If only you were more nimble.
If you ask Jack, he'd tell you he's happy to be the first of five boys to break a bone. It's true. The title makes the last 7 days of pain worth it.
Jack Jack. Jack-A-Lack. Lacky. Lacky Lou. Lackish. Jackers-
We know you're always up for entertaining others. Wowing a crowd by dancing on a table and showing your tricks has always been your thing.
We're not asking you to stop entirely, just tone it down a bit. When you feel like jumping, jump from the first step, not the 8th.
The next four weeks may seem to take forever. But we'll make it through. Promise.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
I can relate.
Though I didn't wake up to find gum in my hair, I did find some mushed into my carpet. Does that count?
This morning, while my boys happily munched on bowls of breakfast cereal that was coated with cinnamon sugar goodness, I munched on oatmeal that was sprinkled with dried cranberries.
And though no marble went down the bathtub drain, I did stumble upon two naughty boys trying to flush a penny down the potty.
My day was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
Remember those blue shoes with red stripes you longed for? I saw a similar pair at Target today that made me swoon. Like you, I walked out without them.
As if leaving my beloved shoes behind wasn't enough, my phone slipped out of my hand and shattered in the parking lot of the aforementioned store.
I know you're young, Alexander, and like my boys, you probably have little sense of value when it comes to possessions. But trust me on this one; my phone is worth much more than the stinkin' marble you lost down the drain.
Warranty? No longer covered.
Upgrade? Not eligible til June.
I could tell that this was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
After dropping Jack off at kindergarten, Logan and Wes decided to sprint to the top of the infamous 'hill' that sits in front of the school. I encouraged their joyful operation as I took a few seconds to take a deep breath and feel the warm sun on my face. When I noticed that their sprints had turned into a quest for dirt, I called them to the car. They stood up, brushed their pants, and ran full speed down the hill.
It wasn't until I began to buckle Logan that I noticed the reddish/brown hue of his gray sweat pants.
And it wasn't until I was about to shut the car door that I noticed the reddish/brown hue was moving.
By moving, I mean crawling.
Ants. That's right. Big, fat red ones....mixed with brown dirt.
My boy done sat himself right in the thick of an ant hill. Lucky me.
No doubt about it, this has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
And though you'd be happier in Australia Alexander, I'm not brave enough to dwell within the boundaries of funnel-web territory.
Knowing that some days are like this, I'm counting my blessings, and wishing for happier times tomorrow.
As far as how the rest of the evening will play out, it's comforting to know that I can control the following:
-There shall be no kissing on TV.
-The lima beans which had previously been planned to accompany dinner this evening have been rescheduled for a later date.
-I have never allowed marbles in the bathtub and I won't start tonight.
-I don't own railroad train pajamas, a Mickey Mouse nightlight....or a cat.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Once upon a time, there was a mom who woke up early enough to see this-
This is more than just a sunrise, she thought. A sight this beautiful could only mean one thing-
this was going to be a terrific day.
In between refereeing an indoor game of basketball turned rugby,
And after consoling a distraught three year old who couldn't find the right light saber,
the mom went about her morning routine. She made a hot breakfast for her darling children, and lovingly packed their lunches,
which were complete with personalized PB&J's.
Damn, this mom thought. I am the bomb. Could this day be any more perfect?
The mom (who by this point was feeling quite cocky) happily buzzed around the kitchen and placed the finishing touches on her boys' backpacks.
Water bottles? Check.
Library books? Check.
The mom drove her little men to the bus stop, kissed them farewell, and proudly watched as they climbed aboard the bus.
Her morning continued with a second cup of coffee, a card game of 'war' with the little's, and thoughts about what to fill the remainder of the day with. The perfection was bound to continue.
The mom received a text message from her son's second grade teacher.
No totally terrific me poster? It read.
In an instant, the hot dogging mom, the one who hours earlier had patted herself on the back about her perfect morning filled with perfect pancakes, perfectly-packed organic lunches, and her perfect children, was given a reality check.
One that was perfectly-deserved.
For on this very day, her son was due to become the next 'Totally Terrific Me' of his classroom. A title that comes only once per year. A title her son had been waiting for. ALL. YEAR. LONG.
Though the mom had been given plenty of notice about the upcoming day in the spotlight for her son, she neglected to commemorate the event. No Totally Terrific Me poster, no special items brought from home, no estimation jar filled with his choice of candy and trinkets.
Her totally terrific day had just become totally (and terrifically) shitty.
Lucky for the boy, his teacher graced him with an extra week to complete his Totally Terrific Me assignments and was even kind enough to award him with a new date in which he will be crowned the next Totally Terrific Me.
That's right. A Totally Terrific Redo.
In BIG, BOLD letters, the mom scrawled the date onto the family calendar.
March 9, 2012 TOTALLY TERRIFIC ME!
The far-from-perfect mom, the one who had just been plucked from her fantasy land of perfection and transported back to brass tacks, had a new mission. For she and her son (one who has been Totally Terrific and perfect ever since the day he was born) are going to make this project one he, his classmates, and his teacher will never forget.