Ahhhh, Valentine's Day. Flowers, boxes of chocolates, romantic dinners and Scooby Doo valentines. This year, Valentine's Day has taken on a whole new...angle. Andrew's class is having a Valentine's Day party. So, I gamely trooped out in the freezing rain (and I mean that literally) to pick up a box of valentines for Andrew to hand out at school today. I sat down at my desk to insert the temporary tatoo that comes with each one (can't give just a card these days) and fill them out. Then the instructions from his teacher arrived.
1. There are 21 kids in the class.
2. Each child shall bring 20 valentines to school (no more, no less).
3. The "from" section of each valentine shall contain the child's name.
4. The "to" section shall be left blank.
5. The valentines will be distributed....
Wait a minute! "The "to" section shall be left blank!!!!" What the heck is that all about??!!
I must say Instruction #4 ruined all of my fun. For a minute there it was like being back in first grade and getting to decide who got which valentines. Alissa is my best friend so she gets this pretty valentine. Suzie is mean and the teacher's pet so she gets this ugly one. And Johnny smells bad so he gets the valentine that is torn. (Admit it, all of you did the same thing.) If the I don't get to put names on them how can I insure that people get the correct valentines??!! For heaven's sake, Johnny might think I actually like him!
Eeeewwwww!
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Where's the Beef
My grandparents owned a farm and raised cattle, so growing up I ate a lot of beef. In fact, you could say my family epitomized the phrase "Beef, it's what's for dinner." And I have carried that on in my adult life. We eat a lot of beef in this house. In fact, we eat a lot of meat. Almost every meal features some kind of meat.
I had not realized how central meat had become to a meal until I made soup the other day. I made a lovely green chile soup with potatoes. No meat. So Andrew and I sit down for lunch and Andrew starts picking through his soup.
Andrew: Mommy, where's the meat?
Me: What are you talking about?
Andrew: Where's the meat? There is no meat in my soup.
Me: This soup does not have any meat any it.
Andrew: Well, there is supposed to be meat in it.
Me: Just eat your soup!
Clearly we need to eat vegetarian more often.
I had not realized how central meat had become to a meal until I made soup the other day. I made a lovely green chile soup with potatoes. No meat. So Andrew and I sit down for lunch and Andrew starts picking through his soup.
Andrew: Mommy, where's the meat?
Me: What are you talking about?
Andrew: Where's the meat? There is no meat in my soup.
Me: This soup does not have any meat any it.
Andrew: Well, there is supposed to be meat in it.
Me: Just eat your soup!
Clearly we need to eat vegetarian more often.
Keeping Secrets
My husband is a wonderful man. He is kind, caring, funny, smart, and handsome (to name just a few of his many wonderful attributes). However, he is keeping secrets from me.
My 39th birthday is coming up in March (f.y.i., I am partial to diamonds and emeralds) and my husband has already purchased me a gift. I do not know what this gift is and Adam won't tell me. And, quite frankly, it is killing him. That's right, it is killing him that he can't tell me. He is soooo excited about it and he just wants to share the excitement with me. But he also wants it to be a surprise. It is quite the conundrum for him.
Actually, he goes through this frequently. Birthdays, Christmas, he is always offering to let me open my gifts early. Or giving me hints about what he bought. After he bought my engagement ring (but before he proposed), he showed it to everyone he knew. He invited one guy into our closet to "look at his new suit" just so he could show him the ring. He is doing the same thing again, telling everyone he sees about the gift.
I love surprises and really don't want to know what he bought. But that being said, I am a mean person and there is a prime opportunity here to torture my husband. So I am constantly asking him for hints and making guesses about the gift. It is making the wait just that much harder for him. I know, I know, I am just a cruel person.
So, if you should pass Adam on the street during the next few weeks, I am sure he will tell you all about my gift. If he does, call me.
My 39th birthday is coming up in March (f.y.i., I am partial to diamonds and emeralds) and my husband has already purchased me a gift. I do not know what this gift is and Adam won't tell me. And, quite frankly, it is killing him. That's right, it is killing him that he can't tell me. He is soooo excited about it and he just wants to share the excitement with me. But he also wants it to be a surprise. It is quite the conundrum for him.
Actually, he goes through this frequently. Birthdays, Christmas, he is always offering to let me open my gifts early. Or giving me hints about what he bought. After he bought my engagement ring (but before he proposed), he showed it to everyone he knew. He invited one guy into our closet to "look at his new suit" just so he could show him the ring. He is doing the same thing again, telling everyone he sees about the gift.
I love surprises and really don't want to know what he bought. But that being said, I am a mean person and there is a prime opportunity here to torture my husband. So I am constantly asking him for hints and making guesses about the gift. It is making the wait just that much harder for him. I know, I know, I am just a cruel person.
So, if you should pass Adam on the street during the next few weeks, I am sure he will tell you all about my gift. If he does, call me.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
It was bound to happen...
And this weekend it finally did. Considering how often Andrew falls while running at top speed, I am surprised it took this long.
It all started when we went to Home Depot on Saturday morning. Adam is building me a new desk (yea!). So, while he was picking out wood for the desk, Andrew and I went to get the other things we needed. After we had picked up everything we need, we started back over to the lumber department. Now, Andrew being the boy he is, he does not stay right with the cart. It's more like the cart is the sun and he is a planet in orbit around it (and not a very stable orbit at that). But as long as he remains within a few feet of the cart and isn't knocking things off shelves, I am okay with it. He has got to get that energy out some way.
So, we are heading down the big main aisle of Home Depot. We have spotted Adam at the end of the lumber aisle. When we are about 15 feet away, Andrew takes off to establish a new orbit around his dad. He gets about half way there and trips over his own two feet. Lands on his knees and slides across the floor face first into a shopping cart (yes, it looked like it hurt). He turns and looks and me and then bursts into tears.
I picked up my poor baby up and checked for injuries. And it had finally happened.
Andrew had broken his nose. Well, I should say he has all the signs of a broken nose. His nose swelled up and bled. Fortunately, it wasn't a bad break, my child is not going to have Owen Wilson's crooked nose (thank goodness!) And in fact, he didn't fuss about it long at all.
It is amazing how an offer of lemonade and M&M's can make a kid feel better.
It all started when we went to Home Depot on Saturday morning. Adam is building me a new desk (yea!). So, while he was picking out wood for the desk, Andrew and I went to get the other things we needed. After we had picked up everything we need, we started back over to the lumber department. Now, Andrew being the boy he is, he does not stay right with the cart. It's more like the cart is the sun and he is a planet in orbit around it (and not a very stable orbit at that). But as long as he remains within a few feet of the cart and isn't knocking things off shelves, I am okay with it. He has got to get that energy out some way.
So, we are heading down the big main aisle of Home Depot. We have spotted Adam at the end of the lumber aisle. When we are about 15 feet away, Andrew takes off to establish a new orbit around his dad. He gets about half way there and trips over his own two feet. Lands on his knees and slides across the floor face first into a shopping cart (yes, it looked like it hurt). He turns and looks and me and then bursts into tears.
I picked up my poor baby up and checked for injuries. And it had finally happened.
Andrew had broken his nose. Well, I should say he has all the signs of a broken nose. His nose swelled up and bled. Fortunately, it wasn't a bad break, my child is not going to have Owen Wilson's crooked nose (thank goodness!) And in fact, he didn't fuss about it long at all.
It is amazing how an offer of lemonade and M&M's can make a kid feel better.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Out of the Mouths of Babes
As we all know, you have to watch what you say around kids. For the first couple of years, you can pretty much say what you want and not have to worry about it. But after that, things you say have a tendency to come back and bite you in the butt.
For example, every night at dinner we encourage Andrew to talk about what he did that day. You typically here about things like his trip to the grocery store with Mom or playing with his friends at school. But not always...
Adam: So Andrew, what did you do today?
Andrew: Drive Mommy crazy.
At least he's honest. Or for example, this past week. I sprained my knee last week and have been babying my knee. Andrew was crawling up in my lap and I cautioned him to be careful.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because my knee hurts.
Andrew: Oooohhhh. Mommy's knee is old.
Me: What?!
Andrew: Mommy is really old.
That little @#^&$!
For example, every night at dinner we encourage Andrew to talk about what he did that day. You typically here about things like his trip to the grocery store with Mom or playing with his friends at school. But not always...
Adam: So Andrew, what did you do today?
Andrew: Drive Mommy crazy.
At least he's honest. Or for example, this past week. I sprained my knee last week and have been babying my knee. Andrew was crawling up in my lap and I cautioned him to be careful.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because my knee hurts.
Andrew: Oooohhhh. Mommy's knee is old.
Me: What?!
Andrew: Mommy is really old.
That little @#^&$!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Starting Over Again
Adam and I are pretty strict parents. No snacks between meals (other than the regularly scheduled snacks), limited sweets, and "Don't you tell me no!"
One of the decisions we made early on and strongly enforced is that Andrew sleeps in his own bed, he does not sleep in ours. The only time the rule is ever relaxed is when we are travelling. It is hard to keep him in his own bed when he is sleeping 3 feet away in the same room. But every time we travel, we see the wisdom in our decision...because Andrew kicks in his sleep. When Andrew sleeps with us, Andrew is the only one who gets any sleep.
We live in a two-story house, the master bedroom is downstairs and Andrew's is upstairs. Ever since he moved out of his crib and into a bed, we have had a handle lock on Andrew's door. The lock made it difficult to turn Andrew's door handle. Any adult come open the door from inside the room when it was locked, but Andrew could not. The possibility of Andrew navigating the stairs in the dark and half-asleep made the lock necessary. It also meant that when Andrew was ready to get up in the morning, he had to call down to us and wait for one of us to come open the door. A significant advantage for us parents.
Last week, about 5 am, I hear a sound in Andrew's room over the baby monitor. I didn't hear anything else, so I rolled over to go back to sleep. Imagine my surprise when two minutes later Andrew tumbles into bed next to me. "What the heck are you doing here?" "I ready to get up Mommy." Great, just great. The handle lock was no longer an obstacle.
So for a week now, Adam and I have been woken up every morning by Andrew crawling into bed with us, sometimes as early as 3:30 am. That is awfully early folks. We are trying to figure out how to keep him in bed until at least 6:00 am and how to keep him from coming out of his room after we have put him to bed.
Basically, we are starting over on the whole sleeping thing. Any suggestions?
One of the decisions we made early on and strongly enforced is that Andrew sleeps in his own bed, he does not sleep in ours. The only time the rule is ever relaxed is when we are travelling. It is hard to keep him in his own bed when he is sleeping 3 feet away in the same room. But every time we travel, we see the wisdom in our decision...because Andrew kicks in his sleep. When Andrew sleeps with us, Andrew is the only one who gets any sleep.
We live in a two-story house, the master bedroom is downstairs and Andrew's is upstairs. Ever since he moved out of his crib and into a bed, we have had a handle lock on Andrew's door. The lock made it difficult to turn Andrew's door handle. Any adult come open the door from inside the room when it was locked, but Andrew could not. The possibility of Andrew navigating the stairs in the dark and half-asleep made the lock necessary. It also meant that when Andrew was ready to get up in the morning, he had to call down to us and wait for one of us to come open the door. A significant advantage for us parents.
Last week, about 5 am, I hear a sound in Andrew's room over the baby monitor. I didn't hear anything else, so I rolled over to go back to sleep. Imagine my surprise when two minutes later Andrew tumbles into bed next to me. "What the heck are you doing here?" "I ready to get up Mommy." Great, just great. The handle lock was no longer an obstacle.
So for a week now, Adam and I have been woken up every morning by Andrew crawling into bed with us, sometimes as early as 3:30 am. That is awfully early folks. We are trying to figure out how to keep him in bed until at least 6:00 am and how to keep him from coming out of his room after we have put him to bed.
Basically, we are starting over on the whole sleeping thing. Any suggestions?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
On Second Thought
Adam: Andrew and I are going to Toys R Us to get more Legos.
Me: Okay. Have fun.
Adam: Aren't you going with us?
Me: I prefer to stay home if you don't mind.
Adam: No, you don't need to go as long as you don't care how many Legos we buy.
Me: Good point. Gimme just a few minutes to put on my shoes and coat.
Me: Okay. Have fun.
Adam: Aren't you going with us?
Me: I prefer to stay home if you don't mind.
Adam: No, you don't need to go as long as you don't care how many Legos we buy.
Me: Good point. Gimme just a few minutes to put on my shoes and coat.
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