While Elijah was napping, Wyatt wanted to go outside and swing. Although I had plenty to do inside the house, it has been crazy warm today for just a week before Christmas, so out we went.
This child really has no fear. The higher the better. When his rump was finally over my head and out of reach, he seemed to be satisfied.
The neighbor kid got home from school and started riding his go-cart up and down the road... zooming past us, spewing gravel, taking turns too sharp, bumping and nearly bouncing out several times. It frankly looked like an accident waiting to happen, and it was almost more than W could handle.
He wanted to ride SO much.
W: Mama, I wanna ride that.
Me: I know you do.
W: I really wanna ride it.
Me: I know, buddy, but I'm not sure it's safe for you to ride.
W: I be safe. I go fast like this... (spit-filled engine sounds buzzing on his lips)
Me: Wow.
W: Look! It has my number on it. I can have it?
Me: No, it doesn't belong to us. What number?
W: MY NUMBER! Look!
Me: (now noticing the #3 on the side)
attempting to distract him from potential peril
Me: Why is that your number?
W: Because I am W-Y-A-T-T, and I am three.
Me: You sure are. And where do you live?
pointing to the front door and looking at me like I've lost my mind
W: AT OUR HOUSE!
Me: ...
clearly exasperated with me
W: Can we go in now?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
characters vs composers
I got the opportunity to see the U.S. Marine Forces Reserve Concert Band last night. They are touring the area, collecting donations, on a Toys for Tots "mission."
It was a really fun concert, and the venue was packed! That was a great surprise on a cold, rainy night.
I have to say I get a kick out of people... watching them, listening to them, observing the funny things that sometimes happen. If they only knew... it's fodder for my blawg.
Anyway, my friend and I had taken our seats with my daughter in the middle, and were chatting until the concert began. The room began to fill up, and a couple sat down behind us.
Showing on a large screen was the name of the concert: "Santa Meets Sousa."
This is the conversation that took place behind me.
Husband: Oh look, Santa Meets Sousa.
Wife: Ohhhh. (reading very thoughtfully... and loudly) SYANTA MEETS SOO-SUH. Hmmm.
a moment later
Wife: OH YEAH! Like the KYA-rack-tuh (character).
mildly annoyed
Husband: NO, NO. NOT da KYA-rack-tuh! Da Com-PO-zuh!
Wife: ...
Me: teehehe, hahaha, bwahahahaha, hehehe, hoo... hahahaha
Luckily, very soon the lights dimmed, and the music began; my mind needed a focus.
But I swear, if The Cat in the Hat or The Grinch had walked out on stage, I would have eaten my shoe for the opportunity to hear the conversation behind me.
Just sayin'.
It was a really fun concert, and the venue was packed! That was a great surprise on a cold, rainy night.
I have to say I get a kick out of people... watching them, listening to them, observing the funny things that sometimes happen. If they only knew... it's fodder for my blawg.
Anyway, my friend and I had taken our seats with my daughter in the middle, and were chatting until the concert began. The room began to fill up, and a couple sat down behind us.
Showing on a large screen was the name of the concert: "Santa Meets Sousa."
This is the conversation that took place behind me.
Husband: Oh look, Santa Meets Sousa.
Wife: Ohhhh. (reading very thoughtfully... and loudly) SYANTA MEETS SOO-SUH. Hmmm.
a moment later
Wife: OH YEAH! Like the KYA-rack-tuh (character).
mildly annoyed
Husband: NO, NO. NOT da KYA-rack-tuh! Da Com-PO-zuh!
Wife: ...
Me: teehehe, hahaha, bwahahahaha, hehehe, hoo... hahahaha
Luckily, very soon the lights dimmed, and the music began; my mind needed a focus.
But I swear, if The Cat in the Hat or The Grinch had walked out on stage, I would have eaten my shoe for the opportunity to hear the conversation behind me.
Just sayin'.
Monday, December 8, 2008
lost in the literal
The kids and I frequently watch a t.v. show together during lunch while we break from school. It is usually something like "7th Heaven" or "Little House on the Prairie."
Today we watched an episode of "7th Heaven" in which the tragedies in Darfur were discussed. It was a show about awareness and "oneness" in the world... how "their" problems are "our" problems. The question that was posed: "What can we do to make a difference?"
The eight year old twins in the show decided to send all the money they'd been saving to help buy food. They then phoned Nicodemus, one of "The Lost Boys" they had previously met, and told him of their wish to donate their savings. He promised to wire the money to his friend who still lives in southern Darfur who would then deliver the money to the area in which it is most needed.
When the friend arrived at Western Union to pick up the wire, the employee looked down at the envelope and said, "Nicodemus wanted me to ask you a question: What is your brother's name?"
To which the friend replied with a smile, "EVERY MAN!"
I, tearfully caught up in the moment, naively thought this could be a great opportunity to talk to the kids, to help shape their world view. To ask them: Are we our brother's keeper? Do we really know how blessed we are to have been born in this country? Are we really aware that a majority of the world does not live like us? What can we do to help people who are suffering?
Before I could pose my question, my precious (though sometimes naive and a little ditzy) daughter said, "Everyman. Well, that's a weird name." And got up and walked out of the room.
... insert screechy record needle sound here...
Picture sneer and eye roll from her big brother.
Me: ...
I realized any attempt at the "abstract" had just been lost in the literal.
Bless her heart.
Today we watched an episode of "7th Heaven" in which the tragedies in Darfur were discussed. It was a show about awareness and "oneness" in the world... how "their" problems are "our" problems. The question that was posed: "What can we do to make a difference?"
The eight year old twins in the show decided to send all the money they'd been saving to help buy food. They then phoned Nicodemus, one of "The Lost Boys" they had previously met, and told him of their wish to donate their savings. He promised to wire the money to his friend who still lives in southern Darfur who would then deliver the money to the area in which it is most needed.
When the friend arrived at Western Union to pick up the wire, the employee looked down at the envelope and said, "Nicodemus wanted me to ask you a question: What is your brother's name?"
To which the friend replied with a smile, "EVERY MAN!"
I, tearfully caught up in the moment, naively thought this could be a great opportunity to talk to the kids, to help shape their world view. To ask them: Are we our brother's keeper? Do we really know how blessed we are to have been born in this country? Are we really aware that a majority of the world does not live like us? What can we do to help people who are suffering?
Before I could pose my question, my precious (though sometimes naive and a little ditzy) daughter said, "Everyman. Well, that's a weird name." And got up and walked out of the room.
... insert screechy record needle sound here...
Picture sneer and eye roll from her big brother.
Me: ...
I realized any attempt at the "abstract" had just been lost in the literal.
Bless her heart.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
girls' day out - boys' day home
Emily and I went to a Mother-Daughter Tea this afternoon. We enjoyed some girl time with each other and got to hang out with other moms and daughters.
Jay stayed home with the boys. Everyone and everything was basically intact when we got back. There was even photo evidence of some of the events of the day. (I did not request it, by the way.)
Boys + Daddy + Wide Open Spaces = Happy Saturday Afternoon
Jay stayed home with the boys. Everyone and everything was basically intact when we got back. There was even photo evidence of some of the events of the day. (I did not request it, by the way.)
Boys + Daddy + Wide Open Spaces = Happy Saturday Afternoon
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
potty training and other schemes to drive parents insane
Potty training is one of those parenting responsibilities that with the first kid you look forward to. Basically because you have no idea what you're doing anyway. There are books and bribes and videos and toys and techniques and, you name it, with advice on how to get Junior to go potty. And you read a few or all of them and either have wild success and brag to all the mommies at playgroup how smart and advanced Junior is because he caught on right away... (not knowing it had NOTHING to do with your tricks but rather HIS readiness and willingness). Or you find yourself feeling like a big fat failure and wondering if your kid will EVER use the potty, and on the days when you think you cannot clean up one.more.mess. you might just find yourself sitting in the corner sucking your thumb. Hypothetically.
That being said, I thought we would never potty train W! I mean it. Granted, it has been a few years since we've had to play this game, but I remember what worked with the big kids but apparently forgot everything I just said. Basically, bribes in the form of small candy-coated chocolates worked wonders with the first one and lots of time and patience with the next one. However, I began to resolve myself to the fact that we just might have to graduate from pull-ups to Depends in order to accommodate W.
Then for a few glorious weeks, he was a pro. We had two weeks of nearly accident-free potty perfection! And I began to think we had this thing under control and wow! isn't it nice not to have two kids in diapers and pull-ups, and this is so great! And I may have actually said out loud something stupid like "no more pull-ups for us!"
Heh.
Then W began this peculiar parody that my husband coined "circular logic." I'm not sure that adequately describes the phenomenon that occurred. It was more like counter authority-control assertion.
Better known around here as CA-CA.
After our short-lived time in potty paradise, it was as if he thought to himself... This potty thing is not such a big deal. I can do it. So what?! It's kinda boring. Wanna see Mama twitch? Watch this...
And then conversations like the following took place EVERY DAY.
running through the house
W: DON'T SMELLLLLLLL ME!
upon first occurrence, remaining impressively calm
Me: Wyatt, come here. You've been such a big boy; why did you poop in your pull-up?
W: Because I wanted to poop in the potty.
thinking I've misunderstood and need a follow-up question for clarity
Me: Then why didn't you use the potty?
W: Because I didn't want to poop in my pull-up.
Me: Whuh?
Picture with me: DAY 39
growing increasingly annoyed
Me: WHY did you poop in your pull-up?!
W: Because I WANTED to poop in the POTTY!!
Me: THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU?!?!?!?!?!?!
W: BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO POOP IN MY PULL-UP!!!!!!
becoming itchy and twitchy and witchy and yeah, you get the idea.
Me: AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!
There is not a judge (or parent) in the world who would have convicted me at that moment. Had me committed? Probably. But convicted? Nope, not a chance.
Yep. These are the kinds of talks that can make a parent certifiably insane.
I am happy, yet reticent to report, that W is FINALLY potty-trained. Lest I jinx myself or have him overhear and somehow misinterpret this new calm in the house as boredom on my part.
I have to wrap up this post now because it's a little difficult to type while crossing your fingers, knocking wood and doing the tribal dance while chanting: I AM NOT BORED. I AM NOT BORED.
Just sayin'.
That being said, I thought we would never potty train W! I mean it. Granted, it has been a few years since we've had to play this game, but I remember what worked with the big kids but apparently forgot everything I just said. Basically, bribes in the form of small candy-coated chocolates worked wonders with the first one and lots of time and patience with the next one. However, I began to resolve myself to the fact that we just might have to graduate from pull-ups to Depends in order to accommodate W.
Then for a few glorious weeks, he was a pro. We had two weeks of nearly accident-free potty perfection! And I began to think we had this thing under control and wow! isn't it nice not to have two kids in diapers and pull-ups, and this is so great! And I may have actually said out loud something stupid like "no more pull-ups for us!"
Heh.
Then W began this peculiar parody that my husband coined "circular logic." I'm not sure that adequately describes the phenomenon that occurred. It was more like counter authority-control assertion.
Better known around here as CA-CA.
After our short-lived time in potty paradise, it was as if he thought to himself... This potty thing is not such a big deal. I can do it. So what?! It's kinda boring. Wanna see Mama twitch? Watch this...
And then conversations like the following took place EVERY DAY.
running through the house
W: DON'T SMELLLLLLLL ME!
upon first occurrence, remaining impressively calm
Me: Wyatt, come here. You've been such a big boy; why did you poop in your pull-up?
W: Because I wanted to poop in the potty.
thinking I've misunderstood and need a follow-up question for clarity
Me: Then why didn't you use the potty?
W: Because I didn't want to poop in my pull-up.
Me: Whuh?
Picture with me: DAY 39
growing increasingly annoyed
Me: WHY did you poop in your pull-up?!
W: Because I WANTED to poop in the POTTY!!
Me: THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU?!?!?!?!?!?!
W: BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO POOP IN MY PULL-UP!!!!!!
becoming itchy and twitchy and witchy and yeah, you get the idea.
Me: AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!
There is not a judge (or parent) in the world who would have convicted me at that moment. Had me committed? Probably. But convicted? Nope, not a chance.
Yep. These are the kinds of talks that can make a parent certifiably insane.
I am happy, yet reticent to report, that W is FINALLY potty-trained. Lest I jinx myself or have him overhear and somehow misinterpret this new calm in the house as boredom on my part.
I have to wrap up this post now because it's a little difficult to type while crossing your fingers, knocking wood and doing the tribal dance while chanting: I AM NOT BORED. I AM NOT BORED.
Just sayin'.
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