A faux what?

Sam had been in school for a whole single solitary day when he produced himself in my bedroom, fresh from the bathtub, with a single line of hair staning up all the way down his head, forehead to neck.

He was so proud.

I was astonished.

He had only been in the influence of other children for 2 hours 55 minutes so far, and he had discovered the faux-hawk.  And he was LOVING it, ya'll.

So much so that on picture day last week- little man was insistent.  So with the help of my body envy mousse and my fat hair creme- we came up with this:

And he was happy.

It's no faux-hawk- that is for sure.  We went more for the standy uppy ledge across the front of his face.  It took a lot of product- and patience- but we got it.  And he rocked it. 

At least he doesn't want a 'tail'- right? (remember those nasty little things?  in fact- I think Billy Ray Cyrus may still have one sticking out from under that hair of his. yucky poo.)

Here's hoping that this is the last nasty thing those school boys teach him.

Seeing the world

We don't 'travel'. 

And we probably never will.

Because every single time it seems that there might be extra money for something frivilous, there isn't.  Because frivilous doesn't live in a house with five people, two guinea pigs, a fish and an ugly dog.

Frivilous lives down the road, with the people who never had kids.

Would I want to live there instead?  Never.  But do I want to vacation with them?  Yes.

The end.

The reason Mondays are one of my favorites

Five years ago, I had the blessing of meeting a very gentle, kind, Jesus loving woman.  One who we probably would have never met, had we not had a child who desired to learn the piano.

Mrs. Rose.

She lives in the next neighborhood over and teaches the piano from her living room.  She is kind, gentle, loving, and firm.  She taught elementary school for years, has played the church organ every Sunday for longer, and has a true and honest love of children..........and music.

From the moment I spoke to her on the phone, I could not wait to meet her.  The kindness was present even just in her voice.  I am forever changed because of this single solitary woman.

I can't explain it.  Being around her wants me to be gentler.  Kinder.  More faithful.

She lives her love of the Lord.  And she teaches piano so that she can share the gift of music.

And on more than one occassion I have thanked God for the blessing of bringing her into our lives.

 Recently, Emily began to take lessons each week in addition to Allyson.  And as I watched last week, I couldn't help the tears that filled my eyes as I saw my Emily sitting on the piano bench- feet not even reaching the floor- learning how to read and make music at the guidance of this fine woman.  There is not a single  other person I would want to teach her.

Even though Allyson still whines about not wanting to do lessons anymore,  I see more than just the benefit of utilizing the gift God has given her in her ability to play the piano.  I see the 30 minutes she gets each and every week with this fine woman, and in my heart I know that this experience is one that will forever change her life.  She doesn't know it today, probably not even next year, but someday I hope that she will look back on Mrs. Rose and the woman that she is and it will help mold her into the woman she will become.

I am so very thankful for her.  And that it's Monday and I'll get to see her tonight.

She has taught me so much, and I know she doesn't even realize that.

I'm all for celebrating but gee whiz

Allyson has an upcoming birthday.  It will land here in 22 days.  She has been talking about her 'party' since the Spring.  I'm not even joking.

And it was in the Spring that I told her a party for 100 of her closest friends was NOT going to happen.  Even if she could narrow it down to 50, if she had to.

Last night at dinner, I made the mistake of bringing the subject up again.  I am all for celebrating with the kids.  Every year, they get some choice of how they want to rock in another year.  We've had sleep overs, crafting parties, pizza parties, trips to chucke cheese, bowling adventures, we've been to Libby Lu, build a bear.......I'm pretty flexible ya'll.

But a party for 50 kids?  No- I draw the line here.  I can't possibly tend that many children.  Nor do I want to.  Who in their right mind would?

Do you know how my birthday has been celebrated for the past several years?  Maybe dinner out, maybe not.  Maybe a cake, maybe not.  Always a nice gift.  But a day full of chores and work, yes.  And then we all go to bed.  The end. 

So to say I'm not thinking that renting out the community room at the fire station or our church is an option would be an understatement.  I'm willing to drag a few kids out for an activity (miniature golf, go carts, dinner, movie, whatever) or I'm willing to have a few more kids to the house to play hide and seek, giggle and argue.  But, help me, I can't imagine when she thought inviting the entire sixth grade was an option.

I will buy her a present.  I will decorate a cake.  I will offer her a time to celebrate with a 'few' friends.  But not if she doesn't curb this pre-teen attitude she is flaunting. 

The end.

POP QUIZ!

I'm not positive, but I think I'm being tested.

First, they threw all the school start times in the blender.  And it has taken me three weeks, and one fancy post-it note, to get used to who gets up when and what time each ones bus is going to come.  And we've still missed it a couple of times.  And I have had to drive like 146 mph to get home in the afternoons to 'beat that bus' (it's like a little game I play- but that is neither here nor there- although I have yet to loose a single time this year, booya).

Then we had 'online registration' with bonus copies of 39 forms per child to fill out at home.  But I did it.  Do you hear that?  I did it!  And had them all in their respective folders the next day, as instructed.  HA!

Then they start with specials days.  Gym, Art, Music, Library.  And with THREE children, they are all different.  It's like trying to track 12 different things every single day.  And Allyson started swimming this year, which means DAILY swim suit washage.  And package.

Spelling tests- whose is when and what words should they practice.  And when.  And how many times.

Online textbooks and gradebooks.  I can hardly take the pressure.

And just when it seems manageable- here come the fundraisers.  Who has to sell how much by when and fill out which 96 forms and return what to get a who?  Can't I just write someone a check and be done?  In theory, I mean.  If my checking account weren't already sucked dry by the PTO.

There has also been various after school event opportunities (for allyson), back to school nights, ice cream socials, band practice tracking charts, book sales, school pictures, an afterschool dance, lunch money account reminders, book rentals, Fall softball leagues, girl scouts events and meetings, skating parties, and twenty thousand other things I can't remember.  I mean, I've already been asked to donate baked goods for crying out loud.

It might paint a more perfect picture if I describe an event from our recent ice cream social.  Sam has been asking when he can join 'the popcorn boys', AKA the Boyscouts.  There was a table set up in the lobby.  Despite my attempts to completely distract him, he noticed, and so we stopped.  The scout leader made a super sad face and said he was so sorry, but they didn't offer cubscouts to kindergartners, he'd have to wait until next year in the first grade.  And I kissed him.  And then I did a cartwheel.  And three flips.  A whole extra year to learn to juggle what we've already got.  Deal!  See ya next year popcorn pimp!

I've noticed I'm developing a nervous twitch and my toes wiggle all the time.  I feel the need to check the calendar every single day, 36 times at various intervals.  I've noticed that this has gotten worse since I got the spreadsheet of Fall events for Emily's girl scout troop.

Yesterday I got an email from Sams kindey teacher.  She has assigned colors for each day this week.  And that was it.  I know I can't do this.  There is no possible way. And Sam can't read- so see?  There is no hope for him.  Or me.  We fail.  You win school.  Ya hear me?  YOU WIN!  I have no doubt that Sam will wear blue on red day, Emily will wear dress shoes on gym day, and there won't be a library book in sight for that day.  We will have sore throats on NWEA testing day, we will be out of eggs on bake the brownies for the bake sale day, no one will have their hair combed on picture day, spelling words probably won't get studied- and if they do it will probably be the wrong list, and I don't think that a single person here can possibly sling another single item be it a coupon book, sausage, magazine or can of nuts.

I fail.  You win.  0-1.

Gotta go, it's time to check the calendar again.

Goodbye Summer

Today we officially wrap up Summer 2011 and tie it up with a big bow.

The weather this morning feels cooler, crisper.  Fall is coming- whether we like it or not.

Now you have to bare with me as I recap our not so eventful summer.........

 We finished up our time at preschool.  I will never go back there with a tiny excited child again.  I miss it.

 My two nephews graduated high school, and my sister's home caught on fire during the night and they all survived.  Both things I am so very grateful for.

 Sam got so filthy boy dirty every single day this summer.  Another blessing I am happy for.

 My husband turned even older.  Add that to my thankful list.

 This little frog visit might just have been one of our highlights of the summer months.

 Ally got her braces on.  Again.  Oh- and she went back to being Allyson.  Again.  She was Allyson, then she was Ally, and now she is going by Allyson.  (sigh)

 We did sparklers right in our own yard- just like everyone should. 

 We said goodbye to some of our favorite neighbors, and welcomed new ones.

 Emily had her very first every sleep over!

 We camped in the great outdoors with dear friends.

 Allyson had a sleepover with some of her besties.  And I am still alive- score one for the momma.

 Oh dear heavens- Sam started kindergarten.

 We said goodbye to a part of our family- Lew Lew the Wonder Dog.

 And unexpectedly enough, welcomed a new member shortly after.

 Again with that boy messiness thing.

And we vacationed in Florida but never played in the ocean.

Time keeps on marchin' along- whether we are ready or not.

Somebody help me, 'cause I don't understand

I have always thought legos were a cool toy.  In theory anyway.  Because I never actually played with them.  Not because they are boy toys or girl toys- just not something that got my attention.

Last year, Sam was introduced to legos.  And I was thilled.  And then I was pissed.  Seriously.

I mean here is a toy that costs at least 17 times what it could possibly cost to make it- and it comes unassembled in a box 38 times the size necessary.  And when you give this kind of a toy to a child who is obviously new to legos, who do you think gets to build the damn thing while carefully following the 68 steps and sorting all of the same stinkin' blocks into their 16 piles according to thickness?  That's right, me.

I really thought we were going to just build random houses for small plastic super heros to live in.  I didn't know there were complex plans with 'recipes' that had to be followed step by step.  Where is the fun in that?

Dan always waved off barbies saying he just didn't 'get it'.  Now that there is this boy?  His fingers are too big to help.  It's all crap really.  Like a conspiracy.  I spent the entire morning Christmas day assembling a lego firetruck while Sam slapped my hind end with a whip shouting 'Faster!'.  Is this what they call bonding?

Yesterday Sam brought me the instructions to one of his lego sets and asked if I could help him build it.  I'm not even joking when I say it was a 4 hour process.  Two hours before school.  And two hours after.  I was in tears by the time we finished it.  And by we, I mean me.  Sam's part was to ask how much longer and occassionally help me dig around looking for a thin blue 8 piecer with a hole on the end or the white triangle piece with the stair steps underneath.

It was painful. 

And once I completed said truck?  He just really wanted to drive it around.  See- we have trucks, actual trucks, that would be very capable of driving around.  I don't understand, in the slightest, the purpose of a toy that comes unassembled, makes a grown woman cry while trying to put it together, and then requires such carefullness when playing with it so it won't shatter back into 300 pieces.  I don't 'get it'.

And this morning, when I heard that truck accidentally fall off of the kitchen counter..............instant terror shot through my veins.  Because I knew exactly what was going to happen, he was going to ask me to help fix it.

And I showed him all of his other beautiful trucks that don't come apart, ever, and asked that he just use one of those instead.  Because momma's all legoed out.  And besides- the pain that overwhelms me (other than in my finger tips that have carefully and painstakingly pried and pushed tiny plastic pieces together for hours on end) that comes when he tears apart a 6 hour assembled lego masterpiece is more than I can handle.

Learn to do it yourself oh small blonde one.  Love, momma