Sloan has a shadow these days. It follows him wherever he goes and does whatever he does. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.
Not yet anyway…
For more Wordless Wednesday shots, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.
From his perspective aka A really bad idea
February 3, 2010 by
Last night, a nurse lady came to our house to torture us take our blood as we are planning on changing our life insurance policy.
Let me just make one things clear: I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES. I had three babies ala naturál for a reason, folks. Because I DON’T LIKE NEEDLES. I avoid them at all cost. I avoid them like I avoid math and science. I avoid them like I avoid crickets. I avoid them like I avoid the flippin’ plague. If a needle being shoved into my body can be avoided then I AVOID IT.
So, I was not thrilled when Lee said we had to have this done. I reminded him that we had just had this done not long ago and I remember because Sloan stepped on that nurse lady’s scale and broke it and she left a little peeved.
Lee reminded me that that was easily 3-4 years ago. Blast!
So, when the nurse lady showed up, my hands immediately started sweating as did my upper lip. Lee got all giggly because as she asked me all the family history questions my voice was curt and my words clipped. I’m healthy as a horse and as family histories go, mine ain’t too shabby. I was hoping that she would click her ball point pen, straighten up and proclaim me a fine specimen of health and waive the need for a blood draw.
She didn’t.
So Lee went first. And while she was prepping him, I busied myself getting dinner on the table for the kids. In retrospect, we probably should have had her draw the blood in a different room rather than at the kitchen table while the kids were eating. But I wasn’t thinking about the kids in that moment.
I was thinking about how I was possibly going to avoid passing out in front my family.
As I prepared the drinks, nurse lady stuck Lee’s arm. And our kids, who are fascinated by all things bloody, stopped mid-bite and stared…in horror.
“Uuuhhh…what is she doing to daddy?” Sloan asked, pizza rolling around on his tongue.
“She’s just testing his blood,” I replied and then swallowed so as not to hurl and further escalate the situation.
Clapping his hand over his eyes, Sloan suddenly got very dramatic (where does he get that?!). “I don’t want to watch,” he said, his voice all shaky.
“You don’t have to watch, buddy,” Lee said.
“Please stop,” Sloan said.
“Why?” Nurse lady asked.
“Because. I don’t want my dad to die!”
We all chuckled (well, I tried to chuckle, anyway). “Honey, daddy’s not going to die. You don’t die from getting your blood drawn,” I said. (Yeah right – what if you do?!?!)
“Uh-Yeah!” Sloan exclaimed, dropping his hand and looking at me with very wide, very concerned eyes. “Don’t you remember Marley? They put a needle in his leg and he died!”
And we all laughed heartily. Then Lee pretended to fall over dead. And Sloan laughed with us…but it was more of a Hahaha, I’m totally serious about this but you all are laughing so I’m gonna laugh along even though I don’t get the joke sort of laugh.
Once we convinced him that nurse lady wasn’t actually trying to put daddy to sleep, he went about his business eating his pizza – though he did keep a wary eye on nurse lady as she prepped me for torture blood work.
And, I am happy to report that I did not faint, although Lee did stand behind me when she jabbed, erm, stuck me just in case. There was a moment when she was switching tubes and she accidentally pulled the needle out of my arm causing blood to bubble up, which all around freaked me the kids out. One look at my horrified face and nurse lady quickly assured me that she got enough in tube one so she wouldn’t need to restick me.
Good. Cause I’da had to get ugly.
And that is the story of the day we nearly put Lee to sleep.
According to Sloan, of course…
Some kids want ponies…
January 29, 2010 by
We’re driving down the road in the (smokin’ hot) minivan when we pass it. As we drive by, Sloan’s head whips around so far and so fast that I wonder briefly if he might be part owl given his ability to crane his neck to ungodly angles.
“Oh. my. gosh. Mom. Did you just see that? Did you seeeeeee that?! Wow!” he exclaims (and when I say exclaims I mean screeches to the point that my ears start to bleed). He’s now all but sitting on his knees staring out the back window.
“What?” I ask.
“That yellow car. Did you see it?”
I rack my brain. I vaguely remember us just passing a yellow sports car. “Yeah, I saw it,” I said. “What about it?”
“I saw a Transformer head peek out the top. It looked right at me!”
“Oh really?” I ask, highly amused.
“Mom – it was Bumblebee! It really was mom. I saw his head stick up out of the front of the car and he looked at me. That was totally Bumblebee. Totally Awesooooome.”
Upon arriving home, he sat in front of his bedroom window for a solid thiry minutes, “just in case Bumblebee comes to our house.” And for days afterward, he reminded us that somewhere in the greater St. Louis area, a real life Bumblebee was on the loose. “I wonder if Optimus Prime and Star Scream are in our city too?” he asked on more than one occasion.
A few days after the momentous Transformer sighting, Sloan came tearing into our bedroom where I was folding clothes laying down for a few minutes. He had the phone in his hand and wanted to call his dad, who was out shopping for a new car.
“Mom, can I puh-leeze call daddy and tell him to buy that yellow car we saw the other day.”
“Honey, I don’t think daddy is looking for a little yellow car – he needs a bigger car.”
“Aaawww…I really want him to bring that car home. That way I could have my very own for real Transformer.” And with his head hanging low, he moped out of the room.
Some kids want their parents to buy them ponies…mine – he wants an honest to God Transformer – and we won’t give it to him.
We’re so mean.
The Grammar Lesson – aka The Day My Head Exploded
January 12, 2010 by
Pull up a chair and join us, won’t you, around the kitchen table (actually, if I’m gonna get technical, it’s an island, but whatever. I mean, really, that’s neither here nor there).
It’s time to work on a little grammar. It will be fun! We’re gonna conjugate verbs…in russian*. Just you, me and the six year old…
Pretend you’re a fly on the wall…or the screen. Of course, you don’t have to pretend to be anything if you don’t want to. You can just sit there and read out loud…or to yourself. It’s up to you. Sheesh…let’s move on.
“Okay, buddy. We’re going to learn about verbs tonight.”
“What’s a verb?”
“It’s a word that has action. A word that moves.”
“Words can move?”
“No. I mean, well…yes. It’s a word that shows action.”
“What’s action?”
“Action? Uh, well…action is movement.”
“Oh…” Clear confusion. He’s not understanding. It probably doesn’t help that I’m switching back and forth between Russian and English as I try to explain this to him. I stick with English for a minute because God help me I cannot explain a verb in Russian.
“Okay – run. That word has action. When you run you’re moving, right?”
“Right!”
Score one for mommy. I’m starting to feel good. I can do this – I can teach this kid to conjugate a verb in a foreign language…oh yes I can.
“Great. Talk – that’s a word with action. Play, stand, drive…all these words have actions. Can you think of a word with action?”
“Telephone!”
*awkward pause and the feeling of unbridled grammatical success from half a second before pffffts out like a stiff balloon. “Nnnnooo. A telephone is a noun.”
“What’s a noun?”
Oh geez.
“A noun is a person, a place or a thing. It’s doesn’t have action. It doesn’t move-but that’s not what we’re learning. We’re learning verbs today.You can talk on a telephone, right?”
“Right! Hey – can I call my friend Chris on the phone?”
“Focus, Sloan. Look in my eyes. Okay (here I switch back to Russian) now we’re going to work on verbs in Russian. Let’s start with Want. How do you say ‘I Want’ in Russian?”
“Ya Hochu.”
Feeling of success eases back, this time a bit more cautiously.
“Maladyetz! Very good. Now how do you think you would say ‘You Want’ in Russian?”
*Long pause. He’s thinking about it. I see the wheels turning behind his eyes. I can almost taste victory. Then he breaks out in a wide grin.
“You Vant,” he says in English but using a russian accent.
(sigh) I think I might be in over my head.
*for the record, I didn’t learn to start conjugating verbs until I was in college and truth be told I wasn’t very good at it then and I’m not great at it now. In Russian, there is a different ending for every verb depending on if it’s plural or singular, present, past or future tense. And those endings vary based upon the words, meaning that while there’s a basic model to follow, every word is different and you just have to learn how to say the words correctly.
Tonight we worked on the present tense verbs ‘To Want,’ ‘To Whisper,’ ‘To Scream,’ and ‘To Cry.’
Tomorrow we will work on the future tense.
I think my head might explode.
I’m married and dating a younger man!
January 5, 2010 by
Did you ever fear when you got married that you would miss dating? That you might long for the excitement of going out with someone new and different – the butterflies, the joy of a shared moment, smiles exchanged, hands held?
I will confess – I did worry about it. It wasn’t a worry that kept me up at night or made me question whether or not I should marry Lee, but I did think about it some in the months leading up to our marriage. I was barely 22 when we got married. I was very young and I knew that by marrying so young I was giving up a bit of “life.” In fact, when Lee proposed to me I was only eighteen months out of my teens.
In short, I was a baby.
Of course, I didn’t think that at the time. I felt more than grown up and I was mature enough to step into marriage. But looking back at it now, 22 seems so very young.
So yes – a couple of times during our engagement, I wondered if I would miss dating. I worried that maybe the thrill of the chase would be over and I would never get to experience that excitement again.
Now that I’m so old (eyeroll), though, I have a little perspective. First of all, I’m happy to say that I still get excited to go out on a date with my husband. How naive I was to think that marriage would squeeze an ever tightening noose around the neck of excitement. If anything, I get more excited to be alone with my husband now than I did back in those early days when I took for granted the endless alone time we had. My husband can still make me giggle and he still gives me goosebumps when he comes out all dressed to the nines and dapper. That didn’t die when we said “I do.”
But, I also now have the opportunity to date someone else. And going out with this young man gives me a new and different kind of excitement. When he smiles at me, my stomach flutters and my heart skips a beat when he holds my hand in public. And he’s only six years old. I never imagined it could be so fun to date my child. Seeing his eyes light up at the prospect of having alone time with me is better than any new romance I ever experienced in college.
I also get to date my daughter. Tonight she and I went swimming at the gym. Just the two of us. We giggled and laughed. We talked directly to one another without interruption. We played and splashed and hugged and kissed. And I had the time of my life. And soon Landon will be old enough to date – although I have to say that the alone moments he and I get when the older two are at school are priceless and precious.
So gone are the feelings and fears that life will somehow be monotonous with the same person day in and day out. I experience a lot of feelings on a day to day basis and I can guarantee you, monotony is not one of them. I am dating more now than I ever did before and while Lee and I don’t do the best job of carving out alone time with one another, the fact is we don’t really have to. I’m perfectly content sitting right here with him as he plays LEGO Star Wars on the Wii and I type away on Lucy. I don’t need the fancy dates that I needed back when I was but a whipper snapper.
I just need my husband by my side and my children close by and all is well.
Although a glass of wine would be nice too…
Excuse me.
The One Where My Mom Claws Come Out
December 30, 2009 by
*update* I returned to the mall today to file a formal complaint and noticed that there was a phone number on the sign in front of the trampolines (where the same girl was working again today, I might add). I called the number and spoke with the man who owns the trampolines. He was very kind and extremely apologetic for her behavior. He told me that this was the second complaint in two weeks he’d gotten on this girl…and she only works two days/week. Yikes. Anyway, he apologized profusely and told me he would be calling me in the next couple of days to set up a time for me to bring the kids in and let them bounce for free. So I just wanted to put that out there – it was the employee, not the establishment and I’m very pleased with the outcome. Happy New Year everyone!
Tonight I had the privilege of taking Sloan on a date to the movies. We are not movie folk. Lee and I don’t love going to the movies (it’s more that we don’t love paying for the movies) and so we rarely go, which means I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve taken Sloan to the theater.
Needless to say, going to see a movie is a HUGE treat. So huge, in fact, that as we walked through the mall, Sloan grabbed my hand and put it on his cheek and said, “Thanks for taking me to the movie mom. This is the bestest night of my whole life…AND of my whole year!”
Glad I could finish out 2009 with a bang for you little man.
We saw Alvin and the Chipmunks. Sloan thought is was HI-LAR-I-OUS. He slapped his knee, he bent over and gripped his sides, he cackled and I think I even heard a guffaw. Even I thought it was a funny movie, though I had considerably more fun watching him clutch his sides in hysterics than I did watching the screen. (The two scenes that had him laughing until I thought he might have an accident? When Alvin gave the football jocks a wedgie and when Theodore got trapped beneath the sheets after Toby passed gas. Ugh – is he all boy or what?)
After the movie, Sloan wanted to walk around the mall for a bit and since it was date night, I decided to give in and let him pick one more special thing to do. He chose to jump on the inflated trampolines in the center of the mall. Lucky for me, I still had Tia’s wallet in my purse from a trip to the store the other day and I was able to borrow the cash needed from her to allow him to do that.
Remind me to replace that before she starts looking for her wallet!
We approached the gates of the trampoline area and Sloan asked if he could jump. The girl in charge looked up from her soup in a bread bowl long enough to roll her eyes then slid off her chair and stomped over to us and flung the gate open.
“Take off your shoes,” she barked at Sloan.
“What?”
*eyeroll* “Take. off. your. shoes,” she said all slow and snotty like. At this point my blood reached a simmering point. I took a deep breath and told myself that maybe, just maybe, she had low blood sugar and our interuppting her dinner was causing an adverse reaction in her body. Benefit of the doubt. I was working hard on it.
Once Sloan had his shoes and jacket off, he climbed up on the trampoline all giggly and smily – oblivious to the snotty girl yanking the belt around his waist. She jerked the straps up then gave him a little shove backwards to the center of the tramp. And my blood reached boiling point. I literally had to grip the sides of the gate to keep myself from lunging over.
At this point, another family walked up and their daughter headed in to the other trampoline, receiving the same rude and rough treatment. The other mom and I made eye contact. I could see that her blood was at the same temperature mine was. Her knuckles were white too.
Our kids commensed to jumping. Sloan wooped and hollered and had the time of his life. I tried to enjoy his glee, but I was too busy watching the girl, making sure that she was doing her job and keeping an eye on the jumpers. She wasn’t. She was busy pouring her soup into her bread bowl and taking a bite.
After a few minutes, she lowered the kids down and without a word motioned for Sloan to step forward so she could remove his harness. He wasn’t looking at her so he didn’t see her. She motioned again. He still didn’t see. So she kicked at the tramp with her knee to get his attention and when he looked at her she motioned vigorously and rudely for him to step forward…still not talking and asking him politely. Then she yanked – and I mean literally yanked – his harness off and stomped over to the other tramp.
When she came to me for the money, I was taking very deep breaths. My face was so hot I feared it might spontaneously combust into a flaming inferno. I leaned way forward and put my nose about an inch from her and began speaking through clenched teeth.
I said, “I understand that it’s late and you’ve probably had a long day, and I see that you are trying to eat some dinner so I’m assuming you’re hungry, but the way that you just treated my son is unacceptable. You’ve been nothing but a snot from the moment we stepped up here and I want you to know that I was watching you and I don’t appreciate it.”
At this point, she rolled her eyes at me. She ROLLED HER EYES AT ME. Perhaps I misjudged her earlier. She didn’t have low blood suger, she had a freaking death wish.
To my credit, I kept my cool and never raised my voice, although my hands began shaking with fury.
“Nobody pushes my kid around, do you understand? That’s my kid right there and he deserves your respect and you will respect him. I don’t care if you like your job or not – you have no right to push my kid around and think you can get away with it.”
I then handed her the money and said, “I will pay you this money, but I want you to know that I am going to the Information desk where I will be filling out a complaint and recommending that you be removed from a job that requires you working with children since you clearly don’t want to be around them. And I sincerely hope that you shape up your attitude and treat the children standing in line behind me better than you’ve treated my son.”
She stared at me and did not respond. Not even a nod. Oh my Lord, you guys, it is by the grace of God I was able to step away I was so furious.
I grabbed Sloan’s hand and as calmly as I could walked away. As I stopped to put his shoes on him, the dad of the other little girl that was jumping with Sloan walked by and gave me two thumbs up. I also noticed a mom who had been standing in line behind me leave the line.
Good.
When I got to the Information desk, they told me they were out of complaint forms (!) but I could come back tomorrow and fill one out in the main mall office. And you better believe I’ll be doing that. That girl has no business working that job.
As we left, Sloan asked me why I told that girl to change her attitude – I decided to use it as a teaching moment and explained to him that that girl was rude and disrespectful not only to me, but more so to him.
“We’re a family, kiddo, and if someone isn’t treating your family right, you need to defend your family.”
He nodded and I think he got the message. He’s a perceptive kid and he knew that she wasn’t acting kind. (Kind! She wasn’t acting human…she was a little monster.) For my part, I’m actually pretty proud of how I handled the situation. I have a tendency to, ahem, fly off the handle and when she rolled her eyes at me I had to fight H-A-R-D not to raise my voice and use a few choice words. Seriously – just thinking about it right now I’m biting my lip with such force that I may pierce it.
But I knew little eyes were watching and I kept my cool. And I think she got the message. I don’t think she cared, but she got the message.
Yay me! *deep breath*
Now I’m off to go release on the punching bag in the basement…
The One Where He Sings Dradle, Dradle, Dradle
December 29, 2009 by
This year, our church opened up the Christmas Eve services to anyone who wanted to join and help lead the service. Since I am so involved with our music department, I decided to take Sloan and have him stand up front with me. Much to his dismay, I might add.
My sweet six year old will walk up to anyone in the world and strike up a conversation. He entertains us tirelessly at home and he’s got the sweetest singing voice – but when he gets in front of a group of people that he perceives to be “staring” at him, he clams up completely and turns into someone I don’t know. So he was not thrilled when I told him he was going to stand up front and sing in big Church.
Once I assured him that he would not have to sing alone into the microphone, though, he was much relieved, though still not thrilled.
Who’s kid is he anyway?!
So, we headed to practice last Wednesday night. Because there were a lot of people to organize and several songs to go through, the rehearsal was longer than I had expected it to be. This led the six year old to behave like a, well…six year old.
There was the wallowing on the floor, and the third time I dragged him gently lifted him to his feet, I told him that he was going to make it and he needed to stand up, to which he replied, “This is the awfullest day of my whole life! Why did you make me do this?”
And somewhere, a group of crickets began singing a mournful tune. (eyeroll)
Then there was the issue of him having been placed directly in front of the microphone, which, despite his phobia of singing into one proved to be far too great a temptation for his six year old self. He commenced making gun sounds into the microphone, which required him to jump up and down so that his mouth was closer to the mic as it was set up fairly high. On occasion, he jumped up and barked out “Hello!” then grinned from ear to ear when he landed back on the floor.
And finally, the icing on the cake…
Many of the songs were very traditional Christmas carols, which I am ashamed to say he doesn’t know. He can sing Frosty the Snowman, but O Little Town of Bethlehem is an unknown tune. That will change next year. So while we rehearsed and practiced the songs, he really had to just stand there because he didn’t know the words and he can’t read well enough to follow the screens. This resulted in him repeatedly ramming his head backward into my gut, leaving me with bruises.
And I began to seriously question my bringing him along.
Then I heard him singing softly in his sweet little tenor. So I leaned forward to give him encouragement. And this is what I heard…
“Dradle, Dradle, Dradle, I made it out of clay…”
That made me laugh. Only my kid would think to start singing the Dradle song while at church rehearsing for the Christmas Eve service. So I did what any self respecting parent would do. I leaned down and taught him how to mouth the word Watermelon to the beat of the song. He thought this was all the hilarious and embraced it whole heartily.
I am pleased to report that during the actual service he did very well. He sang when he knew the words. He didn’t once make a gun noise into the mic, he stayed on his feet and he mouthed Watermelon with pride. The only hiccup came during a particularly powerful moment in the service when Lee, who was sitting about four rows in front of us, raised his hands in praise as he sang. This caused Sloan a great deal of consternation and he began motioning vigorously to his dad to put his hands down, the whole time stage whispering, “Dad. No! Dad! Get your hands down now, Dad! NOW DAD!”
Hilarious.
Despite it being the “awfullest” night of his whole life, he did very well and even admitted at the end that he had fun.
Score one for Mommy.
Wherein I leave you with more photographs
December 11, 2009 by
Today, as the temperatures are hovering in the teens, I am longing to be back in this lovely place. Yes, loooooonging…
This adorable little boy will be two in five days. Excuse me while I go sob in the corner for a bit.
Turns out Tia has a knack for gymnastics. After only a few weeks of lessons, she was bumped up to a more advanced class where she is the only three year old in a group of four and five year olds.
She’s perfected her cartwheel and now does it off our ottoman whilst pretending that it is a balance beam. She is freakishly strong and has no fear. But really, does this surprise anyone? Remember this picture, which I took when she was not yet two years old?
Then, of course, there was this post which described the catalyst for us actually signing her up for a gymnastics class.
Mmm-hmm…We’re not shocked that she’s got some talent in the gymnastics arena. Unfortunately, she’s going to be way too tall for the sport, but we’ll let her keep it up for as long as she enjoys it.
And speaking of Tia – wasn’t it just yesterday that she looked like this standing next to her not yet four year old brother? She is now less than two months away from being four herself.
If anyone has discovered a way to make time stand still, please pass on the secret. Pa-leeeeaaase.
And this one just because. Oh he’s yummy…
Happy weekend everyone!
I blame it all on them
November 16, 2009 by
When I was a kid, I ruled at MEMORY. Seriously, I was untouchable. You picked up the shoe? Oh I’ll remember where it is. Ten minutes could pass and I’d still remember where that shoe sat, patiently waiting for me to find it’s match. Oh yes, my friends – I was hardcore.
I remember vividly sitting on the floor in my bedroom, my Walkman firmly placed over my ears, Leslie Gore’s greatest hits blaring (I was only allowed to listen to Christian songs or Oldies so I tended to rock out to Leslie Gore with all the fervor that my scrawny little body allowed). I was usually bundled up against the frigid Wisconsin chill that seemed to permeate the air 10 out of 12 months every year.
I was usually seated on the floor next to my black and white bed with the hot pink and torquoise accent pillows. They matched, of course, the black, white, turqouise and hot pink wallpaper border in the cream colored room. Ah, the eighties were grand weren’t they?
I would spread those memory cards out and play against myself, all the while belting out “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To,” at the top of my lungs. Sometimes my parents or my brother would join me, perhaps in an effort to get me to stop singing…
Huh…
Whatever the case, I welcomed their company because it gave me a chance to show them who was MEMORY boss. Oh yes – I was an unstopable force.
Fast forward 25 years to today as I sat with my kids and played MEMORY. We also were fighting off a November chill, though it was decidedly less dramatic than the Wisconsin chill in my past. Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits blared through the MP3 player (my musical standards are significantly lower than my parents were. Although I guess for my kids, Michal Jackson falls under the umbrella of Oldies. That’s depressing…)
And I got my butt kicked today. By Tia, then by Sloan.
Even though I cheated and peeked at some of the cards as we were setting the game up, I still lost by a rather significant margin.
I blame it on the kids. My mind was like a vault before I had kids. I nearly had a photographic memory, which came in handy in college. I never needed a calendar or a day planner because I could remember dates and events without a reminder. Studying? I was a master crammer. I could visualize words on a page and regurgitate them on a test (as long, of course, as that test was in written form. If numbers or equations were involved I was totally screwed.)
These days I’m happy if I remember to take off my slippers and put on real shoes before I leave the house.
I think pregnancy kills brain cells. Then there’s the pushing, in which whole sections of the brain simply die. And the parts of the brain that were still firing on full capacity? Those areas are severely handicapped by the lack of sleep. Thus leaving you with only half a brain that’s only half functioning. So clearly us moms are at a severe disadvantage!
And then there are the hours and hours of kids songs, cartoons, Veggie Tales, Elmo and a whole variety of images and sounds the seems to stimulate our children yet drive us deeper into a semi-comatose state where we can no longer remember if today is Tuesday or Wednesday and what time does the bus come and when is that pizza party that I volunteered to help with?
Yeah, I blame it on them. That’s why my memory is completely shot. But I won’t tell them that. Oh no. I’ll let them think that they won simply because mommy was being nice. There’s no need for them to think any different.
Right?
I hear this 100 times a day…
November 9, 2009 by
Sloan thinks this commercial is hysterical:
And it is. We laugh every time it comes on. And Sloan has long since memorized it, which means 100 times a day I hear this:
I love that kid…
Recent Comments