The Week in Snippets

Yes, well 2013 is perking along nicely despite John's neverending ear infection and Sam's and my perpetual cough.  Here are several of the highlights thus far:

#1
I procured tickets to see Peter Pan on Broadway (thanks Mama!).  We have seats that are just in reach of fairy dust.  Clearly this pales in comparison to the Monster Truck Jam, but having your mama there has got to count for something.  And John and I can both vouch for that if all goes well.

#2
Cathy Rigby is Peter Pan.  She is going to swing out on her fishing line cable and sprinkle the people in rows A-J with pixie dust.  Just because we are in Row N doesn't mean that we are losers.  On the contrary.   We just don't want to get dirty, that's the thing.

#3
Brian lost and found his wallet. From what we can piece together, it apparently took a ride on the back of his car through Green Hills, suffered through a rain storm and several beatings by various Hummers, and then magically was found by an elderly opera fanatic, who called yesterday requesting a pick up of the item.  He also included -- for John's sake I think ... he was along for the pickup -- a half-eaten box of chocolates.  We had been eating out of the box for an entire day when we finally thought to look at the name of the candies.  Since then, much fun has been had with the name.

#4
Sam has discovered that he is a real person capable of controlling things (me).  Usually I am trying to eat him up with kisses, but there is that other, um ... 49% of the time wherein I am breathing deep and "managing" him.  Today we had some humdinger moments; HOWEVER, every single day of my life I longingly say, "WE.SHOULD.BE.RECORDING.HIM!" and Brian agrees wholeheartedly.  But then  one of the children dumps out an entire bag of expensive, organic dried cranberries and we forget.  Tonight what I want to remember is his nightly desire to sing the "Blessing Song" that is, apparently, the gold standard at all 37211 preschools.  The words are set to "Are You Sleeping Brother John" in case that helps:

God our father

God our father

Once again

Once again

We bow our heads to thank you

Bow our heads to thank you

Amen.

Amen.

So normally we humor him by singing this before every meal, but tonight as I was in John's room saying goodnight and Brian was in bed with Sam, John and I noticed that they were singing the song without us, and there were such hilarious interludes that we almost had to disturb the show with trips to the bathroom.

Sam sings "God our Father" like this:

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FIRST WE SING GOD THE FATHER. (cue finger entwinement and head bowing)

God our father

God our father

One sageen.

One sageen.

We found our heads to thank you

Found our heads to thank you

GAH-men.

GAH-men.

What follows is typically John's nightly dinnertable invective on the pronunciation of "amen," but tonight -- because we were in bed and not at the table? -- John just listened with me and enjoyed.  And despite the fact that Sam had a major coughing episode just after the words "thank you," he still managed to get in the usual double dose of wholehearted "GAHmen."

My Sunday school class today was all about prayer and how we each define it.  It was a fascinating discussion.  But in the end, I think I was left with the emphasis on just doing it.  Just getting through to the end.  Imagine!  Not having our minds wander or falling asleep or getting distracted by filthy craisins.  Starting and finishing a prayer -- however we define praying -- is WAY more important than what we say. 

OUS, and hoping you make it to GAH-men,

k

The amount of time between my blog posts is is just obscene, but I swear to do better.

 I think that I may not have posted since Sam's birthday letter.  Which was late already, so there you go.  I don't know why I haven't posted.  I have lots of things to say about motherhood and the children and whatnot, but somehow 9 p.m. comes, and I find myself curled around a body pillow sheathed in a yellow case I snagged off the clearance rack at Tar-jay. Pronounce that "j" in the French way, if you will.

So here are all the photos from my pathetic phone, which I keep wanting to replace but not getting past the talking about it.  Below I will try to elaborate on them, which is just going to have to suffice for now.

It snowed an inch and in typical south-of-the-mason-dixon fashion, everything shut down.  The boys and I had a delightful snowball fight.  Heretofore I've been opposed to being hit by  baseball-sized balls of ice, but if you can't beat 'em ...... Also, I turned 36 and Brian 41.  

 

 

The most expensive thing we own now is my Vitamix, which I call my Lance Armstrong blender ... you know, b/c it's like a normal kitchen appliance on steroids.  Mostly I use it to make soup.  My success rate is about 40% so far.  Surprisingly, this green stuff is one of my better concoctions.

Sam sleeps a lot these days.  Just not at night or in his own bed or at bedtime or soundly.   He does have a full-size bed, however.  Which he seems to think is a trampoline, but neveryoumind ...  this, like all other rough patches, is going to pass.  And despite the fact that a new one will come to replace it, I still use that mindset to keep me positive.

This one is mostly doing basketball, but his baseball team has started up for pre-season training.  You know, because they're 8, and it's serious now.  And plus, only losers wait until March to start training for April games.  In this picture, he is posing with a bowling ball from our "Mom & John Bowling Night," during which he beat me in two games.

 And so ends this quarterly blog update.  Lots and lots of other important things have happened, but some of them are too sad, or happy, or nostalgic, or blurry to write about.

OUS,

k

Boys.

 

 

 

 

 

 Meanwhile ... I was watching Les Miserables at the Hollywood 27 with a girlfriend from my book club.

A Year in Sam

Sam, my sweet.  This letter is late. I'm sorry.  We went to Austin for Thanksgiving and your birthday and then you got a stomach virus and John got strep and I got a cold and it just didn't work out.  But in the grand scheme of my life, baby, YOU are working out like everything I always imagined.

Except for the part about you hating your preschool teacher and hitting her more than 7x in one day.

Did that really happen, love?

Sam, you are THREE.  There have been 3 years of sweet baby Sam, but now the real YOU is coming out.  Not that it's anti-sweet ... it's just you and your youness, but it's not your baby self, or your toddler self ... it's  really YOU that is showing through now, as is normal for a 36 month old child.  I am almost 36 myself, and there are days when I think that we are equal in terms of patience and self-control.

Sam, you are definitely teaching me some lessons.  Like ...

• Really, really, FOLLOW the golden rule, don't just talk about it.  
• Make a counting lesson out of cutting fingernails.  Only 3 more ... !
• Do something good after you've hurt the ones you love (like, poop in the potty for the first time after spitting at your preschool teacher, urinating on the floor, and telling her, "Shut your mouth.").  

Did that really happen, love?

• Tell people when you did NOT do something bad (especially when your brother did).  
• Explain all the "whys" away by saying, "Because I did."  
• Hug everybody when you wake up.  
• Notice when you look good and say, "Oh yeah, bay-beh."  
• Say "Merry Christmas" everytime you see Christmas lights, just because they remind you of the season.  

I always wanted a Sam, and you are everything that I had in mind (and more). Way more, actually.  Which I think is what most people discover about their children, but we are not talking about other people's children. We are talking about YOU.

Here are some things that you say, ritually, that I think are grand:

• "I don't know." (An answer to all sorts of philosophical questions.)
• "Because I did." (A response to most questions that start with "why did you...")
• "Ackshwawee."  (translation:  actually)
• "You're my best." (see below)
• "I wuvs you." (You can't say L's and you mark all verbs as if they are paired with a 3rd person subject)
• "Mom, I didn't do dat."  (You always make note of things that you don't do, which usually your brother HAS done)
• "I not a bad boe-ee."  (translation: "I'm not a bad boy.")
• "Mom, you're my best." (translation. not. needed.)

Sam, you love to tell people that you like donuts and cheese.  And honestly, I think you could live off of just that.  Occasionally you will stomach applesauce, hummus, rice, pasta with dad's sauce, or some turkey, but otherwise, you just don't eat.  

Tonight I discovered that perhaps you are an introvert.  We talked for 30 minutes about your day today, which was better than yesterday, but still lacking in the successful-preschool-day department.  Finally, after half an hour, you began to really open up.  You told me that your teachers get mad.  That you get in trouble. That Cooper tells you all sorts of bad things (like, "Shut your mouth."). And then you hugged me and hugged me and hugged me in that way that only working moms can translate into, "You don't spend enough time with me."

So there it is.  That ugly bit of us or me or whatever.  That part that I want to hide under the couch cushions like mismatched socks.  

We working moms can find blame for ourselves around every corner (as can outsiders).  But tonight I felt like our 30 minutes of snuggle time before bed was more important and better, somehow, than 8 hours in a good day of would-be stay-home Mommydom with ME.  (This is where you say, "PHEW!  Thank goodness I never had to deal with that."  Really, Sam.  Trust me on this one.)

Or maybe I'm just humoring myself.

There is so much to love about you, Sam.  And so much to wonder about.  I wish that I could always just be curious instead of judgmental.  And I'm sorry about that last bit.  If it makes you feel better, please know that I do it to myself too.

Last year, I wrote all these similes and metaphors about you, and likened you to an algebraic equation.  This year, I think I'll compare you to a grammatical structure that is at the top level of acquisition.  The kind of structure that both first and second language learners grasp only in their very advanced stages.  I wish I was in that advance stage of motherhood, but I fear that I'm not. 

The problem is that I feel like I'm grasping it all AFTER the test.  Because I learn so much from the exams!  It's just ... can they please not all be pop quizzes?  

And so I'll end this letter with the same words that I end every night:

I wuvs you, Bams. And nothing you can ever say or do will stop that.  I hope you have sweet and long dreams.  I'll see you when you need me.  If you need me, call me, and I'll be right here.  

XOXOX,

Mama

p.s.  You're my best too.

Cousins

 

One thing that we did over Thanksgiving break

Austin, TX Turkey Trot 2012.  You are looking at Brian, who placed #38 in the 35-45 division (out of 2,000+ runners, 5 miles in 40 minutes), ME, Amy, and two of the most acclaimed 1 mile Fun Run participants.  This was all before our trip to urgent care.  Yay active lifestyle and healthy eating!  p.s.  I have a sweatshirt around my waist, which accounts for the extra "padding," so quit speculating that I need to cut carbs.

More to come ... 

An Update on The Big Bad Wolf

John, age 8

 Today when I picked this one from school, he talked a blue streak all the way to piano lessons.  One of the tidbits I gleaned from this conversation was as follows:

"Mom.  Did you know that some scary monsters from stories are real and some are not?  Like, for instance, King Kong is totally not real, but the Big Bad Wolf ... like, you know, the one that went after the 3 little pigs? ... he's totally alive and well and living a retired life up in Canada."

To which I responded, "Well, universal healthcare does have a strong following."

Again, just a normal Thursday.

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