The Nature Walk

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????

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!!!!!

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.

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...

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...

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....

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.