1.31.2010

Milestone

First words, first step, first spray of milk through the nose.

Tonight was a milestone night in our house. Jane made Samson laugh so hard that milk came out his nose. I was reminded of all the times I did that to my sister, and it made me glad to see the tradition carrying on.

I have to say, however, that I was surprised that Jane was the instigator and not the recipient. Although, to be fair, what she lacks in vocabulary (she is only three), she makes up for in comedic timing. Sam had just taken a bite of cookie and some milk, and Jane looked him dead in the eye and said, in her sweet little voice: "poopie." Gets him every time.

Snow

The forecast called for just a dusting, but by the time the snow stopped falling on Saturday night we had about six or seven inches on the ground. Which meant that Sunday, which bloomed cold but sunny, was perfect for getting out into the backyard and building a snow fort.

What we actually built was more like a snow wall that looked like it had been through the siege of Sarajevo. If career predilections/abilities are inherited, my two are in no danger of becoming architects or engineers.

Still, we had lots of fun throwing snow around and keeping Jane from unleashing her inner Godzilla on our sad little snow structure.




1.26.2010

Concerning the issue of who exactly is the rapper and who is the dj

The jury is still out actually.

The one and only thing Samson asked Santa for this year was a dj keyboard. The man in red delivered, and our house has since been turned into a kind of beat factory.

Seriously, for a kid's toy, it is pretty impressive. It comes with dozens of beats, loops, and preset songs, as well as a mini recording device, headphones, and a microphone.

Hours (and I do mean hours) of entertainment.







Space issues

I have written before on my name theory, and the new boy in Sam's class is doing his best to confirm it. It all started at the beginning of the school year, when we were introduced to K. [Because it's a small school, and because it combines actual school, i.e., instruction, with daycare, there tends to be low turnover and a pretty long waiting list. Not to mention the whole "legacy" thing: There are at least a half dozen kids in Jane's class who are the younger siblings of kids in Samson's.]

Anyway, K is new to the school. During orientation I met his mom, who encouraged the boys to talk about about what they'd done that summer as a way of getting acquainted. Samson mentioned his trips to see family in New York and Connecticut, and he talked about how much fun he had going to the beach. K's family had also gone to the beach (somewhere in Georgia maybe?) for a family vacation at some resort. The highlight of this, according to K, was "shooting guns." Which I assumed meant at some kind of amusement park arcade. Nope. Real guns. At a range. K is four. I'm pretty sure even the Al Qaeda webelos wait until five for target practice.

[Now I should state right here that I'm cool with the second amendment. I don't own a gun but don't begrudge anyone the legal right. And while I think maybe a few laws could be strengthened [do you really need hollow-tipped bullets to hunt turkeys?], I am not someone who is anti-gun. Indeed, I'm in line with Flannery O'Connor on the utility of shooting people (or at least threatening to) to get them to mind their manners. I digress. As usual.]

So whatever. This is his family, and as long as he doesn't bring a gun to school, it's really none of my business. What is my business is his inability to stay out of my children's faces. Literally. And not in a mean, bullying way, but in a really, really excited-to-see-you sort of way. Sort of like an Irish setter. But without all the self-control.

Samson just sort of freezes. I think if he could, he'd fake death just to get the kid to leave him alone. Again, it's not a mean thing, it's just, well, a lot to handle at the start of the day. Imagine if you showed up to the office and a coworker whom you were friendly toward but not friends with was all of a sudden close enough for you to count his pores and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he'd had hazelnut coffee with breakfast. I usually try to stay out of it (it's good for Samson to figure this stuff out on his own), but it has become a staple of his morning drop-off. Arrive, take off coat, get barnacled.

With Jane, however, I can't stand idly by. For one, because she's my little girl. And while I realize it isn't very Free-To-Be-You-and-Me of me to say so, I'm being honest. Mostly, though, it's because K isn't content simply to be in her face, but he feels compelled to put his hands on her face. Which she is not a fan of. In fact, she confided to me one day that she didn't like it because she thought he might rub her freckles off. I told her he might just and that she should hit him square in the nose the next time he touched her.

OK, I didn't really tell her that, but I probably should have. For now, I'm just keeping a close eye on the lone gunman. Stay tuned...

1.23.2010

Bisquick(er)


If you tell Jane you're making pancakes, you'd better be at the griddle.

Because she's not fooling around about breakfast. And she will just go to the box looking for the cakes she expects to find inside.

Failing that, she'll just eat the mix.

For real.



Airplane(s)!

Today was build your own Lego aircraft day at the aviation museum down in College Park. It's a great little museum --- right next to a working airport, ridiculously reasonable, and almost entirely hands-on.



It was also packed today because of the aforementioned Lego festival. And by festival I mean half a dozen bins of lego pieces, a few sets of instructions, and more socially awkward middle schoolers than a spelling bee between the Mathletes and the student council.


We've been there two or three times before, but only in summer and usually during the week. Which means that in the past we've had the place to ourselves. Today the place was besieged by brick-building hordes and air/space enthusiasts. And one Abraham Lincoln impersonator. In street clothes. I recongized him as he'd spoken at a staff retreat I attended a few years ago in Gettysburg. [It's a long story, but even if I'd never seen him before I would have guessed his hobby. He really looks like Lincoln, even in a sweatshirt and jeans. I digress.]

Despite the crowds, the kids had fun checking out the different exhibits, and of course, Samson is all for anything that lets him dress up in clothes worn by thousands of other kids before him.

As for the building activities...that went as well as could be expected. Actually, I can't honestly report on how Samson's endeavors went. I took the easy way out and went with Jane over to the little kid area. She and I had a great time building towers on wheels and making patterns with the different colored bricks. [Sidebar: Duplo blocks are totally my speed when it comes to Lego and building. Even when I was a kid, I had little interest in spending hours following directions and diagrams. And no amount of marketing was going to convince me that such activities were "play." Vicki, on the other hand, has read all the owner's manuals we have ever received and was right there with Sam to help him build his miniature Apache gunship (and to keep the bigger kids from taking the pieces he needed to complete it).]

And although the kit was missing a piece, and the pilot wouldn't sit right, he rallied (eventually) and was able to spend some quality time virtually crashing planes for the old Aeropostale.



Really, what more could you ask of a Saturday afternoon in January?


Belated



Because I've only started blogging again, I missed being able to post a shot of Jane from her birthday a few weeks back. I still can't believe she's already three. Cliche though it is, it seems like only yesterday that she arrived.

Happy belated birthday Sweet Jane (although only on the blog; it's not like I'm three weeks late with presents or anything).

1.19.2010

Transcript

The following are pieces of conversations I've had in the last month or two. I realize that hearing the "darnedest" thing that somebody else's kid said is the aural equivalent of being forced to watch vacation slides, so you are duly forewarned...

In the grocery store:

Samson (pointing to a bag of Doritos): Can we get those?

Me: No. They make your hands turn orange.

Samson: I know. That's why I like them. I love orange.


At home:

Samson: Did they have bathrooms on the Death Star?

Me: I don't know. I mean, I guess so.

Samson: It would be weird to walk into the bathroom and see Darth Vader peeing.

Me: [silence]

In the car:

Jane: STOP!

Me: What's the matter?

Jane: The sun is bothering me.

Me: Is the sun in your eyes? Turn your head.

Jane: No. The sun keeps looking at me.

1.18.2010

Nevermore (at least until next year)

As a treat, on Saturday night Samson got to stay up late and watch his hometown team get their collective head handed to them by the Colts. In truth, he didn't make it past halftime. Also, he was more excited at having wings and celery (mostly celery) and getting in on something his sister was missing than the "big game."

Which is just as well. In explaining the post-season to him, I boiled it down to "the team that wins keeps playing, and the team that loses goes home." So Sunday morning, when I informed him that the Ravens lost, he said: "That's ok. Now they can be with their families."

I'm glad he's a silver lining kind of kid. [He's going to need it when baseball season starts.]

1.15.2010

The wages of sloth


My good friend Jen over at Clever Title TK was kind enough to give me a year-end prod about getting back to blogging. I stopped, without truly meaning to, toward the end of the summer as Vicki was headed back to work, Jane was starting school for the first time, Sam was starting school full-time, and I was getting into the core of training for the marathon. So I'm not saying I have an excuse for these many months of silence, but...

In any event, I'm back. Mostly because I'm afraid of Jen. Not really. (But a little.)

If this were a family sitcom --- especially one from my childhood --- four months away would have been enough of a time lapse to have Samson now in college (but still living at home), Jane in middle school, and introduce a new member of the family (like the late season additions of Jeremy to the Bradfords or Luke to the Seavers). Before my mother-in-law reads this and thinks I'm sending a coded message that Vicki is pregnant, let me say this: We are not having a baby. Also, we have not adopted Leonardo DiCaprio. Sorry Vicki.

Still, four months is a fair amount of time. And while it would be tedious (for me as well as you, dear reader) to go through the litany of what happened since the end of the summer, I think I can best sum it up in the following formats: movie trailer, haiku, interpretive dance, and tweet.


September
[Scene opens on the second floor of our house, camera goes from room to room; toys are strewn about and children are sleeping soundly. Suddenly, a curtain opens and daylight fills the room. Sam sits up, blinking, then buries his head back into the pillow.] Voiceover begins: In a world... where mom's out of the house by 6:15 a.m., where beds don't make themselves and kids have a sense of time that borders on the Aboriginal, one man stands between order and chaos. [Jump cut to me, Matrix-style, serving up waffles; fixing Jane's ponytails, and diving through the air with a toothbrush in each hand toward Samson and Jane.] Coming this fall: "Weekday Mornings at My House."

October

Oh, did I mention?
I ran 26.2
Miles (in a row!)

[And yes, that is a gratuitous shot of me post-marathon. Despite the fact that the race was in October, I'm milking it for all it's worth.]

November

Sorry, I couldn't get the video link to work. Trust me, it's better this way.


December

@dada-ism: Looking back on this year and the decade. Lots to be thankful for (Vicki, Sam, Jane, sandwiches). Here's to 2010 and beyond.