My favorite daily routine is checking the mail, hands down. We have a central mailbox in our neighborhood which is located in the neighbor's front yard, so it's not a far walk, but Sebastian and I go every day. Normally we'll race and I'll jog around in weird patterns yelling "I'm gonna win!" or singing my "I'm the fastest Mom in the world, and I can walk faster than Sebaaaastian..." (it's got a super catchy tune).
Today was unusual because A, Aaron picked the kids up from daycare early and B, I came home from work about 2 hours late. I was a bit exhausted and barely remembered to invite Sebastian, but he screamed from the back of the house that he could join me once he picked up his Spiderman mask.
There he appeared, racing around the kitchen counter in his Spiderman light-up sneakers, Thomas the Tank Engine shirt, and Finding Nemo underwear, putting on his Spiderman mask as he ran through to the front door. "I'm the faster! I'm the faster!" he yelled. Shrugging off my early morning airport drive and unexpected 10-hour workday, I let the door go and jogged on out.
I wonder what we're supposed to wear tomorrow?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
When in doubt, DONUTS!
Today I traded my mom for a box of donuts and it was awesome. Muuuuhahahahaha! Or Mwaaahahahaha! I don't really know how that's spelled.
First, you have to understand that we lived within 3 hours of both grandparents until Sebastian was almost two, so he got used to seeing either Grandma or Nonnie for at least one weekend per month. Then we moved to Oklahoma and those visits became few and far between. We've had both sets of grandparents out and we've been able to visit them three times in the last year and a half, but we all miss being closer.
Second, we had a bad experience dropping Nonnie off at the airport before. Aaron's mom had visited a month before and, though Sebastian was really geared up about the airplanes at the airport, he was very confused when we left without Grandma. We pulled up to the airport with Nonnie and he immediately went into hysterics: "No! No airplane! No, Nonnie NO!" Fifteen minutes later, he had flailed and screamed himself to sleep. It was horrible.
For the end of this trip, I arranged for an early flight both to get my mom home before the afternoon and to avoid the trauma at the airport. In the last few days, I regretted it because I hate the idea of him waking up in the morning to find Nonnie gone, kind of like a reverse Christmas. A few days ago, we started talking about Nonnie going home, but at bedtime last night he was worried about whether he should go back to her house or go to school and see his friends. He was so upset we dropped it.
Taking my mom to the airport was easy, as dropping people off at the airport at 5 AM usually is. As she disappeared inside, I sighed, thinking about the kids' reactions when they woke up. Audrey would be confused, but Sebastian would be a whole other matter. He's not a morning person in the first place, so I was sure the tantrum that awaited me was going to be epic.
Then, on the way home, there was a moment of true serendipity as a light shone directly in my eye, a stroke of brilliance from Heaven or the OPEN sign on the donut shop I know not. I would have to face the children, that much was inevitable, but surely a half dozen donuts - with some strategically chosen sprinkle specimens - could save the day!
Sorry Nonnie had to go home, kids, but look! A DONUT!
Mission accomplished.
First, you have to understand that we lived within 3 hours of both grandparents until Sebastian was almost two, so he got used to seeing either Grandma or Nonnie for at least one weekend per month. Then we moved to Oklahoma and those visits became few and far between. We've had both sets of grandparents out and we've been able to visit them three times in the last year and a half, but we all miss being closer.
Second, we had a bad experience dropping Nonnie off at the airport before. Aaron's mom had visited a month before and, though Sebastian was really geared up about the airplanes at the airport, he was very confused when we left without Grandma. We pulled up to the airport with Nonnie and he immediately went into hysterics: "No! No airplane! No, Nonnie NO!" Fifteen minutes later, he had flailed and screamed himself to sleep. It was horrible.
For the end of this trip, I arranged for an early flight both to get my mom home before the afternoon and to avoid the trauma at the airport. In the last few days, I regretted it because I hate the idea of him waking up in the morning to find Nonnie gone, kind of like a reverse Christmas. A few days ago, we started talking about Nonnie going home, but at bedtime last night he was worried about whether he should go back to her house or go to school and see his friends. He was so upset we dropped it.
Taking my mom to the airport was easy, as dropping people off at the airport at 5 AM usually is. As she disappeared inside, I sighed, thinking about the kids' reactions when they woke up. Audrey would be confused, but Sebastian would be a whole other matter. He's not a morning person in the first place, so I was sure the tantrum that awaited me was going to be epic.
Then, on the way home, there was a moment of true serendipity as a light shone directly in my eye, a stroke of brilliance from Heaven or the OPEN sign on the donut shop I know not. I would have to face the children, that much was inevitable, but surely a half dozen donuts - with some strategically chosen sprinkle specimens - could save the day!
Sorry Nonnie had to go home, kids, but look! A DONUT!
Mission accomplished.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Careful: A high-powered flashlight will bright you.
Sebastian just walked in as my mom and I were packing, holding our new super-bright emergency house-loses-power flashlight with the beam pointed directly at his eye.
"Mom!" he cried, "The fwlashlight is bwighting me!"
"I'm sorry, it's brighting you?"
"Yeah!"
With that, he turned it off, blinked a few times, and walked out of the room.
Time to find another higher shelf for emergency flashlights...
"Mom!" he cried, "The fwlashlight is bwighting me!"
"I'm sorry, it's brighting you?"
"Yeah!"
With that, he turned it off, blinked a few times, and walked out of the room.
Time to find another higher shelf for emergency flashlights...
The Cuddle Monkey
My mom had her son after three girls, so he was an entirely new adventure. When I found out I was pregnant with a boy, she said "Oh boys give the BEST hugs!" She was right: when my son started hugging me, it was absolutely awesome.
When I had my daughter two years later, I understandably figured she would be a sucky hugger. I mean, Sebastian was, by then, an awesome run-and-hugger, so not only did she have the handicap of being a girl, but she was several years behind.
Turns out, I had no idea how awesome a baby hug could be. After three weeks, Audrey earned the nickname Cuddle Monkey. Pretty soon, the only thing that could describe the phenomenon of this baby who hugged us all the time was an even BETTER nickname: Snugglebiscuits. I don't think I'll top that one or that I can use it when I have, say a 13-year-old daughter, but it describes her perfectly right now.
I just got to start my day with five or six giggly Audrey hugs. Then I got happy whole body hugs from the little boy who taught her how to pat people on the back when she hugs (which she does all the time). It's been a pretty great day so far.
When I had my daughter two years later, I understandably figured she would be a sucky hugger. I mean, Sebastian was, by then, an awesome run-and-hugger, so not only did she have the handicap of being a girl, but she was several years behind.
Turns out, I had no idea how awesome a baby hug could be. After three weeks, Audrey earned the nickname Cuddle Monkey. Pretty soon, the only thing that could describe the phenomenon of this baby who hugged us all the time was an even BETTER nickname: Snugglebiscuits. I don't think I'll top that one or that I can use it when I have, say a 13-year-old daughter, but it describes her perfectly right now.
I just got to start my day with five or six giggly Audrey hugs. Then I got happy whole body hugs from the little boy who taught her how to pat people on the back when she hugs (which she does all the time). It's been a pretty great day so far.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Good question.
The other night, as I was putting Sebastian to bed, he looked at me inquisitively and asked, "Mom, are you a butthead?"
I was surprised by the question, but I think I handled it well:
"No," I said, "But I'm afraid Daddy might be."
I was surprised by the question, but I think I handled it well:
"No," I said, "But I'm afraid Daddy might be."
Nonnie = Playground
My mother, Nonnie, is visiting, so we're going for more walks and hitting up the playground more often. Five years ago, I fully expected to spend EVERY DAY at the playground with my kids because I would finally have an excuse to swing and go down some awesome slides and someday they'll grow out of it.
Yeah, that doesn't happen. Toddlers are armed with energy zappers that can seek out anything you have left after a full day of work and just suck you dry. This is how kids stay charged, you see. Plus, when I went to the playground, I realized that A, there are never swings because there are always some jerk 5th Graders showing each other how to throw them over the top or crinkle up the chains and B, the slides got a lot smaller and less daunting than they were in the golden age of slides (which, as I recall, was about 1984-1992 or so). My kids think they're cool and if they slide down, I act like it's an accomplishment, but when I was three, I swear I was on a MUCH bigger slide than this thing that's only like 2 feet above my head.
Anyway, because of my mom and Aaron's mom, I know that one day I will get back into playground mode. As a matter of fact, I will see it as an awesome vacation to go to the playground every day for two weeks. Then I will go back to my house and sleep for a whole weekend with nothing but a mildly eccentric husband and somewhat arthritic dog to worry about, content in the knowledge that now my children's children expect candy for breakfast and ice cream for every snack. Ah... bliss...
Now, playgrounds have also come a long way since I was little, and I know this. If I wasn't at the mercy of the energy zapper, I might revel in this fact every day. The slides are thick plastic so you don't get that Gordon Ramsey sear on your heiny every time you slide down. Plus, every metal thing is coated in a thick coat of paint so you can actually touch it in the sun light which means you don't grill your hand and fall off the monkey bars as you clutch your wrist and howl in pain, falling to the ground and then running from a rogue blacksmith who mistakes your palm for his heated iron. That also reduces the risk of kids daring each other to lick the fireman's pole in the winter.
I haven't even gotten to perhaps the most unjust part of being born too early for the playground revolution: the SPRAYGROUND! Seriously, some genius realized that you can turn some concrete into a series of fountains and that EVERYONE WOULD LOVE IT and then that genius made it happen. I heard we had one near us in the winter, but when I went out, it looked like some concrete and a few bright metal poles.
Oh no, my friend. That thing was Pure. Freaking. Awesomeness. Fountains all over the ground, water shooting out of the poles, ALL AFTERNOON LONG! I'm totally obsessed. And my mom's been there twice in three days!
I haven't. I went there once. A month ago with a friend who is new in town and found the same sprayground. Then I came home and napped longer than my kids. When I woke up, they had all my energy and I couldn't even THINK about going back to a playground. We went to a regular playground this morning with Nonnie and while I think I'm going to need to sleep this off, my mom is getting everything ready to hit up the at least one more before the day is through.
Yeah, that doesn't happen. Toddlers are armed with energy zappers that can seek out anything you have left after a full day of work and just suck you dry. This is how kids stay charged, you see. Plus, when I went to the playground, I realized that A, there are never swings because there are always some jerk 5th Graders showing each other how to throw them over the top or crinkle up the chains and B, the slides got a lot smaller and less daunting than they were in the golden age of slides (which, as I recall, was about 1984-1992 or so). My kids think they're cool and if they slide down, I act like it's an accomplishment, but when I was three, I swear I was on a MUCH bigger slide than this thing that's only like 2 feet above my head.
Anyway, because of my mom and Aaron's mom, I know that one day I will get back into playground mode. As a matter of fact, I will see it as an awesome vacation to go to the playground every day for two weeks. Then I will go back to my house and sleep for a whole weekend with nothing but a mildly eccentric husband and somewhat arthritic dog to worry about, content in the knowledge that now my children's children expect candy for breakfast and ice cream for every snack. Ah... bliss...
Now, playgrounds have also come a long way since I was little, and I know this. If I wasn't at the mercy of the energy zapper, I might revel in this fact every day. The slides are thick plastic so you don't get that Gordon Ramsey sear on your heiny every time you slide down. Plus, every metal thing is coated in a thick coat of paint so you can actually touch it in the sun light which means you don't grill your hand and fall off the monkey bars as you clutch your wrist and howl in pain, falling to the ground and then running from a rogue blacksmith who mistakes your palm for his heated iron. That also reduces the risk of kids daring each other to lick the fireman's pole in the winter.
I haven't even gotten to perhaps the most unjust part of being born too early for the playground revolution: the SPRAYGROUND! Seriously, some genius realized that you can turn some concrete into a series of fountains and that EVERYONE WOULD LOVE IT and then that genius made it happen. I heard we had one near us in the winter, but when I went out, it looked like some concrete and a few bright metal poles.
Oh no, my friend. That thing was Pure. Freaking. Awesomeness. Fountains all over the ground, water shooting out of the poles, ALL AFTERNOON LONG! I'm totally obsessed. And my mom's been there twice in three days!
I haven't. I went there once. A month ago with a friend who is new in town and found the same sprayground. Then I came home and napped longer than my kids. When I woke up, they had all my energy and I couldn't even THINK about going back to a playground. We went to a regular playground this morning with Nonnie and while I think I'm going to need to sleep this off, my mom is getting everything ready to hit up the at least one more before the day is through.
This is the story...
This is a story about Maggie (me). And Aaron (my husband)... and Sebastian (our son)... and Audrey (our daughter)... and any other people and animals who come into our lives. We live in Oklahoma (for now), where the wind goes sweeping down the plains like God running a hairdryer and knocks you down so that the sun can fry you completely as you lie helplessly on the yellow grass. But that's only if you go outside. No one goes outside for very long here: we all just hang out inside with our kids and pets and sweat over the DIY projects we need to do outside.
The children just returned from a two week adventure with both sets of grandparents in Virginia where they were indulged by their grandparents, encouraged by their aunts and uncles, and mentored by their adventurous cousins. They have returned as almost full-on Jedis, ready to train their rested parents.
This parenting stuff just got real.
The children just returned from a two week adventure with both sets of grandparents in Virginia where they were indulged by their grandparents, encouraged by their aunts and uncles, and mentored by their adventurous cousins. They have returned as almost full-on Jedis, ready to train their rested parents.
This parenting stuff just got real.
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