Dear Connor - 5 Years, 9 Months

Dear Connor,
This week we had our first beach trip of the Summer. The drive up was brutal for me but only because I didn't get to sit in the back and have someone hand me random video games, sticks of gum or donuts while I watched my choice of any Disney movie I choose. It must be hard being a kid. The ride up is mostly difficult for me because it's so boring. We are interstate most of the way so there's nothing to look at but other cars and semi trucks. Luckily on the way home, you and your brother are so tired that you sleep for a couple of hours and even though the scenery is boring, I can appreciate the quiet.


We generally spend most of our beach time at the Sound. The waves are smaller and you and your brother, get the beach experience without all of the risk. If Daddy and I are both at the beach it's easy enough to take you to the "real" beach, but without another person it gets really difficult to keep an eye on both you and your brother and it stresses me out. But that's not a tragedy to you or brother because you prefer the Sound. Nothing like getting completely run over by a couple of waves to make you see that it's really nice to go to the Sound where you can actually swim.



I thought about taking you to the beach one morning of our trip, but after taking you and your brother there the evening before I decided against it. In just the hour we were there, you were edging deeper into the ocean. That would be fine if you knew how to swim or listened to me when I told you to come closer to the beach. But my warnings of, "you are getting too deep" were completely ignored. To be perfectly honest I was sort of hoping that one of the waves would take you down, (but down in a completely safe and effective way, that would not give a parent a heartattack) and you would get a mouthful of seawater so you would understand that the ocean is to be respected. But that didn't happen. Maybe next time.



Only two more months until Kindergarten.
I love you,
Mama

The Big Ear

It's mid afternoon and we've just returned from the grocery store. I've been trying to find something that Layla can chew on that doesn't have laces or rubber soles. I call it, Project: Save the Shoes. She likes the Milk Bone biscuits and is crazy for a small piece of hot dog, which is what I've used to teach her to sit and shake. But she isn't into any of the chewy stuff. Rawhide and such. I ran across a package of Pig Ears at the grocery. My dog used to love those. I figure it will keep Layla busy for at least 20 minutes and maybe satisfy the need to chew on our shoes. For a little while anyway.
So I buy a two pack. Upon returning home, I give her one of the ears and then notice Connor pouting. He's about to start ranting because the puppy was given a treat by someone other than him, but then he stops and says, "What IS that?" I say, "It's a Pig Ear" and then freeze, suddenly realizing that I may have just opened an can of worms I wasn't meaning to open. He doesn't hear me. "What?", he asks. I say, "It's a BIG Ear. That's just what it's called, I dunno" and then quickly drop the subject. A few minutes later I walk past Layla who is eating her pig's ear with gusto and say, "Wow. She really likes that pig ear". Connor starts laughing and says, "Mommy! You just called it a PIG'S EAR and it's a BIG EAR. You are SO silly Mommy!" I nod at him. "You're right, baby. It's a big ear. I am so silly". And then I leave the room, relieved that I'm not suddenly sucked into a conversation that reveals that hamburgers are actually made from cows.

Loving Wordpress

Here are all of the things that I love about WordPress. This also could mostly be a list of what I hate about Blogger.

Now all of my text and images are on MY server. Not theirs.

The GUI interface is very intuitive.

You can schedule a post to schedule and... it ACTUALLY does it on time!

There

Dear Tristan - 3 Years, 9 Months

Dear Tristan,

Last year you cried almost every time I dropped you off at preschool. Some days you would run right in without a whimper, but then the next day, you would cry and cling to me like you had never been without me. This was annoying at the least, but the teachers got used to prying you off of me and you usually stopped crying about 2 minutes after I walked out of the door. But then you started doing the same thing at the gym. I thought maybe it was just because we had not been going for a while the first time it happened. But when they pulled me out of yoga class because you were clinging to the door and screaming I had, had enough. I took you out to the car and told you that if you didn't stop crying immediately you were going to be in BIG trouble. I was pissed. You believed me. And stopped crying immediately. Hmmm... wasn't THAT interesting?

The only time you can just stop crying like that, is when you are mostly faking it...
So I tried a little experiment. The next day when we went to preschool you started getting cranked up. I pulled you over to the side and explained to you that if you started crying and didn't let me leave that when you got home from school, you were going to take a nap. You whimpered just a little bit but let me leave in peace. I'm just sorry that it took me an entire school year to figure that out. I do think that you didn't want to go to school and that you had a little bit of anxiety about being left there... but I don't think it was nearly as much as you were pretending.

You are addicted to cereal. This morning I offered you left over pizza for breakfast and you actually laughed at me. Then you said, "Silly, Mommy. I'm not eating pizza for breakfast. I want cereal." Of course you do. Three bowls of it. No wonder you hardly eat lunch. I was thrilled that you were so into Raisin Bran, until one day I casually turned over the box and realized that it had 20 grams of sugar per serving. That's more than some of the other, "magically delicious" cereals that appeal to children. But at least it's not full of red dye #20. You'd be better off with pizza.

You just aren't sure about this puppy thing. You like the puppy, sure. But you aren't liking getting jumped on or when she starts barking at you. At first this baffled me, but then I realized that she's half of your height already. And she thinks that you and your brother are her litter mates. She's not shy about trying to tackle you, so you approach her with your hands out in front of you like a shield, ready to fend off her bouncy puppy advances. You don't love her yet, but you will. And what you don't know is that she loves you already.

I love you,
Ama

On Holiday

Jorma and I have started resuming something that some think is ridiculous and some think is spectacular. We call it, The Day Off. Not four hours out for dinner out with the girls after the kids are asleep anyway. Not a lunch with the girls and then a preschool pick up. The WHOLE day. Here are the rules for The Day Off.
The person that is having The Day Off, gets up with the kids and feeds them breakfast. This way the one that is having Quality Time with Children day gets to rest up. They will need all of their strength. This way the one whose Day Off it is, gets to spend some time with the kids.
Then in late morning the person having Day Off leaves. For the whole day. No calling and checking in. No nothing. Just a whole day of whatever you want to do. Staying home and not being bothered is NOT an option.
We do this so that I have a Saturday off and then Jorma has Sunday on the same weekend, or vis versa so that we don't burn two good weekends in a row with one of us gone.
The first Day Off I ever had, I went to Target. I walked around for about two hours, trying on shoes and dresses, looking at picture frames and browsing lipsticks. I think I bought a new lipstick and a coffee on the way out. I went and ate Mexican Food, I went to a pet store and looked at the puppies and kittens. I went to a coffee shop and read.
Another Day Off I went up to Pattie's for the whole day and laid in the pool with Pattie and Dar and did absolutely nothing. And shortly after that The Day Off fizzled out. It wasn't because The Day Off wasn't needed or wanted. It's because The Day Off wasn't demanded. I don't need to demand a day off to Jorma. I need to demand a day off to myself. Because it's oh so easy just to let it slide because there's a birthday party or an impending grocery trip.
When Jorma and I went out on our anniversary weekend two weeks ago, we went white water rafting, horseback riding and out to dinner or lunch every single meal. We went shopping and had a massage. We saw a movie. We drank. It was spectacular. It led us to one conclusion. If we can't do fun stuff together without the kids, we should at least do it apart - without the kids. And so The Day Off is back in play.
I know some of you ladies are thinking that you'd never be able to pass this off to your husband. Here's how you do it. Tell him you want to start having a day off. Tell him the rules. Tell him he gets one too. He'll say he doesn't need one. He's being a martyr. Suggest to him that if he had a day off he could _________. That blank you fill in with all of the things that he used to do before you had kids. Make it tempting. Or, say, if you are married to someone like Jorma... you could just suggest leaving the house for an entire day without the children or work and watch them leave skid marks out of the driveway. Either way works fine.
If you aren't longing to escape from your children or husband, take a day off anyway. When was the last time you went out and did a whole day of stuff that you really wanted to do without stopping to run an errand or pick up milk? Ever gone to a movie by yourself? It rocks. You can sit where you want to and don't have to share popcorn. Even when you're single it's nice to take yourself out on a date. No push up bra necessary.

Sucka!!!!

You may have seen on Facebook that we have a new member in our family circle. After Pippin left we were going to wait to get a new cat for the boys. We didn't want them to feel like pets are replaceable or disposable. Or that Pippin could be so easily forgotten. But the truth was. We missed having a kitty around. I especially missed him during laundry folding, when he would jump up on the bed and tunnel through the clean clothes. But after a couple of years of getting used to not having an animal in the house, it only took us a year and a half with Pippin to get completely used to having an animal in the house.
We went kitty shopping at a rescue facility called, Kitty City, in Concord. We had been the week before and seen the cutest lab puppies in the window. They were adorable. But we weren't shopping for puppies. Off we went to Kitty City, with my animal loving Stepmom in tow. The kids went right over to the kittens. And Jorma went straight over to the puppies. hmmm. Isn't that interesting? Before we knew it we had every one of the puppies out and playing while the kids ignored us and continued to look at the kittens.
Jorma and I had a quick side discussion about getting a puppy and then I couldn't stand it. I had to get out of there. I couldn't make a logical decision looking at those puppy eyes. Lucky us, there's an ice cream shop across the street.
If you are even in downtown Concord you should go to the Creamery because their 20 flavors can beat 31 flavors any day. But I digress.
We decided that we did want a pup and it was then a matter of which one. We had it narrowed down to two Bloodhound-Lab mixes. Both girls. Both adorable. We chose the smaller of the two because we didn't want to have to buy a saddle with our puppy and because she seemed much more mellow. I'm not a fan of spastic dogs. But I am a sucka for a pretty face.
Introducing, Layla.

Now do you see why we didn't get a kitty? Look at that FACE!


She could out cute a basket of baby bunnies.

Dear Connor - 5 Years, 8 Months

Dear Connor,
Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden? Is it because your preschool is over and you’ve been home with me for four whole days and are already so bored, that driving Mommy insane is your new hobby? Is it because your schedule is off?  You’ve been testing the limits now that we are all home together for the Summer and I wish you could just understand that the rules are all exactly the same. You still aren’t allowed to put your brother in a headlock or eat m&ms for breakfast. You still can’t call Mommy a liar after I say I saw you hit your brother and put you in time out. Everything is exactly the same, with the exception that Mommy’s patience has worn thin by 1pm instead of 5pm, since there’s no preschool.



The plan for the Summer is to run you and brother ragged so that you fall into bed each night. Park in the morning and swimming in the afternoons. Museums, play dates and long walks. Doesn’t matter to me what we do as long as you get in enough action during the day. I figure it’s good prep for school in the fall. The house stays cleaner if y’all aren’t around to drag your collection of 700 toys around the house following me from room to room with them. If you are bored you aren’t hitting each other.  If you are exhausted, you sleep later. Better for me. Better for you. I need to get on the plan. Because not being on the plan is torture for everyone.



Our kitty went missing a month or so ago. We put up signs. We looked for him by foot, by car and at the pound. We never found him. I tried to tell you that maybe his collar came off and someone picked him up and gave him another home. But then you pointed out that if that was true, as soon as he escaped he would come home. I didn’t know what to say. Because you were right. And because I didn’t want to tell you that if he wasn’t coming home, it’s because he couldn’t make it home. When I went to take the signs down in the neighborhood I got back in the car and you said, “DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT. I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT PIPPIN.” So we didn’t. And I could see on your face that you were about to cry. It just about broke my heart. Somehow you aren’t into the new fish that we got for you. Pippin always loved you best.



You graduated from PreSchool last week. I've always thought that PreSchool Graduation was a bit hokey. But I couldn't have been more proud of you walking down the aisle. They announced the names of all of the children and where they would be going to school. then they announced what that child said they wanted to be when they grew up. All of the other kids wanted to be princesses and jedi when they grew up. But you wanted to be a construction worker. You told us later that was because you wanted to be able to build a house for me and a truck for Daddy. We'll be happy with whatever you decide. Just remember that we'd like our house to have heated tile floors in the bathroom.
I love you,
Mama

The Snake Story

If you’ve made eye contact with Connor within the past two months you’ve already heard this story. He’s told it to everyone in our family, his classmates and any random grocery clerk that says hello to him. Apparently finding two snakes in our yard on the same day made quite an impact on him.
The first snake the cat had. It was a small Rat Snake that eventually coiled itself up around a stick to avoid being a cat toy. We threw it over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, since it was harmless and they have two boys that love snakes. And because there was no way the cat was going to leave this thing alone.
The second snake we found was when I was weeding the side of the house. I had gloves on and pulled a patch of weeds, revealing a Copperhead that was hiding from the sun. I backed up and told Connor to get the shovel. The Copperhead wasn’t that big, maybe a little over a foot, but it was big enough to make an impression on Connor who ran to get the shovel. Luckily for me he didn’t see anything shiny on the way and get distracted. He returned promptly with the shovel which he handed to me from four feet away.
I took the shovel and poised it over the snake knowing that I only had one shot. I hit it so hard my feet came up off of the ground and the snake was severed in several places since he was coiled when I hit him. And then he tried to come after me.
He couldn’t move very well since his head was attached to about 3 inches of body but that didn’t stop him from trying. It was disgusting. Once his death throes were over, we scooped him up with the shovel and took him to one of the neighbors for ID. I thought the snake was probably a Copperhead, but knew for sure it was poisonous by the way the hair on the back of my neck stood up. You can't ignore millions of years of evolution.
It was determined that the snake indeed was a Copperhead. Our neighbor put his finger down to touch the head and but changed his mind when Connor started to panic. Good thing too, since the snake opened its mouth and started rolling around again ready for action. It had been dead for 15 minutes. Did I mention that this was disgusting?
I took the snake and buried it in the back yard so the kids wouldn’t keep messing with it.
It’s a fairly tame story but when you hear Connor tell it, he’ll explain to you how he saved the entire family by bringing a shovel. And I hope you will pat his head and tell him how brave he is.