Miss M didn't fill out any Valentine's for the first time. One of her friends brought her a Valentine though, and she got plenty of Valentines from her parents and grandparents.
.............................
D filled out her Valentines the day she brought home her class list which was more than a week before Valentine's Day. She was pumped to participate this year. She insisted on filling in her friends' names and her own name in the "from" spot. I was allowed to place the tattoos in the spots provided. We got to her teacher's Valentine and she chose the design carefully. Then I began to spell out her teacher's name slowly, just as I had for all the students' names in the class.
"M...R....S..." She cut me off there with a stern look.
"Mommy!" she reprimanded. "Her name is Kim. I am just going to write Kim."
How ridiculous of me to think she'd write out a whole last name when she could write 3 letters!
....................................
K Man was like Mr. Incredible of the Valentine world this year.
Me: Don't you think you should start writing your Valentine's? This is Monday and Valentine's Day is on Friday.
Him: I've still got time.
Me: Okay it's Tuesday now so you only have tonight, tomorrow night and Thursday to write out the Valentines.
Him: I've still got time.
Me: Okay so Valentine's Day is tomorrow. It's 4:30 now and you go to
bed at 8. We should probably get those Valentines written out.
Him: I've still got time.
We finally compromised and he wrote his name on 25 Valentines. No names
in the "to" box. Still a lot of writing for the boy with
dysgraphia...which is why I wanted him to start earlier so he could
spread out the time. But, you know, he still had time.
.......................................
Happy Valentine's Day!
Showing posts with label K musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label K musings. Show all posts
Friday, February 14, 2014
Monday, June 20, 2011
Weekend Vignettes
We got on the subject of when each of my kids was born when it was just my father-in-law, M and K Man in the sun room Friday evening. This transitioned into someone asking about where I was born, which led me to telling about the circumstances surrounding my birth. I explained that some babies need to have their lungs suctioned because some babies, when their mommies get stressed, poop in their tummies and inhale some of the poop. This was the case with me. I explained further that if it doesn't get sucked out in time, or if doctor's don't know that the baby needs suction, the baby can have brain damage.
K asks, very innocently, "did you have brain damage Mommy?"
I answered "yes, a lot."
........................
Told that story to Mom who said my nephew B had been asking her about the kinds of cars she'd owned in her life. She told him her first car was a "really cool Mustang," which impressed him.
Then he asked her, " Did you ever own a Model T?"
..........................
The Bigs and I went to the big town of Moose Lake to shop. There isn't a huge selection of shops to visit, but I usually hit the local souvenir/antique shop and the ALCO. This visit to the local shop, M, K and I spent more time browsing than I usually do when I stop there. Fueled by watching shows like Pawn Stars and (mostly) American Pickers, the kids were fascinated with a lot of the items in the shop. I found a unique gift for someone and a unique cactus-stemmed margarita glass for myself. We were almost through the shop when K exclaimed, "look! It's some super old CDs!"
Those would be records to us old people.
K asks, very innocently, "did you have brain damage Mommy?"
I answered "yes, a lot."
........................
Told that story to Mom who said my nephew B had been asking her about the kinds of cars she'd owned in her life. She told him her first car was a "really cool Mustang," which impressed him.
Then he asked her, " Did you ever own a Model T?"
..........................
The Bigs and I went to the big town of Moose Lake to shop. There isn't a huge selection of shops to visit, but I usually hit the local souvenir/antique shop and the ALCO. This visit to the local shop, M, K and I spent more time browsing than I usually do when I stop there. Fueled by watching shows like Pawn Stars and (mostly) American Pickers, the kids were fascinated with a lot of the items in the shop. I found a unique gift for someone and a unique cactus-stemmed margarita glass for myself. We were almost through the shop when K exclaimed, "look! It's some super old CDs!"
Those would be records to us old people.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Mother's Day That Could Have Been a Disaster
Sometimes the best thing about your day is that it wasn't worse. That's not to say I didn't have a nice Mother's Day. I did. My kids made me cards and wrote the sweetest things in them. My son wrote that I am "the besteet mom in the uonrvrs." For those who can't read first grade spelling that means "the bestest mom in the universe." He was so excited to give it to me he barged into the bedroom bright and early and stood by my bed while I read it bleary-eyed.
M wrote a P.S. that read "Mom rocks!" so I must have been an okay mom the morning she created that card!
After K plunged into my bed a second time I gave up on trying to sleep in and got out of bed. Craig made me his incredibly yummy homemade hash browns for breakfast while my three reasons I am a mother climbed in and out of my lap.
My parents came out to our house for lunch. Craig had smoked some hamburgers the day before then finished them on the grill today. I made macaroni salad. Craig made garlic toast. I bought a vegetable tray. It was nothing fancy, and in my eyes, perfect for Mother's Day. I had my kids, my husband and my parents with me.
The day could have been warmer and less-windy, but it seems every year that Mother's Day is a little on the cool side and this year it seems the weather is more cool than it has been nice. We ventured outside anyway. My kids are bouncing off the walls these days. You know it's been too long since warm weather when even your kids notice and comment on it.
The kids were taking turns on the tire swing and having a blast. D wanted M to push her on the swing in the style they were calling "Superman" which involved D on her belly in the middle of the swing. We all saw it coming but were powerless as it happened. A wild swing. M misjudging the force of her swing in regard to her sister's small size. D's head met the tree with a crack. M immediately crumpled in tears. I'm sure she thought she'd killed her sister.
D was hysterical. She had a large bump developing on her temple, under several scratches. She'd bit her lip or her tongue or both. A bit of blood pooled on my shirt as I cradled my youngest, even while patting my eldest child's leg and telling her it was an accident. I don't know what was worse, seeing little D hurt or seeing Miss M so visibly upset about the incident.
K Man was obliviously playing the whole time. Gotta love boys.
M cried longer than D, though D cried for a good while. M was devasted that her fun had hurt her little sister. I tried to joke with her and brought a smile back to her face. D got back on the tire swing.
She even let M push her again, though she admonished her: "Just no hurt my head on the tree."
Excellent advice.
M wrote a P.S. that read "Mom rocks!" so I must have been an okay mom the morning she created that card!
After K plunged into my bed a second time I gave up on trying to sleep in and got out of bed. Craig made me his incredibly yummy homemade hash browns for breakfast while my three reasons I am a mother climbed in and out of my lap.
My parents came out to our house for lunch. Craig had smoked some hamburgers the day before then finished them on the grill today. I made macaroni salad. Craig made garlic toast. I bought a vegetable tray. It was nothing fancy, and in my eyes, perfect for Mother's Day. I had my kids, my husband and my parents with me.
The day could have been warmer and less-windy, but it seems every year that Mother's Day is a little on the cool side and this year it seems the weather is more cool than it has been nice. We ventured outside anyway. My kids are bouncing off the walls these days. You know it's been too long since warm weather when even your kids notice and comment on it.
The kids were taking turns on the tire swing and having a blast. D wanted M to push her on the swing in the style they were calling "Superman" which involved D on her belly in the middle of the swing. We all saw it coming but were powerless as it happened. A wild swing. M misjudging the force of her swing in regard to her sister's small size. D's head met the tree with a crack. M immediately crumpled in tears. I'm sure she thought she'd killed her sister.
D was hysterical. She had a large bump developing on her temple, under several scratches. She'd bit her lip or her tongue or both. A bit of blood pooled on my shirt as I cradled my youngest, even while patting my eldest child's leg and telling her it was an accident. I don't know what was worse, seeing little D hurt or seeing Miss M so visibly upset about the incident.
K Man was obliviously playing the whole time. Gotta love boys.
M cried longer than D, though D cried for a good while. M was devasted that her fun had hurt her little sister. I tried to joke with her and brought a smile back to her face. D got back on the tire swing.
She even let M push her again, though she admonished her: "Just no hurt my head on the tree."
Excellent advice.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
If You Know Him You're Lucky
There are two ways I know my son isn't feeling well: #1- He stops talking. #2-He falls asleep easily...especially if it is in the middle of the day. Thankfully, the Boy is feeling well this week, but it is also a little exhausting for his mommy. His enthusiasm is wonderful and overwhelming. He feels things deeply. If he's disappointed, you KNOW it. He's also the owner of one of the most beautiful hearts. When it comes right down to it, if you wrong someone in his family he will attempt to avenge in any way he can think...unless I step in to explain the folly of such drastic measures. That loose tongue is helpful in that he shares most of his plans. 
Last weekend, he wanted to cash in the money in his piggy bank and head to the toy store to pick out a new toy. I was reluctant, because he (like his sisters) has 528,726 toys that he mostly ignores already. But he has that charm that even strangers notice in moments and he batted those long black lashes and flashed those big brown eyes and I caved. Again. This boy is not someone you take shopping when you're in a hurry if you're telling him he can buy something. He weighs his decisions carefully and changes his mind multiple times. It is a BIG decision, no matter how much or how little dough he has to spend. 
He is hard on toys. He thinks he's making them better most of the time. He's creative. He puts toys to the test and often they miss the durability mark. (Thank goodness for Legos.) This trip, he decides on a remote-controlled helicopter. I'm immediately nervous. I know what his exuberance could do to a helicopter. But he's excited and he's weighed pros and cons of almost every toy in the store yet settled on this. I can't say no after such careful thought. We bring it home and it's broken within 2 hours. We'd paid a little extra for a buyer protection plan, so we're hopeful we can take it back. So we do, on Sunday. Another long decision-making process and we leave with an airplane. I'm even more leery of the airplane because it's clearly a returned and repackaged item. We head to a soccer field to fly the plane. It is broken. It was from the start. Thanks to the person who bought it and returned it without mentioning that it was broken. A second (third if you count the one the day before) trip to the store. This time I coached him to buy the much more sturdy-looking robot. It's a little less exciting than the flying toys, but also less likely to break. Here is when I come to the realization that I have no point in my telling you this story. No point other than I love this boy and I'm trying my hardest to raise him into a good man. 
Last weekend, he wanted to cash in the money in his piggy bank and head to the toy store to pick out a new toy. I was reluctant, because he (like his sisters) has 528,726 toys that he mostly ignores already. But he has that charm that even strangers notice in moments and he batted those long black lashes and flashed those big brown eyes and I caved. Again. This boy is not someone you take shopping when you're in a hurry if you're telling him he can buy something. He weighs his decisions carefully and changes his mind multiple times. It is a BIG decision, no matter how much or how little dough he has to spend. 
He is hard on toys. He thinks he's making them better most of the time. He's creative. He puts toys to the test and often they miss the durability mark. (Thank goodness for Legos.) This trip, he decides on a remote-controlled helicopter. I'm immediately nervous. I know what his exuberance could do to a helicopter. But he's excited and he's weighed pros and cons of almost every toy in the store yet settled on this. I can't say no after such careful thought. We bring it home and it's broken within 2 hours. We'd paid a little extra for a buyer protection plan, so we're hopeful we can take it back. So we do, on Sunday. Another long decision-making process and we leave with an airplane. I'm even more leery of the airplane because it's clearly a returned and repackaged item. We head to a soccer field to fly the plane. It is broken. It was from the start. Thanks to the person who bought it and returned it without mentioning that it was broken. A second (third if you count the one the day before) trip to the store. This time I coached him to buy the much more sturdy-looking robot. It's a little less exciting than the flying toys, but also less likely to break. Here is when I come to the realization that I have no point in my telling you this story. No point other than I love this boy and I'm trying my hardest to raise him into a good man. 
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
When Kids Sing Along With the Radio
My kids sing along with songs on the radio and I know for the most part they have no idea what the songs are really about, and thank goodness for that. Most of the songs that are played on the top 40 radio station here in our city seem filled with messages that I don't really want to explain to my young kids.
I admit I cringe sometimes when I hear them singing along with some of the songs. Then I listen to what the kids are singing and I know they really have no idea what the song means. For instance, Rihanna's song Rude Boy
This song in particular makes me cringe when I hear my kids sing along with it, but I know they don't know what "get it up" means so to them it is just a song.
M gets to the chorus and sings "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, POPPY LOPPY." I'm pretty sure that's not right.
And K sings the chorus and proves he goes to a very ethnically diverse school: "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, ABDULLAHI." I'd guess there aren't many songs devoted to boys named Abdullahi. Maybe K Man could fill a niche there.
I admit I cringe sometimes when I hear them singing along with some of the songs. Then I listen to what the kids are singing and I know they really have no idea what the song means. For instance, Rihanna's song Rude Boy
This song in particular makes me cringe when I hear my kids sing along with it, but I know they don't know what "get it up" means so to them it is just a song.
M gets to the chorus and sings "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, POPPY LOPPY." I'm pretty sure that's not right.
And K sings the chorus and proves he goes to a very ethnically diverse school: "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, ABDULLAHI." I'd guess there aren't many songs devoted to boys named Abdullahi. Maybe K Man could fill a niche there.
Monday, January 31, 2011
CZ Vignettes, Or, Kids Say The (Insert Trademarked Title Here)
In the car on the way home from school:
K Man: M, when we get home do you want to PARTY DOWN?
************
While talking to my dad on the phone:
Me: D, are you a Fartweasel? (This is my dad's term of endearment for his grandkids.)
D: No, M is.
************
M has taken on aluminum can crushing as a way to earn money.
M: It would be nice if you guys (ie us parents) would drink ALL of your pop so I don't get it all over my hands when I'm crushing them.
I'm sensing a bit of a DIVA.
*************
We're in the car on the way home from the zoo. We're driving a fellow Girl Scout Brownie home with us in our car. The girls have been playing games on my iPad during the trip to and from the zoo.
M: Do you want to play MONPOLY?
Me: Do you mean MONOPOLY?
The car dissolves into giggles.
Me: I think I'm going to call it MONPOLY from now on. I like it better.
**********
We are at the pet store. It's a turn of events I am unprepared for since I thought I was going out to buy a Lego set. K is excited but uncharacteristically in control of himself.
K Man: I think all these fish LOVE me.
Me: I have no doubt of that!
Store clerk: He is so well-behaved. What a nice boy!
Me: Believe me, this is unusual.
************
K Man: M, when we get home do you want to PARTY DOWN?
************
While talking to my dad on the phone:
Me: D, are you a Fartweasel? (This is my dad's term of endearment for his grandkids.)
D: No, M is.
************
M has taken on aluminum can crushing as a way to earn money.
M: It would be nice if you guys (ie us parents) would drink ALL of your pop so I don't get it all over my hands when I'm crushing them.
I'm sensing a bit of a DIVA.
*************
We're in the car on the way home from the zoo. We're driving a fellow Girl Scout Brownie home with us in our car. The girls have been playing games on my iPad during the trip to and from the zoo.
M: Do you want to play MONPOLY?
Me: Do you mean MONOPOLY?
The car dissolves into giggles.
Me: I think I'm going to call it MONPOLY from now on. I like it better.
**********
We are at the pet store. It's a turn of events I am unprepared for since I thought I was going out to buy a Lego set. K is excited but uncharacteristically in control of himself.
K Man: I think all these fish LOVE me.
Me: I have no doubt of that!
Store clerk: He is so well-behaved. What a nice boy!
Me: Believe me, this is unusual.
************
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The Standoff
It's time to read. Go get your book.
It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't, but it is. My boy dislikes doing homework. I know, pretty much all kids hate doing homework and most adults do too. He balks at the mere mention of future homework.
He's only in first grade. He has very little homework, truth be told.
I should have known he would resist homework. He resisted "have-tos" in preschool. He feels strongly that no one should tell him he has to do anything. (Honestly, I feel my feet digging in at similar things.) Last quarter, the homework battles got so bad that I met with his teachers to find out if there was something more going on. No, he's perfectly behaved for them. Works hard. Polite. No, he reserves these delightful battles for me. (and occasionally his dad)
This night? He's tired. Just his third day back at school after the Christmas break and after having a Cub Scout meeting the night before, he's beyond tired. He was unable to hold himself together at his scout meeting. It's hard for a young boy (especially such a spirited boy) to sit still and listen for so many hours in a day.
The simple command to get his book to read started it all.
First, he flat-out refused. We were forced to remove the "kids'" laptop computer (my old one) from his room, because it was a privilege to use it in his room but when you're irresponsible you lose privileges. The sight of the computer sent him in a deeper spiral.
He retreated to the corner of our dining room. He could still see me and hear both his dad and I. He was angry. Oh, the temper of that boy. (Quicker than his mother's but just as intense.)
His protests started about the injustice of having the computer removed from his room. He gave us his terms, mistakenly believing that he was in a position to negotiate. We calmly refused all demands and reminded him who makes the rules in the house. (Not the little boy.)
He escalated to informing us that he was leaving "in ten minutes!" and that we were going to be sorry when we saw that happen "in ten minutes." I was told I was to drive him to his Aunt and Uncle's house. I had to refuse.
You can have my chair, Mom.
What chair?
My new desk chair. You can have it when I'm gone.
Oh, that would make me too sad too see it. It would remind me of you.
That's why you can have it.
Oh, that would make me way too sad to see it and remember you left me because you didn't want to do your homework.
Oh.
Silence.
You can come and visit me at Jason and Kristi's house if you want to.
I'm afraid I don't make it over to their house very often. I guess I'd see you once or twice a year. Or I suppose you could stay here and I could see you every day.
More silence.
Would it be better if we walked to the chair together to read or would you like to walk by yourself?
He chose to crawl, like a dog, because he was wearing his Scooby Doo pajamas.
He climbed into my lap, read his two (6-page) books with very few problems and it was over.
The first homework standoff of 2011.
It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't, but it is. My boy dislikes doing homework. I know, pretty much all kids hate doing homework and most adults do too. He balks at the mere mention of future homework.
He's only in first grade. He has very little homework, truth be told.
I should have known he would resist homework. He resisted "have-tos" in preschool. He feels strongly that no one should tell him he has to do anything. (Honestly, I feel my feet digging in at similar things.) Last quarter, the homework battles got so bad that I met with his teachers to find out if there was something more going on. No, he's perfectly behaved for them. Works hard. Polite. No, he reserves these delightful battles for me. (and occasionally his dad)
This night? He's tired. Just his third day back at school after the Christmas break and after having a Cub Scout meeting the night before, he's beyond tired. He was unable to hold himself together at his scout meeting. It's hard for a young boy (especially such a spirited boy) to sit still and listen for so many hours in a day.
The simple command to get his book to read started it all.
First, he flat-out refused. We were forced to remove the "kids'" laptop computer (my old one) from his room, because it was a privilege to use it in his room but when you're irresponsible you lose privileges. The sight of the computer sent him in a deeper spiral.
He retreated to the corner of our dining room. He could still see me and hear both his dad and I. He was angry. Oh, the temper of that boy. (Quicker than his mother's but just as intense.)
His protests started about the injustice of having the computer removed from his room. He gave us his terms, mistakenly believing that he was in a position to negotiate. We calmly refused all demands and reminded him who makes the rules in the house. (Not the little boy.)
He escalated to informing us that he was leaving "in ten minutes!" and that we were going to be sorry when we saw that happen "in ten minutes." I was told I was to drive him to his Aunt and Uncle's house. I had to refuse.
You can have my chair, Mom.
What chair?
My new desk chair. You can have it when I'm gone.
Oh, that would make me too sad too see it. It would remind me of you.
That's why you can have it.
Oh, that would make me way too sad to see it and remember you left me because you didn't want to do your homework.
Oh.
Silence.
You can come and visit me at Jason and Kristi's house if you want to.
I'm afraid I don't make it over to their house very often. I guess I'd see you once or twice a year. Or I suppose you could stay here and I could see you every day.
More silence.
Would it be better if we walked to the chair together to read or would you like to walk by yourself?
He chose to crawl, like a dog, because he was wearing his Scooby Doo pajamas.
He climbed into my lap, read his two (6-page) books with very few problems and it was over.
The first homework standoff of 2011.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
The Charmer
He's always smiling! He is so fun! I just love having him in class. I could get lost in those eyelashes.
Heaven help us.
My son is handsome. And charming. And a little bit of trouble. Or maybe a lot. I haven't completely decided yet. He's only 6 and can make girls and women of all ages eat out of his hands.
I wish I was exaggerating. I've often said he's lucky he's cute because he is so full of...life...that it is sometimes overwhelmingly frustrating. I've yelled at the boy more than I should because he works so hard at behaving at school that the dam breaks and he loses all control once he gets home (or even as soon as he gets in the car). It's hard to take some days. Some days I handle it better than others. I wish I handled it well every day.
Because he is so full of life. He is a happy kid. He is fun.
For a mom who is introverted and low energy he is overwhelming.
I love him so much.
He is different from me yet like me in the most frustrating ways. He won't go to sleep at night because his "mind is working so hard." It's sad how much I relate, even today. His first reaction to any question is a resounding "no" (as I've recently realized, so is mine).
This boy is charming but mostly unaware, I think, of his affect. Maybe. Though he has told me that he "can't help it" that all the girls like him. Miss M has confided that girls in her grade (3rd...he's in 1st) think he's cute because of his cowlick. 
Heaven help us.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Thanks for the In-tel Little Dude
As I'm in the shower:
Hey Mom! I just wanted to remind you that today is Earth Day...so you might want to use a little less water so there's enough for D and the other kids.
I've been told.
Hey Mom! I just wanted to remind you that today is Earth Day...so you might want to use a little less water so there's enough for D and the other kids.
I've been told.
Monday, March 1, 2010
I Thought I'd Miss This By Now
Mama...we should get a car and put some skis on it instead of the wheels it would be really cool but maybe that wouldn't work on the road so we should put some wheels on the front and just skis on the back. Maybe that wouldn't work how would you steer the car? How does the steering work on the car? Yeah! I know if we put the skis on the front and the wheels on the back that will work and we could go on the snow and on the road. I'll show you where the car is that we'll use. It's coming up here. Not yet. Wait, wait, wait. (I already know the "car" he's going to point out. It has been the subject of many big plans on the way to school.) There! That one. That orange one. (It's an old, snow-covered, bright orange SUV. It has no rear wheels. My son's favorite color is orange.) We could get that one and that would work and we could drive it on the road and it the snow! Wouldn't that be cool?
Sometimes I crave a moment of silence. Yet. He is so full of life, so exuberant. I try to not silence him. I try. Sometimes it gets to be too much and I ask him for silence. It usually doesn't work anyway so I'm left feeling like an ass because I've tried to silence this happy, happy, HAPPY and excited little boy.
Mama? Where are we going? Oh! I know! We're going to Boppa and Amma's house I remember this shortcut. This is a shortcut right? I remember this! Wait. I don't remember this part. Boppa and Amma told me that they would be home about (he pauses, looking around and settling on the temp display in the car.) 28 degrees. Yep! They told me they'll be there at 28 degrees... I think. Will they be there?
My son and I are so different, yet the same. We share the same brown eyes; the same dark hair (though mine was light as a child.) He is negative at first, as is his mom. He has his father's gift for gab. I truly believe it is a gift. I wish I had it.
Instead I crave silence. I do. I ask my son to be silent. Perhaps order him to do so. He lasts seconds. For a "quiet" person such as myself it is disconcerting to have a boisterous child. My oldest is a social butterfly, but she is capable of being silent for a few minutes on end.
I feel terrible trying to curb his enthusiasm. Children should be lively and boisterous. I wonder what is wrong with me. This boy is absolutely precious to me.
Yet I still complain and ask him for silence. There is no moment of peace when he is around. Yet that is a wonderful thing. Isn't it?
Sometimes I crave a moment of silence. Yet. He is so full of life, so exuberant. I try to not silence him. I try. Sometimes it gets to be too much and I ask him for silence. It usually doesn't work anyway so I'm left feeling like an ass because I've tried to silence this happy, happy, HAPPY and excited little boy.
Mama? Where are we going? Oh! I know! We're going to Boppa and Amma's house I remember this shortcut. This is a shortcut right? I remember this! Wait. I don't remember this part. Boppa and Amma told me that they would be home about (he pauses, looking around and settling on the temp display in the car.) 28 degrees. Yep! They told me they'll be there at 28 degrees... I think. Will they be there?
My son and I are so different, yet the same. We share the same brown eyes; the same dark hair (though mine was light as a child.) He is negative at first, as is his mom. He has his father's gift for gab. I truly believe it is a gift. I wish I had it.
Instead I crave silence. I do. I ask my son to be silent. Perhaps order him to do so. He lasts seconds. For a "quiet" person such as myself it is disconcerting to have a boisterous child. My oldest is a social butterfly, but she is capable of being silent for a few minutes on end.
I feel terrible trying to curb his enthusiasm. Children should be lively and boisterous. I wonder what is wrong with me. This boy is absolutely precious to me.
Yet I still complain and ask him for silence. There is no moment of peace when he is around. Yet that is a wonderful thing. Isn't it?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Car Conversations with the K Man
Mommy? How did you name me?
Well, you were named after my grandpa and your middle name is from Daddy's grandpa.
Oh yeah! Well I met him before when I was a baby.
Oh?
Yeah...didn't I?
I decide to tell the truth and see what his reaction is.
Well, actually my grandpa died.
Oh. Well, that's not so sweet...that's really not awesome at all.
It's hard to argue with that.
Well, you were named after my grandpa and your middle name is from Daddy's grandpa.
Oh yeah! Well I met him before when I was a baby.
Oh?
Yeah...didn't I?
I decide to tell the truth and see what his reaction is.
Well, actually my grandpa died.
Oh. Well, that's not so sweet...that's really not awesome at all.
It's hard to argue with that.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I Will Miss This Come the End of July
Hey Mommy?
What?
Do you wish we had a big deck with steps that wrap around like 100 steps? Do you wish we had that?
No.
Me neither Mama, that would get me tired.
Hey Mama?
What?
I wish there was a big slide, a long ways up and we could go down it.
Huh.
Hey Mommy?
What?
Do you wish we lived at Michaels? (The craft store)
Um, no.
Yeah, me neither 'cuz then we'd have to be workers there and that would not be good. Hey Mama?
What?
Mama?
What?
I think maybe that person is going to go potty.
Oh really?
Hey Mama? Am I going to Kindergarten the next day?
No Bud, it's not for a while yet.
Oh. Is it my birthday day today?
Nope. That's not for awhile yet either.
Oh. Mama? Mama I want to tell you something.
Oh yeah?
Yeah. When someone litters, they're not nice.
What?
Do you wish we had a big deck with steps that wrap around like 100 steps? Do you wish we had that?
No.
Me neither Mama, that would get me tired.
Hey Mama?
What?
I wish there was a big slide, a long ways up and we could go down it.
Huh.
Hey Mommy?
What?
Do you wish we lived at Michaels? (The craft store)
Um, no.
Yeah, me neither 'cuz then we'd have to be workers there and that would not be good. Hey Mama?
What?
Mama?
What?
I think maybe that person is going to go potty.
Oh really?
Hey Mama? Am I going to Kindergarten the next day?
No Bud, it's not for a while yet.
Oh. Is it my birthday day today?
Nope. That's not for awhile yet either.
Oh. Mama? Mama I want to tell you something.
Oh yeah?
Yeah. When someone litters, they're not nice.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
He's a Character
Mama? Is it Mother day?
K asks me this almost every day when I'm driving him to preschool. His preschool is a part of Minnesota's ECFE program, of which there is always a parent-involvement portion. So, while K attends preschool 3 afternoons a week, one of those afternoons I attend with him.
So it is that K began to ask me this year if every day was Mother day. At first I answered him, misunderstanding the question: No, Mother's Day is in May, this is September. K would humor me and just say oh, but he undoubtedly thought I'd lost my mind even more than usual.
It probably took a good 2 months of the question occurring every afternoon in the car as we approached the building that houses his preschool for me to realize what he was really asking me.He wanted to know if I was staying with him at preschool or if it was a drop-off day.
In my defense, K does come up with some funny things to say fairly regularly, and I've been remiss in that I haven't catalogued them here.
Yesterday, at M's swimming lesson, K was earnestly going through the toys and coloring books that are always piled haphazardly on a table in the waiting area.
What are you doing Bud?
I'm organizing!
If only he'd do that at home. Then he bumped a toy which then fell to the ground with a loud crash. I didn't do anything! he insisted amid the titters of the other parents waiting for their children.
The other day he told me: When I cry, water comes out of my eyes and it tastes good! My tongue comes out and I lick it!
He's always singing too. My favorite lately is a holiday number:
Aw-we-you-ya! Aw-we-you-ya!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sometimes That's How it Goes, Literally
When your son begins the day by falling in the toilet it’s hard to not think it’s an indication of how the day is going to go.
Thursday morning K came into the bathroom to talk to me and entertain D while I was in the shower. He wanted to sit on the toilet, since it really is the only chair in the bathroom besides D’s Baby Papasan. The problem with that plan is that the lid was left open, so instead of having a nice perch, K fell right into the bowl.
This produced a swift and immediate meltdown until I reminded him that he really could just get dressed and all would be fine again. On a positive note, the toilet had been flushed after the last person used it and that doesn’t always happen around these parts. Note to self: K needs more sleep.
Having dealt with the first crisis of the morning without raising my voice (go me!) I continued with my morning routine. I stepped on the scale as I do every morning because I’m stupid. Step on. I have gained 4 pounds since Friday. Step off. Step on again. Yep. Still 4 pounds. Damn you Little Debbie for making your snack cakes so tempting and so affordable.
Then I realized it could also be the 2 big chocolate chip cookies from Panera that I ate after I took K to preschool. Or maybe the sticks of sharp cheddar cheese conveniently packaged in individual wrappers. Or those cute little mints. Holy hell I’ve eaten a lot of junk in the last few days.
We managed to get dressed and eat breakfast and headed to take Miss M to school. The ride there was pretty normal, with me trying to drive and at the same time trying to monitor the location of the big brother’s hands in relation to the little sister. Let’s just say he likes to pick on his little sister already. Fun times.
At school, I backed into a space to wait for the doors to open. They make the kids stand outside until 8:40 and let me say I would be a bit chilled standing in line for even 5 minutes. I don’t make M stand in the cold. However, as soon as I threw the car in park I heard a click that sounded suspiciously like K’s seatbelt behind me.
“Oops,” he muttered, knowing immediately he’d made a grievous error in judgment. K can’t buckle himself. In fact, it took M a good 2 months before she figured out how to buckle herself in again after we added Ms. D’s car seat in the middle.
“I can do it Mom,” he insisted, although not sounding all that optimistic. Naturally, the school doors opened and the kids began to file in while K tried to refasten his belt.
Normally this wouldn’t be that big of a deal and I would just hop out and do it for him quickly. However, it is rather chilly out and I’ve yet to see the phrase freezing your ass off actually work, in practice.
I sucked it up and jumped out to re-do his belt, then drove up the drop-off lane to let Miss M out. There is always one person that parks their car in the lane, then gets out and walks their child into the building. Why not just park in a real spot since, you know, you’re not really dropping off if you park and get out of the car?
On the way back home I was treated to my son insisting that he has no toys, when in fact he has 527,990 and those are just the ones that he hasn’t broken yet.
Needless to say, I was thrilled that the day was going so fantastically, and was relieved to note that it was only 9 a.m. and I would have several more hours of this day to go.
Thursday morning K came into the bathroom to talk to me and entertain D while I was in the shower. He wanted to sit on the toilet, since it really is the only chair in the bathroom besides D’s Baby Papasan. The problem with that plan is that the lid was left open, so instead of having a nice perch, K fell right into the bowl.
This produced a swift and immediate meltdown until I reminded him that he really could just get dressed and all would be fine again. On a positive note, the toilet had been flushed after the last person used it and that doesn’t always happen around these parts. Note to self: K needs more sleep.
Having dealt with the first crisis of the morning without raising my voice (go me!) I continued with my morning routine. I stepped on the scale as I do every morning because I’m stupid. Step on. I have gained 4 pounds since Friday. Step off. Step on again. Yep. Still 4 pounds. Damn you Little Debbie for making your snack cakes so tempting and so affordable.
Then I realized it could also be the 2 big chocolate chip cookies from Panera that I ate after I took K to preschool. Or maybe the sticks of sharp cheddar cheese conveniently packaged in individual wrappers. Or those cute little mints. Holy hell I’ve eaten a lot of junk in the last few days.
We managed to get dressed and eat breakfast and headed to take Miss M to school. The ride there was pretty normal, with me trying to drive and at the same time trying to monitor the location of the big brother’s hands in relation to the little sister. Let’s just say he likes to pick on his little sister already. Fun times.
At school, I backed into a space to wait for the doors to open. They make the kids stand outside until 8:40 and let me say I would be a bit chilled standing in line for even 5 minutes. I don’t make M stand in the cold. However, as soon as I threw the car in park I heard a click that sounded suspiciously like K’s seatbelt behind me.
“Oops,” he muttered, knowing immediately he’d made a grievous error in judgment. K can’t buckle himself. In fact, it took M a good 2 months before she figured out how to buckle herself in again after we added Ms. D’s car seat in the middle.
“I can do it Mom,” he insisted, although not sounding all that optimistic. Naturally, the school doors opened and the kids began to file in while K tried to refasten his belt.
Normally this wouldn’t be that big of a deal and I would just hop out and do it for him quickly. However, it is rather chilly out and I’ve yet to see the phrase freezing your ass off actually work, in practice.
I sucked it up and jumped out to re-do his belt, then drove up the drop-off lane to let Miss M out. There is always one person that parks their car in the lane, then gets out and walks their child into the building. Why not just park in a real spot since, you know, you’re not really dropping off if you park and get out of the car?
On the way back home I was treated to my son insisting that he has no toys, when in fact he has 527,990 and those are just the ones that he hasn’t broken yet.
Needless to say, I was thrilled that the day was going so fantastically, and was relieved to note that it was only 9 a.m. and I would have several more hours of this day to go.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
See? I told you I need to chill out
K: Mommy, I'm very sad to tell you this.
Me: Oh?
K: Yeah. I love you.
Me: Oh?
K: Yeah. I love you.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Little Things
There are little things that make K, well, K. I never want to forget these things.
K, since he was a toddler, has consistently wanted to pull the nail clippings off his fingers. We trim his fingernails, and if there is a little part of the nail that is still hanging on, he will push your hand away frantically so he can be the one to pull the nail off.
Me: What are you doing?
K: Nothin’, just wookin’ under the couch.
K sings: We are called to shine in darkness as we journey public place. (Actually the last words are: from this place.
Me: What are you doing?
K: Nothin’, just wookin’ under the couch.
K sings: We are called to shine in darkness as we journey public place. (Actually the last words are: from this place.
K: This is berry berry cool!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Questionable parenting
I'm not sure what this says about my parenting, but it's probably not good.
He calls the group Smashing Corn.
A few months ago:
Who sings this song mom?
Smashing Pumpkins.
Oh I like this song.
A few days later:
I want to listen to Smashing Pumpkins.
Oh I was wrong, it's Korn.
Smashing Korn?
No, just Korn.
Just Korn?
No, Korn.
OH! Smashing Korn!
He calls the group Smashing Corn.
A few months ago:
Who sings this song mom?
Smashing Pumpkins.
Oh I like this song.
A few days later:
I want to listen to Smashing Pumpkins.
Oh I was wrong, it's Korn.
Smashing Korn?
No, just Korn.
Just Korn?
No, Korn.
OH! Smashing Korn!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Yes, I will
Our days are filled with the mundane; the ordinary. This summer we didn’t do very many of the special activities that the “fun box” had us doing last year. The arrival of D took the little extra energy that is required to plan things like that. In truth, I should have still gotten the box out. We should have filled the box with activities that kept us closer to home but were fun nonetheless. Instead, the kids played outside in our yard by themselves, while D and I holed up inside, nursing and getting to know one another.
The next thing I know, D is four months old and M has been in first grade for two months. K has been going to preschool 3 afternoons a week. The days roll by. It seems like it was just Monday when Friday rolls around. It seems I’m always in the car, driving one child or the other to school or going to pick them up. I’m putting D in the car seat and taking her out several times a day. Another week slips through our grasp.
You’re gonna miss this.
There is a late summer warm spell; an unexpected gift in Minnesota. We go to parks after school, trying to soak up the last rays of summer before they slip away into the crispness of fall. We can’t stay long. There is homework and supper and baths and bedtime before we have to get up and do it all again. M and K run and climb and grab playground mulch to throw in the air; still living in the moment without worry of what tomorrow may bring.
We get home and even though I thought the trip to the playground would tire them out, M and K are fighting. They both want the red square. Neither wants to take a bath first. Perhaps it is because they are tired they are fighting. I try to separate them and they are upset about being separated.
You’re gonna want this back.
I gather clothes for the kids on a Saturday morning. It’s a task I usually have done well before the morning the articles are needed, but I’ve been lazy. M and K dress themselves. I notice that K can zip and button his own clothes and I wonder when that happened. M’s t-shirt is tight on her. It seems like it was big on her just last week. We check her height on her growth chart and see that she has grown nearly an inch since her birthday at the end of July. She is now 4 foot 2 at 6 years old.
You’re gonna wish these days…
I take the girls out to eat lunch with my relatives. We’re celebrating my Aunt’s birthday. M sits next to my Aunt and chats amiably. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she looks like such a kid and not my baby anymore. After lunch, she asks to go shopping with my Aunt and Cousin. I drive home with only one girl in my car.
At home, Craig and I tease K. I don’t think M is coming back. You can have her room now. After a moment I see K is crying. I miss M. She was nice to me! he cries. I feel my heart break for him for this joke that is not a joke to him.
…hadn’t gone by so fast.
I realize the kids in the portraits hanging on my wall haven’t been around here in more than a year. We venture outside to take new portraits. My camera sees my children, not as my babies, but as the unique people they are. They have grown and look so much older through the camera’s eye.
They both pose and mug. Giggles escape me as I am treated to a display of each child’s personality. My laugh makes them giggle too. It is contagious.
These are some good times so take a good look around…
All of my kids are tired. There is whining and crying and fussing. Small slights provoke big reactions. Tussles erupt over seating. Minds change from moment to moment. It is impossible to please everyone.
…you may not know it now…
The calm settles in as exhaustion brings motion to a halt. There are cuddles, hair is stroked, and limbs intertwine. There are fluttery kisses and carefree embraces. Professions of love float feather-soft on the promise of tomorrow.
…but you’re gonna miss this.
The next thing I know, D is four months old and M has been in first grade for two months. K has been going to preschool 3 afternoons a week. The days roll by. It seems like it was just Monday when Friday rolls around. It seems I’m always in the car, driving one child or the other to school or going to pick them up. I’m putting D in the car seat and taking her out several times a day. Another week slips through our grasp.
You’re gonna miss this.
There is a late summer warm spell; an unexpected gift in Minnesota. We go to parks after school, trying to soak up the last rays of summer before they slip away into the crispness of fall. We can’t stay long. There is homework and supper and baths and bedtime before we have to get up and do it all again. M and K run and climb and grab playground mulch to throw in the air; still living in the moment without worry of what tomorrow may bring.
We get home and even though I thought the trip to the playground would tire them out, M and K are fighting. They both want the red square. Neither wants to take a bath first. Perhaps it is because they are tired they are fighting. I try to separate them and they are upset about being separated.
You’re gonna want this back.
I gather clothes for the kids on a Saturday morning. It’s a task I usually have done well before the morning the articles are needed, but I’ve been lazy. M and K dress themselves. I notice that K can zip and button his own clothes and I wonder when that happened. M’s t-shirt is tight on her. It seems like it was big on her just last week. We check her height on her growth chart and see that she has grown nearly an inch since her birthday at the end of July. She is now 4 foot 2 at 6 years old.
You’re gonna wish these days…
I take the girls out to eat lunch with my relatives. We’re celebrating my Aunt’s birthday. M sits next to my Aunt and chats amiably. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she looks like such a kid and not my baby anymore. After lunch, she asks to go shopping with my Aunt and Cousin. I drive home with only one girl in my car.
At home, Craig and I tease K. I don’t think M is coming back. You can have her room now. After a moment I see K is crying. I miss M. She was nice to me! he cries. I feel my heart break for him for this joke that is not a joke to him.
…hadn’t gone by so fast.
I realize the kids in the portraits hanging on my wall haven’t been around here in more than a year. We venture outside to take new portraits. My camera sees my children, not as my babies, but as the unique people they are. They have grown and look so much older through the camera’s eye.
They both pose and mug. Giggles escape me as I am treated to a display of each child’s personality. My laugh makes them giggle too. It is contagious.
These are some good times so take a good look around…
All of my kids are tired. There is whining and crying and fussing. Small slights provoke big reactions. Tussles erupt over seating. Minds change from moment to moment. It is impossible to please everyone.
…you may not know it now…
The calm settles in as exhaustion brings motion to a halt. There are cuddles, hair is stroked, and limbs intertwine. There are fluttery kisses and carefree embraces. Professions of love float feather-soft on the promise of tomorrow.
…but you’re gonna miss this.
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