He really,
really,
hates
taking
his Tamiflu.
Thank God he only has one dose left, although I will miss laughing at him as he gags dramatically…
Don’t get me wrong…
February 3, 2011 by
I love my kids. I love to be with them and I love to laugh with them and play with them and spend time with them.
But…
These flippin’ snow days are MAKING ME BATTY.
*deep breath*
I think the children are going to start eating one another.
Sloan cleaned this morning. He vacuumed and dusted, pulling dressers out and cleaning the floors behind him. This is awesome, obviously, but it’s also evidence of the fact that we’re all going a little crazy. A seven year old voluntarily scrubbing his room? Not normal!
Did you know that the average four year old asks 437 questions a day? So if I have a chatty three year old, stubborn five year old and headstrong seven year old all trapped under the same roof, using a model of mathematics called estimation, I can safely assume that I’m being asked 1,500 questions/day. I’m also being told roughly 523 times that he/she kicked me, pushed me, hit me, licked me, bit me, touched me, breathed on me. I’m being asked 47 times a day for a snack or a drink (they still expect to be fed!) and every ten minutes I’m asked if we can watch a movie, play Wii or play computer games.
It’s tempting not to say yes and let them do that all day long. But alas, I’ve found that when my children sit in front of the TV all day they turn into jittery, weepy zombies without the will to reason.
On the other hand…my kids are pretty dang funny and, despite being trapped, we have had some fun this week. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed it – it’s just that every day I enjoy it a little less. And so do they.
A few pictures of the happier times for your viewing enjoyment.
We’re not really sure who had a better birthday yesterday – Tia or Kit.
Seriously. Where did this kid come from? He’s yet to find a camera he didn’t love…
Gems
January 25, 2011 by
“Hey Mom,” he pipes up from the back seat of our (smokin’ hot) minivan.
“Yep?” I reply.
“How old do you think I have to be to be a rock star?”
“Uuuummm…I don’t know. Maybe 25?”
His face falls. “Oh. I was hoping you would say 8.”
“Well, you can be a kid rock star if you want,” I say with a smile.
He thinks about it for a minute then responds, “Nah. I think I’ll just be a Jedi Knight.”
______________________________________________
We were driving up to the Holy Land Target and as I circle to find a parking lot, Sloan adjusts his hat. “I’m sensing that there will be girls in here that will want to look at me. My sensors tell me they’re going to like me.”
Oh good grief…
_____________________________________________________
A car drives by us one day and a teenager sits in the front seat talking on the phone. She sees us and politely waves her hand. As the car drives off Sloan says, “So. Hot.”
Whose kid is this anyway?!
___________________________________________________________
Glossary of terms:
ahmpit=armpit
wight=right
woody=really
yeth=yes
wike=like
fink=think
Landon walks in the room in a full out wail. “Tia punched me,” he cries. “Tia punched me in da ahmpit.”
Tia runs in with a look of defiance on her face. “No I didn’t!” she says with a stomp of her foot.
“Yeth, she did,” Landon wails.
“No! Wandon, I punched you in da chin. Jeez. Get it wight.”
_____________________________________________________
As Tia stomped around the house in a huff, I gently reminded her that 5 year olds don’t throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way.
“Well…I’n not five yet. I’n still four so I guess dat’s good so I can still frow a temper tantrum.”
_________________________________________________________
“Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“When I drow up, tan I be a boy?”
“Nope. God made you a girl and you will always be a girl.”
“But I don’t wanna be a dirl.” Insert foot stomp here.
“Why?”
“Because. Boys det to do wots of fun stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Wike go potty standing up and eat fish and play baseball and be Jedi Knights.”
“Well, going potty standing up is not all that special and you can eat fish too, you just choose not to because you don’t like it. You also play baseball with daddy and the boys and if you want to be a Jedi Knight, I’m sure you could figure out how to do that. But think of all the special things about being a girl, like wearing dresses and fun tights and curling your hair…”
“Well, I would do dose fings if I was a boy, too…”
“No. You wouldn’t. Trust me on this one.”
______________________________________________________
“Mom? Tan I wear shorts?”
Landon walks out of his room when he is supposed to be sleeping wearing nothing but socks.
“No, babe. It’s 4 degrees out today. You need to wear pants.”
“No!” His chin starts to tremble. “I’n not going outside so pwease, wet me wear shorts.”
“Honey, I’m sorry, it’s just a little too cold.”
“Well…it’s not cold in Fworwida.”
“Okay, well when we live in Florida you can wear shorts in the winter but right now it’s too cold.”
A moment of silence.
“I tan wear shorts?”
I caved, he wore shorts the rest of the day.
__________________________________________________
In the grocery store, we walk down the cereal aisle when all of the sudden Landon breaks out in a rousing rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” When he’s finished, I smile and clap softly.
“That was a good song.”
He sighs and grins. “Yeah. I’n woody dood at songs, wight?”
“Yep. You’re pretty good.”
“Yeah. I’n awesome.”
It appears he’s taking after his older brother.
_______________________________________________________
Last weekend was a particularly rough sleeping weekend for my I-dont-need-sleep-its-for-the-birds third born. Of course. Because daddy was out of town. At 2:30 one night after he had been up and down since 11:00, he walked in my room for the 15th time. I had yet to sleep and I was reaching the point of melt down.
I shot up and broke the silence of the night. “Landon, get your bottom back in your bed.”
He screamed and propelled himself into my bed where he huddled under the blankets for a minute. I felt bad and, strangely, satisfied…
“I’m sorry, buddy,” I whispered. “Mommy is really tired and I need you to go to sleep so I can sleep.”
A brief pause. “Mommy, I wove you and fink your beautiful.”
He finally went to sleep next to me in bed.
Stinker.
Sometimes He Calms the Storm
January 3, 2011 by
New Year’s Eve brought unseasonably warm temperatures around here. St. Louis is the arm pit of the United States. We get a conglomeration of everybody’s weather. Which means it can be 60 degrees at 9:00 and 20 degrees by 2:00. We get the snow and ice, the heat and humidity. We live with weather whiplash.
LIVE WITH IT.
So the unseasonably warm temps were not all that unseasonable…or at least they weren’t unreasonable. However, the warm weather mixed with the frigid temps immediately following made for some contemptuous weather. And this set up quite a disaster.
Sloan’s terror of all things weather has been well documented over the years. Remember this post? So when the skies turned nasty Friday morning, he grew all aflutter with nervous energy. Thankfully the kids were having friends over. A brother and sister who are the same ages as Sloan and Tia. It was the perfect distraction.
Before the friends descended upon us, Sloan got more than worked up about the impending weather. So he asked Lee to pray with him and pray they did. Sloan pleaded with the Lord to stop the storms and keep the tornado away from our house.
It turns out Sloan’s friend may have him beat in storm terror. Around 11:00, the tornado sirens went off and so did the boys. There were tears, there was quite a bit of jumping around and then the neighbor begged us to call his parents. And the girls stood in the corner protesting loudly.
“We’re not scared. We don’t want to go home. We want to keep playing. No! There’s not gonna be a tornado!”
After the kids left, the sirens went off a second time. Hmmm…we turned the TV on to see what was going on, but that sent Sloan into a freak out of massive proportions. So off the TV went and we delved into distraction mode.
The sky turned ugly…green. Rain pelted sideways. And yet, there was not wind. The trees weren’t bent. No limbs fell. And then – it was over.
The sun came out and Lee ran out to the store. A friend called shortly after. “Are you guys okay?” she asked. And suddenly I panicked. What had I forgotten?
“Yes…Why?”
“The tornado touched down in your back yard.”
“Really?!”
I flipped the TV on to see if there was any news on our area. I called Lee and told him to drive by the nearby golf course where the tornado hit. He came home shortly after with the news that the golf course had quite a bit of damage. Huge trees uprooted and lying on their sides.
“Sloan and Tia come with me. Let’s go see the tornado damage.”
So off they drove to survey the damage. Driving down our street there wasn’t a limb down. No debris. And then they turned left off our street where branches lay scattered. Driving past the next street, a large tree lay on it’s side. Driving past the second street, several houses were missing shingles and more trees and limbs lay strewn about.
Lee turned down the third street down and was shocked at what he saw. The tornado had come right through there. Cars lay flattened by trees. Houses were missing large sections of their roofs. There was extensive damage.
But no wind blew past our house.
As the crow flies – or tornado blows – that neighborhood was 300 yards from our house. And it appeared as if the wind stopped blowing right at the threshhold of our street. As if some invisible source was holding it back…
Did God withhold the winds and tornado from our home because Sloan prayed? I think that’s a tricky question to answer. Because there very well could have been people who were affected who prayed for protection as well. I don’t claim that God chose Sloan’s prayers over another. I do think, however, that God revealed Himself in a mighty way to my seven year old. I do think that God held even a whisper of wind at bay so He could show my son that He is, indeed, the One who controls the wind.
We were also able to show Sloan the grace of God’s protection as we pointed out the damaged homes and the people who were not harmed despite the tornado’s passing. We were able to point out that God’s protection does not always extend to the material things we have on this earth. But He protected His people that day.
Sadly, six people were killed (none in our area) by the storms that came through the Midwest on Friday. Does this mean that God’s protection wasn’t extended to those who died? No. It does show that our days are numbered and life is never a guarantee. We didn’t get into those truths with Sloan just yet. We’re trying to dispel fear in his heart. But we were able to confirm to him that God hears and answers prayer. This is a lesson I want my kids to know and trust without wavering as they grow older.
Had the tornado come just 300 yards to the North, we would have been able to confirm in Sloan’s heart that God is a God of protection and grace. Had our home been destroyed we would have been able to show Sloan that God is One who remains the same, even when our circumstances change.
More than anything I’m grateful that my son’s tender heart was given a valuable lesson on New Year’s Eve. I’m grateful we were spared. I’m praying for our neighbors. And I’m thankful that we have a God who says Let the little children come to me.
A few grainy cell phone images of the damage near our home:
The Star, A Book and A Monkey…not necessarily in that order
December 21, 2010 by
Monkey has been a part of our family for two years now. He was adopted on Landon’s first brithday and it was love at first sight…or bite – whatever.
![Christmas_'08_065[1]](http://minivansarehot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Christmas_08_0651.jpg "Christmas_'08_065[1]")
Since that time, Monkey (sometimes referred to as Steve) has been a mere extension of Landon’s skinny little arm. Two peas in a pod, they are. Napping together, playing together, living together. Yes. They are the best of friends. Bosom buddies!
![Summer_'09_079[1]](http://minivansarehot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Summer_09_0791.jpg "Summer_'09_079[1]")
![Summer_'09_125[1]](http://minivansarehot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Summer_09_1251.jpg "Summer_'09_125[1]")
![Summer_'09_149[1]](http://minivansarehot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Summer_09_1491.jpg "Summer_'09_149[1]")
![Summer_'09_152[1]](http://minivansarehot.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Summer_09_1521.jpg "Summer_'09_152[1]")
Recently, Monkey (Steve) had a bit of a medical crisis. His leg began separating itself from his body. It was touch and go there for awhile. We didn’t know if he would make it. The unfortunate snag stretched from mid-knee to the under arm. We prayed, we said our goodbyes, we prepared Landon for the worst. But he refused to give up hope. He believed in Monkey and so the rest of us did as well.
But just to be safe, we adopted a knew Monkey. Larry. Just kidding. The new Monkey doesn’t have a name. The new Monkey looks exactly the same. Except, of course, for the fact that he doesn’t smell like spit and pee. And his leg is fully attached. And his color is even throughout.
Landon took one look and with utter disdain tossed new Monkey aside. Like a red headed step child. Unwanted, unloved, unreturnable because I lost the receipt…
We decided to give Monkey (Steve) one last chance at life. Thanks to the skillful hands of his surgeon (Grandma Bebe) Monkey pulled through. In fact, he’s as good as new. You know, besides the fact that he smells like spit and pee, his leg fluff is distorted and thin and his coloring is extremely faded. It doesn’t matter to Landon, though. He loves Monkey (Steve) unconditionally.
____________________________________________________________________
Switching gears – abruptly.
Sloan is in public school. This is not a decision we took lightly and we spent a lot of time discussing this choice. And we are, for the most part, very happy with the choice we made. It’s right for our family right now.
However…
It does require quite a bit of vigilance. I knew this going in so I try not to let myself get overly exasperated when I feel…well, exasperated with the public school. Since Sloan began reading, and reading quite well, I’ve found myself more and more annoyed at the books he brings home from the library. In fact, I can’t think of a single one I’ve been happy with in several months.
It started with the book about Werewolves he checked out around Halloween. Nice.
Let’s begin by discussing The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I get it, these books are popular and in general, I don’t think they’re bad. BUT. My kid is seven. Does he really need to be reading about the nuances of middle school? And the material in and of itself is just so silly and trivial. Why are we dumbing down books for our youngest readers? I don’t get it. What happened to writing books that were filled with adventure and imagination instead of potty words and stick figures?
Lee and I did read through the Wimpy Kid books and ultimately decided Sloan could check them out, but we are talking through them with him, discussing issues such as the boys trying to hide things from their parents and how that’s not something that we agree with. It’s lead to teachable moments, but I still find it annoying to have to deal with such nonsense.
THEN *deep breaths* he brought home this gem. A book he will promptly be returning to the library with firm instructions not to ever bring home again. We made it clear that he wasn’t in trouble and that it wasn’t his fault, but that some books just aren’t worth the time. And a book about a giant piece of p00p that punches people?! Definately not worth the time.
There’s no easy way to put this: THIS BOOK IS STUPID. It’s stupid and I don’t even understand why a school library would stock it on their shelves. Most of the words aren’t even spelled right (Laffs for Laughs, Akshuns for Actions). Seriously?! Am I the only person who finds this somewhat appalling that an early reader would be allowed to take home such nonsense?
Then there’s the small little “subliminal message” they hid on Page 76: “Think for yourself. Question Authority. Read banned books! Kids have the same constitutional rights as grown-ups!!!”
Oh sure it’s all tongue in cheek, but here’s the thing…IT’S NOT FUNNY NOR IS IT CUTE.
Let’s just say I’m talking myself off a cliff right now.
______________________________________________________________
Switching gears – let’s get happy again.
I had two separate conversations last week that brought a smile to my face and laughter to my heart. The first went like this:
“I need to reschedule our meeting for tomorrow. My daughter’s preschool is doing a live Nativity play and she is the star.”
“Oh really? Your daughter is going to be baby Jesus?”
The second conversation went like this:
“Tia was the Star in her Nativity play last week.”
“Oh really? Tia was Mary?”
Nope.
She was The Star. Literally.
She was The Star and yes. She was the star!
Peace Out.
How to go from reverent to irreverent without even really trying…
November 18, 2010 by
If ever you ask my seven year old to pray before a meal, I suggest you make sure you’re not starving. Because Sloan? He brings it when he prays. All I need is a tent and a white hanky and Glory, Hallelujah we’ve got a revival.
Landon and Tia, try as they might, have a very difficult time making it through one of Sloan’s prayers without sneaking a bite or four. Sloan has been known to pray up to five minutes or more. He thanks God for everything from his toys to the military. He prays for poor people and for everyone he can think of by name. He prays for his own attitude and, on any given day, could likely be heard praying that his sister’s attitude would change too.
Last night’s dinnertime prayer went something like this:
Dear Lord. You are the Creator. You created. Everything. God. You are our Lord. Thanks for being our Lord. And for being our Savior. Thank you for, um, the veterens (which he pronounces vechrins). Thank you that they protect us and keep us safe. Thank you for Mr. Nevil that he fought to protect our country. We are very glad for them. Thank you for the Army vechrins and the Navy and…um…the Air Force. And all of the people that serve. It’s just awesome that they do that for us. Give them glory, Lord.
We thank you for Jonri (our Compassion child), God. He is poor. But he’s not poor anymore because we can help him to not be poor. And thank you that he will get Christmas presents. We pray for all the poor people, God. We pray that they will have food. And toys.
Lord you are very great. God. Thank you for our family (lists everyone from grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins). Thank you for all my friends (lists as many as he can think of by name). And, God. I pray that I would have a good attitude. Thank you that I had a good day today and was nice and happy. And thank you that Tia was nice to me today and we could have a little fun.
*It’s at this point that Lee and I are trying not to crack up as Landon, with his head down and his eyes squinted open begins grabbing food and putting it in his mouth, then clasping his hands together again while he prays and chews. My grandmother would have told him he was going to choke for sneaking food during prayer.
We just thank you for everything you give us, Lord. And it is in your Holy, Powerful Name we pray…In Jesus Name.
Amen
It’s not hard to understand why Jesus commanded us to let the little children come to him. There is no holding back in the sincere prayers of a child. I am always blessed by Sloan’s prayers, no matter how lengthy they may be.
As soon as Sloan finished his prayer, we all echoed the Amen and picked up our forks to eat. But wait! Tia wanted to pray. So we bowed again. Her prayers are generally short, sweet and to the point.
Dear Wowrd. Fank you dat we have a gweat famiwy. And fank you dat you dive us dis food. And…well…amen.
Amen!
Ah the reverence. I was momentarily tempted to pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful, thoughtful children.
Then I was humbled.
After the beautiful prayers, the meal took a slight downhill turn. We picked up our forks again and Lee thanked the kids for being willing to pray. Half of Landon’s plate was, of course, clean. Everything was gone except his meat…naturally. I made beef stew. It was delicious but I will admit…it didn’t look appealing. Tia put it a…different way.
She looked down at the pile of meat on her plate and wrinkled her nose.
“Is dis poop?!”
And thus, the reverence of the moment was totally gone. Sloan cracked up and Landon looked with great disdain at his plate. It took several minutes to convince him that I did not, indeed, prepare poop for dinner.
We started off grand, though, didn’t we?
Knocked Up
November 15, 2010 by
I shared this story the other night with a friend and I decided it was too funny not to blog. So here you go…just another random blog about my life.
You. Are. Welcome.
I was 24 years old and pregnant with Sloan. It should be stated that Sloan was a mammoth of a child. He was 9.3 when he was born in July of 2003 so by June of that year I looked like I was going to explode. I carried him one hundred percent out front and quite low so yes, I waddled and I got asked more than once if I was expecting twins.
FYI – Pregnant women don’t like to be asked if they’re having twins because the chances are greater that they’re not carrying twins. If you are unsure, it’s best to simply not ask.
It was early on a June day and Lee needed to take my car into the shop due to a rather unpleasant sound it was making that was certain to cost us a large portion of our unborn child’s college fund so instead of being stuck at home for the day, I decided to run the few errans I had in The Pup.
The Pup was a little Isuzu truck we bought while we were rehabbing our house so that we could haul lumber and other large items to and from our temporary home – Lowes. I believe we paid $500 for The Pup. She was rusted inside and out and she shook rather furiously when you started her up. She sputtered when she moved and she was drafty due to a rather significant hole in the floor board. But she served her purpose well and we tried not to drive her long distances for fear that she might literally fall apart in the road and we’d be left manually pushing a Flinstones car up the driveway.
So on this fine morning, I loaded up The Pup and prepared to spend the morning out.
Did I mention I was great with child? Great with child. And for some reason, on this particular day, I decided to wear my hair in two long braids. I was 24 so I could still pull off braids without looking totally and completely ridiculous.
Actually, I’m guessing that’s not true. I probably looked ridiculous.
I also wore no make up and because my fingers were rather swollen I had on no ring. But the creme de la creme of my little ensemble came in the form of my maternity shirt. Because my protuding abdomen was so prominent, food and liquids attached themselves to it with great frequency. As in, every time I ate I spilled something on my stomach. So by the end of my pregnancy, I didn’t own a single unstained shirt. And the shirt I chose on that particular day was white and had a long stain right. down. the middle.
I am nothing if not classy.
So out I walked. In braids, with a stained shirt, to The Pup. I had give myself a bit of a running start in order to get my gut up off the ground and into the slightly elevated seat. It was quite the ordeal, in fact to get in and get the seat adjusted so that I could reach the steering wheel without it cutting off the circulation to the lower half of my body.
In short…I looked ridiculous.
I made my first stop at Borders Bookstore. I waddled in and got my book and smiled slightly at the people who started at me with eyebrows raised. I waddled back out, took my hop, step and leap into The Pup’s front seat and shimmied around until I was just right and continued on to the gas station.
Here I ran into an older man and woman filling up their boat on wheels. The woman didn’t even try to hide her horrified stares. It was at this moment that I began to feel a bit like a Zoo animal. I also began to wonder what it was that people were staring at.
After I got gas, I headed to Mecca Target. It was here that the stares intensified and I finally got the question.
“Honey, when are you due?”
“In three weeks.”
“Ah,” the woman nodded knowingly. “And you feel okay to be out walking around?”
“Um…yes?”
She looked down at me with a bit of pity in her eyes, causing even more confusion on my part. “Well, good luck to you,” she said, patting me on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. This woman truly seemed sorry for me.
I decided to make my purchase and get out of the Twilight Zone as quickly as possible at that point. When I made my pitiful leap into The Pup, I looked up in the rear view mirror to make sure I didn’t have FREAK written across my forehead and when I looked I laughed out loud.
Braids and no make up with bangs hanging neatly across my forehead…
I looked seventeen years old.
No wonder people stared. I looked like a poor little knocked up teenager who’s boyfriend had left her with nothing but a stained shirt and beat up old truck. This explained the old woman’s horror at the gas station.
I also explains why I have never worn braids again.
The End.
I need your advice
November 9, 2010 by
Post edit: This post is not meant to condemn anyone who has given their child a Nintendo DS or DSi. I do not oppose gaming devices in general, however, at this point in time they are not right for our family. My intent in posting this is not to make anyone feel bad but to get feedback on what the heck to buy my children for Christmas!!!
Carry on…
Hey guys. So Christmas is around the corner. I’m not sure if you were aware of that fact. I mean, you know, if you’ve been hiding under a rock you might not have realized, but for the rest of us who are already being bombarded with decorations and music it’s pretty dang hard to ignore.
Christmas is coming and somewhere someone’s goose is getting fat. Poor Thanksgiving…it is the forgotten holiday.
So here’s my yuletide dilemma. My seven year old is at the age where gift buying is becoming a bit difficult. He still likes toys (praise God), but he’s not as easy to please as he once was. I believe we have one more year before buying gifts to satisfy his maturing tastes will become harder…and more expensive.
This year, he has his sweet little heart set on a Nintendo Dsi. He talks about it incessantly. He wants to check them out every time we enter The Holy Land Target and he tells everyone he sees that he’s getting one for Christmas. Here’s the thing, though.
He’s not.
Lee and I have decided that right now we are not ready to introduce hand held gaming devices into our children’s lives. There are a couple of reasons for this:
1.) I just don’t think it’s necessary at seven to have a Nintendo Dsi. I’m not opposed to them, but I find it to be an awfully expensive gift for such a young child.
2.) I think there are better things to do with one’s time than play video games. We have a Wii and it gets played some, but repeated and extended periods of play are off limits.
3.) I am not ready for the battles that will inevitably come with a NDsi (don’t want to type it all out again). Sloan is actually very responsible when it comes to TV and video games. He does not have much of an addictive personality and he is not one to sit for hours with his eyes glued to the tube. He gets bored and loses interest quickly and can go months without playing the Wii at all. Landon, however, is already showing addictive tendencies in that he wants to watch TV or play the Wii all the flippin’ time. It’s already a daily battle with him resulting in many tears shed. A NDsi would inevitably become a battle zone between Sloan and his siblings and, quite honestly, I can’t handle one more battle.
Are we being unfair? I don’t feel like it, but it really does break my heart not to give Sloan what he wants because he’s such a good kid. I tried to break it to him gently the other day that this year would likely not be the year he received an NDsi. His reponse?
“That’s okay. I’ll ask Santa to bring it to me!”
Crap! Am I going to crush his dreams and destroy Santa all in one year? Hey…welcome to the Stuart home where we take your dreams and roll them inthumb tacks then light them on fire.
Thanks for stopping by!
When I told Lee of Sloan’s reponse he came up with the brilliant solution of telling Sloan that Santa doesn’t bring such expensive gifts – he lets the parents buy those presents. I have tasked Lee with preparing Sloan to not find a NDsi under the tree this Christmas while still preserving the magic of Santa for one more year. I’m counting on my man to come through on this one!
My question is, though, what should we get the poor boy for Christmas? Yes, he will receive clothes, a few books and probably some new art supplies. But what do we get him for that one special toy that’s going to light up his face when he walks around the corner Christmas morning?!
I need your advice! What are you getting your kids for Christmas? I have a few ideas, but nothing seems to take the place of his beloved NDsi, which he will likely receive at some point, but just not now.
I do hereby open the comments up for suggestions. This is my sad attempt to see if I can break the ten comment barrier I seem to have on my posts. Come on, folks, don’t let me down. I am officially begging for your comments! My motherly angst has reduced me to this…a comment whore mooch.
…
Okay, I can’t let the last word of a post be whore mooch so I’m going to share a picture that has nothing to do with this post but I just want to share it. It’s Tia, in her Little Miss Matched tights, which I told you about here and her glasses which make her look way too old.
Merry Christmas.
No! Happy Thanksgiving.
Tradition
October 6, 2010 by
It has become tradition each year in the fall for the kids and I to go to Twin Oaks Park for amateur photos (I am so amateur, too – I really wish I knew how to take better pictures). Afterwards they play on the playground and we go out to dinner. You can see last year’s pictures here.
The weather yesterday was beautiful and, despite the fact that it was Landon’s first official day of potty training, we headed off to the park for pictures.
I did not get the shots I hoped to, though, so if another nice day opens up I may go out and try again…if they’ll let me. This is all I could come up with. For all you photographers out there, I’m all ears to advice. Particularly, how do you take a good shot on a sunny day? If I face them toward the sun they squint. If I turn their backs to the sun, their faces are too dark. So I had the sun beside them for the pictures which means that half of their faces are shadows.
That frustrates me.
Still though – they’re pretty dang cute.
Sloan, a child after my own heart, has lately grown quite a love for writing. He has taken off in the reading and writing department and is rarely far from his spiral notebook. Yesterday I encouraged him to try writing a story and he wanted me to take a picture of him working on it. He was so proud of his story about Max and Nick going hiking in the woods with their “fery frins” (furry friends). The acorn may not have fallen far from the tree in this child…
I wouldn’t let Tia play on the playground in her Strasburg dress (mean mommy) so I made her change into play clothes. She then spent the next thirty minutes crossing back and forth on the monkey bars. So much so that her little hands are blistered and red. Another acorn, she is…
Landon is an acorn, himself, but for those of you who have seen his obsession and freakish skill with a basketball (and baseball, and tennis ball and football) you know that the tree he landed close to stands a little taller than me.
Does this make my butt look big?
October 5, 2010 by
To all the men who read my blog…you know who you are. I just want you to know that I’m on to you. I’ve almost got you guys figured out. Oh yes I do. I have now birthed two beings of the male persuasion and raising them is giving me unique insight into all of you. Be very afraid.
My most recent insight come to me this morning in the form of my seven year old who has suddenly become very aware of what others think and how his peers perceive him. This is not something that surprised me, although it makes me sad that this awareness has creeped in so young.
This morning I laid out his clothes for him, as I do every morning that he lets me. Some mornings, when he’s feeling particularly ornery and independent he wakes up and dresses before I can get to him. Because it’s chilly out today, I made it a point to get to his clothes before him so that he would wear pants. Because the boy hates pants.
I laid out a pair of loose fitting cargo pants. They were a cotton material and I thought he would like them because they weren’t tight and they fit more like sport pants. I paired them with a Star Wars T-Shirt to sweeten the deal and prepared breakfast. Suddenly Sloan came stomping into the room.
“Mom, I am not wearing these pants,” he huffed.
“Why?” I asked, preparing my argument for why he could, indeed, not wear shorts when it’s 40 degrees outside.
“People will laugh at me,” he replied.
“Why would people laugh? Those pants are cool!”
“No, they’re not,” he moaned, slapping his hand to his forehead.
“Why are they not cool?” I said, stifling a laugh.
“Look at the back,” he said, turning around.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It makes my butt look big in the mirror!” he wailed.
I let him change into jeans. Then he wanted to change into a tie dye shirt, “because that’s really cool.” I’m trying to win the war, folks…not the battle.
But this just proves that us girls are not the only ones checking out our butts in the mirror. You guys do it too. And you care. You care about image and how you look. This isn’t isolated to my kid, because my husband…he cares too. So does my brother. I’ve kind of been surrounded by the male species most of my life. You care. You check. You build outfits based on the perception of your butt.
Your secret’s out…
Recent Comments