Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Wheeled Footwear Part II

Last night Grace FELL whilst heely-ing around the kitchen.
Bruised her knees, and sprained her wrist. I asked her to leave the shoes OFF for the night at least...she did, accompanied by much sulking.
Today, she's sporting an ACE bandage, but is back on the wheels. Sigh.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sweaty Flowers

This is a mushy, drippy, mom-soaked blog-post about my boy. Read at your own risk.
Each one of my children have their own corner of my heart that they alone own.
But my youngest son has always held a special, different place there. From the time he was born I saw something different in him. He has always loved unconditionally. He has always loved me unconditionally. From the time he could walk, it was always his unconscious habit to bring me flowers. I honestly don't think that as a toddler, he ever really thought "I should give mom flowers." I think it's always been an unconscious gesture of happiness, goodness, and love.
Imagine little grubby fingers clutching stolen weeds from a neighbors yard, or our yard, loving offered up to me. Imagine long spring and summer days spent outside doing the mysterious running around that boys do... he would occasionally pop inside with a purple or yellow or white offering.
When he was old enough to walk home from school, I knew that Spring had officially arrived by the bouquets that would appear in his hands when he walked in the door. Not every day, but often enough. I know that he would wait anxiously for the lilacs that grow wild at the top of the street to bloom...then I would receive those until they were gone.
Twice in the past month I have once again received random offerings of flowers from my boy. Today I came home to a pot of lovely summer colored store-packaged blooms. Just because.
He probably has no idea that I was imagining a chubby, grubby little hand with squished weeds in it....these flowers mean just as much as those long-ago offered ones. They're from the same boy, now a man, who loves his mommy unconditionally.
I'm sure he doesn't know that I cherish each and every day...each and every minute that I have him HERE with me...I'm already consciously, and unconsciously, counting down the days until he leaves me. Roughly 608 days from now. He's been mine alone for roughly 6,325 days....I'm not done with him yet. I still feel like there is so much left to teach him, to talk about, to DO. And, I imagine, still a few bouquets yet to be offered, and received. Maybe one of them will be sweaty and wilted....
I warned you. And, yes, he is going to make some lucky girl very, very happy someday.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Wheeled Footwear

Sigh. These are the Heelys that Grace got for Christmas. Wait. Let me back up a minute.
Last year, my sister-in-law gifted us (along with several bags of marvelous outgrown clothes) a pair of Heelys that my niece had outgrown. After 2 days of tears and falls, Grace mastered the art of Heely-ing. She loved it! Then she outgrew them. Believe me, she stuffed her feet in them painfully until the absolute last possible moment.
SO that was the only thing she wanted for Christmas. She received them. THEY HAVE BEEN ON HER FEET EVERY POSSIBLE WAKING MINUTE SINCE.
You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not. The second she wakes up in the morning they go on. She wears them until the second carpool drives up to the house, then grudgingly puts on her school shoes. The very second she walks in the door after school; Heelys go back on. She rolls from the kitchen to the entry way to the front door. Over and over and over. All night long. She cannot even sit for dinner...every time we turn around she's back up on her wheels rolling back and forth to and from the table. Family game time on Sundays? Constantly on her feet rolling back and forth from the table when it's not her turn. Even when it IS her turn.
In her jammies? Feet-jammies? No problem. She stuffs her feeted-jammy-feet into the heelys. And continues to roll around the house. They only leave her feet when she climbs in bed at night.
She begs to go to WalMart or Smith's...they are a wheely-heely dream. She loves to hang on to the side of the cart and sling shot herself down the aisles.
Good times.
But it's slowly driving the rest of us nuts. I hear the sound of wheels bumping along in my sleep. I find myself begging "sit down!" to anyone in my vicinity...it's a habit now.
What is going to happen when she grows out of this pair......I'll bet I could get the rest of the family to chip in and bribe her to NOT get another set of wheels.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Latest Quotes From Our Post-it Wall

Grace: " Like Puffle Rescue!" Jillian: "Yeah! I could play that for HOURS!"

Ryan: "I like being Amish with the camels."

Grace: "I just touched the gums of my eye!"

Grace: "Can you get me some ice water? With ice in it?"

Grace: "I just figured out that ice makes things cold."

Andrew: "OUCH. I just waxed my arm with tape."

Jillian: " There was an incident. With the nacho cheese machine, ok?"

Tyler: "Did you say GOLDFISH BREATH!?"

Ryan: "Your tooth was saying 'let me out!'" Grace: "Now it's suffocating in a bag..."

Mom: "Did Snickers lick my cheese?"

Ryan: "She just combed my hair with a DOG BRUSH."

Grace: "I know which one of my teeth is 'Q'."

Ryan: "IT BURNS!"

Grace: "Does Snickers have ear wax?"

Jillian: "I'm feeling kind of funny-bunny-ish right now."