As Aunt Myrtle would say ...

Love. A. Heart.     

Blurry like my brain

 

What am I going to do with This One?

 

 

It is 110 degrees. We are getting to that point...

... at which we may have to let them go outside.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Brian & I did this past weekend (note the stark differences)

Me & Molly at Catherine's Wedding in Dallas

David & Brian at the Muddy Buddy Race in rural Tennessee

The Day the Music Dies

Tonight as I was singing Sam to sleep, it occurred to me that there will come a day when I won't be needed or wanted to do that anymore.  These kinds of thoughts are like small head smacks in a world of fast-paced, ignorant parenting.  It is exactly these milestones that are the most important and the least documented:  When Something Stops Happening Because They Have Outgrown It.

Dependence is bittersweet for Mamas.  Or at least for this one.  I'm starting to see a bipolar trend in my desire to be needed or wanted.  On the one hand, I long to NOT wipe anyone's butt for them ever never ever;  on the other hand, I want to kiss the boo-boos of my sweet chubby-chinned boys forever (or at least the one that's left still being chubby chinned).

Sam, unlike John, has a specific preference for the order and lyrics of his lullabies.  He of the lip-syncing in the car (I know, I know, it is killercute ... a video is forthcoming ...).  For Sam's bedtime ritual, he always asks for "Bye-Buh-Bye-Bye" (sometimes twice), followed by "Hush Little Baby Family Version" and then "Sweet Sam."

Because I probably won't remember this in two years or perhaps even in the pre-coffee moments of tomorrow, I need to document the lyrics, which he often hums along with me, as best he can with "Night Night," his precious lovey, jammed halfway down his throat like a clown trick.

"Bye-Buh-Bye-Bye" (original lyrics by Macy; expanded by Mama; sung roughly to the tune of "Rock of Ages")

Bye-Buh-Bye-Bye baby darlin'
Bye-Buh-Bye-Bye baby boy
Go to sleep-y Mama's big boy
Mama's little pride & joy.

Mama loves her Bamsy big boy,
Mama loves her Sammy GUY. [He almost always chimes in on that last word.]
Bye-Buh-Bye-Bye Big boy Bammy
Bye-Buh-Bye, Buh-Bye-Buh-Bye.

"Hush Little Baby Family Version" 

Hush little baby, don't you cry ...
Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby ...

Hush little baby, don't say a word
Da-da's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,
John-John's gonna buy you a lookin' glass.

And if that lookin' glass gets broke,
Macy's gonna buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat won't pull,
Grandaddy's gonna buy you a wagon & a bull.

And if that wagon & bull turn over,
Nanny's gonna buy you a dog named Rover.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,
Grampy's gonna buy you a horse & cart.

And if that horse & cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest little Bamsy in town.

"Sweet Sam" (sung roughly to the tune of "Past Life Memories")


Sweet Sam,
How I love my little lamb.
In dreams there is peace,
Close your eyes & sleep.

Sweet Sam,
Stars shine on you -- Sam I Am.
Find peace in your dreams,
Close your eyes & sleep.

Not even rain or a pocket full of used diaper could ruin this day.

Church clothes always look better with baseball caps & binoculars.

Yesterday we had a lovely summer Sunday.  It began with breakfast burritos and continued to include church, naps, yoga, biking, dinner together (with no one yelling, hitting, or being timed out), and concluded with a stroll on the green-way near our neighborhood, where there were oodles of wild blackberries ripening beside the path.  Below I'd like to document some of my favorite moments of this day.

First, we let the children dress themselves for church.  John chose a striped polo and shorts with winterized fuzzy Crocs.  Sam chose this number:  a button-up with western-style front pockets, shorts, sandals, a backwards baseball hat, and binoculars.  I thought he would be the talk of the two-year old room.  But even the intricacies of dressing children seems to follow that age-old adage that there is always a worse situation than your own.   Standing just in front of the door was a small male child who had apparently spent some time in the "dramatic play" area and had accessorized his church clothes with a tiara and tutu. 

After church, Brian and John took a long bike ride so that Sam could nap and mama could do yoga.  After that we had a big traditional Sunday dinner complete with catfish, butterbeans, cornbread, and spaghetti.  After the meal, we were stuffed, so we decided an evening stroll might help the digestive process.  

The boys wanted to scooter, so we went down to the path instead of walking on the street.  Sam is very proud of his newly-gained ability to use the Big Boy Spiderman Scooter, which has only TWO wheels.  He is so good at it that we trashed the three-wheel baby scooter.

Here we are being SO happy that I bet you can't even tell which one of us has a used diaper in his/her pocket.

At some point during the walk, Sam hopped off his scooter, obviously in pain, and turned around and very clearly said, "My penis huuuuuurrrrtttsss!"  Yes, I teach them the correct names for body parts.  The solution to this problem was to remove his diaper on the green-way.  However, this meant that I was given the fun motherly task of having to carry it for half a mile before we found a garbage can.  The fun thing about boys, however, is that even things which you think are negative can be turned around by creating some sort of throwing game.  So even once we found a trash can, we didn't immediately dump the diaper.  Of course we played keep away, catch, and trashbasketball with it.

John tossing the diaper into the can (see the white blurry thing between him and the can?)

Yes, neither diaper hauling nor even rain could ruin the evening.  In addition to being grossed out by carrying  around used diapers, I also, in a past life, would've seen rain as a preventive to outdoor fun, but now it's only icing on the cake.  Rain, for boys, is novel and cooling, and best of all, it creates enormous mud puddles in which to splash or lie down, as one sees fit. 

Lord, let me remember this day when, very soon, I find myself writhing in the self-pity of a two-day work week during summer vacation.  Let me see my time with them as a the fun pre-cursor to the real challenge of parenthood, which hasn't even graced our doorstep yet: teenagerhood.  Help me to remember that we are so, so lucky to have these loud, energetic, hungry, curious creatures hanging around.  Even if sometimes I have to imagine the opposite type of child to make myself feel better (quiet, lethargic, no-appetite, bored), let me revel in their littleness for now.

Loud, Energetic, Hungry, Curious Creatures

We finally painted the living room.

 

 

Mini Golf + Bumper Cars = Fun Mom & John Evening Out

 

John's last piano lesson of the year

 

A Sweet & Sour End to the Baseball Season

John & Quinn, the 2nd baseman and his classmate @ Glendale

The Cyclones played two games yesterday: the first was a win, but the the second one was a minor bloodbath.  This was disappointing since their big championship blowout last spring, but hopefully spirits will rally.  John had some great plays yesterday, including several RBIs, a triple, and about four outs from his 3rd base position.  The final one was when he caught a pop fly while sliding on his knees.  So much fun to watch! 

Sam, after playing in the dirt and drinking a sip of someone's tobacco spit, scrapes all the sugar off of his pretzel, and then licks it off of his hands.  The pretzel, apparently, was just a side item.