For Today

A glimpse into my day, just an ordinary day…

FOR TODAY January 29…

Outside my window…pitch black.  The sun has not risen yet. 

I am thinking…This post is boring without the kids awake.  And you never know what the day will bring.  They all start the same.

I am thankful for…the hot coffee The Man prepared for me this morning.

From the kitchen…I think maybe chicken and dumplings.  I have to go  to the store for some chicken. 

I am wearing…Jammies.  Hey–it’s 5:00am.

I am creating…lots of spreadsheets, rollforwards and schedules of expenses.  Because I’m a barrel of fun like that.

I am going…to deliver cupcakes to the school for William’s birthday.

I am reading…Helen Over the Wall.  Yes, still.  I only have like 30 pages left.  But you know, that may as well be 30,000. 

I am hoping…I get over this cold with relative ease.

I am hearing…Nothing but the sound of heat.  Wow.  And every now and then, the alarm goes off.  It is the sound of birds tweeting.  And I wonder why The Man doesn’t reset it so he can sleep for another hour, rather than hit the snooze for the next hour.  I’m thinking tonight I may set it to “rooster.”  Because the rooster crowing in the morning is LOUD and it makes me laugh to think of a rooster sitting right next to our bed at 5:00am scaring the heck out of us. 

Around the house…Sleep. 

One of my favorite things…This little potholder Kate made.  I put my coffee cup on it in the morning.  Makes me smile.

A few plans for the rest of the week:  A lot of cleaning.  And a lot more spreadsheets, rollforwards and schedules of expenses.  It’s going to be a really fun week. 

Here is picture thought I am sharing…

 

I love this girl…

Snow Day

Today He is Seven

I hardly know where to begin what I want to say about William. 

My first son.  He woke me out of the peaceful dream of parenthood that was Kate with a vigor and volume I had not ever known.  No more were the 3 hour naps.  Gone were the 9:00am late risings.  

He was a wild, magical creature that amazed and delighted me. 

He also exhausted me.  From the moment he arrived–kicking and screaming I might add–he has not settled down.

He taught me how to trust my instincts.  He forced me into a world I hadn’t known before.  A world of therapists and orthotics and neurologists and cardiologists and worry.  And then he taught me about hard work, and commitment and triumph. 

As he grew, I appreciated what people meant by the wonderful, dirty dog smell that little boys get when they’ve been outside.     

He is the boy that for more than 4 years has said to us, every.single.night., the following words: 

“I love you.  Night-night.  Sit in the chair up here.  The one by the door.  I love you.  Night night.”

Every night, people.  Without fail.  He was two when this started.  T.W.O.  It was all about control, you know. 

Now, he is so tired at night that he can barely wait until we leave his room to begin his ritual address.  And he has told us that when he is seven he will no longer say it.  Which honestly, nearly breaks my heart.  He says he is “getting tired of it.”  But I only recently realized how much I like to hear it. 

Before the whole sit-in-the-chair speech, he used to make us sing “The Little Drummer Boy.”  Every single night.  Several times.  Year round.  Rum.Pa.Pum.Pum.  You know that version by David Bowie and Bing Crosby?  (Peace on earth…)  He hated that version.  It frustrated him.  I used to turn the radio up when that version came on and wait to see how long it took him to notice.  Just to bother him.  Because I’m such a good mother that way.

Of all the children, William is the most emotional.  He has the strongest personality.  He is also the softest.  The most tender hearted.  His sometimes demanding personality masks the little boy who is looking for acceptance and encouragement and love. 

And his voice…he has the sweetest, raspiest little voice.  Except when Ella is sleeping.  Then he’s louder than you can imagine.

He has a nose like a bloodhound.   He can smell chocolate across the room.

He loves bubble gum.  

He loves new jammies.

He loves football.

And baseball.

And basketball.

And soccer.

And the pool.

He loves his daddy.  

Today he is seven.  Today, he still wakes up, comes downstairs and snuggles into his mom and dad.  And lately I’ve just let those moments linger, because I know they aren’t going to last forever.  I know that soon enough, he’ll be 8, and then 10 and then 16, and asking for my car.  And God help me when that moment arrives.  

Being his mother has been the most thrilling, exhausting, frustrating, frightening, joyful time-of-my-life. 

Before I had a little boy, I found this quote by Alan Beck.  I wondered whether it truely described a little boy accurately.   Now I know.  This little quote may as well be entitled “William.”

   

What Is A Boy?
By Alan Beck

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood,
We find a delightful creature called a boy.
Boys come in assorted sizes, weights, and colors,
but all boys have the same cravings.
To enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day,
and to protest with noise, their only weapon, when
their last minute is finished and the adult male packs them off to bed at night.
Boys are found everywhere, on top of, underneath, inside of,
climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping through.
Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them,
adults ignore them and Heaven protects them.
A boy is truth with dirt on his face, beauty with a cut on his finger,
wisdom with bubble gum in his hair,
and the hope of the future with a frog in his pocket.
When you are busy a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise,
when you want him to make a good impression his brain turns to jelly,
or else he becomes a savage, sadistic,
jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
A boy is a composite.
He has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower,
the energy of a pocket size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat,
the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet.
The audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a firecracker,
and when he makes something, he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice-cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books,
the boy across the street, wood, water (in its natural habitat), large animals,
dad, brains, Saturday morning and fire engines.
He’s not much for Sunday School, company, everyday school,
books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls,
overcoats, adults or bedtime.
Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper,
nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs, and breezes.
Nobody else can cram into one pocket, a rusty knife, a half eaten apple,
three feet of string, an empty Bull Durum sack, two gum drops,
six cents, a slingshot, a chunk of unknown substance,
and a genuine super sonic code ring with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magical creature,
you can lock him out of your workshop but you can’t lock him out of your heart.
You can get him out of your study,
but you can’t get him out of your mind.
Might as well give up, he is your captor, your jailer,
your boss and your master.
A freckled face, pint sized,
cat-chasing bundle of noise.
But when you come home at night
 with only the shattered pieces of your hope and dreams,
he can mend them like new with two magic words, 

 HI DAD!

 

 

Maya Angelou once said “If I have a monument in this world, it is my son.” You are my monument in this world, William. 

Happy birthday, little Bill. 

My Haundbag (as in handbag, but with the snooty accent)

Or at least that’s what I think it is. 

Because surely, it ain’t no purse. 

There is a little meme going around about what kind of handbag you carry.  I read Darcie’s Post on it and figured I’d jump in.  You know, you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of handbag she carries.  Or at least it seems like you could. 

The haundbag was a Christmas gift from The Man.  Yes, he did it all by himself.  Totally his idea, I had nothing to do with it.  It is perfect for me.  I love it.  Ab-so-lute-ly love it.  

Didn’t he do a lovely job?  It’s a black, textured leather handbag from Coach.  Yes, it was rather expensive, but he got a great deal on it, so it wasn’t as expensive as it could have been.  I don’t remember the exact coinage.

I am one of those people that like expensive handbags.  I know, it’s kind of hoity toity, but I just like ‘em.  I am also one of those people that doesn’t spend money on herself very often.  So I end up carrying around an old beat-up diaper bag 2 years past diaper stage. 

Maybe The Man was just embarassed for me…

Or of me… 

Anyhoo, I don’t really have the budget to buy a new bag every season, so I’ll just enjoy this one for a few or ten years. 

Oh, and just so you know, The Man also got me a toaster for Christmas. 

Back off ladies.  He’s Mine!

(I had to say that because Darcie said it was funny.)

Tidbits, Because I’ve Got Nothing Else

1.  The number of lights I turned off this morning after the kids left for school:  9.  NINE.  Important to note–I did not use any of these lights.  They were all turned on by either the children, or The Man. 

2.  Kate’s second grade class is learning about matter (solids, liquids & gases).  They each had to bring in a mystery liquid and then give three clues to describe their mystery liquid.  Then the children each took turns guessing each other’s liquids.  One of the children brought in sweetened condensed milk.   Kate guessed it was “whiskey sauce.”  And I don’t even want to know what the teacher was thinking when she said that.

3.  My Henry is a charmer.  The other night he told me he was going to give me “one smooth kiss.”  He is five.  Oh boy he is a charmer.

4.  If someone sends you a wmv file, view it first before opening it in front of the kids.  Some things, like say, “pole-dancing” are best left unviewed by the under 18 crowd.  And it’s really hard to find the ’stop’ button quickly when you’re in a panic because the kids are watching pole-dancing.

5.  I don’t know why someone would send me a pole-dancing video.  You know who you are.

6.  The other day, after hearing (for the umpeenth time) a complaint about my housekeeping skillz, I decided to assign chores to the children so that they could all blame themselves when something isn’t complete.  William’s chore this week was helping me fold the laundry, and Henry, bless his heart, wanted to help him.

“Hey William, look–Mommy’s bra!”

“Ha ha ha!  Is there another one?  I’m gonna find another one.”  searching…

Henry has now strategically placed the bra in place…  ”Hey William, look at my boobies!”

(fits of laughter)

“boobies…boobies…boobies!”  The two of them frolic around like idiots.

And I wonder if I should just go back to doing the laundry myself.

For Today, January 20th

A glimpse into my day, just an ordinary day…

FOR TODAY January 20…

Outside my window…The sunrise through the trees.  Another dusting of snow on the ground.  Cold.  Really cold.  Two squirrels chasing each other on the branches of tall, tall trees…how do they not fall when they leap like that?

I am thinking…that I really want to accomplish a lot today.  I want to be busy.  And not tired. 

I am thankful for…the fact that the chili is in the crockpot.  All I have to do is cook the rice for supper.

From the kitchen…Well, that would be chili.  And more clean dishes to put away.  They are always there. 

I am wearing…A black fleece pullover.  Because I like to switch it up a bit. 

I am creating…a mental list of everything I want to get done today.

I am going…to my friend’s for coffee!  Yay! 

I am reading…Still reading Helen Over the Wall.  Half way done.  Not a lot of reading time during the day, y’all.  And at night, well, if I pick up a book, I generally fall asleep. 

I am hoping…we have a great day together.  With no fighting.  And no bumps and bruises.  And no waking the baby up during her nap. 

I am hearing…Blue’s Clues.  The DS.  The humidifier in Ella’s room on the monitor.  The fish tank bubbles.  The sound of my inner voice telling me to get off my rear and get started on that mental list before Ella wakes up. 

Around the house…The dishes, the laundry, the bathrooms, the vacuuming, the notes I need to write.  But we are warm and snug and well fed and happy(so far). 

One of my favorite things…my babies.  Still in their jammies and wrapped in fluffy blankets on the couch.

A few plans for the rest of the week:  school resumes.  A lot of cleaning.

Here is picture thought I am sharing…

I’m giving up on the snow. 

Give me some of this.

I Heart Faces

My friend Jenny at Our Daily Bigtop mentioned the I heart faces website earlier, and I’ve seen it advertised a few other times here and there ’round the ’sphere.  But you know, I like to make sure something is really hot before I jump on board. 

Sort of like saddles shoes…I remember when I was about 10 they came into style.  I got them a couple of years later, just as they were on their way out.  Because I’m so cool like that.  And hip, too.  And clearly not at all bitter about the saddle shoes.  Anyhoo…

I decided to check out the website (before it goes out of style) and enter their kids’ faces contest. 

Here is my entry…Henry at the pool, taken last summer.

It’s one of my favorite pictures of him. 

Love. It.

Love. Him.

A Window Into His Soul

One of William’s first assignments in school this year, 2009, was to write a list of his resolutions.  It’s like a window into his soul…all the things that make life worthwhile to a little boy.   

I want to play more basketball.

Every day I want to run in my basement.

This year I want to shoot more baskets.

This year I want to eat more vegetables. 

I want to go outside more.

This year I want to go to the zoo.

(on the back side) I want to go on more vacations.  (Me too, buddy.)

His list reminds me that what makes him happy is not acquiring “things.”  It is the time he spends.  Playing, running, shooting baskets.  Going to the zoo, the beach and the cabin.  

It is being.  Being a little boy. 

“Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood,
We find a delightful creature called a boy.
Boys come in assorted sizes, weights, and colors,
but all boys have the same cravings–
To enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”

–Alan Beck

 

Lemonade

So Stephanie at Not a Significant Source… was nice enough to pass along this award to me…

(Side note:  I’ve noticed that I start a lot of my posts with “so”…  That must be breaking all kinds of grammar rules…) 

Anyway, this award is for “making life a little sweeter” or something to that effect.  You know, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, right?  (Good thing Stephanie didn’t see me the other day when I was having a pity party.  But let’s just overlook that little episode, m-kay?)

Awards are kind of funny…they go all around the blogosphere…I’ve seen this one a time or two, so it’s not uncommon to receive one of these blog awards (well, for me it is kind of uncommon).  But I am always appreciative of it.  To think that someone, that in most cases I don’t even know outside of this computer, thinks enough of me and what I’ve written to send a little award my way, well, that just puts a smile on my face.  So thank you, Stephanie, for this lemonadey award!

Now I’m supposed to pick TEN (is that right?  Or correct?  or whatever the proper word to use here is?) blogs to pass this on to.  Well, guess what.  I’m going to switch it up a bit, and just pick one.  Because I’m a rebel.  And I have no cause.  So here you go…

Angie

She is the kind of person I’d like to be…faithful, loving, positive, strong, and clearly a wonderful mother.  Angie, here’s some lemonade to go with that sunshine I promised you!

Must be More Specific Next Time…

So yesterday I wished it would snow.  This morning, I woke up to this…

Do you think it counts? 

Let’s just say it’s the most snow we’ve had all season.

And school was delayed one hour.  (don’t even get me started)

So I’m counting it.

I guess I need to be more specific in my wish requests.