Named What?!

Things that make me smile....
Spelling mistakes that might raise some eyebrows in the Bible Belt.
For the record, Liam's baseball team is the Cardinals.  Like the bird. Ahh, but the other version makes me laugh.

Roughed Up

Soccer season has started!
And no, the "beat up" look was not something he got on the soccer field.  His first game actually went very well, at least in the behavior department.  No goals were scored, but I was absolutely thrilled because he didn't tackle anyone or "pinball" off teammates.

So, the face...that happened at preschool on Friday.  Thankfully, they called to let me know so that I wouldn't be shocked when I picked him up.  Apparently he was running too fast on the playground and did a face plant.  Ouch.  I just can't imagine him running too fast... Ha.  It's probably more surprising that it hasn't happened before this.  It is usually the knees that take the beating, I suppose, because one tends to protect the head/face by instinct.

Little Man does know how to milk the sad look, doesn't he?

Fat Tuesday

A little glimpse of our Fat Tuesday celebration.
We didn't do too much...Natalie was disappointed, in fact.  It wasn't a "real" party.  It did have some crazy  dancing to loud music in the kitchen.  It was all fun and games until Nat decided that Owen was hogging her spotlight (he was break dancing to Enrique Iglesias...a favorite right now) and her dance space.  Liam hovered around the edges looking like he wanted to bust a move, but not quite being able to cut loose.  A little sad about that...I have so many cute videos of Liam and Natalie dancing in the kitchen.  I hate to see him outgrow that....

Sales Is Not The Job For You

Some people are just not cut out for sales.  I am not.  Apparently, a few others are not either.

I dropped by Dunkin Donuts last week on Friday to get some donuts for the kids as a Friday treat.  It was Friday.  It was a special treat.  I honestly do not stuff them with donuts every day.  In any case, Owen was being...Owen.  And I believe he also had to go to the bathroom.  I know he did.  The thing is, he always, ALWAYS, denies that he has to go.  And it is actually kind of hard to tell, because there is a very fine line between Oh.No.I.Really.Have.To.Go.Potty and Oh.I.Think.I.Just.Want.To.Bounce.Everywhere.Because.It's.Fun.  But I was pretty sure he had to go.  We were the only people in there, so it wasn't like he was bothering anyone.  He was just...bouncy.  Like, hop, hop, hop, and push up onto the counter with "strong arms" like they do on the bars at gymnastics. To be honest, I wasn't even paying that much attention to it because 1) he wasn't bothering anyone, and 2) I am used to it and sometimes don't even notice.

As he collected my donuts, the young man behind the counter told me, "I think he's hyper enough without donuts."

You did not just say that.

I can only hope, young man, that you are going to school to earn a degree in something other than Sales.  Because, I have to tell you, I nearly left all of those tasty donuts right there on the counter for you.

Not only that, but I just may have prayed that you have an "energetic" child...no...children...in the not so distant future yourself.  Whether you are done with school or not.

(And I'm being somewhat sarcastic here.  It was a little funny.  I couldn't believe he said what most others would only think.  Still...hoping he has many energetic children.)

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And the second case...was at the high-end grocery store.  I never shop there, but figured I would run in before Valentine's Day to look for something fancy shmancy.  I didn't buy much, and my bill was completely reasonable...until I reached the checkout line.  They had a tiny little box of petit fours right near the checkout.  That wouldn't be so irresistible if not for the fact that we saw a large box of petit fours at Kroger the week before, and Natalie had loved them.  She doesn't usually like cake, but she told me that she would looooove those tiny little cakes.  So I grabbed them, without looking at the price, and threw them in the basket.  Because 1) I wanted to give Natalie a sweet Valentine treat, and 2) it was a really SMALL box, so how much could it cost.  No, I didn't look at the price.  That's really not the way I roll, even though I do use coupons.  I just don't look at prices when I'm actually IN the store.

So, as the young lady checking me out rang up my box of tiny little cakes she told me, "Huh.  A lot of people look at those, but I've never seen anyone buy them because they are so expensive."

At which point I'm thinking to myself "Crap, how much does that box cost??" I am also thinking, "Young lady, I hope you are studying something other than Sales at school, because I am very close to asking you to return that dang little box of tiny cakes."

It was $7.99 by the way.  She was right - totally not worth it.  Thank you very much.

The Writer

Let this be a lesson to me. I really need to avoid labeling my children. I KNOW this, and yet, I still do it. You know...the artistic one, the Lego builder, the overly-friendly  outgoing one.  Of course I know that they are more than any quick label.  So why do I persist in using labels so often?

I visited the school for some 3rd Grade and Kindergarten Valentine's parties last week.  Always fun.  I love to find schoolwork hanging up in their room that I haven't seen at home yet.  I discovered a gem in the hallway outside of Liam's room.  You know, he did mention this poem to me at one point, and he seemed excited about it.  I remember because he told me it was about "madness" and I thought at first he meant insanity.  (No, it's actually about Anger, but Liam called it Madness).  They were instructed to pick an emotion and then use all of their senses to describe it in a unique way.

We had a little chat about poetry, and I discussed e.e.cummings.  He hasn't read any e.e.cummings poems yet, but he LOVES the idea of not using typical punctuation/capitalization.  A man after Liam's own heart.  Liam asked me why e.e.cummings writes this way, and I said, "Well, maybe he thinks that those things distract from his message." Liam almost yelled, "EXACTLY!"  ha ha  So perhaps Liam doesn't want to water down his schoolwork with all of those pesky distractions.

In any case, I was blown away by Liam's poem.  I promise never again to label him the "non-writer."
I love this poem!!  Jim said he didn't understand the last line about the black closet, but I SO get that.
My hope is that my kids continue to surprise me and remind me never to count them out.

Oh, and by the way, I am not labeling him if I say that I happen to know for a fact that Liam's teacher typed these up and corrected the spelling, punctuation and capitalization.  Trust me.  I know this.  And I appreciate it, because sometimes, just sometimes, I find Liam's spelling, punctuation and capitalization distract me from his message.  Just sayin'...

In case the picture is too small, here is the poem:

Madness
Madness is dark red.
It tastes like too much candy.
It smells like rotten banana.
It feels hard as a rock.
And it sounds like glass breaking.
Madness is a pitch black closet.

And lest you think that Liam is becoming too dark and gloomy at the tender age of 8, just look at how much he truly loved the large sunglasses given out by a classmate as a Valentine.  Loved them!

Dancing The Night Away

It was Daddy/Daughter Dance time again this weekend. Natalie does enjoy her special Daddy dates. And I know Jim looks forward to them as well. This year she found several of her friends from school there, and from what I hear there was quite a bit of girl group dancing going on.

I think next year we won't go so fancy with the hair. The cute little braids on the side hardly lasted long enough to get her out the door. Her hair is so fine that it can slip right out of bobby pins. That's why I prefer to let her hair stylist put it up, but maybe it's time I tried my hand at doing something more casual with just a few curls.

In any case, she looked lovely. I can't believe how my little girl is growing up. She was teasing me yesterday, saying, "Can you believe that in October I will be SEVEN?!" No, I can't believe it.

Feeling Artsy

Owen has never been all that interested in arts and crafts. As his preschool teacher says, "He's just too busy to sit down for that." ha ha yesss...he's busy.

The picture above is the art that he made for us at school for Christmas. It was all wrapped up, and he was so excited. Of COURSE I loved it. But if I was judging for artistic merit...well...it is a lovely shade of...brown.

Anyway, it's all cool. Art isn't necessarily his thing. He has lots of other wonderful "things."

Then one day I was busy with something and I let him sit at the kitchen table with a big bowl of clay that was left over from Liam's 3rd grade diorama project. I came back to find...wa-la! Le Artiste! A little clay army of men. One of them is a dinosaur even. Amazing! Fabulous! We have found his perfect medium! Seriously, I can't believe he came up with them all on his own. Makes me smile. And I'm so glad I took pictures because after he tried to play with his "guys" they all fell apart, of course.

Potty Talk

It's no secret that Owen is chatty. But we may have entered a new phase of chattiness that goes where no man should go. The Women's Room. Perhaps it is time that Owen only goes with Jim to the restroom. But see, that won't work because he already goes with Jim when we are all together, but it's the times when only I am around that are the issue.

Yesterday, for instance, while waiting for Natalie's dance class to end, we had to go...no doubt about it, and no way we could wait. The bathroom empty and totally silent. Until a minute after we entered a stall, we hear someone enter. Not the first time this has happened, but I'm not sure it's ever played out quite this way. Owen is always curious when he hears someone else enter the bathroom.

She goes into the stall right next to ours. Silly woman. So, Owen being Owen, he shouts out into the quiet, "Hey! Who's in there?!" I hear a chuckle. He continues, "Hey, who is over there? What's your name??" There is a pause and I'm thinking to myself, Just don't make contact. Say nothing. Say nothing.... But she says, "Umm...my name is Susan?"

And there we go, we're now entering into full-fledged conversation now, I know.

O: "Hi Susan!! What are you doing over there?"

(At this point I have stopped my discreet "shush"ing and I'm saying out loud, "We do NOT have to make conversation in the restroom!"

Susan: "Well...using the restroom...."

O: "Susan, I have a Silver Surfer man from McDonalds! I'm four. How old are you?"

You get the idea...

And as I rush to get him out of there, he does a quick head duck as he walks by and shouts out, "Hey Susan - I saw you!" Lovely.

We ended up being too slow at the sink, so we got to meet Susan - a very pregnant lady who is probably now rethinking that plan. I apologized, and she just laughed. So now the whole episode is no doubt cemented in Owen's mind as a really good idea, because it is always good to get a laugh and a smile. I swear I would send him into the men's room on his own to spare myself the embarrassment if that thought didn't make me shudder to think of the conversations he could have in there.