Mother’s Day

Or is it Mothers Day or Mothers’ Day?

Doesn’t matter. What does matter is this little menu put together by our very dear girl child. She gave it to me to fill out the night before so I could customize my breakfast. After I checked the boxes indicating my preferences she sent her father to the store to gather the requested ingredients. The next morning I had a very yummy breakfast in bed.

At our house you are our party planner, Roo. You love to celebrate and make things special. You are so sweet, so dear. It has been so amazing watching you become who you are. I’ll never forget carrying you into the house for the first time. It was Mother’s Day nine years ago. I was acutely aware of the fact that you made us a family of three and that we would forever be more than we had been just a couple of days prior. I set that blue bucket car seat down in the entry way of the house and looked down at your precious self in the light green outfit with the white collar you were wearing. I studied your tiny face, the one cheek so scraped up and red.  I wondered if the ear you had laid on for months and was folded in half would ever straighten itself out (it did). I remember being overwhelmed with love for you. I also remember looking at your daddy and thinking . . .

Holy crap! We have a baby here! Now what do we do?!?

Like all parents we have figured it out as we’ve traveled this road. It is a road I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Thanks for making me a mama, Roo. Mostly, thank you for being you.

I love you,
Mama

Accessorizing

Accessorizing G style . . .

Cheers,
D

Sunday Night Entertainment

We had friends over for dinner Sunday night and being good hosts we made sure there was a lot of fun stuff to do.

The evening’s entertainment started promptly after an especially yummy dinner when G went across the road to retrieve his soccer ball and then calmly returned and informed me that there was a rattlesnake on the sidewalk . . . right in front of the giant retaining wall his sister likes to sit by and read. (shiver)

He wasn’t kidding.

C quickly dispatched the snake . . . because with the number of children and dogs in this neighborhood we really don’t welcome venomous biting creatures. We are picky hosts. It’s true.

The rest of us stood around and watched.

G had to have the rattle.

The head had to go in the storm drain.

This is what was left.

And that was just the evening’s opening act, albeit a difficult one to follow for sure.

Earlier in the day C built a giant cardboard scope of sorts so we could watch the eclipse (because he does really cool stuff like that). We hauled it out into the road and chased the sun around. We started in a neighbor’s driveway.

And then moved it up the hill.

Where random people and their dogs stopped by to check it out.

It was pretty neat to watch the sun take on the shape of the moon.

A nice finish to a lovely and exciting Sunday evening.

The end,
D

 

 

First Lost Tooth

G lost his first tooth on the 3rd of this month.

It seemed to go from barely loose to all but hanging out of his mouth in a very short period of time. He fussed about that tooth for a week and finally decided to try the string-door maneuver to pull it out. We managed to get the string around his tooth and secured the other end to a kitchen cupboard door. Just tightening the string pulled the tooth out. He never had the opportunity to slam the door. We have the video to prove it. I tried to capture it in all of its wobbly glory before it evacuated itself out of his mouth.

And now we have a boy with a little extra space in his mouth.

He is very excited.

Cheers,
D

Her Second Recital

R had her second successful piano recital last Saturday. It was held in the same church as the last one. This time there were an easy 300+ people there.

I can’t believe how different she looks sitting up on that stage at that big old grand piano . . . so much older than she looked last November.

She took a little bow.

She is so proud of herself.

So am I.
Cheers,
D

Eight Today . . . Nine Tomorrow

I love this picture . . . but not nearly as much as I love the little girl in the picture.  The little girl who turns nine years old tomorrow.

My goodness.

D

“National Emergency! National Emergency!”

That is what the boy came in the house hollering at the top of his lungs the other day.

It took me a minute to tear myself away from the book in which I was engrossed because I felt relatively secure in the knowledge that it wouldn’t have taken my son alerting me to a national emergency if one were actually occurring on our doorstep.

I looked up to see a freckle-faced little boy whose dark brown eyes were resembling saucers beckoning me with his short little fingers.

“Come on, Mom. You gotta see this.” His voice and face were very solemn.

I followed him out the front door and this is what I found:

A poem about what little boys are made of comes to mind.

“Wow, G!” I’m sure overwhelming enthusiasm positively emanated from my being. G quickly shifted gears from serious to delighted.

“Look, Mom! Snail poop!” (Big laugh.)

(No close-up. Sorry. Try to contain your disappointment.)

G brought the snails food and said, “It’s a group hug, Mom!”

Prior to that moment I don’t think it ever occurred to me to put the words ‘snail’ and ‘hug’ in the same paragraph much less the same sentence.

“Awwww – a baby! Isn’t he cute?”

Ditto for cute and snail and sentences.

G was very proud of his collection.

His mamma was slightly repulsed but managed to kept it to herself.

Is it possible to be incredibly proud of your children and delight in their enthusiasm and be grossed-out at the same time? Because if the boy wants to study bugs I will do everything I can to keep my skin from crawling off my body and encourage him. This is evidenced by the fact that the snail collection ultimately wound up being stored in a yogurt container with a custom viewing port designed by our little malacologist . . . on the counter . . . in the kitchen.

Still trying to avoid passing my phobias on to my son,
D

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