The Old Man and the Boogey

For the third year in a row, our family has bought a wii for Christmas.

Two years ago they were the IT item of the season, people were waiting in line to get them only to walk away empty-handed. I happened to be at Target a couple of days before Christmas and two of the guys working there were talking about how they had just gotten two in. I had them dig one out of the boxes and bought one for D. He was excited about it for a couple of days until he decided he didn't have time to play and we returned it!

Last year, PK was already working for Nintendo and we could get a small break on the price. I, once again, decided to buy one for D because he had showed some interest in it. I was smart enough to give him a coupon for it instead of the actual machine in the box. He never had P get it for him. Again, no time to play.

This year, it was his idea to get a refurbished one at a great price from P. It was Js gift from Mommy and Daddy, and this time, it's been opened and set up. J loves it and because D has been off all week, there's been a lot of playing going on.

A couple of nights ago, the whole family was going to go upstairs and play. While they were waiting for me to show up, D and J were playing bowling. I have to say that J is pretty good for a little guy and apparently he wants to call people out about it. At one of Ds turns, he said, "Come on, Old Man." We have no idea where he got the idea to call him Old Man, but it's in his arsenal of intimidation tactics.

Golf was next and this time all three of us played. We're all pretty bad. Even D who is a "real golfer" had some problems, but we continued on our three-hole journey. We all had some "boogeys" in our game. As a matter of fact, most of our holes were boogeys. There was no shame in Js game...he kept saying, "Oh, I got a boogie," like it was a good thing.

I don't know why I think this is so funny. It just is. It's the type of priceless stuff one day the Old Man and his even Older Lady will talk about with each other and laugh about. We'll tell J and M about it once or twice; maybe three times; maybe 300. We'll bore them to death with the same stories told over and over and over again. A lifetime of laughter (or yawns depending on who you ask) over one moment in time.

A Magical Evening

Santa came early this year. Nine days early to be exact. It was the strangest thing, but Santa was at our house last night. Unlike other years, he wasn't sneaking in through the chimney. He just showed up in our family room. Unlike other years, he wasn't wearing his bright red suit; however, he did have his Santa hat and a Gap t-shirt and jeans to go with it. He looked a little shorter and a lot thinner. And, he was missing his front teeth. I guess all those cookies finally caught up with him.

(He was gracious enough to take a picture with Daddy)

Also missing was the huge sack full of toys that he throws over his shoulder. This year it was replaced with a small paper sack. The cool thing about it was that no matter how big a gift was, he could keep it hidden inside the small bag until it was time to see what it was.

Speaking of gifts, he didn't disappoint. He gave M a rattle and Daddy a dog. For me he brought a glass which apparently was to replace a broken bottle of wine?? I don't remember breaking a bottle of wine, but if Santa can see you when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake, then he must know that I broke a bottle of wine. And I can't argue with that. He must also know that some of the bulbs in our house were out and so he decided to help Daddy out because his next gift was just that: light bulbs. Iced tea was up next. Daddy, once again, was the lucky recipient of Santa's wonderful concoction. Finally there were Santa hats for M and me. And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night I was flipping through channels, and because there was no Law and Order on, I settled for Tinkerbell. I'm pretty sure that up until then I didn't know her story. I always remembered her as Peter Pan's sidekick. The day after Disney on Ice, however, I Googled her to find out more. And last night there she was on TV, so I tuned in. J walks down a few minutes later to say goodnight and as soon as he realized it was on, ran upstairs and fibbed to Daddy that I wanted to chill with him and watch Tinkerbell. D was confused, came down, and agreed to let him stay up until 9pm. I didn't think he would last that long but we snuggled under the Snuggie anyway.

To my surprise, 9 rolled around and he was still interested. We negotiated with Daddy and because there was only 25 minutes left he said it was okay to watch until the end.

It was a cute story and a wonderful night. If you would have told me I was going to let my kid stay up until 9:30 on a school night to watch Tinkerbell with me, I would have laughed. Yet it was par for the course on an evening that was strange, magical, and filled with fantasy. Santa must have had some Pixy Dust hidden in that sack of his.

Rich in Thanks or Thanks for Riches?

Thanks to my pal Lacey and her great ideas, I decided to do a Thankful Turkey for J this year. We made a body and each day we added a feather telling what we were thankful for that day.

On Day One, J was thankful for playing computer games. That came about because I used it as an example when I told him about our new project. For a couple of days there it seemed like it was a fruitless effort because they didn't get much deeper than that. Computer games made it in there twice, playing with his toys was another entry. And then, one day he said "Daddy." He's right up there with computer games and made it twice. Another day it was "Being Healthy" and once, after taking him to Disney on Ice, "Spending the Day with Mommy."

We're getting somewhere I thought. And then we ran out of feathers so we stopped a week or so into it. (Note to self: make enough feathers the first day or you may never get back to doing them later on.)

Anyway, I was happy with the results especially when he showed interest after the feathers were gone and asked if we could continue it through the Christmas season.

A couple of days ago, though, he and D were having a discussion where socioeconomics became the topic. D asked him if he knew what poor was. His answer was that it's when you don't have money. That prompted the next question of where he thought we sat on the financial totem pole. We, of course, are "wich." D tells him we aren't wich and he asks, "So are we poor?"

My question is, Did we create a monster here? I don't think that he's a spoiled kid. We don't buy him everything he wants, he knows he doesn't get something each time we go to the store. I thought we were doing okay in that department.

I want my child to appreciate the things that he gets, to realize that his many toys and games and clothes come with two price tags -- the one that tells you how many dollars you will need to take it home and the one of hard work and dedication that the person giving it to him has gone through to get it into his hands.

I want him to understand that not everyone is as lucky as he is. Each year the moms' group adopts a family and I try to pick a child his age for him to buy a gift. I've explained to him that not all parents have enough money to get gifts for their kids so they have to rely on Santa. I told him we're lucky we have a little bit of money left to be able to help out the parents so that their kids too will have a nice Christmas. Two years ago we got a train, last year we got Barbies for a little girl, and this year a Transformer for a six-year-old boy. He didn't come with me to get it because of timing issues, but he was well aware that we were getting it and I showed him what we got when he got home from school. He said it was "cool."

I don't know if he grasps the meaning of this, but he was telling M the other day pretty much the same story I told him. "M, we're lucky because we have a little bit of money to buy a gift for some kids. Their mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money, but we can help."

I hope that's a start in the right direction but I think I have my work cut out for me.

Little Dude, Big Pimpin'

Let me start by saying that when we say "pimping" we don't use it in its literal meaning, ours is more of the slang definition which means to look cool, act cool, or anything that makes you stand out above the rest in a particular arena.....now that the housekeeping is done, I'll get to the story.

Anybody that knows D knows that he's a cool guy who is always in pursuit of situations and/or things --material or otherwise -- that will contribute to make him or his surroundings "fresh, smooth, or pimping." From his clothes to his golf swing and especially his sneakers. Ever since J was small D would go out and buy him things to put him in one of the aforementioned categories.

He likes to joke that I treat M like a doll that I like to play dress up with, but he's the exact same way, not only with J but with M now too. The other day when he had her by himself he dressed her up in an adorable Nike getup that he bought for her. He put boots on her feet and a ribbon in her hair off he went into the streets of Olympia in search of props about his daughter. He was pretty much "pimping" out his little girl in return for compliments.

So, it should come as no surprise that with all of this fresh-smooth-pimping attitude, J was going to inherit a little bit of it himself.

Fast forward to yesterday....when we got home from Baby Gym, for some reason J's Mickey Mouse shirt came off w/ his jacket leaving him with only black sweats and a black T-shirt. As the time neared to go to school I told him to put on his MM shirt over the black one, which begs the question: Why, so I can look like a pimp?

And there you have it....fashion tips from the Pimp Style Guru himself. When in doubt, just add a Mickey Mouse shirt and instantly your day will get a lot more interesting.

Carry On.

Hair Don't Comes Full Circle

I should have listened to the hairdresser that told me that kids don't cooperate with their parents when scissors and hair are involved, but at the urging of my loving husband I decided to try it anyway.

She was so good at first. Sat in her high chair and let me part it and clip back the portion that is soon to be her cute bob.

And then, just like that, as soon as I went in for the first cut, she moved her head and it all went downhill from there.

So now we're back to the dreaded Hair Don't she had the first few months of her life. We used to call it a Mulhawk because it was part mullet part Mohawk. She lived with that do for several months and then her hair started coming in and growing. A few months later she was actually getting compliments on her hair.....it was adorable without even trying.

Enter Daddy and his "concern" that her hair was in her eyes. I understand the frustration firsthand for I too have grown out bangs numerous times. I bought clips to no avail. As soon as she got wind of one she would pull it out. So I gave in and took her to Jack and Jill's for her very first haircut which turned out to be just a little cut of the bangs that set me back $16.

I can do that, I thought. And last night I tried....poor little M. I was so angry at first. At D for his insistence and at myself for one, falling prey to it and second because I'm the one that had the scissors in the hand that caused it. And then just like that I realized that it's only hair. In a few weeks it will grow back a little, a couple of months from now we'll never know what happened, and those little dreaded clips, she's been keeping them in today. It's like she knows they are now her best friends. It doesn't hurt that M is adorable and she could be bald and still be beautiful.

So, the Hair Don't has come full circle and so have my cosmetology days. I'm hanging up the scissors and going to the ATM instead.

And What Else?

Last night after I put M to bed J told me that he wanted to chill with me, so we sat on the couch under the covers and began to watch the World Series. I started to tell him that he was a wonderful son; a good boy; and that I was really proud of him the other day at school when I volunteered. The compliments kept coming but as soon as he noticed a lapse in the flow, he inquired, "And what else?"

Well, let's see: He's adorable, funny, smart, a little loud and crazy sometimes, cuddly, thoughtful -- one of his favorite things to say is, "I made this for you because I thought you would like it."

And what else? At the start of the school year he really took a liking to a girl named Olive who was happy to bask in the attention at first but quickly had enough. She then began dictating when he could sit next to her on the bus and when he could play with her during recess. At his conference with his teacher she informed us that he's happy to comply whenever she decides. It made my blood boil and yet he didn't cry or whine about it. He takes rejection in the most gracious way I've ever seen. Like the little man he is he kept his head high and continued on. We should all be so blessed with the ability to turn a blind eye to the pride that so often gets in the way of the real destination we seek. I know he's only five, but the lesson wasn't lost.

As of now, I think the obsession is behind him and that's what prompted the compliment of how he acted at school the other day. I'm so proud of the way he handled the situation.

And what else?

JK: M, do you like me?
MK: (Inaudible response.)
JK: M, do you like me?
MK: (Shaking her head) huh-uh.
JK: Okay. Then go find another brother to play with.

This was a one-sided conversation that I witnessed this morning. It was so funny and just shows his witty sense of humor. (Note: M responds with the shake of the head and huh-uh to just about everything even if she really means uh-huh.)

And what else? On our walk home from the bus stop yesterday he fell behind me a few steps, when I turned around he had a dandelion in his hand and a huge toothless smile on his face. I asked him if he picked a flower, assuming it was for me, and then I realized that the older neighbor girls were close by and decided to ask if it was for one of them. He said, "It's for you. Because I thought you would like it."

And you know what else? I did.

I'm So Happy to Have these Kids

It's been some time since my last entry. Between my lack of time and my anal-ness about the format of the last one, I've hesitated to write in here. I couldn't possibly publish my last post until I had it formatted so it' wasn't such an eyesore. Then I realized that nobody reads this anyway except for Lacy, my inspiration to blog, and she may actually be able to help w/the problem.

Besides, the kids are too adorable to stall any longer. J & M are so cute together. They have somewhat of a love/hate relationship. Each morning he gets up and asks me, "Can we go see what the Beauty Queen is up to?" once we do, he asks, "Can we chill with M on the bed for a little while?" We usually just all sit on the bed for a couple of minutes and they roll around, scream, tackle, and laugh. She loves it -- for a while -- then she turns her back and crawls over to me. That's pretty much the template for their relationship.

He loves to hang out with her, but then he's yelling in her face and scaring her a moment later. She sees him and smiles, yells, crawls over to him, climbs on him, and then she's done. She's recently started to kiss him over and over, though she does it to D and me as well.

Yesterday morning she got hold of a little i-Pod he got in a Happy Meal, she found the button and when the music came on, she started doing what she does best: dancing...she kept pushing the button and dancing some more. I joined in and the next thing we knew the three of us were dancing and laughing in his room. Priceless good times.

About a month ago, he was jumping around and talking to himself under his breath and I caught the phrase, "I'm so happy I have a sister." I asked him about it and he 'fessed up to saying it. That's so cute! Today, he's said, "I love you" a couple of times. This time when I inquired, he said he was talking to M.

After four years of being an only child, he has really adjusted well to sharing his parents, his space, and his life with another little person. I'm so proud of him. I really believe that he's happy to have a sister; and though she may not know it yet, one day she'll be very happy to have such a wonderful brother.

And me, I'm so happy to have these kids!

The Bus is Coming, The Bus is Coming !! (We Hope)

11:29....only 36 more minutes until the school bus arrives to pick up J for his first day of Kindergarten. At least that's what I'm hoping. Yesterday, he was going to drive by for a test run and he never showed. We waited outside from 12:05 until about 12:35 when all the kids should have been in school and decided he wasn't coming. Poor J. Each time he heard the rumblings of a big vehicle driving on the street he'd say, "Oh, the bus is coming," only to look and have it be one of the big construction trucks that so often drive in our neighborhood.

Once the waiting was over, we packed in the car and headed for a rare visit to the hands on Children's Museum and met up with friends there. It was a nice end to what seemed like a short but great summer.

Dinner last night, at J's request, was Taco Bell. Although it was bath time after that, we decided that a morning shower would be a better option for his big day. He played on the computer for a bit, we read a book -- The Night Before Kindergarten by Natasha Wing -- and off to bed he went. But then he was up again, crying because I didn't check on him fast enough.

"T'was the night before Kindergarten

and as they prepared,

kids were excited

and a little bit

scared."

We hurried on up and attempt it again with the promise that I'd be back in five minutes. I was there promptly and he was happy. For a second or two. Then I hear the words, "Something woke me up!"

"They tossed and they turned

about in their beds

as visions of school supplies

danced in their heads."

We go upstairs once again and I was able to get out of him that he was a little nervous about school. I reassured him that it would be great, tucked him in bed once again, and told him I'd be back in six...when I returned he was sound asleep.

"Erasers and crayons and pencils galore

were stuffed in their backpacks and set by the door."

And then I cried. I hugged my baby and cried. I don't know why this is such a big ordeal to me. I used to think people like me were geeks. But because I can't beat them, I have to join them.

"In the morning it came --

school starts today!

Would the teacher be nice?

Would they still get to play?"

This morning we went to breakfast at I-HOP, came home for the aforementioned morning shower, got him dressed, and now we wait....11:42.....23 minutes until the bus comes.

"Faces were washed

and teeth were brushed white;

kids posed for pictures

with eyes sparkling bright."

And come it did....eight minutes early! We were just about to put his shoes on when up rolls Dale. With the camera in one hand and his backpack in the other I attempted to run outside to tell him we'd be right there, but as soon as I opened the front door, off he goes. In the meantime, J is outside with one shoe on yelling at him to stop to no avail. M is inside crying her lungs out because we have scared her silly with all the commotion.

So now I'm thinking that he'll be back at the time he initially told me he'd be here, so we sat outside and waited some more with every couple of minutes J chiming in, "I want the bus to come back." However, we were unaware that when Dale turned that corner, he was not to be seen on our street that day again.

"Parents packed snacks

and kids packed in cars

as if they were boarding

a spaceship to Mars."

With his snacks all packed in his backpack, we boarded our spaceship to the school and got there with five minutes to spare.

"The room was all filled with toys,

books, and maps. But where were the beds

for mid-morning naps?"

Dale and his posse followed suit a few minutes later and when I inquired about the 12:05 pickup, he told me that he's long gone by then. Duh. At the mention of yesterday's no-show, he said he did come by our house. I think Dale is missing a few screws, but I guess you have to be to want to transport a bunch of Kindergartners to and from school, right? He's now changed the time to noon.

With all the action this morning, I didn't even cry. He looked perfectly content when we left. And I was perfectly content --more like relieved -- that I got him to school on time and without much to do about why he didn't take the bus. Maybe the crying I did last night was all I needed to satisfy the sentimental side of sending your kid off to school for the first time.

But the stillness of the neighborhood was very evident when we pulled in. It was peaceful and quiet. A little depressing even. It was probably just the contrast to the days of summer when bikes and scooters were among us and the laughter and yelling of children filled the air. Maybe. 1:41...One hour and 38 minutes until we pick him up.

4:04...and we're home. The first day of school is behind us. M and I went to the campus to put him on the bus and race home behind it. I was early and got a great spot, except then I remembered that it gets really busy there and I may be trapped in an abyss of cars only to watch the school bus carrying my kid drive off and no one to pick him up when he got to the stop at home. I pulled out and found what I thought was a better spot. We got out and walked to the classroom right as they were waling out. He had his big-kid buddies with him -- a few kids assigned the task of escorting the little ones to the bus. I left him there and walked to the car and found a bunch of cars behind me. I was trapped....I was almost in tears.

I debated running to the bus stop and yanking him out of the bus, strapping him in my car, and driving home, but he looked so happy to be riding the bus, and after the morning's fiasco, how could I do that to him? Back and forth I went until I said, "Screw it, he's coming with me!" Luckily when I stepped in to grab M, the cars started to move.

I then pulled out of the parking lot and found another place to park, illegally I might add. But I didn't care. I had no idea where the bus would pull out from or which way it would turn once it did and this was the perfect place to stake out the situation. I was right where I needed to be.

Once it pulled out, I was in hot pursuit. We got to the stop right as some kids were getting off. but not J. Panic set in for a moment until I went inside and there he was in the front row....Cheesing.

It was a National Lampoon's First Day of School kind of day, right out of the Griswold's family album, but what a great day it was. I didn't realize how stressed I felt until now that it's all done. I need a Margarita.

"The children all waved

from the door of the school.

Don't cry Mom and Dad,

Kindergarten is cool."

(I appologize for the eyesore this is. I've tried and tried to format it and space it appropriately but it's not working....urr..).

These Boots Really Were Made for Walking

Uh, about that marathon I was attempting to run a few posts AND months ago...not gonna happen. I started out strong, inspired, ready to take on the blogging world and then just like that, I pooped out.

At last reading, the footwear was all laced up and ready to go, what I didn't realize then was that said footwear was completely inappropriate for the task at hand. Instead of the running shoes needed for that marathon, I laced up what seems to be a fabulous pair of boots made for the sole purpose of looking good -- oh, and walking. Not being one to give up style for comfort, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

M's blog, The Booty Queen Chronicles, is at a publishing halt until God knows when. J's blog never even got started. There is way too much ground to cover on a daily basis and to think that I'm going to do it in three different places, well, that's just way out of my league.

Better to walk and look good doing it than to run, run, run and fall flat on my butt.

Oly Cow !!

Yesterday marked our two-year anniversary in Olympia. I can't believe it. I can still remember the anticipation we had as we ended our cross-country trip from Maryland and arrived at the yucky Extended Stay America!

Lots has happened since, we've even had another baby, yet time is flying. If we follow our usual path, it will only be another year before D gets the call that it's time to pack up and leave to another office. I'm not ready for that yet. I love it here. There isn't a good mall or great restaurants, but it's a small price to pay for what there is: nice people, nice views, nice friends and that oh-so-nice Seattle-cost-of-living adjustment that we get even though we have the good fortune of being about 50 miles away from King County.

The fact that I haven't been able to work here has been a constant source of frustration; among other things. However, if I'm going to be a stay-at-home Mom, Oly is the place to be. They say there's a proverbial lesson to be learned by everything we're faced with...I hope to learn that lesson, whatever it may be, and be ready to move on when the time comes.

Until then, what do you say we just enjoy Olympia !

Look at Him Go

Last Thursday, the whole family went out to J's future elementary school to watch him ride his bike. WOW !! Just a few months ago, the training wheels were still tightly secured to the John Deere. When Daddy decided to take them off shorty after that, he was still hanging onto the back while J rode. On this day, he did it all by himself just like a big boy.

And I watched...helmet on, back to me, little legs spinning and spinning as he moved further and further away.

I was filled with pride as I saw him go. The very next second when I felt the tug in my heart, I realized that it was like some crazy metaphor of things to come: Slowly but surely my little boy is growing up. And on the very playground where in a couple of weeks I will drop him off on his first day of Kindergarten, I got my first taste of what letting go feels like. Today it was simply letting go of the back of the bike -- and it wasn't even me who did it, but he was off. Tomorrow he'll be waving to me from the window of the school bus; another day it'll be another milestone and another tug to my heart; we'll continue that way with pride and admiration until we reach that not-so-far-off day when we can no longer hang on and he rides into the sunset of adulthood.

There was no visible sunset that day. All day long it had been overcast and looking like it would rain. Right as we were getting ready to leave the playground, there was a torrential downpour. Just another metaphor for the way I felt.

It's All About the Butt

I think babies' butts are cute: so soft and dimply -- not a good trait on an adult -- so when I call a kid "butt", I'm certainly not being mean. On the contrary, it's a term of endearment that I save for a select few.

A is the OG Boot. We started out with butt and it evolved from there to booty and then boot. C came next, followed by RII and LM. Although those two don't really know it because I wasn't there to torment them with the name, they will always be "Boots" in my heart.

By 2004 I finally had my own Boot. My little J. I don't call him that too much these days, but I called him that for years. I have a weird way of saying it that sounds kind of like "Boo -ut." Every once in a while I still call him Butt, and I'm sure he'll put a halt to that very soon. M is also now part of the exclusive "Boot Club." She's the "Boot"-y Queen. The etymology on that one is different from the others, but in the end, "It's all about the butt."

Both D and I love shoes but this isn't about footwear at all. Our perfect pair of boots wasn't made by any designer -- no Ferragamo or Nike. It's a creation all our own -- our bootyful children: J and M.

All Laced Up !!!

These boots were made for walking and I'm attempting to run a marathon...just two weeks ago I didn't know what a blog was. Last night I sat down and created two. One for M and one for the family. I plan to create one for J as soon as I can think of a clever title for it -- This is my first post, and I'm still not exactly sure what I'm getting into. I feel kind of stupid doing it. From my understanding, a blog is a sort of online diary, right? If that's the case, a Word document would serve the same purpose, especially since I'm not really interested in anyone but me, D, and someday the kids reading it. Somehow, though, the "potential" of having it out there for the world to see makes it more exciting. Makes it more of a challenge to myself to come up with interesting things to write about out of a sometimes not-so-interesting day. Maybe it will open up my eyes and see things from other perspectives -- maybe not..I've kept a diary/journal off and on for a good part of my life and this is just another vehicle to keep that up.

I'm all laced up...on your mark, get set, GO !!