Wednesday, August 24, 2011
After a nice shower, and a few minutes in the "hot room" (a.k.a. the sauna) to dry off, we got J into his jammies for the ride home. Because we haven't done laundry in a while, J's jammies consisted of a pair of shorts that are legitimately pajamas (though the shirt is nowhere to be found at the moment) and a big t-shirt that he got from the "running race" he was in earlier this summer. Check this out to see what that was all about and to get a look at the cute little bear that's on what is now J's favorite sleeping shirt. That boy went on and on about how he loves it, and how he's going to sleep really good tonight, not because of all the swimming we did, but because his shirt is so soft and cozy. And of course, it reminds him that he won a medal in his running race. Which makes him very happy (direct quote: "I'm happy that I won that medal." And he really, really was....he wore that medal around his neck for three days.) Thinking about his medal got him to pondering other prizes; he was sure to tell me that for running races you win a medal, but for driving races you win a Piston Cup. And for swimming races, you win a glass cup. (OK, that happened back when Jana and I were still the the Momlandia-planning stages, so quick summary: I did the swim portion of a triathlon with a good friend of ours, J's preschool teacher, actually. And we won...for relays in our age-group. But still, to J, that's winning! And we were awarded a Vermont Sun pint glass, which seems a bit un-triathlon-y, but what the hell do I know? I just showed up and swam for 10 minutes, which I suppose makes it the perfect prize for me. But I digress....) So anyway, my glass-cup-not-a-piston-cup took a header out of the dish rack a few weeks ago. And in the stream of consciousness zone my boy was in tonight, remembering that we had to recycle my award was the logical next thought: medal --> piston cup --> glass cup --> broken cup --> :( And my sweet little boy actually said to me "I'm sorry for you that your cup got broken." Just like that, "I'm sorry for you." So after I got done kissing his face off, he went right into problem solving mode and suggested that I just do the race with Nikki again, and win again, so we can get a cup again. Which I totally could do, right?
So my sweet little comfy-shirted boy and I headed home, snuggled down into bed with W (who was still up and marginally penitent), and read some Dragonbreath and some Harry Potter. J was asleep about a page and a half into Harry. Must have been the shirt.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
S is starting to string words together. Which is neat, in most ways, except when he strings expletives together. That, not so neat.
His phrase of the day was "cool dude" mainly b/c he was wearing these really awesome sunglasses. Kinda like RayBan Wayfarers but with the neon sides. You know what I mean. The really cheap-o ones. And he had them on upside down.
So, S thinks he is cool for wearing some sunglasses, and hanging off the swing set and even donning my old white tap shoes and doing a little jig (which he did, buck naked, this morning). And since I think that all of those things are overwhelmingly cool, I encouraged his behavior wholeheartedly.
Conversely, his older brother B, who is embarrassed by everything, spent the day reminding S that he was not remotely cool. I tried to encourage a bit of silly in B today, but he wasn't having it. I hope in the future a little bit of S's brand of coolness rubs off on his older brother (i.e. the i-don't-give-a-flying-crap-who-thinks-this-is-hilarious type) and I also hope, in the name of S's future teachers, employers and law enforcement officials, that a bit of B's seriousness rubs off on his younger brother.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
J and I walked for a while holding hands, then he took off running as hard as he could for a little while and I just watched him, thinking how big and strong he was getting. He was so proud that he had run in a "race" earlier this summer and kept talking about how that's probably why he was so much faster than I was, because I had never been in a running race, just in a swimming race. When he wasn't running ahead of me, he just talked and talked....about where we were going, about how we should take all the little berries we found on the ground and throw them on the sidewalk so bad guys will slip on them, about what would happen if we threw them in the road and then cars would slip on them (but maybe just bad guy cars, I suggested, much to his relief), and on and on. I held his warm little hand, and listened to him, asking questions and oohing and aahing at the right moments to encourage him to keep sharing what was running through his mind. It was a beautiful walk; I swear to you, we even skipped part of the way home.
I couldn't help myself, at one point I said to him "J, you know who I love?" which I say all the time and in response I usually get a big sigh and a "yeah, I know, me; you say that all the time!" But today, my sweet boy looked up at me and said, "Me. You know what I love?" (and...wait for it, people...) "Swimming."
I suppose I should have seen that one coming.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
W: I got a letter from Mr. Lane today. (My introductory sentence now seems even more brilliant, no?)
Me: Really? That's cool. What'd it say?
W: Just some stuff about second grade. And, we have a new principal. His name is Mr. Sumthinsumthincrazyname. (Actually, he just kind of mumbled, and implied the crazy name, but this has a bit more flair, don't you think?)
Me: Yeah, he sent us a letter a few days ago, but I can't remember his name either.
W: No, Mr. Lane. He sent a letter today.
[Brief intermission, while I explained that we actually received letters from both Mr. Lane and the school's new principal, who seems very nice and doesn't actually have a crazy name, though I still can't remember what it is.]
W: It's blue.
W: He wrote it on blue paper.
Me: Oh, that's cool. Can I see it?
W: Sure. It's on our wall.
W: I hung it up on my bedroom wall. I'll show you when we get home.
How sweet is my boy that he was so happy and excited and proud to get a letter from his teacher that he taped it up to his bedroom wall?!
And it turns out that Mr. Lane is in a band that is playing in the local garlic festival on Labor Day weekend and he invited all of his students and their families to come see the show. W also informed me (while we were on our walk) that sometimes Mr. Lane brings his guitar to school on Fridays; from the cool dance moves he pulled off while we were still walking down the street, I would say that W is pretty psyched about second grade.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Except that the next day, J had another "spider bite" right next to the first one, a nickel-sized blister that had popped and was now just an open wound ready to trap all sorts of dirty kid germs and shirt fuzz. "OK," I thought, "maybe I just didn't notice that one yesterday. It must have been smaller and just grown in size overnight." But whenever I talk like that, dear reader, you must know it's in a futile attempt to convince myself of something other than "Oh my god, my kid has leprosy."
So now that we're home, and now that he woke up with a third "spider bite," we made an appointment to see the pediatrician. Diagnosis: Impetigo . Lovely. But at least it's not leprosy.
But really, all of this is just context, my friends, for the funniest thing I've heard all day. (But don't get your hopes up, because, really, I did spend most of my day at work.) Apparently, J listened very carefully to every word his doctor said today (which I'm not surprised at since 1. he's a smart kid and 2. much of the conversation centered around where and when he'll be able to go swimming again). While, W and I took a walk after dinner, Chris was getting J ready for a shower. And I'm sorry to say that I missed a naked little J marching around the house singing to himself, proud as can be, "Locally contagious! Locally contagious!"
I'll have to remind him of this when he's a teenager, because, really, Locally Contagious would make a kick-ass band name.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
We celebrated with a kids-free dinner (thanks Grandma Deborah and Grandpa Kevin, I don't know how long it's been since we've had a chance to do that!) and now here I am writing this post. Ahh....the romance!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Sometimes in my positive moments I have this fantasy where I get invited to a fancy awards banquet (not unlike the Oscars, for example). I wear a stunning Elie Saab gown on the red carpet (and lots of sparkly jewelry and everyone likens me to a slightly chunkier Angelina Jolie)…and I am being recognized for my OUTSTANDING PARENTING. The shtick goes something like this:
“The next recipient is being recognized, not only for her ability to multitask (make toaster waffles and apply temporary tattoos at the same time) but also for her extreme patience and ability to withhold swearing like a drunken sailor in front of the offspring. In addition, she has had to put up with DH, cook and clean like a maid, and make her children’s’ lives more educationally fulfilling, enjoyable, meaningful, well documented and amazing than any generation before, all while looking her best, working out, eating healthy and reading educational material to retain brain matter lost in childbirth and evoking a generally cheery appearance ….The award goes to, none other than… Jana” ****applause, cheering and standing ovation follow****
Then I bask in the glow of my prize for approximately 12 hours until my Good Morning America interview where Chris Cuomo happily interviews me for 3 or 4 minutes and then he drops the bombshell: “Well Jana, I know you are confident in your parenting, but we have a few critics who have cited and few ‘not so perfect’ incidents and are asking you to give up your crown”
CC from GMA: “Do you remember the time that your toddler S was wandering down the driveway toward the road when your preschooler B noticed that he was not in his crib napping? What were you doing at that time?”
ME: “I was on the computer.”
CC: “Ahhhh, so you were going to just let him get smacked by a Mack truck?”
ME: “Well no, I thought he was sleeping, but he climbed out of his crib, which I didn’t know he could do, opened a locked door SILENTLY, I might add, and wandered out.”
CC: “And then there was the time both of your sons pulled a glass-front curio cabinet down on their heads. They were climbing up an unsecured cabinet in your home, unsupervised and without helmets”
ME: “Am I really supposed to secure all of my furniture to the wall, in my entire home? And helmets, indoors, SERIOUSLY?
CC: “So you are not questioning the validity of your award?”
ME: “Ummm, I’m not sure….sorry”
CC: “…Then there was the time you fed the kids stale crackers for dinner…..”
Monday, August 8, 2011
Hopefully more (and better) tomorrow.
Is it a problem that my son B is consistently more “on the ball” than be or my husband? Yesterday, for example, he reminded me that I had forgotten to give him his Zyrtec and that his ‘allergies were bothering him’. His words.
He is always reminding me not to use bad words, and to remember my vitamins, that my shirt is inside out and what world peace would look like. He gives me and my husband lectures at the dinner table about how people should treat their friends or the benefits of brushing your teeth well. And every time, Chris looks at me, shakes his head and says “he’s definitely your son”
The other night, I said that the boys needed to get in the car so that we could go to the grocery store (that we affectionately call “Tops til ya Drop”). B said that he didn't want to set foot anywhere near Tops til ya Drop…to which I retorted that we had ZERO FOOD in our house and we wouldn’t have dinner otherwise. Somewhere in the course of the evening, plans changed and we ended up ditching the grocery store trip and in the process B started sobbing in the back seat of my station wagon “nooooowwww whaaaaatttttt in the wooorrrlllldddd are we going to eeeeaaaaatttttttt???? In the end we settled on foraging for some old stale crackers and cheese etc. for dinner. You can only imagine his dismay. What self-respecting family eats crackers for dinner?
Last night, his soccer game was cancelled, and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Buddy, your soccer game was cancelled tonight, sorry.
Me: I think the heat index is too high. And it might storm.
B: Well Mom, that’s alright, ya know why?
B: Because we need a night to just stay home and get some yard work done instead of always running around to do different things.
Me: Yard work. Instead of soccer?
B: Yes Mom, it’s really getting out of hand.
Me: Mmmmmm, true…
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
10 Tips for Trying Burlesque (I'm pretty sure "building tension" will happen, though not in the way they intend it.)
The Fronhofer Tool Triathlon Some friends of mine are doing this race this weekend. I don't know that I've run 6 miles since I was in high school, and even then I would have preferred to skip ski practice to go to my car and make out with my boyfriend. That is still my preference. (And is this not the best named sporting event ever?!)
Winning the Powerball OK, so we don't yet know about this one for sure. Fingers crossed! I could do a lot more blogging with 180 mil in the bank. Think of all the material I'd have if I got to stay home with my kids all. day. long.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
J: (rubbing his nipples) These are your private areas.
Me: That's right, honey.
J: Not really for boys. Just for girls.
Me: Well, I guess that's usually how it works, but on your body, you get to decide.
J: Yeah, on boys they're just like little dots. On girls, they're like big, bulging.... (he pauses to put his shirt in the laundry basket and, apparently, to come up with an appropriate simile)....they're like big balls of rubber.
The best I could muster with a straight face was an "oh yeah?" To which he looked up at me with his big eyes, with a serious and knowing little frown, and just nodded.
At least it was said in a reverent tone.
Jana here. I guess I've technically been in Momlandia for just under 5 years now. But, BLOG-ically speaking (or typing, as it were), I have arrived! HA. And just so you know, I have been home alone with my kids (sans husband) for two weeks now because he is travelling for work. Hence, the synapses are not firing like they should be.
HOWEVER, this evening I did build the most KICK-ASS Geotrax train EVER. PERIOD. Geotrax has these train tracks that connect easily and you build your railroad etc, then you drive your trains on it. We have all of these cool sets that connect together: Grand Central Station, Timbertown, the Rodeo and the Zoo, etc. etc. etc. Anyhooo I made this whole set-up, while S (the 1 y.o.) destroyed our computer room and B (the almost 5 y.o.) was irate that I didn't let him help build.
So, dear reader, I ask you this, who's toys are the GeoTrax??? Yes. Mommy’s!!! And damn was I mad when they wrecked the whole thing 5 minutes later claiming that an earthquake had come through....
And this is what I have become, in the absence of adult conversation: an antisocial infrastructure designer. On my dining room carpet, that is.
Such is life in Momlandia....little bodies clambering, jumping around, kneeing me in the pelvis, shouting something in my face (usually actual words, but often just noise, and sometimes even an "I love you, mama"), before licking me and wiping their hands on my shirt, all while I'm trying to think about something important.....and go to the bathroom. Or figure out how one goes about getting a new furnace. Or how to make dinner out of celery, leftover chicken, and the last powdered bits of cereal in the bag. Or write a blog post. Or some other necessity that might just require a moment's peace and privacy.
So, brace yourself, readers, "Welcome to Momlandia" will log the daily craziness of the homes of two families--mine (me, my husband Chris, and our two boys, W&J) and Jana's (her husband Chris--who is also my brother...try to keep up here--and their two boys, B&S). Look for posts from both of us as we capture the chaos that can only happen in Momlandia and try to make light of (if not sense out of) the adventures we've gotten ourselves into.