solitude

As I type, I have the house completely to myself. A rare treat, though I credit Hayes for trying. It's just that when he takes the boys out, I am usually outta here within minutes to do my own thing. ALONE. (sigh)

Then came the end of school.

Last week was a mishmash of activities and adventures, with at least four daily queries or comments regarding my status as "ready to pop." There I was trying to enjoy the two rascals I already have and a thought occurred to me.

I could have this baby any time now. Like, for real. And I am so not ready.

I mean, discomfort and windedness doesn't really count as ready. Nor does annoyance about stranger commentary on my size or my apparently pitiable plight as a "boy mom." The house isn't ready. The nursery isn't ready. The gear is still up in the attic collecting dust and cobwebs.

So naturally, Hayes and his parents have whisked my whirling dervishes away to the zoo and I sit here with my feet propped up. Only I'm taking a break from this:




Holy shnikies. Where did all this stuff come from?! And where is Mary Poppins when you need her?

*I have yet to post about some of our recent adventures, mostly because I'm lazy but partly because I have to get pictures and video from Hayes's phone. I promise to do that soon. But first I have a mess to clean up. :)

teacher appreciation

A few days ago, a friend posted on facebook regarding teacher gifts for the end of the school year.  I was taken back to my first couple of years teaching, sitting at my desk in awe of the loot that befell me on that final day.  I got some really great stuff.  I remember going home and my roommates would go through it all with me and remark on how generous the parents always were.  Indeed they were.  Only aside from a beautiful crystal vase and a Tiffany necklace, I can't remember what I got. 


Now we are in the age of gift cards and all the parents contributing to one large group gift card.  Great.  Easy.  Let the teacher decide which jewelry or dining experience she wants. But as I was about to respond so practically as a parent, I remembered the gestures that really mattered to me as a teacher.  I have a collection of notes from parents who took the time to write to me, explaining the impact I had upon their children.  I cannot tell you how many times I dipped into that collection in New York when I so badly wanted to give up teaching just so I didn't have to lay eyes on those hellions.

So I took my own advice.  Yes, I contributed to the gift card fund.  But I sat down during nap time this past week and thought about the impact that Peter's teacher has had on him in the past 8+ months.  I realized her work reached far beyond the school halls; it even improved our life as a family.  And I think it's only fair that she knows it. 

Dear Lauren,

As the school year comes to a close I want to thank you, though it occurs to me that the gifts you have shared with Peter will continue to serve him beyond the school calendar.  Last summer,  you met a quiet, cautious, smart little boy and you encouraged him.  You paid attention.  You nurtured his strengths and challenged him to try things that were less comfortable and familiar.  You persisted.  Most of all, you loved him.  Moreover, he knew it.


This year has been transformational for our family - and will continue to be so!  I am so grateful for the time and energy you spent to help reveal the creative, silly, clever(!) side of our boy.  He is more confident, I am more confident for him, and our family has certainly achieved greater silliness than we thought possible a year ago.  I am most grateful to you for the environment you provided that inspires him to love learning so very much.  That is truly the gift that will last a lifetime.  I feel certain that when we reminisce about his school years, it will not take us long to think of you and say a prayer of gratitude.  You have been a godsend, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Warmly,
Sarah

oo-wee-ohs

If you've spent any time around Davis lately you know that he's chatty. The problem is that his vocabulary consists of words that he pronounces so that they all sound alike. For instance, "weewee" is for TV and Chiefy. "ahyoo" is for water and I love you. A similar "arroo" is for railroad, which he says about a gazillion times a day. "Djoo" is for juice while "djoo-djoo" is train. And given his tendency to repeat himself incessantly, it's often difficult to translate. Context often helps, but not always. I know it's bad habits, that he's capable of saying the words correctly. We try, but I'm saving my stubbornness for other battles lately.

Speaking of, he has been sleeping overnight in the big boy bed for a couple of weeks now. He settles down later and wakes earlier, but he loves the idea of being a big boy. Naps? Well, let's just say I think I would rather drop his nap than let him fight me until 2:30 or 3 every day. I'm working on a mutually beneficial solution.

But I digress.

The words all sound alike and he repeats until you correctly acknowledge his message. Well, we have been seeing lots of squirrels on the deck lately while we eat our meals and Davis is fascinated by them. "Oh-wee-ohs," he calls them. Sounds like Oreos to me. Yes, Wee-wee is chasing the ohweeohs around the yard. (I do repeat in plain English - just imitating him for clarity.)

So the past day or so Davis has insisted that there are squirrels on the deck. But there AREN'T. Like, the kid is hallucinating or something. Finally we just grin and nod and try to distract him.

And then I find this between the chair and the window onto the deck.




Cheerios. Ooweeohs.

Checkmate.

all caterpillars go to heaven?

Imagine my excitement when I found a caterpillar on Peter's shoulder one afternoon. Finally, we could go on a hint for twigs, leaves and flowers to set up a cozy home and maybe even watch this fella become a butterfly.

Fat chance.

We had a jar full of all the things that make an adequate bug abode. We even picked wild strawberries from the back yard. For two days we watched "Catherine" inch all over the twigs, rest on the 'ceiling' of her jar, perform her acrobatic routine... All great fun.

Until it wasn't.

I woke up on Day 3 and discreetly checked on our newest pet only to find she had gone to the great caterpillar shrub in the sky.

Uh oh.

I steadied myself and prepared myself for the questions. Before I could really get started, Peter graciously offered the explanation that Catherine had escaped through the holes at the top. Well that made it easy. I'm such a chicken.

And then came bedtime. That's when Peter and I have our best conversations. Whether silly or serious, it's when we are both focused 100% on each other and he feels free to discuss anything and everything. I decided I had to come clean, so I explained that I had done some investigating and learned that caterpillars are picky eaters. If the leaves we offer aren't right, a caterpillar won't eat. He thought about this and asked if Catherine was up in heaven with Jesus and Papa. Then, before I could answer he cut me off and said, "Nah - caterpillars don't go to heaven! Catherine just crawled away through the lid!" And he rolled over and went to sleep.

That went well. So much for full disclosure.

And then he found "John" on an adirondack chair. We tried every leaf we could find in our yard. No dice.

Perhaps now he'll believe in heaven for caterpillars.

Either that or he'll move on to snakes or something equally offensive. At least we'd know what to feed them.

We'll try a bug hotel and a magnifying glass next and forgo the sleepovers. Baby steps.

Tunnels, gold stars, bugs, sprinklers and hippos

Lately we have gotten carried away with end-of-school year hoopla. Well, that or perhaps Mommy has gotten carried away with the guilty knowledge that the imminent arrival of a newborn is about to ruin all of their fun. So we are trying to get all the fun stuff out of our systems, I guess. I'm just going 80 mph stuck in 2nd gear for the next 8 weeks!



Still obsessed with tunnels, this jewel at a local park has become his favorite place in town.



When you have all boys, gold star stickers are about as close to a pedicure as they'll give me.



Armed with his new bug hotel, Peter searched high and low for ladybugs and caterpillars. When he got tired, he sat in the driveway to "wait for the bugs to approach me."



Our weekend at the lake was capped off with the discovery of underground sprinklers.



Meet the leader hippopotamus in the 4s class adaptation of Noah's Ark. "I'm the leader hippo because the one with the H sign is the leader and I have the H sign so I am the leader hippo." (We heard that explanation more than a few times!)



He sang! He motioned! He smiled! He was so proud and we are so proud of his participation and his enthusiasm. We won't dwell on the fact that we are all left singing songs about each of the animals on the Ark. They won't get out of our heads!

"Here's an animal you should know. H-I-P-P-O! Big and round, their skin is gray. They like to swim in the water all day. Here's an animal you should know. H-I-P-P-O!"

Next time you see him, you ought to ask him to show you the snake song. The motions had me rolling the first time he demonstrated. It took me ten minutes to catch my breath and another day to stop crying when I thought about how silly he was. Turns out serious, cautious Peter has quite a funny streak. Whodathunk?