Can’t decide…

Is it safe to put away my winter boots or not?

Is that school policy?

Yesterday I got to take a break from my motherly duties. My mother came over early to help get the kids on the bus and then took KP for the day. Her wonderful gesture enabled me to volunteer for an amazing event to help the homeless called Project Homeless Connect.

After my volunteer duties were done, I walked out the doors of the Convention Center, sat in my car and listened to my phone messages. What is the one call I had…the school. The school had called three hours earlier to tell me PJ had barfed all over her classroom on their way to lunch.

So I called home, Adam had picked her up and all was fine. Then I got a call from a friend, who also has a child in PJ’s class. She wanted to share a really funny story with me. Then I got an email from Mrs. Bickerson, with a very similar story.

The story goes something like this…ALL PJ’S CLASSMATES HELPED WIPE UP THE BARF SHE SPLATTERED AROUND THE CLASSROOM. Then proceeded to lunch, without washing their hands.

It is at this point in the telling where I need to say to the mothers in PJ’s class, I’m sorry, I hope your kids don’t get sick and who’s going to talk to the teachers about the hazmat suits?

I’m Seventy F*&%!*# Three!

Happy 73rd Birthday Dad!

Enjoy every ounce of it.

I love you!

Better than snow

April showers bring May flowers…hopefully.

Sibling love

Every week CT and his classmates have a handful of Independent Work that the teacher gives out to fill some time. In this packet of papers there is always a Top Ten List.

This weeks list was, The Top 10 List: Things that make you feel mad.

CT wrote:

1. PJ

2. PJ sleeping

3. PJ playing

4. PJ looking

5. PJ playing her radeo

The teacher’s response, in red pen…REALLY?

Cash kid style

Back in the dead of winter when I was visiting my friend Anne Marie and her family in Boston, they had this great Johnny Cash CD that played in baby H’s room.

This same CD has been playing in our car for MONTHS and MONTHS and MONTHS. I can attest that it is one of the most wonderful children’s CD’s out there, if you like Johnny Cash that is. He doesn’t pull any punches by being cutesy, he is straight up Johnny. And, you get a little love from June too.

CT just asked yesterday if he could bring the CD to school and sing one of the songs for a talent show. If that isn’t a glowing endorsement, I don’t know what is.

Peeking through the mail slot

What do you see out your front door?

Old Coot

I’m at the point in my training were I start playing little games with myself, talking to myself and talking myself into thinking that all this working out is really good for me.

Last year I decided to name my inner voice. Last week was a little tough and I actually was wondering where the hell Helen had gone. She hadn’t shown up yet or been shouting out positive reinforcement. But, I am happy to announce, she showed up yesterday. She’s still nice, but I think she went to boot camp over the winter because she’s a bit tougher than I remember.

Two weeks ago, after a 15 mile run, my big toe joint hurt so bad I thought I was going to throw up for several days. I decided to take my sock off and actually look at it and realized over the cold hard winter, that my right toe now slants real nice like waaay to the right and has a bony protrusion that accompanies it. It’s been a bit of a bitch and a pain that made me feel like I am actually (dare I say it?) getting old. Because let’s face it, do you see a lot of 23 year olds walking around with bunions?

So, now that I have an inner voice talking to me and a foot that is screaming at me most of the time, I decided that it was time to name her…her the bunion. And I have named her Agnes.

I really think I hit the name on the head with Agnes, as far as a name goes, until today. Since I have been teaching swimming lessons and training, I have been in the pool a lot and have gotten to see and chat with a lot of the “regulars”. Well, there is this one ol’gal who is crotchety as the day is long, complains about EVERYTHING, says she won’t ever come back (but always does), says the temperature is always wrong, it’s too hard to get around with her walker, and on and on and on.

Today, the pool was busy. This ol’gal was there, she was complaining about there being no space for her. I asked her if she wanted to share a lane. She told me the last time she tried to share a lane with someone the girl clawed at her with her fingernails and left a mark. I told her I wouldn’t do that and she was more than welcome to share with me.

As I swam, I began to realize I had named my bunion the wrong name. My bunion needed to be named whatever this old coots name was, because she is how my bunion sounds. As I got out of the pool, her gear was sitting on the edge. I looked down and noticed that something was written on her flotation belt, and hopefully it was her name.

As she swam the almost drowning side stroke, I waited until she was at the other end of the pool so there would be absolutely no way she could see me rearrange her things. When I felt safe, I moved the towel off the belt. And what name did I see?

MARY.

First Kiss

I’m not one to like “goodie bags” from birthday parties. So instead of handing out a ton of candy or a bunch of plastic crap I decided to get one large (oh about the size of an adult females fist) Jaw Breaker for the small handful of boys CT had to his birthday party.

After his friends had gone home and the house was quiet, I found CT hanging out with his jaw breaker in the basement. He broke the wonderful silence by yelling out, “Hey mom!”

Me: What?

CT: I’m making out with my jaw breaker.

Me: You’re whaaaaat?

CT: I’m making out with my jaw breaker.

Me: What does that mean?

CT: Uummmm, I don’t know…something about love?????

Eight is GREAT!

Dear CT,

Here we sit with the sun shinning in, it is April 4th again and you are rolling yet another year older.

It’s so true what people say about time passing in the blink of an eye. How on earth are you eight today? Just yesterday you were three months old, snuggled on my chest, fitting perfectly between my chin and legs, warming my very core as I watched you breath.

You, my boy, have grown into an amazing eight year old. I delight in your whimsy, I am awe-struck by your tenderness, and I am filled with utter pride at how you have persevered with your studies.

You, my boy, are a good friend, a gentle brother, and a caring soul.

You, my boy, are filled with silly, jokes and on many occasions just can’t get enough.

You, my boy, have freckles to die for, hair that has a life of it’s own and a physicality built for sports.

You, my boy, our first-born son, the child who changed our world in an instant on this day eight years ago, you my boy…are a joy.

I love you. May 8 be nothing but GREAT!

Love,

Mom