Big Boy Bed

It has finally happened…the ALMOST four year old baby of the family got his very own BIG BOY BED.

I can’t believe it.

The babies are gone.

The cribs are put away along with the rocking chairs, the bottles, the teeny tiny baby outfits and the sweet warm breath of the newborn.

They all have suddenly crossed over.  Crossed over from babies into big, tall, loud hooligans that joke and sing and fight and tease and laugh and laugh and laugh.

The beauty in all this…I wouldn’t go back nor would I change it for the world.

Onward big kids!

The Wrong Reach

Do you ever reach up for something in your closet and suddenly realize the thing you are going straight for looks VERY much like the item you want but is soooo not?

I have two Wrong Reach itmes that seem to happen to me ALL THE TIME:

1. The Beach bottle – it looks just like the laundry bottle
2. The Preperation H tube – I always think it’s my toothpaste

Neither would be good.

What Kind of Art is in your closet?

Over the past two months I have had the opportunity to go into PJ’s school to show and discuss different pieces of art from the MIA with her class. Today we showed our last two pieces, from a grouping of eight, that portrayed either Friends, Families, or Foes.

As I was reading about the art and preparing what I was going to say, I began to wonder how the disscussion of death, burial, spirits and memorials were going to go over with these little ones. I decided to tread lightly and just see where it would end up on its own.

As my art partner was “on” telling the kids about how this particular sculpture would be buried with a dead family member, so that they could still have their family, friends and everything else they use to enjoy in life with them, a little boy raised his hand. She nodded to him and he said, “my mom has grandpas bones in a suitcase…she didn’t like him much…he smoked a lot.”

And then somehow she gracefully let that one slide right on by.

Hey You…Happy Easter!

Bunny Face

Originally uploaded by sellke

Time for the talk?

We were sitting on the couch this afternoon reading a story.  CT sat to my left, PJ to my right and KP on my lap.  As the story progressed so did the number of times KP put his hands down his pants.

I simply asked him, “Hey, what’s going on there?”  His response, “I just can’t get it to stay down.”  CT pipes in, “Oh little buddy I know…sometimes those bones get real stiff.”

Boys, sticks and warm sun

Let the sun shineth in and warmeth the earth! Just a little glimpse of our sweet spring to come.

Not slutty by nature

I am not one who likes to go to dress up parties. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like Halloween all that much.

That said, we just went to our friend Lars’ 40th birthday party. He’s British, so the theme was Come As Your Favorite Brit. After my long deep breath and several searches on line for famous British people, there were several I thought I might be able to pull off:  The Queen, Margaret Thatcher, one of The Beatles or maybe even Mick Jagger (I do have the mouth). Adam suggested crash car Diana, which I LOVED, but it felt a little too wrong to pull off but still a stellar idea.

I have only had two successful encounters with dressing up as someone else. The first is when I went as Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. I wish I had a picture because it was fierce! I had the hair, the white shirt, the pants and the srynge sticking out of my chest. Now that was fun.

Last weekend I chose someone I hadn’t even heard of. Funny enough my 73 year old dad asked me who I was going as and when I said, “Some woman named Amy Winehouse.” His response was, “Oh that singing drug addict slut?”

And some how with George Micheal at my side, it got pulled off and was actually fun. Just don’t make me do it for another 7 years.

What NO three-year-old should know

While we were in the car today KP said to me, “Mom, Indiana Jones and Luke Skywalker’s friend, the one with the vest…they have the same voice.”

I will thank my wonderful husband for imparting such wisdom to my small, precious, malleable, and purest of snow youngest son.

Kick off to crazyville

Today is the first day of Triathlon training.

What is so funny about this is that two weeks ago I had decided to take myself out of doing the 1/2 iron man altogether, it just felt like too much.  The whole “thing” felt like so much that I wasn’t excited AT ALL, to do any of it.  And let me tell you friends, that is way too much training to not want to do it.

What is even more funny, is that I do this ever year BUT forget that I do it.   What I mean by “this” is that I am never excited to start this training and then I feel like I don’t want to do it because there must be something wrong with me that I am not excited because who would’nt be excited about working out 15 hours a week?  and being tired all the time?  and having your butt go numb on your bike seat?  and having your legs cramp?  and your eyes having perpetual red swollen rings around them due to your goggles?

But thank goodness for Jen. For the past three years she has gotten to hear me bitch and moan at this very same point every year.  And every year she has said to me, “Yeah, you said the same thing last year, don’t you remember?”

This just proves that I’m not getting lazy and loosing my edge.  It just means I’m loosing my MIND!

Hair Genetics

All three of my kids have different types of hair.

CT has a TON of hair that is thick, wavy and beads off water like a Labrador. PJ on the other hand, still has a lot of hair, but it is very soft and straight. Now KP, he lost the genetic hair gamble. He has hair that doesn’t look like it ever really came in all the way, is very thin and almost dry looking, sticks out all over the place and is pin straight.

Every time I bring him into get his haircut I shutter to think of how he will look walking out because he usually ends up looking like he has a floating hair piece on. By now you now I don’t feel too strongly about my children looking coiffed, perfect or like they have just walked off the pages of a magazine. I’m just lucky if I get their hair combed and their teeth brushed.

His hair has been so crazy as of late that I just stopped combing it all together, it gave him a funny little attitude and actually goes with his personality. Ok, I’m not even sure what the hell that means, but it makes sense none the less (that’s why I added the photos).

Today we had nothing better to do in the still freezing Minnesota winter so we took a long needed trip to the barber. He sits in the chair and the hairstylist says to me, “Mom, what are we going to do today?” I laugh and tell her I have no idea. Then I explain how I don’t want him to look like he has a toupee or like his hair is just floating on top of his head and attached with tape which is what they normally do to him.

She gives him a look over, pulls his hair up, messes it up and pushes it around, then tells me he needs to grow it. She continues to asses his head and his cowlicks that are ALL over. I made some joke about him not winning the family hair lottery and she laughs and says it is pretty hard when your hair line starts HALF WAY UP YOUR HEAD.

So she cleaned it up and left me with the instruction of not growing it into a mullet and not growing it too long where he looks like a girl. With that sage advice we were off and when Adam came home he said, “Did KP get his haircut today? He looks like Moe.”

I guess we’ll keep trying!