Originally posted 2/24/06
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I'm always amazed at the things kids say and the names they come up with for things that they don't know the real names for.
I remember my oldest coming up to me one day in the kitchen when he was about 4 or so and saying, "Can I have some...," and then he made this sound that is something akin to an angry Sleestack (if you're younger than 35, you probably have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about here; go Google Land of the Lost. Stupid show from the early 70's. Let it be said, though, that, if you were a young lady back in the day, you wanted nothing more to be chased by dinosaurs and rescued from Sleestack by Will. He was so hot!). I digress. So, my son makes this gargling/choking sound at me and I can't for the life of me figure it out. He just keeps repeating it. What I finally figure out is that he wants some whipped cream sprayed in his mouth. The choking sound being the sound that it makes when you spray the cream (God, that just didn't sound right).
There was also the night we were having homemade pizza. We like pineapple bits on our pepperoni pizza and, upon breaking out the container, Alex excitedly yells, "I know what those are! Those are pizza lemons!" Of course; what else would they be??
So, the other night, Ryan took his turn. The boys are getting ready for bed, doing the whole pj thing and, naturally, leaving their clothes wherever they see fit. It seems they believe that some magical vaccum comes and picks them up sometime within the next 24 hours and spits them out clean. In an effort to create children that are not complete and total slobs, though, we reminded them to pick them up and "take care of them". Ryan pipes up, "I know where they go; I know where they go! They go in the clothes toilet!" Exactly. Where else would you put clothing that your body has now defiled? The clothes toilet.
I'm so lucky. I've never heard anyone else say that they have a clothes toilet. I must be the first on my block. How rich am I?? I have three!!!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
A Smack In the Face
Originally posted 2/23/06; Ryan still won't play catch with anyone
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Don't know why I thought of this but this last summer Ryan did something that just cracked me up. My sister-in-law was over for dinner with her family and this is his very favorite aunt. Her name is Christina but Alex couldn't say that when he was little so she became Aunt Teenie and has been ever since. Well, Ryan loves Teenie almost more than me. He says he loves us both the same ("as big as the garage") but it is a pic of him as a baby with her that he has insisted on having in his room in a frame that says I ♥ My Mommy. Yes, a kick in the gut everytime I enter the room, but I'm learning to live with it.
So, she's here for dinner and we're bbq-ing and eating out on the back patio. While we're waiting for dinner to start, Ryan and Teenie go into the yard to play catch. He has a mitt that's just his size and she's using Barry's. He's done this before with other family members and did as well as most freshly turned (he'd let you know that, too; "freshly turned" he'd say after telling someone he was now 4) 4 year olds do. So, she is tossing the ball underhand to him and he does OK until about the third or fourth throw. Then it comes...the toss that he misses and hits him square in the face. This is a baseball, too. Not some twinky Nerf thing or a wiffleball or something.
It's worth noting here that Ryan is subject to fits of real anger. He's done it since before he could even say real words. He would scream at us in his babble and shake his finger at us and go on and on and then stomp out of the room. Just when you thought you were safe, he'd stick his head around the corner again and go at you again. Very much a "furthermore and another thing" type of deal. As he's gotten older, I swear the boy has been working on his arguing skills. He's got an argument for EVERYTHING.
So, he gets hit in the face and the sweet little boy that began playing catch with his beloved Teenie contorts into this evil little beast. Something akin to the movie Gremlins. His twisted little face looks at her and screams, "You hit me! You suck at this game!" And then he marches off. It was probably one of the most priceless moments in his little life. He hasn't played catch since.
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Don't know why I thought of this but this last summer Ryan did something that just cracked me up. My sister-in-law was over for dinner with her family and this is his very favorite aunt. Her name is Christina but Alex couldn't say that when he was little so she became Aunt Teenie and has been ever since. Well, Ryan loves Teenie almost more than me. He says he loves us both the same ("as big as the garage") but it is a pic of him as a baby with her that he has insisted on having in his room in a frame that says I ♥ My Mommy. Yes, a kick in the gut everytime I enter the room, but I'm learning to live with it.
So, she's here for dinner and we're bbq-ing and eating out on the back patio. While we're waiting for dinner to start, Ryan and Teenie go into the yard to play catch. He has a mitt that's just his size and she's using Barry's. He's done this before with other family members and did as well as most freshly turned (he'd let you know that, too; "freshly turned" he'd say after telling someone he was now 4) 4 year olds do. So, she is tossing the ball underhand to him and he does OK until about the third or fourth throw. Then it comes...the toss that he misses and hits him square in the face. This is a baseball, too. Not some twinky Nerf thing or a wiffleball or something.
It's worth noting here that Ryan is subject to fits of real anger. He's done it since before he could even say real words. He would scream at us in his babble and shake his finger at us and go on and on and then stomp out of the room. Just when you thought you were safe, he'd stick his head around the corner again and go at you again. Very much a "furthermore and another thing" type of deal. As he's gotten older, I swear the boy has been working on his arguing skills. He's got an argument for EVERYTHING.
So, he gets hit in the face and the sweet little boy that began playing catch with his beloved Teenie contorts into this evil little beast. Something akin to the movie Gremlins. His twisted little face looks at her and screams, "You hit me! You suck at this game!" And then he marches off. It was probably one of the most priceless moments in his little life. He hasn't played catch since.
She's Gone
Originally posted 2/21/06
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At about 12:27 am eastern time this morning, my dear Gram passed away. I am totally fine and at peace knowing she finally is. Knowing that she is finally, once again looking into the face of her dear son, my dad, that she put in the ground 4 years and 6 days ago.
My Gram was so wonderful and I got the very best of her when I was there recently. That Wednesday when I was there when she was such a chatterbox was the last good day she had and I got it. Selfish? Maybe. I'm OK with being selfish in regards to my time with her. She told me then that she always wanted to be a bird. I told her to spread her wings and just fly. She finally has and I can only guess that the view is full of colors this world has never seen.
Once again, I realize how blessed I am to have had this beautiful bird fly into my life.
===============================
At about 12:27 am eastern time this morning, my dear Gram passed away. I am totally fine and at peace knowing she finally is. Knowing that she is finally, once again looking into the face of her dear son, my dad, that she put in the ground 4 years and 6 days ago.
My Gram was so wonderful and I got the very best of her when I was there recently. That Wednesday when I was there when she was such a chatterbox was the last good day she had and I got it. Selfish? Maybe. I'm OK with being selfish in regards to my time with her. She told me then that she always wanted to be a bird. I told her to spread her wings and just fly. She finally has and I can only guess that the view is full of colors this world has never seen.
Once again, I realize how blessed I am to have had this beautiful bird fly into my life.
The Art of Shopping
Originally posted 2/15/06; I'm not so sure that Ryan understands shopping any better now.
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So, yesterday, Ryan and I are out at JoAnn Fabric picking up 50% Valentine's Day stuff for our Cupid's Cafe dinner at home (don't roll your eyes; it was fun and was done mostly for the kids). I was hoping to find some little dish to put my homemade pink butter in but didn't find anything so we went over to Tuesday Morning. We go in and walk every single aisle in the store but don't find anything so we leave. We aren't even off the sidewalk in front of the store and he says to me, rather indignantly, "That's it? We went in there and aren't going to buy anything? What is that about?" I just looked at him and told him, "You're a boy. You don't understand the art of shopping."
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So, yesterday, Ryan and I are out at JoAnn Fabric picking up 50% Valentine's Day stuff for our Cupid's Cafe dinner at home (don't roll your eyes; it was fun and was done mostly for the kids). I was hoping to find some little dish to put my homemade pink butter in but didn't find anything so we went over to Tuesday Morning. We go in and walk every single aisle in the store but don't find anything so we leave. We aren't even off the sidewalk in front of the store and he says to me, rather indignantly, "That's it? We went in there and aren't going to buy anything? What is that about?" I just looked at him and told him, "You're a boy. You don't understand the art of shopping."
My Gram Is Dying
Originally posted 1/26/06; Gram passed close to a month after this being written. She would've turned 94 a couple of weeks ago. Gosh, I miss her.
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Life can be a real bitch sometimes. Watching someone you love die is worse. My gram is dying and I have to go say goodbye. How do you do that??? It's been nearly a year since I've seen her. Was in NY for her 90th birthday last March. She always said she would live to be 100 and we never doubted her. Cancer sucks.
My gram is a jewel. She is full of love and wrinkles. She is shorter than me and I love that. She holds your face with both hands when she kisses you. She rubs noses. She watches clouds and she's the best at it. She is full of mischief. She thinks she has a sister. She doesn't. She thinks the lady that takes care of her is nice. It's one of her own granddaughters and she doesn't remember her. She took me to Disneyworld when I was 12. Just me and her. She went on every ride with me and I still have the stuffed Thumper that she bought me. She is cool. Before Barry and I got married, she told me that we could live together as long as we wanted without getting married and even have babies and that was OK. My gram rocks. She tells the best stories. Even when she's talking nonsense. She helped me make my first snowman. I was 2 and it leaned to the side something awful but I have a picture of us with it just the same. When I was 2 she put a ball of yellow play-doh and a ball of blue play-doh in the can together and we closed it up tight right before I went to bed. In the morning there was a ball of green in there. My gram is magic, you know. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. My gram is the color pink when it is soft and and smells sweet. She is radiant when she wears that color. She is radiant even when she's wearing something else. My gram would fight tigers to protect her family. But she can't now. She loves ice cream. A lot. Me, too. She has the Hartman nose. So does my son Ryan. My gram loved my dad something fierce and misses him so much. So do I. She has grace and style like no woman I have ever met or heard of. She has a laugh that makes fairies giggle. She makes everyone that meets her fall in love with who she is. She's just that way. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. I don't even know if she'll know who I am.
Losing someone precious is like having your guts torn out. I leave on Sunday to fly east. I will have five days to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me and how much I will miss her. How much I'm thankful for who she is and who she's made me. How do you say that to someone that doesn't even know you?
=========================================
Life can be a real bitch sometimes. Watching someone you love die is worse. My gram is dying and I have to go say goodbye. How do you do that??? It's been nearly a year since I've seen her. Was in NY for her 90th birthday last March. She always said she would live to be 100 and we never doubted her. Cancer sucks.
My gram is a jewel. She is full of love and wrinkles. She is shorter than me and I love that. She holds your face with both hands when she kisses you. She rubs noses. She watches clouds and she's the best at it. She is full of mischief. She thinks she has a sister. She doesn't. She thinks the lady that takes care of her is nice. It's one of her own granddaughters and she doesn't remember her. She took me to Disneyworld when I was 12. Just me and her. She went on every ride with me and I still have the stuffed Thumper that she bought me. She is cool. Before Barry and I got married, she told me that we could live together as long as we wanted without getting married and even have babies and that was OK. My gram rocks. She tells the best stories. Even when she's talking nonsense. She helped me make my first snowman. I was 2 and it leaned to the side something awful but I have a picture of us with it just the same. When I was 2 she put a ball of yellow play-doh and a ball of blue play-doh in the can together and we closed it up tight right before I went to bed. In the morning there was a ball of green in there. My gram is magic, you know. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. My gram is the color pink when it is soft and and smells sweet. She is radiant when she wears that color. She is radiant even when she's wearing something else. My gram would fight tigers to protect her family. But she can't now. She loves ice cream. A lot. Me, too. She has the Hartman nose. So does my son Ryan. My gram loved my dad something fierce and misses him so much. So do I. She has grace and style like no woman I have ever met or heard of. She has a laugh that makes fairies giggle. She makes everyone that meets her fall in love with who she is. She's just that way. My gram is dying and I have to say goodbye to her. I don't even know if she'll know who I am.
Losing someone precious is like having your guts torn out. I leave on Sunday to fly east. I will have five days to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me and how much I will miss her. How much I'm thankful for who she is and who she's made me. How do you say that to someone that doesn't even know you?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
We're So Spoiled
Originally posted 1/26/09 And we're still spoiled...
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I was doing laundry the other night. Alex had an entire drawer full of socks but none of the ones that he REALLY likes so I had promised to do a load of socks so that he'd have some of the right kind for the next morning. (sidebar - God, I'm whipped) So...I only remember this at something like 10 at night so I go through the house collecting all the socks and underwear and white t-shirts I can find and go throw them in the washer. No big thing; the washer takes something like a half hour or so to finish it's cycle and I'll still be up to switch the laundry to the dryer. So, dryer time comes and it's now nearly 11 at night and my washer/dryer is in my uninsulated garage. GADS!! It was cold out there!! And it's not like a typical load of laundry that has pants and shirts wrapping thier arms and legs around each other so that you can grab a handful of whatever and pull out a third of the load all at once. Oh, no, this is mainly socks. You know how it goes...you grab a handful, which really only amounts to about 4 socks if you're lucky, and then while trying to transfer it to the dryer, one will fall out of your little pile and land in the lint and crap that gathers on the floor in front of the machines.
Anyway, I'm standing there in the cold, throwing socks 2 at a time into the dryer and thinking to myself that it's just plain f-ing cold in there and that makes me think of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I know, "Where the hell is she going with this???" is what you're asking. It made me think of one of her books where she was talking about doing wash and Ma has put it out on the line to dry but it's so damn cold outside that the clothes all freeze and they have to bring in the frozen shirts and stuff and dry them by the fire. That sucks. Plus, if you know it's damn cold out, why are you putting the stuff out there on the line in the first place??? Duh? Do they not teach you that in pioneer school?
I digress...so, it gets me thinking about how spoiled we really are. Really, how long have we been living with microwaves? 20 years or so? That's really not that long. Can you imagine NOT having one, though? Answering machine? Cell phone? Email? Cable? VCR? Crap, vcr's are so "old" that they're almost obsolete now and I don't think I got my first one until something like '91! We are spoiled. My kids freak if I don't let them watch tv or play video games for a whole 4 hour stretch. "I'm so bored..." they whine. We're spoiled.
Imagine going on vacation to find that there was no blowdryer in the room, or, even worse, no little shampoos! Gasp!! We're spoiled. Imagine not turning on the computer everyday. Imagine only watching network tv for a whole week. Imagine cartoons only being on until 9 am on weekdays and 11 am on Saturday (don't even get me started on Sunday morning). Imagine having to watch re-runs of Star Trek, Adam 12, Emergency, Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch as your only after school entertainment...EVERYDAY. Imagine making dinner from scratch. Imagine no Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Imagine having the only cool place to shop be The Squire Shop conveniently located in your local Fred Meyer store. Imagine spending your summer picking berries because that was the only job really out there and you didn't think twice about it because everyone did it? We're spoiled.
My garage isn't that cold. I have a dryer. I have the option of turning my thermostat up when I'm cold. I have lots of shoes. I have an automatic drip coffee maker. I have a toaster oven AND a regular oven AND a microwave oven. My car is paid for. I have a car. I don't stand in line to buy bread or produce. I have a great pediatrician. I can choose between at least 5 different stores to do my grocery shopping at and when I get there I'll have at least 5 different kinds of apples to choose from. I don't have to butcher my own meat. The government doesn't tell me what occupation I must have.
I'm spoiled. And so are you.
_____________________________________________________
I was doing laundry the other night. Alex had an entire drawer full of socks but none of the ones that he REALLY likes so I had promised to do a load of socks so that he'd have some of the right kind for the next morning. (sidebar - God, I'm whipped) So...I only remember this at something like 10 at night so I go through the house collecting all the socks and underwear and white t-shirts I can find and go throw them in the washer. No big thing; the washer takes something like a half hour or so to finish it's cycle and I'll still be up to switch the laundry to the dryer. So, dryer time comes and it's now nearly 11 at night and my washer/dryer is in my uninsulated garage. GADS!! It was cold out there!! And it's not like a typical load of laundry that has pants and shirts wrapping thier arms and legs around each other so that you can grab a handful of whatever and pull out a third of the load all at once. Oh, no, this is mainly socks. You know how it goes...you grab a handful, which really only amounts to about 4 socks if you're lucky, and then while trying to transfer it to the dryer, one will fall out of your little pile and land in the lint and crap that gathers on the floor in front of the machines.
Anyway, I'm standing there in the cold, throwing socks 2 at a time into the dryer and thinking to myself that it's just plain f-ing cold in there and that makes me think of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I know, "Where the hell is she going with this???" is what you're asking. It made me think of one of her books where she was talking about doing wash and Ma has put it out on the line to dry but it's so damn cold outside that the clothes all freeze and they have to bring in the frozen shirts and stuff and dry them by the fire. That sucks. Plus, if you know it's damn cold out, why are you putting the stuff out there on the line in the first place??? Duh? Do they not teach you that in pioneer school?
I digress...so, it gets me thinking about how spoiled we really are. Really, how long have we been living with microwaves? 20 years or so? That's really not that long. Can you imagine NOT having one, though? Answering machine? Cell phone? Email? Cable? VCR? Crap, vcr's are so "old" that they're almost obsolete now and I don't think I got my first one until something like '91! We are spoiled. My kids freak if I don't let them watch tv or play video games for a whole 4 hour stretch. "I'm so bored..." they whine. We're spoiled.
Imagine going on vacation to find that there was no blowdryer in the room, or, even worse, no little shampoos! Gasp!! We're spoiled. Imagine not turning on the computer everyday. Imagine only watching network tv for a whole week. Imagine cartoons only being on until 9 am on weekdays and 11 am on Saturday (don't even get me started on Sunday morning). Imagine having to watch re-runs of Star Trek, Adam 12, Emergency, Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch as your only after school entertainment...EVERYDAY. Imagine making dinner from scratch. Imagine no Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Imagine having the only cool place to shop be The Squire Shop conveniently located in your local Fred Meyer store. Imagine spending your summer picking berries because that was the only job really out there and you didn't think twice about it because everyone did it? We're spoiled.
My garage isn't that cold. I have a dryer. I have the option of turning my thermostat up when I'm cold. I have lots of shoes. I have an automatic drip coffee maker. I have a toaster oven AND a regular oven AND a microwave oven. My car is paid for. I have a car. I don't stand in line to buy bread or produce. I have a great pediatrician. I can choose between at least 5 different stores to do my grocery shopping at and when I get there I'll have at least 5 different kinds of apples to choose from. I don't have to butcher my own meat. The government doesn't tell me what occupation I must have.
I'm spoiled. And so are you.
Deaf, Dumb or Blind
Originally posted 1/13/06
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Am getting over a cold that left with pretty much no voice for close to 4 days. It completely sucked. It prompted discussions with the kids, though, regarding sign language. When our middle boy (Alex) was a baby we taught him sign, not because he had any impairment but based on the belief (and the Berkley study) that babies have the cognitive ability to communicate long before they develop the verbal skills to do so. Well, he took to it quite well and we were "talking" with him regularly by the time he was only a few months old. He was stubborn, though, and refused to speak for real until he was almost 3.
Anyway, I wouldn't say that we were ever fluent in sign but we did OK and I found myself falling back into wanting to use it more while I had no voice. Made me think, though...if you had to be one - deaf, dumb or blind - having had all the abilities before, which would you choose and why?
I think I would choose to lose my hearing. I don't know if I could stand to not see. It would break my heart to not see the faces of my children. Watching their faces when they are learning new things is amazing. I think we communicate a lot more with our faces and bodies than with our voices. Watching deaf people talk to each other is lyrical. It's fluid and mesmerizing to me. More people should learn sign in my opinion.
So, I've got my voice back now, though, and the signing thing has kind of passed at our house. Nothing beats a reminder of what you've got, though.
_________________________________________
Am getting over a cold that left with pretty much no voice for close to 4 days. It completely sucked. It prompted discussions with the kids, though, regarding sign language. When our middle boy (Alex) was a baby we taught him sign, not because he had any impairment but based on the belief (and the Berkley study) that babies have the cognitive ability to communicate long before they develop the verbal skills to do so. Well, he took to it quite well and we were "talking" with him regularly by the time he was only a few months old. He was stubborn, though, and refused to speak for real until he was almost 3.
Anyway, I wouldn't say that we were ever fluent in sign but we did OK and I found myself falling back into wanting to use it more while I had no voice. Made me think, though...if you had to be one - deaf, dumb or blind - having had all the abilities before, which would you choose and why?
I think I would choose to lose my hearing. I don't know if I could stand to not see. It would break my heart to not see the faces of my children. Watching their faces when they are learning new things is amazing. I think we communicate a lot more with our faces and bodies than with our voices. Watching deaf people talk to each other is lyrical. It's fluid and mesmerizing to me. More people should learn sign in my opinion.
So, I've got my voice back now, though, and the signing thing has kind of passed at our house. Nothing beats a reminder of what you've got, though.
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