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Strange Bedfellows

3 Apr

The objects I find in Nate’s bed after a nap or night’s sleep surprise me more and more with each discovery. I’m not just talking about the mountain of plush animals he has avalanching on his feet each night. Those are a given. I’m talking more about the:

  • Books
  • Valentine card from his girlfriend, Madeline
  • Wristwatch
  • Race cars/trains
  • Superhero action figures – including putting on his Spiderman costume
  • Baseball bat
  • Multiple baseball hats – one often being worn on his head as he emerges from his room
  • Baseball glove
  • Yep, baseball
  • Baseball trophy (I bet he won that pretend game he was playing.)

Sure seems like he’s having a blast in that bed. So much so, he falls asleep from exhaustion.

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Carved in a Blog

3 Apr

Because it seems to me that this blog post will likely remain in existence for longer than blue ink written on our fence post, I wanted to capture Nia’s “was here” message.

She wanted to mark the spot where her baby brother crushed the baseball into our fence. I wanted to mark the spot when she made our hearts happy.

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Opening Day 2011

2 Apr

Opening Day may be over but Nate continues to want to play ball. He and Andrew are outside right now batting and I’m surprised we finally were able to convince him to change out of his uniform. Nate is so proud and comfortable in that uniform. He woke us up at 5:50 this morning asking where it was and if he could put it on yet. (Big, bad mommy told him to try to get some more sleep and then fell back asleep before I heard a complaint from him.)

His game was great. His team of cuties didn’t win but you could tell they all had a blast despite the score. As far as stats go, I think Nate ran home twice and got one out at first. (I was so happy he caught the throw that tears crept out of my eyes.)  He executed a beautiful (but unnecessary) slide at home that made the team’s other coach chuckle with surprise and give Andrew a pat on the shoulder. Another stat that I can’t ignore would have to be that he played with the zipper on his new uniform pants – a lot.

I’m thankful we got to play a bunch of nice boys with considerate coaches for our first game. I didn’t hear a negative word – only praise and thoughtfulness for the little guys on both benches. It was a wonderful feeling and has me looking forward to the next game. In the meantime though, I’ll enjoy Nate’s reaction after seeing the Baltimore Orioles were on tv tonight. “Oh! I gotta go get my Orioles hat!”

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Throw Mom & Dad Under the Bus

29 Mar

You love them. Kiss their boo-boos. Cut their food. Cart them around to all the fun stuff they want to do. Oh yeah, birth them. And then what do they do? Throw you under the bus with the simple raise of a hand or nod of a head.

Nia is the biggest tattler of the mommy/daddy fails. (Although one, I will argue, was a total fabrication!) Here’s just a sample of what I mean:

  • A teacher was talking to them about safety the other day and she asked the class if they are ever left alone at home. Nia told me she raised her hand because sometimes I “walk to the mailbox while she’s still inside.” The teacher didn’t know that though. She just now thinks that we leave Nia to fend for herself at 7 years old. That would be a no. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to leave her by herself, even when she is old enough. (Mom fear nonsense.)
  • The doctor asked Nia if she wears her helmet when she rides her bike. “Nope,” Nia replied nonchalantly. Excuse me, child? You do so wear your helmet! She told me she said no because she was answering about if she ever rides her bike.  That’s ok. I wanted to hear the two minute safety speech about why she should wear it…
  • During Nate’s baseball practice a week ago, I was looking at an incident happening with another child on the field and said aloud to myself, “I’m not sure what’s happening.” Nia then proceeded to shout at her daddy, Coach Andrew, on the field, “Daddy! Mommy says she doesn’t know what’s happening out there!” Boy did he shoot me a look! I gasped and said, “Nia! Why did you just get me in trouble with daddy?!” She giggled and giggled.

Of course, I’m not saying I would prefer if Nia fibbed or anything like that. It would just be nice to have some cushion to bear the brunt of the bus.

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From Disappointment to When’s Our Appointment?

28 Mar

Is it possible to say you had a good time at the doctor’s office? A doctor visit with a finger prick, urine test and shots? Also, a doctor visit involving two children under the age 8? Who would really feel like, “Whee! I’m taking my kids to be stabbed with a needle! Party!” Um, no. That’s why I can’t believe how awesome it is to take the kids their doctor now.

I used to dread it. When we first moved here, our doctor visits were agony. (All three of those < links in the previous sentence will share the past doctor drama with you.) I’m not saying I now look forward to a shot in the arm visit, but the kids’ new doctor’s office makes it worlds (WORLDS) better.

This doctor’s office never makes you feel like you are bothering them or that you were forgotten about while waiting. They send encouraging messages to parents like, “You are doing a great job with your children.” They talk to the kids and to parents, not at us. They genuinely seem to care about our children – what they do for fun, how they are doing in school what’s their favorite activity. They draw smiley faces and hearts on the hospital gown/shorts the kids wear during checkups. They know beneficial tricks to help make things like shots and strep tests less uncomfortable or scary for kids. (Not like when I had to forcibly hold toddler Nate down on the table at the last doctor.)

What’s even more cool about their doctor now is the Treasure Tower. The kids were given coins that would grant them the goody of their choice. (Our nurse gave the kids two each because Nate broke her heart with his pre-shot puppy dog tears. He and Nia both handled the shots like tough guys though. Not even a sniffle when the needle went in!) Along with the treasure of their choice, they got stickers and I also added a Chick-Fil-A milkshake to their after-shot spoiling. I’m pretty sure the kids won’t mind when we have to go back for the next check-up. Party at the pediatrician. Whee!

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Coins for Treasure Tower

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Shots in Arms, Milkshakes in Bellies

 

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Where I’m Coming From

26 Mar

I have a lot of time for deep thoughts and imagination adventures during my usual two hours (plus) a day in the car driving to work and home. I think about the people I see carpooling. Do they like each other? Do they talk or listen to music? Maybe he has a crush on the girl passenger.

Often, I spend it creating what-if scenarios in my head. Here are just a few of them:

  • What if a person driving an Obama bumper sticker-covered car and a person driving a McCain/Palin bumper sticker-covered car crashed? Would they be less forgiving? Would they immediately jump to insults? Stereotypical thought? Would it matter?
  • What if I was standing in line with these people I’m in traffic with? Would I yell at them to move when the line moved up like people honk their horns when the light turns green? Or would that guy cutting everyone off, zigzagging through traffic, do that face-to-face?
  • What if they could know that I didn’t get around them only because they were driving too slow but more because I don’t like to be behind vehicles that are larger than mine? Would they be less likely to flip me the bird?

I also like to think about how we don’t know where anyone is coming from or where they’re going. They may be speeding by you because a family member is sick. That slow driver may have been on the road for an hour longer than you after a trying day. Maybe they just heard sad news. Maybe they don’t have anywhere to be. No hurry for them. Maybe they’re late for a special event. Not trying to be jerks or idiots like many (me too) often throw out at them, they just are traveling on the road they have before them. Like everyone around them.

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Blog Post of a Wimpy Kid Fan

23 Mar

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Nia is all about reading some kid’s diary and it’s so great. Actually, she would likely correct me and tell me that he really wants it to be called a journal. She has entered into the reader’s world of befriending book characters. This Wimpy Kid and his adventures have captured her heart and imagination and it’s wonderful to share in her excitement.

She finished the first book in two days. (She counted down to us as she turned the pages – asking us to subtract 152 from the total.) When she turned that final page, we knew we needed to continue her Wimpy Kid connection so we drove the 30 minutes to the nearest open bookstore and bought each book in the series, plus a special one about the movie.

She’s now nearing the end of the second book but she’s not happy with the interruptions of the school week. Like, the bus rides in the morning. She told us it was too dark for her to read and asked us if she could bring a small flashlight. She now has a book light to help expand her reading time. She’ll soon be finished with all the them and waiting for the author to write more. Good thing there are movies to tide her over…

 

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Happy to Have Them All!

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Nate is inspired too!

Book Light for the Bus

 

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The Weight of Birthdays

22 Mar

I’m calling for a shake up with how we celebrate birthdays. Be gone, “Eh, it’s just another day,” attitudes that many acquire in our older years. (I’m guilty.) I think it’s then that we should go all out like we did when we were young. Not necessarily stay up all night slumber parties, New Kids on the Block cakes or jumpy place parties but just more pronounced attention then many allow. It seems, as our numbers grow, the size and importance we put on our born day shrinks. Life gets in the way of life.

Shouldn’t we be rejoicing that our number is able to grow? That we are still here to celebrate the rotation of another year? Feel incredible to be given more precious days to enjoy and accomplish? Some people have battled cancer and won. Some have battled in war zones. Others have been through incomprehensible life journeys. And they are still here to experience another day while so many others are not. Why don’t we live for them?

I know it’s hard because who really likes getting older? We cling to our youth. Our energy. Our young skin and bones. The ability to sit cross-cross-applesauce. I pluck and cover my grays and sample that magic-promising anti-aging cream. But shouldn’t I be cherishing that I’m here to laugh at my aging pieces? Or that we have 35, 39, 43, 47, 54 and more tucked away in the shadow boxes of our memories?

Andrew remarked that he hasn’t had this many presents (for his 35th) since he was 12.  I hope it stays that way with each year because I know how very grateful I am to celebrate it with him. So very thankful we get to cycle through one more year of enjoying the smaller numbers and welcoming what’s next. Life.

 

Birthday Banana Pudding

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Tiny Geniuses in Nia’s Brain

20 Mar

Nia’s brain continues to amaze us. So much so that Andrew and I will often tell her she has a genius brain. I even told her once (after seeing her great work on math and comprehension tests) that it’s like she has a bunch of tiny geniuses who specialize in different subjects living in her head. I even thought about turning that idea into a children’s book: A little girl with all of these stereotypical character geniuses living in her skull. But then one day, one of them gets sick and can’t help deliver her the correct answer when the question is racing through her head. The others have to pick up the slack and adventure and education ensues.

We can almost see that process happening in her mind when we ask her a question. I have three examples of this that just happened this morning:

  • I asked Nia through a closed door if she had finished her Sunday School homework that was assigned last week. There was silence for a few seconds and then her little voice replied, “Yep. Remember? I did it right when I got home from Sunday School last week.”
  • I asked Nia what she had asked me earlier in the morning because I couldn’t hear her and couldn’t respond right away. She sat for a few seconds and then delivered, “I asked why you drank that.”
  • I said the phrase “pick and choose” to her and, after a second of thought, she inquired, “Doesn’t that mean the same thing?” I sat open-mouthed.

Andrew joked that you could almost hear the computer beeping in her brain as it pinged around for the memory/information and produced it for her. (He said, “Like Watson from Jeopardy.) I laughed and tried to join in with his cleverness, “Yeah! You can see her syntax firing!” He gave me a hesitant smile and sweetly corrected, “Synapse, sweetie. Um, you aren’t allowed to teach our kids biology or anatomy either now. Didn’t you have anatomy in high school?!”

Great. Add that to the list of science and geography as things I’m banned from teaching. I’m pretty sure Nia and her little geniuses will be teaching me anyway. I’m kind of counting on that.

(By the way, I had to google the word synapse to make sure I was spelling it correctly. I found this handy-dandy webpage called Neuroscience for Kids. Can’t say I understood it though.)

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Grocery Store Confession

20 Mar

That’s where it happened. It’s where I confessed to Nia what goes on after I kiss her goodnight and shut the door to her room.

It all started because I remembered we needed chocolate syrup and Nia policed me, “That’s not on the list, Mommy.” I defended myself – saying that I knew it wasn’t but we needed to make an exception because I knew we were almost out. To that, Nia wondered, “Who’s been using it?”

Ummm…

I fessed up that it’s my nightly treat. That once she and Nate are tucked in, I chocolate milk it up. She thought I was joking and it must have made an impression on her because hours later, as I was saying night-night, she warned me, “I’m gonna sneak out of my room and catch you making chocolate milk!”

She didn’t but she may still surprise me one of these nights. I’ll be sure to have a second glass on hand to share.

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