Prove that it is Wednesday

We know how difficult it is for kids to grasp the concept of time -- hours, days, weeks, months and then we throw in "later," "in awhile," "tomorrow."

Neil would swap "yesterday" and "tomorrow." He didn't like being corrected so he started just saying the "the other day." "We can go to Disneyland the other day" or "We went to Disneyland the other day." It's useful, leaves everything up to the context. Cuts down on the words you need to know. He's an efficient kid.

Neil is still trying to figure it out. He frequently asks what day it is. He is trying to read the digital clock in the TV. He knows "later" means Mom is NOT in the mood for whatever he wants.

His next baseball game is on Saturday morning. He gets to be first batter this next game so he's pretty excited.

This morning he came downstairs with his baseball gear (including his favorite, his cup). "I'm getting ready for my game, Mom." 

"You don't have a game until Saturday." That wasn't good enough for him. 

"Why isn't today Saturday?"

I go through the days of the week, explaining how many "sleeps" we have before the game.

He's not buying it. Why can't it be Saturday? Prove that it's Wednesday. He didn't really say PROVE that it's Wednesday, but that's what he meant.

And how do you prove that it is Wednesday to a kid who can't read (the newspaper and calendar mean nothing)? A kid who is not buying the whole social norm of Wednesday following Tuesday and coming before Thursday?

Why can't it be Saturday?

And that's when I said:

"Because I said so."

Neil, I am your mother

Neil and I have had a number of light saber fights this morning. I've lost several limbs so pardon me if I have typos. I'm doing this with my teeth. 

First Neil wanted to use my ipod. He wanted to wear it while we had a light saber battle. "Like in the movies Mom." Neil wants his life with a soundtrack.

But then he was disappointed that I didn't have the Star Wars tracks on it.

Once he got over that letdown, he decided we had to be on stick horses with our light sabers. He tried to make me change my clothes because I didn't look like a storm trooper. I had to draw the line somewhere today.

Neil will never be Steven Spielberg because his mother wouldn't take costuming advice.

Procrastination

Tonight is Movie Theater night at Pinetree. I'm in charge of the games and prizes (why did we think it was a great idea to create a giant, blow-out end-of-the-year event out of this?!). In about 20 minutes I have to go start cooking the hot dogs for who-knows-how-many people. I'm also planning the team parties for the kids' baseball teams (with coach gifts, etc.)... And I'm working on the teacher gift for Neil's preschool. I have to plan the end-of-the-year stuff for Jack's class too and collect for a teacher's gift.

In an attempt to ignore the fact that I'm doing too much right now, I'm blogging about it. It's not really relieving the stress. I need to lay down.

FLORing

We also made time to put down the FLOR carpet tiles we bought ages ago at Target. They were on a clearance shelf -- Yahoo! And they really are as easy to put together as the catalog says. The rug looks great and it doesn't slide around. My only complaint with FLOR is that it's not very plush. This line of tiles is very, very low pile and will make a nice rug in the living room, but I wouldn't mind something softer for the family room. 

The house still has a "just moved in" feel because a lot of stuff is still in the garage. I'm enjoying the space. So are the kids. Jack asked if we had to put the furniture back... An empty gym would be his ideal home!

Dining room cubbies

In my (vain) attempt to discourage toys downstairs, I emptied the kids cubbies in the family room. We were storing a lot of toys in there that my kids didn't use. Visiting children thought they were very useful to spread across the entryway but our kids didn't touch them. We were also storing a crap-load of paper, useless paper from school, church, scouts, random notes from people we don't know any more. It was time for this stuff to go (recycled, of course).

The sideboard in the dining room was getting a little rickety so we tried the cubbies in there. I was little worried that it would be too big of a unit in there. But I like it. We have wine, glasses, cookbooks and a pretty piece or two on there. I think we are still maintaining a moderny kind of feel -- that's the goal any way. Modern, lightened up a bit and family friendly.

I filled three empty vases with these green decorator items. I like it, but Dean doesn't like it because, frankly, they are fuzzy green balls. It upsets his interior metrosexual decorator.

Aunt Betty's fish makes an appearance on top too.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick

Jack blew out candle sticks! It was Jack's birthday weekend. We played baseball for hours on Saturday and saw cheetahs run on Sunday. Life is good.

Dear Jack,

You are amazing. I tell you that as often as I can, but I'm not sure you always believe me. You can be serious, shy and a worrier. Sometimes you only see those things. But I want you to always see how smart you are, how kind you are and how much fun you are.

I love to watch you play sports. You love a game, any game. You forget about other things and concentrate on the game. It's amazing to watch you move. You make catches and hit balls or pucks or whatever the game requires with such talent and ability. I can't even fathom these talents, but they come naturally to you. You take it for granted that your body will do all these things with ease. 

I love the quiet smile you get when you make an out that not everyone would make or you hit the ball and it hits the fence (a little higher and it's a home run buddy!). You cheer to yourself, sometimes a little fist pump. All are well-deserved. You should be proud of your skills. I am proud of you. And though I try to take credit for buying you that bat that clearly has made you a great hitter... I know that your talents are yours because YOU work hard and YOU figure out how to do these things.

Watching you pitch in baseball makes me realize how grown up you are getting. You are 9-years-old! I thought kids were still babies at this age. That was before I had kids and found out how truly awe-inspiring they are, how fast they grow and how much they think.

You stand on that pitcher's mound with grace and poise. You are in control. I watch you pitch, striking out batters and controlling the game. You throw a bad pitch or walk a batter and I see you pull yourself together and strike out the next batter. I see a man in the making.

You have long blonde hair right now. I can't believe you keep letting it grow, but you like it. I like it too. I'm glad you are your own person and make this decision on your own. I know you get teased for being a "hippie," but you take it well and continue with what you want. It's a good attribute to know what you want and not to be swayed by others.

Your little brother wants nothing more than to be just like you. It drives you nuts sometimes. But I see you teaching him how to bat, how to play video games. Neil believes he is the "luckiest" to have you as a big brother.

At the Wild Animal Park yesterday, I was watching you standing next to your Dad. You were both standing in the same pose, and then you both hitched up your jeans at the same time. It made me laugh a little. You have a great Dad, and I hope you grow up just like him. You have many of his traits and I am pretty sure you would rather spend time with your Dad than with anyone else in the world. I know he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with you and Neil.

I have learned a great deal from you my son -- and not just about sports and cheetahs. Thank you.

Lots of love,

Mom

On a (blog) roll

How many blogs are too many? I joined Live Journal to visit and keep up to date with my friend Nancy (Hi Nancy. I'm talking about you). Nancy has her Live Journal blog, fan fiction blogs, scrapbooking design blogs, personal blogs, Facebook pages, karate blogs, cat blogs (OK. I made up the cat blog. But she might. She's smart enough to keep that kind of thing from me.)

I have to admit. I'm toying with the idea of a photo blog. And wouldn't an anonymous blog be better so I can tell the really, really good stories that everyone has but you can't tell because the relative involved reads this or the person at school might see this? (Makes you want to call me and get the scoop, doesn't it?)

Of course, blogging is more work than it looks, and I need some quality time in front of the TV looking for blog ideas. Eating popsicles and doing research.

My husband might wonder why I don't get a job...

Design without a dime

We spent our money on the wood floors and the tile for the kitchen and bathroom. Now what do we do? We painted. The moulding is up and we are trying to redecorate our "new" space without spending any more money -- mostly because we don't have any more. It's nice to be "green" and reuse and recycle when the money is gone. It still counts, right?

The sideboard in the dining room is falling apart-- moving it just made it worse. Dean keeps saying "I can fix it." But by the fourth or fifth "I can fix it," can it be done?

The goal is to free up some space in our house so we are eliminating the kids' cubbies in the family room (there was a surprising amount of mom and dad crap on the kids' cubbies)... so I'm thinking about moving it into the dining room for storage instead of the sideboard. 

The dining room is remarkably empty right now. We even took the leaves out of the table (turns out we don't need to always have a table that seats 10). It's a nice, just-the-four-of-us kind of table now. Of course, I have to figure out what to do with the leaves (no more storage under the couch on the wood floors) and the extra chairs.

And where do we store all the stuff from the sideboard?

Neil would like you to see him with Shiloh, who probably can't breathe in this photo, but is still alive...

Cute boy #2

You have to see Jack too! That hair could use a scrunchie!