my heart, I am fairly sure that he is going to make me drop him off a block from school so he can walk in.
So I have just given in, I will listen carefully from afar and check on them periodically, and hope all gets calmer. Somehow when they see me they seem to think I am Julie McCoy cruise director, and am going to do something fun…I keep reminding them…”I am not that Mom”
So I am hoping if I stay hidden all will be ok.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Super Eyes
Henry has a new trick, he has informed me that he has "Super Eyes"
He screws them on, with a wonderful "shhhwooot, shhhwooot" sound and then I know that he has them on. He says that he can see North Carolina with them.
So North Carolina ought to be scared, my son is watching you...and if big brother is reading this, I am sure to expect strange unmarked vehicles following my four year old to preschool...
I suppose that this is in response to missing his grandparents. One set is in NC and the other is in VA. He has really enjoyed seeing his NC grandparents a great deal this month between an extended Christmas visit and a "pick up gran" trip.
I have had to answer endless questions about why we don't live in NC, or VA...when CAN we live in NC and VA... when I explained that we used to live in VA, but we moved away to Maine his response was:
"Well that was stupid"
Nothing like feeling judged by your 4 year old. And I am sure that as my mother-in-law is reading this she is thinking "YEAH my super secret mission to get them back here is working!"
This all is kind of sweet that he misses and loves his grandparents so much that he wants to see what they are doing...but it is worrying me a tad that he is giving me descriptions of what he is seeing...
"Hey there is a brown horse"
"Where Henry, I don't see a horse."
"No Mooooom, in North Carolina, can't you see I have my super eyes on?"
must have not heard them being screwed in...never a dull moment.
He screws them on, with a wonderful "shhhwooot, shhhwooot" sound and then I know that he has them on. He says that he can see North Carolina with them.
So North Carolina ought to be scared, my son is watching you...and if big brother is reading this, I am sure to expect strange unmarked vehicles following my four year old to preschool...
I suppose that this is in response to missing his grandparents. One set is in NC and the other is in VA. He has really enjoyed seeing his NC grandparents a great deal this month between an extended Christmas visit and a "pick up gran" trip.
I have had to answer endless questions about why we don't live in NC, or VA...when CAN we live in NC and VA... when I explained that we used to live in VA, but we moved away to Maine his response was:
"Well that was stupid"
Nothing like feeling judged by your 4 year old. And I am sure that as my mother-in-law is reading this she is thinking "YEAH my super secret mission to get them back here is working!"
This all is kind of sweet that he misses and loves his grandparents so much that he wants to see what they are doing...but it is worrying me a tad that he is giving me descriptions of what he is seeing...
"Hey there is a brown horse"
"Where Henry, I don't see a horse."
"No Mooooom, in North Carolina, can't you see I have my super eyes on?"
must have not heard them being screwed in...never a dull moment.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
There are Days I Wonder....
…If Henry is operating with all 6 cylinders....
Because I don’t feel I have enough to make me insane, I took on coaching my middle daughters D.I. team. (Destination Imagination) The other coach and I being crazy busy decided to have a meeting so that we could get organized.
She has a daughter one year older than Caroline and one that is one year older than Henry. So I thought to myself…hey they can play!
My eldest was on the computer playing SimCity, the others were playing, and we got our work done…all was nice and normal…
I went to the bottom of the stairs with the other coach to call for her daughters as it was time to head home…Henry comes to the top of the stairs with his light saber, leap pad back pack on and a pair of underwear on his head…
To make matters worse when I laughed trying to make it all sound silly and said “Oh did you get those out of your clean laundry basket?” Kind of giving the reassuring look to the woman standing next to me who was sporting a very “unsure about the cleanliness of your house" look He yells…
“No I got them off Marshall’s floor!” Yeah, not really what I wanted to hear…especially when he had them pulled so far down on his head he was peaking through the leg holes…
Marshall came bolting around the corner and ran up the stairs taking them by 4’s, grabbed the underwear off his head and yelled…”That is so gross Henry that’s my dirty underwear…” and stomped off to her room muttering about her privacy...
So who wants to bet how long it will be before we have a meeting at my house again?
Because I don’t feel I have enough to make me insane, I took on coaching my middle daughters D.I. team. (Destination Imagination) The other coach and I being crazy busy decided to have a meeting so that we could get organized.
She has a daughter one year older than Caroline and one that is one year older than Henry. So I thought to myself…hey they can play!
My eldest was on the computer playing SimCity, the others were playing, and we got our work done…all was nice and normal…
I went to the bottom of the stairs with the other coach to call for her daughters as it was time to head home…Henry comes to the top of the stairs with his light saber, leap pad back pack on and a pair of underwear on his head…
To make matters worse when I laughed trying to make it all sound silly and said “Oh did you get those out of your clean laundry basket?” Kind of giving the reassuring look to the woman standing next to me who was sporting a very “unsure about the cleanliness of your house" look He yells…
“No I got them off Marshall’s floor!” Yeah, not really what I wanted to hear…especially when he had them pulled so far down on his head he was peaking through the leg holes…
Marshall came bolting around the corner and ran up the stairs taking them by 4’s, grabbed the underwear off his head and yelled…”That is so gross Henry that’s my dirty underwear…” and stomped off to her room muttering about her privacy...
So who wants to bet how long it will be before we have a meeting at my house again?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Excuses Excuses
So, my son doesn't eat anything anymore...to be honest I am not sure how he is still growing. His palate consists of white starchy things. Rice, bread, peanut butter, noodles with parmesan cheese and waffles….Occasionally I can get him to eat an apple, but only with out any of the skin showing…because that MIGHT add color to his diet.
I have gotten so tired of this, that what ever we have for dinner is what he gets, he can either eat, or be hungry…I just have put my foot down…
Unfortunately the boy tends to choose going to bed hungry. He realizes that this makes me crazy so in his Henry way of making me feel better, he comes up with what he views as “reasonable excuses” for not eating and I get them each morning.
“Mom I didn’t eat because I sat on the couch too long and my tummy hurt”
“Mom I didn’t eat because my knees were bothering me.”
“Mom Green told me that I couldn’t eat” (Green is his lovey bear)
But this morning was one of my favorites…
“Mom I do you know why I didn’t eat last night? Because I didn’t want to get this counter dirty so I could eat at it this morning…” he said this rubbing the counter in front of him.
OK so I get that I am not Martha Stewart…but I DO wash my countertops… How this child is so big is beyond me…peanut butter must have super nutrient powers to it!
I have gotten so tired of this, that what ever we have for dinner is what he gets, he can either eat, or be hungry…I just have put my foot down…
Unfortunately the boy tends to choose going to bed hungry. He realizes that this makes me crazy so in his Henry way of making me feel better, he comes up with what he views as “reasonable excuses” for not eating and I get them each morning.
“Mom I didn’t eat because I sat on the couch too long and my tummy hurt”
“Mom I didn’t eat because my knees were bothering me.”
“Mom Green told me that I couldn’t eat” (Green is his lovey bear)
But this morning was one of my favorites…
“Mom I do you know why I didn’t eat last night? Because I didn’t want to get this counter dirty so I could eat at it this morning…” he said this rubbing the counter in front of him.
OK so I get that I am not Martha Stewart…but I DO wash my countertops… How this child is so big is beyond me…peanut butter must have super nutrient powers to it!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Christmas Presents to Cry Over
Christmas for us this year was a small one. Between the economy, an emergency flight to VA for my husbands dad, and BOTH, yes BOTH of our cars breaking down the two weeks before Christmas, our Christmas funding (which isn’t very generous in a normal year) was slowly eroded.
But as I found as a child, when I was told it was a tight year and Christmas was going to be lean…sometimes that provides the best Christmas ever…because we get creative.
I put my hands to work and made gifts for my nieces and my daughters, which turned out to be a good thing. Watching my oldest daughter put on her dress and swing around in it holding it to her chest like it was too precious to let go, or seeing my middle daughters surprised look when the sweater that she coveted as I was knitting, was actually for her and not for her cousin, made Christmas morning for me.
But the “piece de la resistance” was the present from my middle daughter. (who is known for her home made gifts of paper and boxes!) I pulled out two people made from popsicle sticks, and a bunch of sticks wrapped together. Then I pulled out a piece of cardboard that was covered in green construction paper with a blue round piece on it.
Puzzled I looked at her for the explanation. Here it is:
“Mom I know you have always wanted to have a farm, so I made you one that you can play with until you finally get yours…that is you and dad, and that is a bale of hay. Here are the fields, and you even have a pond! Every year I will give you more pieces to your farm so it’s the gift that keeps giving…”
OK so other than the hallmark teaser at the end…it was such a wonderful little thing, that it brought tears to my eyes….YES Rabid Outdoorsman…AGAIN!
But seriously? Who wouldn’t get a little vaclempt????
But as I found as a child, when I was told it was a tight year and Christmas was going to be lean…sometimes that provides the best Christmas ever…because we get creative.
I put my hands to work and made gifts for my nieces and my daughters, which turned out to be a good thing. Watching my oldest daughter put on her dress and swing around in it holding it to her chest like it was too precious to let go, or seeing my middle daughters surprised look when the sweater that she coveted as I was knitting, was actually for her and not for her cousin, made Christmas morning for me.
But the “piece de la resistance” was the present from my middle daughter. (who is known for her home made gifts of paper and boxes!) I pulled out two people made from popsicle sticks, and a bunch of sticks wrapped together. Then I pulled out a piece of cardboard that was covered in green construction paper with a blue round piece on it.
Puzzled I looked at her for the explanation. Here it is:
“Mom I know you have always wanted to have a farm, so I made you one that you can play with until you finally get yours…that is you and dad, and that is a bale of hay. Here are the fields, and you even have a pond! Every year I will give you more pieces to your farm so it’s the gift that keeps giving…”
OK so other than the hallmark teaser at the end…it was such a wonderful little thing, that it brought tears to my eyes….YES Rabid Outdoorsman…AGAIN!
But seriously? Who wouldn’t get a little vaclempt????
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
boys and their guns
Ok so it's not that I am totally anti-gun necessarily...I am not.
My husband was a hunter and would be still if he had fellow Y chromosomes to take him here in Maine. I have no issues with that. I will even be honest and tell you when I shot a 45 at my friend Kims house and it kicked back so hard my arm almost fell off... it was kind of a rush...
I do however, do the suburban mom thing when it comes to my kids pretending to shoot all of us dead...I mean call it the teacher in me, but I kinda feel that I should intervene when my kids are plotting my death.
Just as having a boy has taught me many life lessons, I have also learned that it doesn't matter if you give boys guns or not. They will shoot them anyway. If you don't give them a plastic replica of a handgun...have no fear, they will find a stick, or a car or even a piece of string.
One day Henry put on a long white Cinderella glove from the dress up box, and told me it was a special hand gun that shot fire out of the fingers.
If you don't give them a gun, they will create them. Tonight at the dinner table, Henry pulled his foot up onto the table and pretended to shoot me with his toes.
yup...he used his FOOT as a gun. *Le Sigh*
No point in fighting it, boys will be boys, and what is it with them and their guns anyway???
My husband was a hunter and would be still if he had fellow Y chromosomes to take him here in Maine. I have no issues with that. I will even be honest and tell you when I shot a 45 at my friend Kims house and it kicked back so hard my arm almost fell off... it was kind of a rush...
I do however, do the suburban mom thing when it comes to my kids pretending to shoot all of us dead...I mean call it the teacher in me, but I kinda feel that I should intervene when my kids are plotting my death.
Just as having a boy has taught me many life lessons, I have also learned that it doesn't matter if you give boys guns or not. They will shoot them anyway. If you don't give them a plastic replica of a handgun...have no fear, they will find a stick, or a car or even a piece of string.
One day Henry put on a long white Cinderella glove from the dress up box, and told me it was a special hand gun that shot fire out of the fingers.
If you don't give them a gun, they will create them. Tonight at the dinner table, Henry pulled his foot up onto the table and pretended to shoot me with his toes.
yup...he used his FOOT as a gun. *Le Sigh*
No point in fighting it, boys will be boys, and what is it with them and their guns anyway???
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Snow, Beautiful Snow
OK, so I guess I am a true New Englander. Besides my crotchety side, I also really love the snow. There is something about the white stuff…(in January anyway) that makes me smile, curl up with a good book and bad food and go into a little hibernation that I won’t allow myself to do in good weather.
HOWEVER, I realize that there is one caveat to my love of winter…still having a pre-schooler. Having a little one makes “Snow time” like putting on a Broadway musical with major costume changes and adjustments at every act.
Henry wanting to go out in the snow was told to go get a sweater and we would send him out. Being summoned to the bottom of the stairs I gazed up at my 4 year old standing at the top of the stairs with nothing but his boxer briefs and a sweater vest…
“uh…that wasn’t what I was thinking” I said nicely
“WHAT? It’s a sweater and it’s warm!!!” Henry screamed indignantly.
After a few minutes of arguing and knowing that I was going to lose, I simply took matters into my own hands and wrangled him into warm clothes. This task was more like wrestling a wet pig in Jello than clothing a child (not that I would know this per say…) All this only to come down stairs to start the wrapping, layering and jamming of the winter wear marathon.
By the time he got out side and I sat down, the door bell was ringing. Snow in the gloves… This is the major disaster that sends Henry into complete and total apoplexy every time he plays out side…they have yet to invent a glove that the boy can’t get snow into. As I am shaking out the glove I hear:
“Look I can boot skate on the floor!”
Henry in all his glory, and snow covered boots, is sliding around the wood floor in the living room. By the time I get him back out side, mop the floor so I don't break my butt slipping in it, answer the door a few more times and resolve more tragedies of the wetness of snow, I remember…didn’t I have a book somewhere I wanted to read?
Now I remember why I like spring also!
HOWEVER, I realize that there is one caveat to my love of winter…still having a pre-schooler. Having a little one makes “Snow time” like putting on a Broadway musical with major costume changes and adjustments at every act.
Henry wanting to go out in the snow was told to go get a sweater and we would send him out. Being summoned to the bottom of the stairs I gazed up at my 4 year old standing at the top of the stairs with nothing but his boxer briefs and a sweater vest…
“uh…that wasn’t what I was thinking” I said nicely
“WHAT? It’s a sweater and it’s warm!!!” Henry screamed indignantly.
After a few minutes of arguing and knowing that I was going to lose, I simply took matters into my own hands and wrangled him into warm clothes. This task was more like wrestling a wet pig in Jello than clothing a child (not that I would know this per say…) All this only to come down stairs to start the wrapping, layering and jamming of the winter wear marathon.
By the time he got out side and I sat down, the door bell was ringing. Snow in the gloves… This is the major disaster that sends Henry into complete and total apoplexy every time he plays out side…they have yet to invent a glove that the boy can’t get snow into. As I am shaking out the glove I hear:
“Look I can boot skate on the floor!”
Henry in all his glory, and snow covered boots, is sliding around the wood floor in the living room. By the time I get him back out side, mop the floor so I don't break my butt slipping in it, answer the door a few more times and resolve more tragedies of the wetness of snow, I remember…didn’t I have a book somewhere I wanted to read?
Now I remember why I like spring also!
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