preschool prattle

trying to get W started on a game online


Me: Nick Jr.? or PBS kids? Which one?


W: P Bess Kids!


Me: Ok.


click


W: No! Mick Jr.! (not a typo...he actually says MICK Jr.)


Me: *sigh* Ok. Here we go!


click click


W: Yay! I so 'cited!


Me: Which show? Wow! Wow! Wubzy? Dora? Blue's Clues?


W: Cooz Cooz!


I'm pretty sure couscous is a side dish, but whatever...


Me: Ok, now which game?


randomly pointing at the screen


W: That one!


Me: Which one?


more random pointing


W: THAT one!


getting a smidge impatient at the willy-nilly pointing of the finger


Me: Don't point. Use your words. SAY which one.


W: WHICH ONE!!!


aaargh!








on our way home from dropping off 'Sissy' at a friend's house...


W: I have wooonnnggg hair...


thinking he needs a trim


W: ...on my wegs.


whuh?


Me: Really?


W: Yep.


Me: How...


W: I chop down a twee and wide a twactor, and I gettin' BIG!


Me: And that makes hair on your legs?


W: Yeah! I get hair-wee wegs.


*snort*


Me: Well, okay.





driving home from dinner...


to myself

Me: Ugh. I don't feel well.


W: Wassa mattuh Mama? You sick?


Me: I just don't feel very well.


W: You tummy sick?


Me: Yeah, I guess so.


W: I sah-wee you tummy sick.


Me: That's ok. You could pray for Mommy's tummy to feel better.


W: Yeah I can 'cause Jesus wuvs you.


Me: Aww, thanks. He really loves you, too.


I think I might be feeling better already.

things have really heated up in the bedroom

I mean it. I am one hot mama.


ahem


Now before my male readership starts calling Jay to congratulate him and gives him 'atta boys' and slaps him high-fives, or worse, gets his hopes up, perhaps I should explain.


Jay has always had a fair amount of pain in his lower back from an old injury which in itself would make a great post. But it's his story to tell...not mine. Anyway, most beds are just not comfortable for him, and he has a hard time getting a good night's sleep.


That being said, a few months ago, in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort, we gave away a perfectly good, relatively new pillow-top mattress set, sold our kidneys and purchased one of these.














For those of you who don't recognize it, it's a Tempur-Pedic "Sleep System."


Because we're fancy.


And that picture...In the cave? It looks relaxing, doesn't it?


I found it quite interesting, and actually truth in advertising, that they photographed this bed surrounded by rock since that is indeed how heavy this slab of foam is and what the mattress feels like when you schlep it home.


You see, the ads brag about the unparallelled "support" of this memory foam stuff and tell you several things "disclaimer-style" in their pitch like:

1) may be very firm at first...you have to break it in

2) may have a "slight chemical smell" for the first few weeks


That's pretty much what they tell you some folks may consider 'negatives' when purchasing the "last mattress you'll ever buy."


Now, don't get me wrong. The "firmness" that the sales people readily try to explain is not really my issue with our new "sleep system." Because truth be told, I am so darn tired by the time I go to bed, I could probably sleep on a slab of actual bedrock in that cave pictured above. So that is not my problem.


With names like "Grand, BellaSonna, Allura, Celebrity, Rhapsody, Prima, Deluxe, Classic, and Symphony" it's no wonder I had no idea what we were actually getting into when we spent our children's college funds bought our new bed.


I personally think these fancy "sleep systems" should bear names like: Broiling BellaSonna, Ardent Allura, Raging Rhapsody, Searing Celebrity, or Sizzling Symphony.


Now that would be truth in advertising.


And you wanna know why?


Because this bed conjures up heat better than my crock pot. And frankly, on any given night, should you crave a midnight snack, you could probably cook up a grilled cheese or fry up an egg right on my side.


Ohmylordybe! The heat! It is hot!


There is no respite from this raging inferno that has become my bed. The only relief is if the other side is empty and you can flop your broiling behind onto it and hear the "ssss" when your fiery flesh meets the welcome cool of the vacant griddle.


Jay has been out of town this week, and my sleep has resembled a rotisserie. The only positive thing I can think of about being cooked while you sleep is that meat shrinks when it cooks, right?


I think I'll just sprinkle myself with a little seasoning salt tonight before bed with hopes of waking up to a size 6 in the morning.


shake shake shake


Good night.


And wish me luck.

can i have this dance?

Just as I was about to check out my "daily reads" in the blogosphere, "The Happy Song" came blasting through my speakers and caught the attention of W who came running across the room with a huge grin on his face.



"Do you know what this is?" I asked.



"Yeah! It's da happy sawng! Wet's dance!"



And so I grabbed his pudgy little hands, and we began to jump and dance and spin and giggle, his grin completely contagious and his spirit wildly free.



A happy song indeed.

13-10-3-1

No, these are not lottery numbers. They are the ages my kids turn this year on their birthdays. One down so far. The baby.


When I thought about their birthdays and their ages, it occurred to me that this is a significant year for them all.


Elijah celebrated his first birthday in April, and you know first birthdays...they are milestones and pretty darn special. The dramatic changes that happen during that first year are incredible. Our little ones go from soft bundles, totally dependent on us for everything, to little individuals who are trying to walk and talk and find their own way in this big world. All in one year! Amazing!


And the other obvious milestone, as far as birthdays go, is Ryan who becomes a teenager in August. A teenager. I have to say that out loud to myself, and yet it still hasn't become the reality that I know it quickly will. I don't know where the time has gone, and it rocks me to the core that the scale of time has shifted, and we have far less time left with him at home than that which we've already shared. Sad and scary.


Emily will turn "double digits" in September, and while this may not seem like a milestone to some, let me assure you, IT IS. Especially to the dramatic, mostly sweet, eye-rolling, bossy big sister, whiny little sister, part tom-boy, part girlie-girl, all "tween" gal that is my daughter. Wow! The next few years are going to be a ride. I can only hope we both live through it and come out friends on the other side.


And lastly, Wyatt will turn three on Saturday. How is that a milestone, you ask? Because something happens between two and three. Our toddlers turn into preschoolers. They are no longer "babies." Sure, they still act like them sometimes, but they are using the potty and speaking with ever-increasing clarity and purpose. They are just plainly growing up. So, yeah, three is a milestone, too.


Maybe I'm being a little melodramatic hormonal sentimental, but I found it interesting that so many milestones landed squarely in the same year. Granted, some of the changes will be felt more than others, but I am still humbled by it all. As Jay has pointed out on more than one occasion, we have set ourselves up to run the parental gamut for a good long time to come. After dropping off a kid for youth camp this morning, I'll be dropping one off in the nursery come Sunday morning.


*sigh*


By the way, should any of you actually play those numbers and win, YOU OWE ME!


At least half.

in which I have need of a seeing eye dog

So today I finally drag myself to the DMV, after visiting our "local" Social Security office nearly 45 minutes away, to obtain a driver's license issued from the state in which we now live which requires an actual social security card be shown as part of the "prove you are who you say you are" process which is why I made the silly drive toward the coast in the first place.


Anyway.


When I arrive at the DMV, I am simultaneously surprised at the emptiness of the room and the, how shall I say, unattractive, underdeveloped, ugliness of this place. The outside of the building is at least mildly attractive. But the inside? Well, it's sort of what I'd imagine a place looking like if I were here to get a license to say, drive a tractor or maybe a fancy ride-on mower.


Yeah. Kind of like that.


You know, plywood pieced together to form a barrier between us and them and some plastic chairs scattered along the wall in case lots of folks suddenly have need of legally scooting around on their John Deeres. They had some computers or some type of things on their side that they clicked on while asking lots of questions and requesting proof of your identification and residence. And there was the deli-style "take-a-number" gizmo to organize the herd of waiting driver-wannabes. And over on the far wall was a scrap piece of blue "yard goods" in front of which people could stand while they flashed their pearly whites (or vacant gaps) for the camera.


I took a little piece of paper marked with J-144 and then had a seat on the cheap plastic chair while I waited to be called.


"Who's next? I forgot what numbers we're on," came a voice from behind the plywood.


I look around at the other couple of people who are waiting and get the nod to go ahead.


I was sure this was going to be an easy process. I mean, I had already been on-line to see what sort of stuff I should bring with me, and I had made the drive to obtain not the actual card, but a piece of paper stating that I did indeed ask for a card, and I had a license and a piece of mail with my very own name on it.


Yep, I am ready.


The nice lady clicks and asks, asks and clicks, and takes my papers and writes some stuff down.


"Do you wear glasses or contacts?" she asks.


"Well, no, actually I don't. I guess I just don't need them," came my smug reply.


And then she asks me to please step down the counter a little and place my forehead on some eye-testing contraption and to, "Please read the first line."


"Sure, no problem."


I reluctantly place my forehead against this piece of plastic that I am sure everybody in the county and nearby towns have placed their sweaty, tractor-ridin' noggins on and proceed to read the first line.


I. C. A. N.---T. S. E. E.


"There you go."


"Um, there are 12 letters."


Whuh? Uhn uhn.


I. C. A. N.---T. S. E. E...


"I only have 8."


"No, ma'am, there are 12."


I. C. A. N.---T. S. E. E......I. C. A. N.---T. S. E. E...


"I only see 4 then 4 more. Are you sure there are 12?"


"Yes, ma'am. Close one eye."


I close my right eye. "Nope, still 8."


"Close the other eye. Do the letters change?"


Whuh? Change? Is this a trick?


Then I close my left eye.


nervous giggle


"There they are!" O. O. P. S...


"And you said you don't wear glasses or contacts?" she asked again, not really mocking me, but rather in a tone of voice that implied she may have forgotten to ask me already.


"Um, no ma'am...not yet," I answered a little quieter and less confidently this time.


"Yeah, um, sweetie, you might want to have that checked."


sigh


I thanked her and then stood in front of the lovely aqua backdrop and smiled the best I could having just learned I am in fact blind and still have to drive home. I signed my name on the tiny line (I think), took my new license from the handy-dandy picture taking machine and walked toward the bright light while feeling my way out of the room.


Perhaps it was just as lovely on the inside as on the outside, but being blind and all I just didn't notice.

wordless wednesday

L for "wuv you" or L for "woser"... you decide.

Toddler Talk IV

while watching "Underdog"...

W: I wanna be a super dog.


Me: But you're a boy, sweetie, not a dog.


W: I wanna be a super boy.


snuggling him close and whispering in his ear...

Me: I think you're a super boy.


hugging me tight...

W: I wuv you Mama!


squeezing him tight...

Me: I love you, too!





running from the bathroom, grinning ear to ear...

W: I use da potty! YOU ARE SOOOOO PWOUD OF ME!!!


laughing to myself...

Me: You bet I am! Now let's put some pants on, sport.





while changing into jammies, baby brother toddles into the room and receives an exuberant hello from Mama who is proud of his "walking" efforts...

W: Mama. MAMA!


Me: What?! I'm right here.


W: 'Wijah' wuvs you wittle. I wuv you biiig!


*snicker*