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No Crayola? Not Cool.

27 Jul

The season of school supply shopping is here. The kids start back to school in less than a week so we were forced to deal with side-by-side shoppers sifting through the special displays, slim pickings and deciphering the supply lists from the teachers. (I usually end up with one or two things that I can never match to their lists.)

This year, I had more on my mind than just successfully checking off the list in one trip. I started to think about whether Nia will be judged by other kids based off what folder, notebook or brand name crayon she had in her desk. Yes. I worry about a lot of stuff, a lot.

She wanted (and got) a Barbie folder. I couldn’t help but wonder, is that ok for a second grader to sport? I don’t know what’s cool and even if I did, should it matter? I know it shouldn’t but I also want to eliminate as many obstacles as possible from her new school year. I remember things like brand name clothes and sneakers being status symbols when I was in school. Even if you’re decked out in some GAP, Hollister or whatever’s cool these days, I tend to believe the in-crowd kids will still find something to pick on others about. I guess that’s more of a reason not to care. Andrew actually had the opposite concern, he was worried her Barbie/fancy school loot would make other children feel bad because they want horses and cats to hold their homework as well.

Just to be safe, I grabbed some plain purple folders too.

Cool Enough/Too Cool for School?

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Smoothie-licious

20 Jul

Smoothie-licious

You want it with strawberries? You got it. Some melon? No problem. How ’bout some pineapple? It can add a nice touch. What really makes it yummier than any other smoothie I’ve ever had though is a splash of Sunny D, Andrew’s not-so secret ingredient.

The boy is a smoothie master, always choosing all the right fruit to mix into the non-fat yogurt. He’s made smoothie monsters out of some of our family members. In fact, they even wanted their own Magic Bullets to make the smoothies as easily as he does.

Today, I woke up to find a prepared smoothie and some coffee all ready for me. It’s better than any smoothie/coffee shop I’ve sampled. It also costs a lot less. To that I say, sip until the annoying straw noise is made.

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Forever a Fan

15 Jul

Many of us have something we cherish from childhood. Whether it is a memory with a loved one we hold onto, a favorite stuffed animal or book, or a movie or song that takes us back. But what happens when you grow to dislike the thing you treasured so much? It happened to Andrew, with his love of baseball.

He tells stories about being little and watching Cal Ripen, Jr., his ultimate favorite player. He talks about how he detests the Braves because they beat the Pirates out of going to the World Series in 1992. He collected baseball cards, player figurines and helmets from games. He almost caught a foul ball from a regular season Pirates game but a man stole it from his 10-year-old hands.

It’s hard to believe that all that love for something could fade but a baseball strike and the steroid scandal that plagued the sport for years really wore on his respect for the game. The atmosphere changed. The integrity. The desire to play because you love the game. Not because you want to make more money or break records.

Andrew may have continued to feel that way if it wasn’t for his little boy. Nate has a pure, untarnished love for baseball. The sport brings him shear happiness without any of the politics and controversies to cloud it. He asks his daddy questions about the game, teams and players. He asks his daddy who to root for and who to boo. He asks his daddy to play. His spirit is contagious and Andrew loves watching the sport through his son’s eyes. It’s helped him find the fan he used to be.

I love being a spectator to their baseball bond and am so excited to share in their love of the sport.  (And spoil them with gear proudly displaying their favorite team.)

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Does this scrunchie go with my outfit?

13 Jul

What? What do you mean it’s not fashionable to sport scrunchies anymore? Well, I guess that’s good info to know. I likely won’t respect that rule though.

I think I’m just too darn lazy to be a fashionista or concerned with the latest styles. It’s something I’ve come to realize as I experience more situations that call for me to make vital fashion decisions.

For example:

  • My idea of getting dolled up is attempting to wear some eyeliner and remembering to don some of that costume jewelry I have thanks to my mom and sister.
  • I’d also rather not subscribe to fashion magazines because I don’t want to know how many faux-pas and don’ts I’m committing.
  • I don’t just fail at clothes and jewelry though. I’ve never used the most feminine “grooming” products.  (Some cringe when I tell them I use the cheapo razors to shave my legs. Add the fact that I rarely use shaving cream and they think I’m barbaric.)
  • I don’t take care of the hair on my head like I should either. It is never trimmed within the range of fashionably acceptable.
  • I’ve had the same makeup for months (it’s years for lipstick). I’ve never followed the rule of replacing makeup every so often. In fact, how often am I supposed to replace it?
  • As for nail makeup, I rarely remove my toenail polish to apply a fresh coat. Nope. I just try to fill in the chips. Like I said, lazy.

When I think about it though, I guess I’m not as lazy as I think. Being lazy didn’t contribute to my favorite article of clothing – my holy jeans. I had to work to make all those holes. That’s a style I’m proud to wear.

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Watching Us, Watching Them

5 Jul

Fish Frenzy

This is not meant to be a negative reflection of the Georgia Aquarium and all its greatness. I love it there. It’s incredible. The kids ooh and ah at every swimming creature and we cherish the pleasant memories we make there. I just don’t love what we put ourselves through to try to create those pleasant memories.

Maybe I’m high-strung. Maybe I expect too much. It’s just, it’s almost impossible to really enjoy all the wonders the underwater attraction has to offer. All of the bodies outside of the tanks hamper it every time.

I’ve been to the aquarium four times so far. Each time, it’s the same thing. Hordes of people crowding around tank windows of all sizes, crammed into caverns or awesome tunnels, trying to get a glimpse of something. Don’t stop or look too long because then you’ll be criticized or shot a dirty look by people who want to rush through. Don’t rush through because then you’ll get a head shake by those who want to appreciate it more. I overheard one girl say to her fellow tourist, “People with strollers and others just want to stop and look. I mean, come on! See it and then move on.” Oh, and forget running into a nice person who will offer to let a child squeeze through to get a better look. I mean, they’re two to four feet tall, I guess they could get in the way.  (No!)

Front Row to the Fish Show

I wonder, what do the fish think looking back at us? They have more room in their tanks then we do outside, looking in. Do they think we are crazy? All those people sardined in, pointing and peering, looking at each other rudely as they wait to get a better look. “Did they really pay to (not) see us swim around?” “Look at that one, picking his nose.” “Why do those little ones keep slapping the glass?” “Why isn’t anyone over here at my window nook?”

I paid to watch the fish and sharks and stuff but I got a side of people watching for free. I’m not sure you can put a price on that level of entertainment.

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Daddy Day

20 Jun

He could go golfing. He could watch ESPN all day. He could nap. He could do anything he wants on his day off but he chooses, he wants, to make it daddy day.

Andrew started a new schedule at work that allows him to work 80 hours in 9 days instead of 10 days. That means one day devoted to daddy and the kiddos.

He takes them to the pool.

After Swim Snack

He doesn’t send them away from the area if he has a home project to work on, like our new patio furniture.  He lets them help if they want and patiently answers all their questions about what he’s doing. (What’s this piece for? And this piece? And this piece? Why does that go there? …)

Relaxing After Hard Work

He catches the kids’ favorite tv shows with them – Phineas and Ferb, SpongeBob SquarePants and Kick Buttowksi.

TV Time (aka Tuckered Out Time)

He lets them mess up the house in all their fun and is so courteous to let me see that fun scattered on the floor and overflowing from their rooms when I come home from work. (Just kidding! It’s only a little bit a fun aftermath.)

Daddy day is really so much more than just the time mommy is at work though.

He has a special way of fixing small boo-boos when they happen. Me, I just kiss them to make them feel better. Him? Well, if they scrape their knee, he lifts their arm and checks under it. He looks in their ears. He tells them to do something silly that turns their tears into a fit of giggles.

He loves to cook for them any chance he gets. Daddy’s chicken. Daddy’s smiley face pancakes. Daddy’s waffles with peanut butter. Sometimes, they get sad if daddy isn’t the chef.

He always makes it a point to bring them souvenirs from his work trips. A giant pencil that had San Antonio facts written all over it was especially cherished.

He once ran the length of the house and jumped a flight of split level steps because he heard Nate yelling for help as his fingers slipped from a monkey bar. He made it there in time to catch the little man. Awesome.

He is so very appreciated. He is so very loved. Happy Father’s Day, Andrew. You are our favorite.

Happy for Daddy Day

With Love

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It Takes a Village and All That

17 Jun

Warning: This post is all about me venting. No sunshine or happiness here. Nope. Just complaining.

If you’re still reading, let me start my soapboxing by saying, I understand no one is perfect. We all make mistakes, have temporary lapses in judgment, forget things – sure, I know that  – from personal experience. What I’m having a hard time understanding is intentional situations involving parents not paying proper attention to their children in public. Not correcting their behavior when needed. Not making sure their little ones are safe.

One situation involved our family outing to a college baseball game. The game was great. It was the rowdy, unwatched crowd of young children that encircled our fam that raised my anxiety level.

They fought with each other. They hit us from time to time. They stared and even pushed on Nia and Nate as they enjoyed their dinner of stadium food. They ran into other members of the audience around us. They almost fell through the railing. They wandered away from their parents without being noticed for minutes. In fact, the 3-year-old stood next to me for so long, you might have thought he was my child. (If not for my look of concern aimed at the child’s parent who was sitting a section away from us.)

Another situation starred a child in the  middle of the street. The main street to our neighborhood. A busy street. There he was, sitting on a skateboard. He was one house away from that main entrance, where drivers come around the bend at a good clip. I stopped and then drove by the child with dramatic caution as he waited for me to pass. The mom? Oh, she was in the garage. The child immediately went right back to the danger zone after I passed. The mom? Well, she stayed in the garage. I was so tempted to turn around and ask her why she thinks that’s ok. Why is it ok to let your 4/5-year-old play in the middle of a busy street? The way the world works sometimes, it wouldn’t surprise me if that mom sues the driver who hits her child – and wins.

I guess my main thing with all this is, I don’t know what’s ok anymore. Is it ok for me to correct a stranger’s child? Should I confront parents I see doing something that could endanger their child? Is it my place? Also, when it comes down to it, I guess I’m pretty territorial to my own. I have two precious sweeties of my own, thanks. I’m really trying to make sure they grow up safely and responsibly.

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I Know a Mom

9 May

I know a mom who loves her children more than herself. She kisses their boo-boos and rocks them (and sometimes herself) to sleep. She usually ends up on the other end of projectile yuck but she does what is necessary, cleaning up the mess while letting her child know it’s going to be ok. She takes the time to play games with them, color with them and read them books. She tells them how to spell “love” and answers their questions that she isn’t even sure she knows the answers to.

I know a mom who does it alone. She plays the part of mommy and daddy, working to pay the bills while loving and caring to make sure her child knows he is supported and cherished. She goes without to give her child what he needs and wishes for – new shoes, sports dues, the latest gadget his friends have. She wears his sports picture button proudly on her purse.

I know a mom who has a child who suffers and struggles with an illness or special need. Her child is not able to do the same kinds of things other children do. She constantly worries about her. She stays up at night to comfort her angel through a difficult time and then manages to get through the day doing everything she needs to do for her family. She often feels helpless that she can’t make it all better but she is strong, patient and resolved to do all she can.

I know a mom who works all day away from home. When she is home she cares for her family while trying to care for herself – planning out their clothes, their meals, their activities. Making sure they have everything they need to be ok during the day while they are apart. She wishes she could be home a little sooner each day but she makes the most of their time together.

I know a mom who takes “staying-at-home” to a whole new level. She balances it all (and sometimes more) and takes pride in all she does for her family. She loves every second she gets to spend with her children and never tires of the routine of things. To her, it’s not a job – she wouldn’t have it any other way.

I know a mom who isn’t sure what she’s doing half the time and isn’t afraid to admit it. She loves her children with all her heart and tries to be the best mom she can be. She is a good mom. A great mom. An all-of-the-above mom.

Thank you moms. You are remarkable, beautiful, respected, inspiring and loved. Happy Mother’s Day.
 

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And So It Begins (well, sort of)

22 Feb

It’s a common theme for a love story. Boy meets girl. Boy asks for girl’s phone number. Boy calls girl. Boy and girl don’t speak until girl hands the phone to her dad and says, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Oh yeah, did I mention that boy and girl are only six years old?

So far, Nia has collected the digits of four boys in her class. Only she knows how many boys she graced with her number – likely the lone thing written on a large sheet of copy paper or barely fitting on a piece of ripped notebook paper.

I’m sure this number exchange is happening because many of them have just fully memorized their phone numbers so they are excited about sharing this information with others. I also realize that these boys dig Nia and Nia digs them.

Great.

“Can Nia come over to my house?” This is what “Brian” asks Andrew when he calls. Andrew’s response involved, “I don’t even know who this is or where you live.” Andrew also spoke with Brian’s mom who informed him that Brian had been asking to call Nia all weekend.

When Andrew finally gives the phone to Nia – Brian says nothing to Nia and she says nothing to him. Zip.

This is what makes it all so funny to me. They are handing out their phone numbers left and right but they do not even really know how to talk on the phone – to anyone – properly yet. Another boy left her a voicemail a few weeks ago. It went like this, “Heeey. Is is reeeek. Call me baaaack.”

Whaaaat?

Maybe they should just facebook her?
 

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Until the Magic Disappears

9 Dec

The other day I found myself wondering – if Andrew and I don’t buy presents for the kids on Christmas – will they be there anyway? What if we test it? What if the the big guy really does exist but since we take care of the gift buying, the wrapping and the placing under the tree (we even eat the jolly old elf’s cookies that kids made for him), maybe he just doesn’t show up because he’s not needed (and we ate half of his treats)? It could be true right? If you believe?

Yeah, I must be the parent of a six and three year old. Their undoubting belief in Santa is very powerful. Nia reminds me each day that the “Elf on the Shelf” is watching and that he flies messages to Santa. When I took the kids to see Santa at the mall this year, Nate ran up to him and jumped in his lap, wrapping his arms around him. He did it without hesitation. He did it with love in his heart and excitement for the wonder that Santa brings. I stood there with tears in my eyes. Adult strangers waiting in line for their child’s photo stood there with tears in their eyes.

Christmas 2009

Nate’s reaction did more than touch my heart though, it also broke it a little. Because I know – it’s all a lie. This is not the first time I’ve expressed my concerns about telling the tale. Many of us have our cherished memories of believing in Santa but then we also have our nightmare stories about how we all “found out.” We know how old we were. We know where we found out. We still feel the twinge of pain when we think about our terrible discovery. And then, we grow up and do it to our kids!

I suppose it’s because the moments like I just experienced with Nate far outweigh the moment of “finding out.” His happiness and love for the stranger hiding behind a white beard and red velvet suit made me want to believe again. (Plus, he was a really good Santa!) Part of me hopes to find a mysterious present under the tree for me – special delivery from the North Pole.

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