Pitter Patter Really is a Noise

It is official, the Boy no longer stays in his bed until we come and get him or tell him he can get down. Everyone kept telling me that his staying in bed until we got him out or after we put him down for the night wouldn't last long...3 months was his limit.

The other night, The Husband and I were out weeding the flower beds after The Boy was in bed. He has always taken his time falling asleep, he sings, talks to his Bear Bosco, etc., etc. Baby (I guess it should be Toddler now) monitor in hand, I walked over to grab some gardening tool and the talking orginally coming from the monitor just stopped. I thought it was strange that he was asleep already, but passed it off to a long day of playing outside. I turn around and there is the Boy standing at the front door looking out at us waving. That was on Sunday night. It is now Friday morning and the Boy has ventured out of his bed after lights out every night this week. How he ventures out has changed night to night. Sometimes he is carrying "blue blanket" and Bosco. Sometimes he comes out saying "I took a good nap momma!" And, sometimes he just comes out to see what's going on...he is so afraid he is going to miss all the fun.

While I am not the biggest fan of the night time strolls, I have quite enjoyed the morning shows. The boy wakes up between 6 and 6:30 every morning. (I feel your pity!) Now, since he gets out of bed on his own, he pitter patters down the hallway into our bedroom to wake us up. We are already awake of course, he is not the quietest riser...but having him "wake" us up with all his enthusiasm and love is just the best. This morning he was silent while making his trek except for the sound of his feet hitting the hard wood floors. He came into our room and tapped Husband on the back, then climbed up in bed, gave hugs all around and said "I love you, time to get up." He is the best alarm clock. I wonder if there will ever be a snooze function on him.

A World of Privilege

The past 24 hours have been very contemplative for me. I left work yesterday after having a conversation with a couple of folks about living in excess and have been thinking about what that means for me and my family ever since. One of my colleagues was sharing a story about a doctor friend of his who makes six figures a year, but has no real material items. He sold his house and now rents a room for $300 a month from a friend. He drives a Honda with over 100,000 miles on it. He does like to travel, but only does so a couple times a year and never buys souvenirs or trinkets from the places he visit. Granted, he is single and without children, but I left thinking how much simpler his life must be because he doesn't worry about "stuff." You know, how much stuff he has, what to do with the stuff and why he doesn't have the same stuff his friends have.

Our Nation lives in excess. Think about it, how many pairs of shoes do you have? I know I have at least twenty, but was thinking yesterday afternoon that I needed to shop for more summer sandals. What is the least you could get by with having? How much food from the fridge do you throw away the day you go grocery shopping or at night after dinner? Lastly, what are we teaching children (our own, nieces or nephews, those we mentor)about the "stuff" they have, want or need? These were/are my thoughts. Then this morning, my morning show personalities read a letter on the radio talking about getting our kids "stuff." The basic premise was that we get our kids "stuff" in an effort to show them we love them. I found myself wondering if I do that. The Boy doesn't have nearly as much "stuff" as most of the other kids his age I know, but he does still have a room full of "stuff" and it's not his bedroom. I am a working mom and often feel guilt for not staying home with the Boy, but does that play out in the things I get for him? Did I buy the 2 gallon bucket of bubbles for him the other day because I unconsciously feel guilty that I haven't spent enough time with him this week?

I am guilty of the "why can't we have that?" mentality and feel so selfish and shallow when I have those feelings. But, some of the time, friends do not understand why we can't get furniture for our living room or spend $50 on dinner, especially if they can. Our family is very blessed. We truly want for nothing and have much more than many other families could even imagine. I am getting better at believing that and giving back to those who don't have as much as we do. I hope to teach the Boy the value of simple living, philanthropy and service. I especially hope to teach him that the "stuff" we give him doesn't indicate our love for him and that his worth isn't defined by how much "stuff" he has.

Morning Conversation

It has been absolutely beautiful in the Bluegrass State this week and the great weather has made it possible for the windows to be down in the car. Loud giggles came from the back seat today as I was driving the Boy to school.

Momma: What are you laughing at?
The Boy: I'm touching the wind
Momma: Oh, what does it feel like?
The Boy: The wind.

A Gardener in the Making

It is true, boys love dirt. As a child, I liked dirt too, but I was what people refer to as a Tomboy. Growing up with two brothers and generally prefering the company of boys as a child will do that to you I guess. The fam found out this weekend just how much the Boy loves dirt, rocks and flowers.

It should come as no surprise that the Husband and I know nothing about gardening. We are not sure how this happened as we have family members who are avid gardeners, but we didn't get that gene. Apparantly the Boy did. His Great Grandma Ellen should be proud as she is a magnificent gardener and the Boy is shaping up to be one as well. If we could just get him to understand that he cannot step on the planted flowers, we will have better success.

Needless to say, our yard is in dire need of assistance and The Husband and I are flying by the seat of our pants. I don't think it helped that the previous homeowners did quite a number with mesh and mulch, not too mention planting a bleeding heart next to day lillies, next to a flowering bush...repeat pattern. It is a mess. We weeded our front beds (so much fun, let me tell you) and split the day lillies. The day lillies don't look so good, but we hope they will bounce back. Then, we made a trip to Home Depot to search for flowers to put in the flower beds.

The Boy picked all the colors, but was slightly upset there were no blue flowers. We went with impatients and something that looks like a daisy, but has a name that refers to lemons. We had a hard time deciphering if these plants would work under a tree and if the front flower beds get some sun, a lot of sun or no sun. Who knew picking plants would be so difficult. Enter water, dirt, a trowel, two adults who aren't exactly sure of what they are doing and one very excited two-year old. A few hours later, the flower bed looked great. A two-year old really slows you down. The Boy's favorite part was pouring water on the plants with the watering can. He thought the flowers were taking a shower. The Boy was so dirty when it was all said and done. He had dirt everywhere. I am serious when I say that his bath water was brown. Ick!

We aren't sure how the flowers will fare given our lack of knowledge, but we are hopeful. After all, they were planted with love.

Music Expresses That Which Cannot Be Put Into Word

On the way into work today, I was flipping through radio stations looking for one without commercials and heard the song "Brick House" by the Commodores. For those of you who know me well, you understand that music is important to me. I know the lyrics of almost every song I have ever heard. The play list in my head ranges from bands like Reel Big Fish to The Bread, and I am now well versed in today's most popular preschool music thanks to the Boy. I am not the biggest fan of country music, but still know the words to most country songs. Need Vacation Bible School songs, I am your girl. I am a walking MP3 player.

The great thing about music for me is that most songs are tied to people and/or memories. When I heard "Brick House" this morning, it made me think of one of my best friends instantly. Mandy and I have been friends for over 10 years (yikes) and "Brick House" always brings me back to our weekly outings to a dance club our freshman year of college. Mandy is also tied to "If You Think I am Sexy" by Rod Steward and "Peaches" by the Presidents of the United States of America. Both of those songs helped us get through an 8 AM biology class, Diversity of Organisms...our professor had a habit of bringing stuffed, as in taxidermied, animals to that class, just a little bit of random info for ya.

Other songs to note...

"Roxanne" by the Police = the Husband
"Witchy Woman" by the Eagles and anything by Stevie Nicks = my Dad
UofL Fight Song = My friend Beth...often in college she and another student would pretend to be UofL cheerleaders and were pretty darn good at it not to be on the squad.
"Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears = my friend caela who was once dressed up by her staff as BS and for the fact that I received every BS CD courtesy of caela (I think I have some weird obsession with her...Britney Spears, that is, not caela.)
"Travelin' Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks = my friend in the Big D, Missy
"Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi = 5th grade crush Joey Stewart, my first couple skate partner...ahh young love.

Music helps me get through the day. Music has healed me. Music makes me laugh and cry. I am so glad I found it!

Monkey See, Monkey Do

My husband has a strange habit that drives me absolutely crazy. At this point, I think he does it more to annoy me than out of habit, but I'm not sure. Every now and then while eating dinner, Husband will end up with a speck of food, usually a condiment, somewhere on his face. Not a big deal, it happens to the best of us, right? I kindly tell him, "Honey you have something on your face, right there." (imagine me pointing to the vicinity of the spillage)

It doesn't matter what the food or condiment is, ever time, instead of using a napkin, my husband will try to get the illusive mess off by using his tongue. I know, it is disgusting, but he does it EVERY time. Not too long ago I shared with my beloved that I did not want the Boy to pick up this habit. My husband assured me that the Boy wasn't even paying attention when he did things like that. Every mother out there shares my feeling that children see EVERYTHING, even when you think they are NOT watching. But, being the good wife, I again let the topic go.

Enter BBQ chicken night. The fam was dining on a lovely meal of BBQ chicken. I look over at the Boy and he has BBQ sauce all over his face. I say, "Sweetie, you have BBQ sauce on your face." What does he do? He tries to get it off using his tongue. I guess that is what happens when he is not watching.

Happy Mother's Day

I have heard that many people believe Mother's Day, Father's Day, Grandparent's Day, etc. are ploys of the card companies to make money. I think I used to believe that to be partially true too, but after this Mother's Day, I say keep it coming.

The Boy has gotten to a developmental point where he understands celebrations. Birthday parties are especially exciting for him to the point where he asks weekly whose b-day party he is going to on Saturday. I wasn't expecting a lot of hoopla from him specifically this weekend in regards to Mom's Day, but I was wrong. He was totally into it.

When I picked him up from school of Friday, he was so excited about the present he made for me. It was a lovely flower pot with a pansy planted in it. He wanted to show it to me as soon as I walked into the door. "I made you present!," he said over and over. It was very cute, but still no mention of why he made me a present. I had to work most of the morning and afternoon on Saturday. When I got home and the Boy woke up from his nap, he kept talking to me about painting. I wasn't what he was talking about, but he was adamant about paint. I thought he wanted to paint and he didn't. I was oblivious and confused.

So, imagine my surprise on Sunday morning, Mother's Day when the Boy walked into the bedroom where I was still sleeping at 7:30 AM (thank you husband!) carrying a gift bag and a piece of yellow construction paper. The Boy screams, "Happy Mother's Day! Open the present." He was so excited and full of I Love Yous. The card was homemade, he even attempted to write his name. And, the present was beautiful. The Boy (with help) made me a picture frame. The picture inside is one of the two of us at bedtime reading a book. The Boy painted the matte inside the frame. It is great. The best gifts, however, were the hugs and kisses, the I love yous and the repeated Happy Mother's Days. I love it.

The great thing is that none of the sentiment or gifts were expensive or commercialized versions of the day to honor a mom. Who needs the card companies, when you have finger paints and construction paper?

Tweet, Tweet

Young children are amazingly innocent. I love the fact that to the Boy, everything is amazing. It truly makes you see things in a different light and for me, that is so refreshing.

Every night, when Kentucky weather cooperates, the fam takes a walk around the neighborhood. Last night upon returning to our house, we spotted a robin's eggshell on the drive way. The first thing Husband and I thought...a baby bird died. But upon further investigation, the babies had just hatched. We could hear their little tweets coming from a nest behind a shutter on the front on the house.

We showed the Boy the shell and had him listen to the birds, he was absolutely amazed. We went into the house and the Boy said, "Where the baby birds go? I want to see them."

I took him back out to the front of the house, showed him the nest, let him listen so more. He then asked where the mommy bird was and if he could hold the babies. I explained that the babies were too small to be touched. He then wanted to kiss the baby birds. The birds then stopped chirping and The Boy concluded they had gone to sleep.

The whole discussion was so sweet and full of excitement. I don't remember the last time I felt like he must have felt to experience something new. I guess it must have been when The Boy was born for me. I love living in his world, if only we could all react to things with as much enthusiasm, compassion and ah as a two-year old does. Wouldn't that be a wonderful world?

Yesterday's Conversation

The Boy: I want a story momma.
Momma: I just read you a story.
The Boy: That's not a story, that is a book.

He was right, I read him a book.

In a Crowd of 8 Year Olds

After many years of waiting, I was finally baptized this weekend. Woo Hoo! It was a great experience. While I have been a believer in Christ for many years, I never got baptized. Timing, comfort, etc. kept it from happening.

After a year of searching, the fam finally found a church that we were comfortable joining. One of the pre-requisites for joining was getting baptized, thus the leap into the baptismal pool. Husband had already been baptized, not me. I don't know why I had been so reluctant. I guess I just didn't really see why I had to do it. If I believe in God, His Son and told people that, why did I need to be submerged in a body of water? I also suffered from the delusion that it would mean so much more if I were out in nature when it happened, like in the old movies. But, it doesn't matter where, I guess. I did it and I am happy I did.

So, what's with the title of this post? Well, there were approximately 10 people getting baptized on the same day as me. We all had to make a video telling our story. Let me just say I was the only one that didn't talk about my life being different because I don't fight with my siblings anymore. Yes, folks, everyone who got baptized with me wasunder the age of 10 years. I got to go first though, so kudos for age. And, I guess for me, it means more now than it would have even 5 years ago. I didn't think I would feel any different, but I do a little. And, a little tip for those of you who might be thinking of going under, the baptismal pool is warm!

Time Keeps on Slipping....

So, I have begun the count down to the big three-oh! Only 21 days (three weeks) until I turn 30. Yikes, where did the time go. Folks describe 30 as the new 40. I totally see it. It is no longer the mid-life crisis, it is the quarter life crisis.

Now, according to the definition of the quarter-life crisis, I should be passing this portion of my life on May 26th. No more worrying about my life or its meaning. That is a huge relief! I can't help but think that isn't true. I still don't know what I want to be when I "grow" up. I am built to be the kind of person who should know...it is a control issue thing. Alas, I am totally out of control in this arena. Someone send me a map to my life destination...please!

Arm = Plate

Last night the boy was eating peanut butter and apples for a snack. He was "so hungry" (his words, not mine). I like that snack too, and was recently reintroduced to it--thanks Emily!--and thought he would like it too. The boy can be clean and tidy when he eats, but that is not usually his MO. And per ususal his face and hands were covered with peanut butter after he finished his snack. As he was getting down off the couch to go wash his hands, he climbed on me and put his peanut buttery hands on my arm, leaving a dallop of it behind. He looked at me and said "Eat that peanut butter momma. Do you need an apple?" Needless to say, I smelled like peanut butter the rest of the night.

Ta Dah!

The verdict is officially in....the boy is potty trained! At 2 years and 3 months we have officially gone to wearing pull-ups only during nap time and while sleeping through the night. Phew! The Boy couldn't be more excited for himself. He announces very loudly "I have to pee, now!" everytime the urge strikes him. Gotta love his enthusiasm.

The fun thing has become the bedtime antics around going to the bathroom. Not only has the boy mastered using the potty, he has also learned that he can take his clothes and pull up off any time he wants to throughout the night. Luckily, we haven't had an accident in the bed (he has been staying dry all night), but it is amusing to have him scream out to us that he has to pee only to walk into his room and see him standing on his step stool naked from the waste down ready to go pee, pull up in hand.