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Homeschool 101: The Update

January 4, 2012 by

As we head into our second semester of homeschooling, I thought it might be fun to give a little update on how things are going so far. Fun for me, anyway. This has the potential to be wildly boring for you.

I’m kidding!

Please keep reading…

So after four months of homeschooling, we’ve got a few things solidly under our belts. Those things are, in no particular order:

– The kids can all read Latin fluently.

– I churn butter every night before bed.

– Tia knits daily. Yesterday she made me a sweater.

– Landon is reading Socrates.

– Sloan split an atom just before Christmas.

– We survived.

…….

Okay, so maybe only one of the above statements is true. Although Sloan did receive a microscope for Christmas and I’m quite certain he’s on the path to atom splitting. Or, you know, he may just continue to look at boogers under the contraption. Hard to say at this point.

There are many, many aspects of the homeschooling journey that I have really loved, the largest one being freedom. I really, really love the freedom we have to follow our own schedule. I love that we are still on break this week simply because we can be. I love that I can stop lessons for the day at 1:00 in the afternoon and we can just read books the rest of the day. I love that I don’t have to have them all up, dressed and ready to go for the school bus that comes rolling through here at 7:15.

Lawdy that’s early…

On the other side of that coin, the freedom sometimes freaks me out. For example, many times we are through with all our lessons by 1:00-1:30 and I find myself twiddling my thumbs and worrying that maybe I missed something. That leads to a whole train of thought that eventually has me picturing Sloan sorting trash at a local dump someday because he couldn’t get into college because I failed him in the second grade.

It’s a vicious train of thought.

I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not likely going to destroy their education. We are learning every day and we’re doing it at a pace that works for them, so that has to be a good thing, right? Not knowing the standards for what they should be learning is what has given me greatest cause for stress, though. Am I doing too much? Am I doing too little? Sometimes it overwhelms me.

Then my four year old labels all fifty States on a map and names more than half of their capitals and I think, We’re doing just fine.

Or Sloan walks by and, just for fun, speaks to me in alliteration. Then there was the time he reenacted the entire sinking of the Titanic at the lunch table with two apple slices and a piece of bread. He is such a kid after my own heart.

Tia is still not reading fluently, but she gets a little better every day. As I mentioned earlier, though, she’s a bit of a whiz with the evil numbers and is well on her way to needing first grade math curriculum.

The hardest part of homeschooling, for me, has been the lack of alone time. There are so many things that I want to do and not having the children home all day would make accomplishing those things a frillion times easier. There are some days when I daydream about packing it all in and marching them to the local school so I can have two minutes of peace and quiet to think.

But in the end, I still know this is right for us and that it will be worth it. I will not regret this time I have them home. The kids may regret it but I will not.

The jury’s out on whether or not we continue homeschooling. At this point I would like to do it for a couple more years, maybe, but I don’t see this as a long term thing. I don’t know why that is, it’s just a feeling I get. We have joined a homeschool co-op for this semester, which I am excited about so I won’t be going it alone anymore.

I’ve felt like Ma Ingalls quarantined on the prairie these last few months as I’ve journeyed down this path all by myself. And yes, Little House on the Prairie analogies are totally apropos if you’re a homeschooler.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear my little budding scientist in the kitchen now turning on the stove and cracking eggs. Um…yikes.

Filed Under: Family, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

My laziness knows no bounds

December 20, 2011 by

It was a beautiful December day here in the Sunshine State. Days like today are why people spend their winters in Florida. We spent much of the day soaking in the warm rays of the sun, while also being delighted with a cool breeze.

For those of you who live somewhere cold, please don’t hate me.

The view from my perch.

Around 1:00, the natives grew restless. I didn’t feel right letting them watch a movie on a day like today, and in return they didn’t feel right about letting me sit poolside and read.

Savages.

So after an hour of hearing about the injustice of such imposed boredom and the true cruelty of expecting them to entertain themselves I packed up the antsy brood and off we went to the park where I planned to continue my lounging while they ran off pent up energy.

Upon arriving at the park, I rejoiced to find a long swinging bench mercifully vacant and I settled in for a bit of relaxation only to discover that the smallest of the children had different plans in mind.

“Hey Mom, wanna play house wif us?” Landon asked. I looked over at Tia who widened her eyes pleadingly, which is a completely unfair tactic. Puppy dog eyes are cruel and unusual.

“What do I have to do to play house?” I asked wearily.

“How about you be the Mom and we’ll be the kids,” Tia answered.

Um…

“Okay,” I said. “Kids, go play and let Mommy rest for a bit!”

“No, Mom! That’s not how you play!” Foot stomp.

Seriously?! Puppy dog eyes and a foot stomp? She’s good, ladies and gentlemen.

“But I’m the Mom so I can tell you what to do, right?”

“No, Mom. You have to get up and come over here and drive us to school. Then you have to take us to the store and then you have to take us to Chuck E Cheese. That’s how you play!”

Funny. I always assumed that playing pretend actually took us out of real life.

“Okay,” I said. “But this swinging bench is my car so hop in.” And away we drove. I dropped them off at school, then picked them up, then we headed to the store.

“C’Mon, let’s go shop.”

“Uumm…” I stalled. “Let’s pretend I broke my leg and I have to ride in one of the motorized carts at the store. This bench will be my cart.”

“Aw, yeah!” they yelled and away we went. Notice that so far, I haven’t had to move from my bench.

Finally the “errands” were done and we arrived home. “Alright, you guys go play now,” I said waving them on, stepping out of my role as pretend Mom and into my role as real Mom. It’s all very confusing, I know…

“No, Mom! Now you need to make dinner!”

*sigh*

“Tell you what,” I reasoned. “How about you be the Mom now and I will be the long lost Aunt who came for a visit, okay?”

“Alright! What’s your name?”

“Uh…Toto? Oh and hey – let’s pretend that I came from far, far away and I’m super tired so I have to lay down and sleep. How does that sound?”

“Hey, yeah!” they cried. “And this bench can be your bed and we will rock you while you sleep!”

Deal!

So I laid down, closed my eyes and they rocked me back and forth, back and forth until I literally began dozing off.

“Mom. Hey Mom!” They shook me and I squinted up into their displeased eyes.

“This game is boring,” Tia said with a frown. “We don’t want to play anymore.”

“Yeah,” echoed Landon. “It’s bowing.”

“Can we go play on the playground?” Tia asked.

I looked at them for a silent moment then let out a small sigh. “Well, alright. If you really want to go play, I guess I don’t mind.” And off they ran, forgetting all about needing my entertainment. I laid back down then, my swing moving slowly back and forth in the afternoon breeze. Alone.

Seriously. I should get some kind of award for that…

 

Filed Under: Florida, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Tia Tagged With: , ,

Four is More

December 15, 2011 by

Four.

It all just happened really…

Really…

Really…

Reeeeaaallllyyy…

Fast.

No longer a baby.

Loaded with personality.

“Wiggle your nipples, Dad!” he begged last night.

Different day. Different blog. Definately a story that needs to be told.

Part of me longs for one more day with this baby.

Probably the same part of me that wishes I was still in my twenties…

But mostly, I just really adore this amazing little boy.

This boy who turns FOUR today.

Happy Birthday, Landon.

Visual proof of the personality that keeps us in stiches. Man, I love this kid…

 

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Landon Tagged With: , , , ,

A slow death by numbers

December 13, 2011 by

Eight grade Pre-Algebra was not kind to me.  In fact I remember roughly three things from that class:

1.) You can never have too much blue eye shadow as was evidenced by Pam Whats-her-Face who sat across from me.

2.) Kissing boys was apparently an amazing experience that I needed to start trying out.

3.) Somehow, some way the alphabet was supposed to be divided, subracted, added and compressed, which would then magically turn the letters into numbers and if organized just so could ultimately bring about World Peace.

I did not receive a passing grade in Pre-Algebra, but I did get a rather unfortunate sex education from Pam Whats-her-Face.  So I had that going for me.

Listen, I’ve seen the statistics about how girls tend to do poorly in Math and Science simply because they’re female and are expected to be bad with numbers.  I want you to know that that is not what happened to me.  I just suck at Math.  Plain and simple and heartbreakingly true.  I still don’t understand algebraic equations.  I have long since forgotten how to do long division and most days I cannot do basic addition without using my fingers.

Feel sorry for me.

I can, however, sit and daydream for hours and I’m not too shabby at finding shapes in the clouds.

So it was with no small amount of fear and trepidation that I embarked upon the business of homeschooling my children because I knew that in so doing I would, indeed, need to conquer the evil numbers.  I mean, granted Sloan is only in second grade and Tia is in Kindergarten so really, how hard could it be?

Turns out it can be flat out torterous, folks.  It’s Chinese water torture by SUBTRACTION!

Lawdy.

We started the year out fine.  Basic addition facts were covered.  Ordinal numbers, Odds and Evens, Counting by 5’s, 10’s and so on…Cake, ladies and gentleman.  I began to see addition facts in the clouds.

Somewhere around our fifth week in, however, things took a turn for the worse.  Just for Sloan.  Tia has taken off in Math.  In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be buzzing into a first grade Math book before year end because she not only enjoys Math, but she asks to do several lessons at a time.

So TAKE THAT statistics!  My daughter rocks the numbers.  BOOM!  In yo face!

Ahem…

Early last month, I decided to take a different approach to the cruelty of Math.  Instead of tackling it every day, I declared Tuesday and Thursday to be Math days and every other day would remain number free.  I figured this to be a happy compromise and a fair way to hopefully give Math more of an appeal.

It took us two hours to finish one short lesson today.

*hangs head*

So here’s how this Math thing goes down.  ( I don’t know why I’m capitilizing Math.  I think it’s because I’m scared of it and maybe if I show a little respect, the numbers won’t infiltrate my brain, thus turning me into some kind of mad woman who lives alone with a hundred and fifty cats and wanders around mumbling equations nonsensically.)  I say, “It’s Tuesday guys.  Math day!  Yay!”

Tia: “Can I do three lessons today?  Please?”

Sloan: “What?!  No, it can’t be Tuesday.  It’s only Monday!  I know it.  I’m only doing half of a lesson today.  And no adding.  Or subtracting.”  This is usually said after he’s collapsed his head dramatically into his arms.

Landon: “Wait, what?!  We have to do school AGAIN today?!”  School is a surprise every day.

I understand my son’s anguish, I really do.  I lived his anguish every day until I finally managed to choose a major with the least amount of Math required (English Professional Writing, baby!  Boom! Pick out shapes in the clouds all day if you want.  It makes for more creative writing…)

But alas, I must pretend to be horrified at his disdain for numbers and tell him what fun it is to know and learn Math.  “Math is lots of fun!” I exclaim as I open up the dreaded book.

Did you hear that?  Math makes me lie to my children.  Eeeeeeeevvvviiiiiiilllllllll.

And we then spend the next two hours trying to simply tackle one short lesson.  And here’s the kicker – he’s actually really good at the Math.  As in, when he switches off the tyrant in his brain raging against the injustice of learning, he generally whizzes through the equations and he doesn’t even need to use his fingers!

Clearly he possesses a bit of his father’s genes.

And thus the story goes.  I pull out the Math books.  He thinks he’s going to die.  I think that trying to teach him the basics is going to kill me.  And around and around we go.

However…

Ask the kid to write you a poem.  I dare you.  Because he will sit for as long as it takes to craft the perfect poem with nary a complaint.

And today I caught him staring at the clouds.  “That one is shaped like a blue whale,” he said, pointing.

I am so proud…

Fear not, good people.  We are surviving the Maths and I do think he is learning a bit.  There’s a good chance, though, that should we continue down this homeschooling path, I will be hiring a Math tutor to manage the crazy.

The End.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Homeschool, Kids, Kids do the darndest things Tagged With: , , ,

What if we all slowed down?

December 7, 2011 by

We wandered through the brush, the bristled fronds scraping against our bare arms.  December 7 and in shorts.  This is the things dreams are made of.

We stopped and peered inside the little windows and I let my mind wander.  Who were they that lived there then?  What sounds filled their homes in a time when the whirring of electronics was not yet realized?  When televisions didn’t dictate every thought and movement?  Did they, too, feel the rushing passage of time – they who had no option of jumping in the car and buzzing to this meeting or that event?

As the quiet moments ticked away the evening hours and their hands, weary from a long day’s labor, sat still in their laps, were they able to drink the moments in?  Or did those mothers, like me, find themselves each night wondering what happened and how did the day blur by in a blink?

One day older.

Did those mothers nestle their babes each night and wish they could freeze time for a brief moment just so they had the opportunity to drink it all in?  Did those same mothers also have some nights when the darkness brought a sense of sweet relief as the bustle and the energy finally stopped and they had a few brief moments of peace before it all started up again?

I imagine the mothers were very much like me in this regard.  Equal parts sad to see the days fly by and anxious for the peace the nighttime brings.  Perhaps even more so as the burden they shouldered was far greater than mine.  Their days were filled with much more labor and with far fewer luxeries.

As we walked into the tiny house, the tour guide met us with twinkling eyes, the lines in his face evidence of a life well lived.  With a gentle smile, he guided us through each room, his aging voice filled with awe, wonder and appreciation.  He understood simpler times and I heard the longing in his words as he pointed out the small tools and toys.  The days of quiet are not far removed from his mind.

I love the quiet, too.  Not setting up cable has been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.  Evenings are filled with quiet togetherness.  Sitting on the floor, rolling the ball to one another.  Walks around the block.  Ice cream on the lanai.  Together without the noise.  It’s a step toward the simpler times.

What if we all slowed down just a little bit?  What if we all spent a little less time watching the lives of others and living our own? What if we all cut out just a few things so that the precious moments could at least be soaked in a bit before zipping past?  What if we just stopped for awhile?

I confess, the stopping and soaking in is hard for me.  It’s really, really hard.  There is so much to be done and the stopping feels like a halt in progress.  But is it?  When we stop, sit, listen and wait – does this stagnate us or, perhaps, move us forward still but in a deeper and more fulfilled manner?

As we pulled out of the gravel driveway, I turned off the radio and rolled down the windows.  This is a big deal for me.  I’m not a “wind in her hair” kind of gal.  I find it annoying and loud.  But today, instead, I listened to the wind whipping through the car, the echoes of movement passing through.  I breathed deep the salty air and glanced at the ocean just across the street.  I drove the speed limit, not pushing my speed but instead taking the time to enjoy the journey.

And they enjoyed, too.  We talked about the seagulls and the graceful way they danced on the wind.  The discussed what we would do if each of us were a bird.  How would the world look from the sky?

Even the (smokin’ hot) minivan has the potential to slow down.

What if we all just took the time?

What would life look like and how would it be different?

All photos taken during today’s field trip to Heritage Village in Largo, Florida.

Filed Under: Family, Heritage, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Hey Mom

November 21, 2011 by

The boy who doesn’t need sleep pulled a fast one on me the other night.  What with his fuzzy head and killer smile, it’s really not that difficult for him to have me at his beck and call, but Saturday night was no less than a supreme use of his killer cuteness.

Supreme.

After keeping him up way too late the night before when we went out to dinner with friends (Friends!  We have friends!), Saturday found him in desperate need of a nap almost from the moment he woke up that morning.  It is his nature to fight sleep until the very last moment and fight the nap he did.

But finally, he gave up the fight and fell deep into slumber.  So deep, in fact, that I could not rouse him to save my life.  I picked him up.  I shook him.  I gave him a cup of juice, which he drank in his sleep. I sat him on the couch and he promptly fell asleep sitting up.  He fought waking as much as he did sleeping, which means by the time I finally got him to move around he had had far too long of a nap.

Which led to bedtime disaster.

For over an hour he was up and down and I, who had not been so lucky to get a nap, was at the end of my rope.  Using my sternest and firmest mom-voice, I let him know in no uncertain terms that should he set one more toe out of his bed he would suffer the wrath of Zombie Mommy.

He blinked twice, totally not buying my empty and, let’s face it, lame threat.

Thirty minutes later I was piled up in bed with my iPad, gloating in my victory over his near-four-year-old crazy.  Lee was out for the night and I finally had a bit of peace and quiet.  Until…

I saw his tiny little eyes peek around the corner.  I ignored him, hopeful that maybe he would remember my threat (and yes, I actually told him that if he got out of bed I was going to turn into Zombie Mommy…oh yes I did) and abort his current mission to drive me insane.  I kept my eyes on my glowing smart board until I heard a soft rustle.  I looked down to see him on his stomach on the floor.  He was in nothing but a t-shirt and his Buzz Lightyear Underoos and his tiny little spaceman backside stuck up in the air as he army crawled slowly across the floor.

This was better entertainment than the iPad so I continued to watch as he was completely oblivious to my stares.  He crawled past the foot of the bed, his raspy breath a complete giveaway of his whereabouts.  I heard him crawl to the opposite side of the bed and then it got quiet.

And I waited.

A minute later, I saw his Calvin hair slowly raise up, followed by his white eyebrows and then his saucer blue eyes.  He met my stare, his gaze equal parts delicious and mischevious.

“Hey Mom,” he said, his voice all sugary.  Then his face broke into a naughty little grin.

And me?  Well, I completely lost it and started laughing uncontrollably.  He joined in and together we cackled, me at him and him at me.  Then he crawled up into bed, snuggled close and fell fast asleep.

As a recap – he disobeyed, I gave empty threats, he disobeyed again, I laughed and he ultimately got what he wanted.

That, folks, is how you get this parenting thing done. If you’re looking for any parenting advice, feel free to ask.  Clearly I’ve got this mothering business down…

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: , ,

Penn State: The Shame of it All

November 16, 2011 by

Post edit: There seems to be some confusion by some to my statement that I won’t allow my children to be alone with anyone outside of family members or friends who have earned the highest level of trust.  The operative word in that statement is alone. My kids will, and do, go to homes to play with people that I don’t know well.  But there is still a level of trust that I’ve developed even with those families and I know that my kids are in a group and are safe.  There are also a number of wise, godly men that have no relation to us that have earned such a level of respect with me that I want and desire them to have an influence on my boy’s lives.  But even those men would agree that taking my kid on a weekend trip alone would be unwise and outright foolish.  When my boys are teenagers, a little more freedom will be given to them to meet with godly men who have earned my trust.  But, in my mind, no matter how trust worthy a man (and yes, I have singled out men in this case because I am specifically talking about male leadership and its effect on my boys) there is never any reason for my boys to be meeting with him in private some place.  Not only does it open the door to speculation, but it leaves them vulnerable.  I won’t do that to them.  I don’t distrust men.  In fact, most people I meet earn my immediate respect and trust after just a few minutes.  That doesn’t change the fact, however, that I don’t want my boys alone with them.

Did I explain that more clearly?  Carry on…

I read the Grand Jury report against Jerry Sandusky the other day.  I wish I hadn’t.  I’m not linking to it here on purpose, but if you want to read it for yourself it’s a short Google search away.  But I’ll warn you that it is both graphic and disturbing.  So disturbing, in fact, that I was sick to my stomach for most of the day after reading it.

I am not a big college football follower so to be really honest, I had no idea that Joe Paterno was a college football coach.  I knew his name by the mere fact that I live with Lee Stuart who is pretty much an expert on all things sport.  I just figured Paterno was some famous Pro-team coach.  That’s how deep my level of college football expertise runs.

Today, however, I know more about Mr. Paterno and the things that I know, I do not like.  Great football coach?  I guess.  But he’s also a man that put football before a child.  He put a game and a program before a little boy.  He and several others chose silence and somehow they were able to sleep at night.

I don’t have a lot of repect for Joe Paterno.

The devastating details of abuse at Penn State go beyond football obsession.  It is more than just money and prestige that kept numerous people from doing the right thing and going to authorities and making sure Sandusky never had access to small children again.  The problem is deeper than that.

Lack of love.

The root of the issue is a selfishness so dark and wicked and ugly that it allows a man to remain silent after witnessing an act so heinous.  Love of a game?  Nah.  Love of life?  Nope.  Love of self?  I do believe so.  The very idea that Sandusky was caught more than once makes me so deeply angry I find it hard to see straight.  What stops someone from going to the authorities after seeing such evil?  What resides in our hearts that allows us to choose right over such wrong?

Where was the respect for human life?  Where was the simple act of putting the interests of someone else – a child, no less – above your own?  It’s baffling to me and yet somehow I know that I possess the same ability to cover up wrong to protect…me.  Perhaps not to this horrific of a degree, but that type of self preservation resides in all of us.  And I hate it.  With every fiber of my being, I hate it.

Reading the report only confirmed to me the thing which I had already determined in my heart the second I found out I would birth a boy.  My sons will never, under any circumstances, be alone with another man other than their father or close family members in whom I have placed my fullest trust.  No youth worker, no teacher, no pastor or leader – no one at all will do anything alone with my boys.

I’ve long since held this position, but reading the report confirms it and then some.  Jerry Sandusky gave every appearance of being trustworthy and good.  Heck, he seemed downright admirable.  Look at all the work he did for underprivilieged and at risk kids!

Yes, look at all the work he did for underprivileged and at risk kids.

There are kids who will never be the same because of Jerry Sandusky and the network of men who silently supported his sick addiction.  How can we sit silently through this madness? At what point does our silence add to the problem?

How did those boys feel, knowing someone saw but nobody came?  Silence can be deafening, you know.

I can understand why those young boys were allowed to spend time with Jerry Sandusky.  Most of them were in need of a male figure and why not let your child spend the night in the home of a seemingly upright man with a heart of gold?  I don’t really blame the parents, though I wonder why they missed the signs.  One mother tried.  She noticed, she knew and she reacted but to what end?

Where was the justice?!

For my part, I won’t ever leave my child in the care of a man alone.  My children won’t sleepover at anyone’s house unless I know the people extremely well, I know what goes on in that household and I have the topmost amount of respect for the people in whose care I’m placing my child.

The risks simply don’t outweigh the benefits.

My sons won’t go to lunch alone with another man.  They won’t participate in Bible studies where they are alone or secluded with another man.  A public place?  A group?  Yes, provided I know and trust the person they’re with.  But alone?  Never.  It just won’t happen.  You see, these boys?  They’re mine.  And I’ll protect them at all costs.

So here I remain, a woman who knows little about college football but too much about a “legendary coach.”  I pity Joe Paterno, but I do not feel sorry for him.  My heart breaks instead for the young men who were violated by his silence.  Young men who were shown as boys no more than a blind eye and a blank stare.

What are your thoughts?  What rules and guidelines do you have for your children regarding who they spend their time with and how they protect themselves from predators?

Image Credit

Filed Under: Kids, Motherhood, Sickness, Sports Tagged With: , , , ,

Why we’re both scarred for life

November 14, 2011 by

First things first: To the individuals responsible for deciding and implementing the change in policy that allows children to leave their shoes on while going through airport security, please send me your name and address.  I would like to send you cookies. 

Or…no, I want to send you a fruit basket. 

An Edible Arrangement!

If I could kiss you, I would. But that would be weird. I feel compelled, however, to do something to convey my sincere love for you and your wise decision. You all don’t get praise often enough, but for this you deserve sainthood.

Oh yes. Yes you do.

Flying with the kids is always an adventure. A well choreographed dance. And when it’s just me, the ballet turns into tap and I am the MASTER. This last adventure with the kids was just short of peaceful. They each had their own backpack, which they were able to carry with nary a complaint.

Suh-weet!

On top of that, I packed nothing but a small bag containing only my wallet, my sunglasses and my ipad. That was it. No sippy cups. No diapers. No snacks. No toys. It was so easy and my bag was so light that I spent half my time looking around in panic, sure I’d left something behind.

Turned out it was just my sanity, but I’ve long since been able to find that so no worries.

Once settled on the plane, things got a little more interesting. There were four of us travelling, but only three seats to a row and everyone wants the window seat. After the heat of my flaming dagger eyes calmed everyone down, we came to the not so convenient decision of me and the boys sitting in one aisle and Tia sitting next to the window in front of us. I watched as person after person looked at her and passed on by until finally a mercifully sweet young couple braved sitting next to the pig-tailed cherub with her nose pressed to the window.

I felt I owed them money about midway through the flight as they helped her retrieve item after item from her backpack wedged beneathe the seat. And of course, there was the dreaded, “Mom, I need to go to the westwoom,” immediately after take off.

My daughter makes it her mission in life to need to pee at the most inconvenient moment possible. Last time, her immediate need resulted in all four of us cramming into a bathroom together.

We like adventure.

When it became apparent that Tia was in imminent danger of springing a leak, we made a beline for the bathroom at the back of the plane.

“The seat belt sign is still on,” the stewardess said gently as we hustled back. She glanced down at Tia who was dancing, her eyes clearly conveying desperation. “Oh,” she smiled. “I see,” and she gestured us on by. Bless those who understand five year olds with overactive bladders!

We made it to the bathroom and I yanked open the door and that’s when time stopped for a moment too long. Yelping, I slammed the door shut again, the vision of his wide, dimpled backside forever seared into my brain.

Why?! Why the unlocked door?! And why the pants around the ankles?! Why?!

Maybe she didn’t see, I thought, slowly looking down at my daughter who had finally stopped squirming. Her eyes were wide, much like my own.

“Dat. Was. Gwoss,” she said quietly, looking up at me.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as I rushed her to the front of the plane, because Lord knows I didn’t want her seeing that man’s face so she could point him out to her brothers and everyone on the plane.

Let this be a public service announcement to you all: LOCK THE DOOR WHEN YOU USE THE AIRPLANE BATHROOM!

I fully expected to hear of “Air Butt” the rest of the trip, but somehow, mercifully, she never brought it up. Maybe she found it to be as disturbing (or more so…it was pretty much at her eye level) as I did. Maybe she just forgot. I certainly don’t plan to ever mention it to her again.

Sadly, the unfortunate incident only added to my alreadyunreasonable fear of airplane bathrooms. Forget being sucked out – now every time I enter a bathroom I’ll have that image in my mind.

Neat.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Gross, Kids, Tia, Travel Tagged With: , ,

Cry Me a Freakin’ River: Part Two

November 6, 2011 by

“It’s only hair,” I keep whispering every time this small boy comes strolling by. He glances up at me out of the corner of his eye and gives me that mischevious grin and I blink back the tears. “It’s only hair. It’s only hair. It’s only hair.”

That is my mantra.

I got Landon’s hair cut this weekend and in doing so, I went ahead and ripped my heart out and handed it to him. He’s carrying it around in his back pocket now…

Geez, Kelli.  Get a grip.  It’s only a haircut.

You’re right.  It is only a haircut.  But it also is one more step forward out of babydom and I’ve told you before, I’m not ready for these toddler years to end.  Everytime I look at Landon, I still see this kid:

And this one:

IMGP7053

But somewhere along the way, my baby with the Bieber hair turned into a boy with opinions.  He possesses clarity and wit and can connect events and moments together in a coherent manner.  He is one month from four and I am fighting off a minor panic attack.

“I wanna hab thpike haiwr,” he told me as we walked into the salon.  And I fought off tears as I watched the stylist shave off his long surfer dude locks and give him the big boy spiked haircut he desired.  I knew in doing so, we were officially saying goodbye to the baby.

I don’t know what it is about this kid, but he has had me wrapped, tied and sewn around his little finger since the day he came squalling into the world.  He is a delight and of the three, he is the one I most long to hold back…to slow down.  Sloan has always been so big and advanced that watching him grow and get older, while still emotional, has been exciting.  I can’t wait to see what he’ll do next.

Tia has developed so many interesting and beautiful traits in the last year that I am delighting in her growth.

But Landon…

Maybe it’s because he’s the baby.  Perhaps it’s due to the fact that he’s such a munchkin that I sometime forget he’s almost four.  It could be that he’s the most affectionate of the three, still wanting to snuggle close throughout the day.

Whatever the case, he’s the one that makes me long for a pause button.  I wish I could just make time stop, so I could really, truly cherish the moments when he presses his soft cheek to mine.

Before his cheeks thin out and his torso lengthens, I want to just hold him and breathe him in.  Before his muscles are defined and he develops the sinewy body of a little man, I want to tickle his Buddha belly and feel the powdery soft flesh of his arms.  I want to hear his laugh and memorize his movements.  I want to kiss his nose and feel his tiny hand pressed in mine.  I want to feel the warmth of his weight snuggled against my chest in the darkness of the early morning.

I want every one of those moments to be doubled.

He wanted to stop taking pictures. I think he's giving me the bird...

I know there are delightful days to come.  I know without a doubt that the joy and light that this child brings to our family won’t be dimmed with age.  But for now, for today, I feel a mixture of emotions.

I am sad that he is growing so fast.  I’m sad that a simple haircut changed him from a baby to a boy in an instant.

I’m excited to see what the future holds.  Because he is my third born, I know there are milestones and joys that lie ahead.  There are changes to come that are natural and good and I am anxiously awaiting the process of watching not only Landon, but all three of my children grow up.  It’s beautiful and wonderful and thrilling and exhausting and I’m overjoyed that I get to be witness to their growth.

I just wish that it didn’t have to happen so fast.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

So I don’t have my Mom Blog card revoked

November 1, 2011 by

In order to fulfill my obligation as a mom blogger, I hereby present you with a few Halloween pictures.  Not many words today.  My computer crashed on me yesterday.  My phone crashes on me at least once a day right now as well.  Apparently I have somehow offended the technology gods.

They’s mad.

Instead of 1,000 words – I leave you with a few pictures, which are worth more than that, right?  So here are your 13,000 words.  Just click the picture to see it enlarged.  I know you want to.  How can you resist looking at those cherubs up close?

We celebrated the awesome that is Halloween with our new group of Russian friends.  This means there was trick or treating, lots and lots of food, some vodka (I mentioned we were with Russians, right?) and a whole lot of laughter and fun.  Today finds Tia with pink and purple hair still because she didn’t want to wash it out yet and Landon continues to bear the faint outlines of a mustache.

And I’m tired.

The End.

Filed Under: Halloween, Holidays, Kids Tagged With: , , ,
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