Why must I do this to myself?

My own personal form of self-torture:

Sailor and Jack are in the rocking chair on my mother's front porch. This was two weeks after Jack was born.

Sailor and Jack are in the rocking chair on my mother's front porch. This is two years after Jack was born.

School days...

Jack started preschool today, and it wasn't the end of the world! For either of us!

We woke up early and got Sailor dressed and off to school, and I told him he was going to school too. You can't tell Jack about any potentially exciting upcoming events more than half an hour ahead of time, because he will drive you absolutely bonkers about leaving. Now. Hurry up!

Oh, he was thrilled. "Okay, Mama! Get dressed, okay? Jack go school!"

I had to hold him down to wash and dress him because he was such a bundle of excitement he could not (not!) keep still. "I go school, okay? I go SCHOOL!"

Watson went with me to drop him off. We rode the elevator down to the classroom floor, and when we landed at the hall where Jack's class is located, he took off ahead of us (looking like a little red backpack with legs) and yelled back, "C'mon, guys! Follow me!"

He went right inside the room without a backward glance, the teacher promptly shut the little half-door in my face, and that was that. I said, "Bye, Flapjack! I'll see you in a little bit, okay?" He didn't hear me. He was already squatting on the rug playing with the Matchbox cars speedway.

I went to pick him up at 12:30 on the dot (so as not to show up early and seem as pathetic as I really am), and he ran to me and gave me a big hug around the knees. Ms. Stephanie said he'd had a great day. Apparently, he was a little afraid of the really loud noises the tractors were making while adding on to the back of the church (he told her he was scared a few times), so Ms. Stephanie suggested I drive Jack around there so he could see what they look like and maybe ease his fears a bit. We drove to the back of the church to take a good look at the tractors and construction crew, and Jack's only comment was "Awesome!"

H e told me he was scared of those tractors at school, but he also played tractors at school. That's pretty much all the information I got out of him.

We got home and I put him in the highchair with lunch. While he was eating, I unpacked his backpack. He'd made two crafts (a letter "A" with holes for lacing and one piece of yarn pulled crookedly through two of the holes and an alligator coloring sheet with a couple of blue scribbles near the top... I have never seen anything so perfect). There was also a daily report sheet filled out by his teachers. It reported that Jack had a great day, was "excited, happy and adventuresome," loved the playground, had one wet diaper change and " ate a little snack and drank a little juice. "

So we survived. Both of us. And he can't wait to go back. He's in his crib now, sleeping the sleep of one thoroughly happy and exhausted preschooler. I'm on my way to hang his "crafts" on the fridge.

Jack, Sheep, Dinosaurs

Such a happy baby.

"Are you okay, Baby Sheep?"

The dinosaur says, "Rawwwr!"

This one melts me.

Countdown...

Jack will go to preschool for the first time this Friday.

Now, I have spent a lot of time carrying on and on about how the boy wears me out and how I can't wait for him to go to school so I can have a break. There are times when this is very true. For example, I'm getting to a point in the year when I have a lot of actual work to do. Organizing photo shoots, orders, adjustments and printings, delivering or mailing, etc. This requires concentration and organization, both of which are challenges for me even during calm and quiet times. Throw in an energetic toddler who likes to treat my person as a jungle gym while shouting (not in an ugly or demanding way, he's just really, really loud in general) about a particular snack he wants to eat and a particular game he wants to play and a particular sound I should make when the dinosaur eats me and, "Oh! Mama! I poo-ted! I poo-ted! Hahahahaha!" Well, you can see how just a little time alone could be beneficial.

I signed him up at a really great school not too far from our house (because really, who wants to have a drive to and from the school eat into their precious "time away" minutes?) and ordered a Jr. Bookpack from LL Bean to celebrate. We attended Open House last week, and Jack had a ball playing cars and trucks and dinosaurs on the colorful rug in the classroom. There were minimal sharing/hitting/pushing incidents between the boys on said rug, and Jack was quite pleased with school in general. He didn't want to leave, and he's been talking about going back all week. I left Open House feeling good about the school and my decision to send him there. Patting myself on the back. This is going to be great!

Now. We have exactly three days before The Big Day, and all I can think about is how much I'm going to miss my little angel baby who is perfect in every way and who I just looove and want to snuuuuggle all the live long day. What kind of evil witch am I, to be so obsessed with a little personal space that I would send my sweet baby boy away? He will miss me! He will cry, and he will wonder what he did to be thrown out of the house. He will get hurt and want his mother, and where will his mother be? He'll know where she is all right. As he's nursing his own wounds, he'll imagine me sitting at home on the most comfortable couch in the world, drinking up all the sweet tea that Jack loves but rarely gets to enjoy, gently pressing laptop keys that Jack knows should be MASHED, watching things on the TV that have non-animated characters on them who wear actual grownup clothing, pausing briefly in my follies to rub my hands together and cackle at my ingenious plan to rid myself of the responsibilities of a burdensome child. Then, slowly, he will begin to hate me.

Rational Raven knows this is nothing more than a gross exaggeration of small concerns any mother might legitimately have when she sends her last baby to school. And for Pete's sake, it's three hours! Twice a week! Three hours. Three hours, during which he will play dinosaurs with other kids who will make all the appropriate noises, sing, dance, color, play outside and have a snack. Then I will reappear in all my glory to take him home with me. And he will probably cry then, if he's anything like his big sister.

Unfortunately, Rational Raven rarely shows up anymore. So I'm left here to wring my hands and overplan what I'll pack for him and play lots and lots of dinosaurs (while Jack secretly wonders what the heck is going on for him to be getting so much attention but wisely keeps his mouth shut).

A Labor Day sampler...

Jack creates a book tote masterpiece at the Decatur Book Festival.

Sailor models a high fashion balloon hat.

This is Jack's big white ball. Not yours. It would benefit you to remember this.

Nature girl.

Lost

I lost Jack (temporarily) today at a book festival in downtown Decatur. He was in the stroller while I was buying a book, and then he was NOT in the stroller. I won't even go into detail about how I felt, as anyone with children can surely imagine it all to0 clearly themselves, and there's no truly accurate way to describe complete, hysterical terror anyway.

So, I noted the absence of Jack, and I immediately began running up and down the aisles of books screaming "LOST BABY! GREEN SHORTS, TAN SHIRT WITH A TURTLE ON IT! BROWN CURLY HAIR! LOST BABY! LOST BABY!"

People were scampering about helping me look for him, and kind souls (likely fellow parents) were even taking up my cause, shouting out his description to others. Which was helpful because I was hyperventilating.

Turns out, Jack (I am making a valiant effort here to control my urge to call him multiple dirty names) had climbed OUT of the straps in the stroller (which I had loosened, like a moron, to make him more comfortable), and he was crouched behind the book shelf near the back of the kids' section. He had to poop, and nowadays he must hide when that particular urge strikes to avoid being harassed about the glories of using the potty. So he picked a convenient thirty seconds when I was otherwise engaged in paying for my purchase, and he left to take care of some urgent business.

I had stopped being practical and capable of rational thought just a few seconds after I noticed Jack wasn't where he should have been, and I had gotten to the point where I was in a complete swivet, flapping my arms and leaping around like an enraged harpy, screaming his name over and over, when he finally peeked around the shelf (to see why I was losing my shit, apparently). I spotted him, swooped down upon him (once again with the harpy thing) and thanked all my helpers for their assistance and genuine concern.

While at the time it seemed like hours, the entire ordeal lasted maybe 45 seconds to one minute. He is fine, I am fine. Now. I calmly (as every nerve in my body jangled) expressed to him how very scared it made mommy when she couldn't find Jack, and I stressed the importance of always staying inside the stroller like a good little boy. And I even managed to resist the urge to shake him until his teeth clacked together. Then I strapped his behind in that stroller so tight Houdini would have failed to extract him.

And what have we learned today? We have learned not to assume that because you have strapped your boy into the stroller he will stay there. And we have been reminded just how quickly a day can change from lovely to nightmarish. So, you know, pay attention. That's all I'm saying.

Shame, shame...

So embarrassed. So very, very embarrassed.

Yes, it's been a while. Longer than a while. A whiiiiile, if you will.

So what's new with us? Well, Sailor attended her first day of fourth grade yesterday. Getting information from her is often like pulling teeth, but she did offer us these golden nuggets:

1. Her teacher is nice. Not like the mean teacher on the playground who yelled at her students in front of everyone. This bothered Sailor.

2. She may very well be popular this year, as she made friends with some popular kids. I'm not sure who these kids are, but I have been assured they are the "sweet" popular kids, rather than the "mean" popular kids. Because Lord knows we want to steer clear of the latter.

3. She did not realize her lunchbox has a cooler compartment on the bottom. This is where I packed her milk and cheese. Therefore, she had to beg a milk off the lunch lady, who snarled at her and spit in the milk. I'm kidding. She didn't spit in the milk. But it was still a good visual, you have to admit.

We are not sure at this point if any actual learning occurred yesterday.

Jack has missed Sailor, but he is very excited about the opportunity to walk up the road with me to pick her up from the bus stop in the afternoons. Oh, the bus! It is absolutely glorious with its yellow paint and ear-splitting brake squeals! I mean, really.

Cousin Jason e-mailed some photos of our trip to the lake with Watson's family this weekend. I took one look, spotted myself in a couple here and there (in my bathing suit) and promptly stuffed my feet in my running shoes, strapped Jack in the jogging stroller and took off on a jaunt around the neighborhood. The first fifteen minutes or so were lovely. The air was cool (Jack was in long sleeved pj's), the roads were empty and the birds were singing (and staying respectively in their trees so as not to cause me any panic episodes on the road). I was just asking myself why I didn't do this every day, this pleasant, calming, rejuvenating exercise, when we arrived at the Big Hill.

"Please God, help me," I panted as I leaned into the incline, pushing Jack (who suddenly seemed ridiculously overweight) and the stroller (which suddenly seemed ridiculously oversized) up the mountain. Er, hill.

But I made it! And even though my legs are having a little trouble supporting me when I stand up and try to, you know, walk, I plan to do it again. Let's just hope I do a better job being a regular exerciser than I'm doing with my blogging. Fingers crossed.

Happy, birthday, Jack.

Today is Jack's second birthday. Wait... no, that's right. Second birthday. Wow.

And a glorious two years it has been. Happy birthday, indeed.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your sirloins! I'll be here all week...

So, apparently I'm hilarious. Just hilarious. To some people.

Unfortunately, at this moment my comedy fanbase consists of one person- Jack. We're in those precious years when I can crack him up with something as simple as a funny face or a rendition of Soulja Boy- complete with dancin'. Did I say they are precious years? Because they are, and well I know it. Sailor has moved entirely in the other direction, where 99% of my actions are not only unfunny, but mortifying.

I am patting myself on the back for the age difference between my children. Even though it was entirely against my will, I'm pretty sure my own personal/internal Body Management Team said, "Hey... wait a minute. You don't want them to be so close in age that they BOTH think you're nuts at the same time, do you? Let's have a little space, 'kay? You know how sensitive your ego is..."

So, seven years after Sailor was born, and just a few months after she started transitioning into the "my mother is totally humiliating me" phase, we had a sweet baby boy (who, in my estimation, still has a good 5 to 6 years before I have to pick him up at school wearing one of those beekeeper getups with the thick face shawl). It's great. When, for instance, I "raise the roof" (and make the whoop!whoop!whoop! noises) in the grocery store because my favorite brand of laundry detergent is on sale, I have one kid who shields her face and slumps away muttering under her breath- but I have another kid sitting in the buggy who laughs like a hyena and shouts, "Again, Mama! Again!"

And I can entertain Jack without even trying, really. I was changing his diaper this morning, and I gave him his pants to hold during the process. He was absentmindedly chomping on the drawstring when I said, "Jack, are you eating your PANTS?" Oh, the hilarity that ensued! "Haaa, haaaaaa, MUAHAHAHAA, Mama!" Then he got in on the act.

Me: "Jack, wouldn't you rather have a cold sandwich or some raisins?"

Jack: "No, Mama. Jack eating PANTS!" (lots of chortling and exaggerated smacking and swallowing noises)

I'm thinking of taking my show on the road. Jack could help me with my material. And Sailor could hang out safely backstage. In my beekeeper's getup.

Different Strokes...

I have noticed a distinct difference between the way I mother Jack and the way I mothered Sailor when she was his age.

For example, at Gymboree classes, Jack refuses to participate in several of the group activities. There is a huge, inflated tube (for lack of a better word) that the children pound on with both hands while music is playing. When the song instructs them to "FREEZE!", they take their hands off the tube and whisper , "shhhh..."
Jack hates it. Really, truly hates it.

Now, had it been 6 years earlier and Sailor the one who wouldn't participate in class activities, I would be beside myself. I would be wearing myself out stressing about why she wouldn't play those particular games and coming up with all sorts of schemes (er, bribes) in order to ensure future participation. I can just see myself pushing Sailor in the corner, with tears in both our eyes, me wheedling and begging her to "just come out and play... see? All the other kids and THEIR mommies are playing!"

With Jack, we just skip happily together to the corner farthest from the rest of the class and roll balls back and forth until the "scary part" is over. The teacher (herself the mom of one toddler) has given me all sorts of tips and pointers to make Jack, who truly enjoys playing alone, "come out of his shell." I just smile politely and follow Jack back to his corner.

After nine years of parenting- after living and learning and spending way too much time in the corner trying to make Sailor do something she'd really rather not do, I'm wondering what's really wrong with Jack's little shell after all. As long as Sailor and Jack are healthy, happy and well-loved, I am more than content to just let them be. I say this with a lot of conviction right now, but I freely admit that I may be singing a different tune when Miss Nichols hits her teen years.

But for now I'm a wiser, happier Mama who lives for those moments when all the world is right, and I'm invited to spend a little time in my kids' cozy, colorful shells.

Doggone Slacker

I have been called a blog slacker, so I'm attempting to correct the situation. The problem is that while things have been very busy lately, nothing has been particularly newsworthy. Things have been simply sailing along.

A few notes of interest: Sailor had her gymnastics class last night, and they finally worked on the bars and hand rings. Finally, it was Sailor's time to shine. She can't do a cartwheel, but that kid is a monkey on the bars. Her teacher watched her for a little while, then she called Sailor up to the front of the class and used her as the example of what the other girls should be doing. I was very proud of her.

Jack doesn't really have the busy schedule that Sailor has, but he has started taking Gymboree classes. They basically run wild in the toddler-sized gym, and they have a teacher who leads the kids and their moms in different lessons (big and small, loud and quiet, etc.). Jack is mostly interested in the balls scattered around the room. He runs from ball to ball shouting, "A BALL! A BALL!" He doesn't really like to participate in the lessons, but he enjoys watching the other kids while he does his own thing.

I hope to remember my camera one of these days, and I will post some photos of their respective classes. I also hope to remedy my slackness on the blog. As long as I have Watson to send me vicious e-mails about it, I think I have a shot!

She was this American Girl...

Sailor took her Christmas money and her mother to the new American Girl Boutique and Bistro at North Point Mall in Alpharetta Saturday. We did a little shopping and had desserts at the bistro (where the new and fabulous Julie had her own little chair and menu). It was very cool, and I found myself wishing I was a little girl again.

Stalker Mommy...

I was wedged between the kitchen table and the wall, taking these pictures with my big zoom lens through the bars on the handrail that leads downstairs. I felt like a member of the paparazzi stalking a pop star.

Sailor and Jack were sharing one of those sweet moments that does a great deal to lessen my anxiety over whether they will be really close because of their age differences. Apparently, Saturday morning cartoons and raisin toast can bridge any gap. :)

Yes sir, she IS a superstar!

The cookie cake pretty much says it all, but I still want to shout it from the rooftops... Sailor made straight A's on her report card! Woo hoo!

Nature girl... and boy

Honestly, having been born to people who almost always prefer an indoor, air-conditioned room with cable TV and a comfy place to park our buns, the incredible, bone-deep love Sailor and Jack have for the outdoors is amazing.

Sailor has invented a new super hero. She goes by Nature Girl, and she is a defender of all things flora and fauna. She is currently the lead role in the musical being rehearsed and performed (you guessed it!) outside every afternoon. I mentioned this musical in a previous post. I'm assuming you can also guess out who will be playing Nature Girl. From what I can glean from overheard rehearsals, the neighbor kids will be playing both villian and chorus roles. That's assuming she can whip them into shape before the production date. You would not believe the lack of professionalism she has to deal with.

Jack has only recently discovered the wonders of "outside." But it didn't take long for it to become a full-fledged obsession. If anyone dares go outside without him, he will fall to his knees with his face in his little hands and wail. This evening, I took him with me on a quick run out to the car to grab a bag, and the moment he realized that what we were doing was no more than a point A to point B sort of thing, he promptly fell apart. I swear I saw him over in the corner trying to rent his garments.

I guess it's time for Watson and me to work on becoming outdoorsy types. Maybe we can get an extra long, weatherproof cable for the TV...

You go, girl!

We were eating at a pizza restaurant, and we had a very chatty waitress. Really annoyingly chatty, but Watson and I were giving each other meaningful looks and trying to rise above.

As we were leaving, our waitress had a hissy fit over Jack and all his glorious cuteness, and she complimented Sailor on being an obviously great big sister. She then gave Sailor a good once-over, and she said, "Good LORD! You have some HUGE feet!"

I stood watching, ready to mouth off at this ninny server if Sailor showed any signs of having hurt feelings, but guess what she did? Guess what my brave, beautiful, clever, big-footed girl did? She looked right at the woman and said, "The better to run with, my dear."

Oh, how I love that kid!

Day one

Trying something new today! My goal is to keep up this blog as a sort glimpse into the life of our family, and most specifically the kids.

I will most certainly not write every day (It's just not my way), and some days may be light- so be warned!

Today was a blissfully non-busy day. We didn't have a single thing to do, and it was glorious! I spent the day trying to catch up on laundry (who knew 4 people could generate more dirty laundry in three days than an entire co-ed college dorm?), reading The Fiery Cross (again!) and observing all the goings-on around the house.

Watson, of course, has been immersed in football all day. If not a game, then one of those annoying sports shows where beefy men in tight suits yammer on and on about football.

Jack played around with his new obsession, shoes. But in a manly way. He calls them "shoosh." He found a heap of shoosh near the front door (yeah, I should probably do something about that). He tried them all on, and he stumbled around in Sailor's cowboy boots for a while. It was pretty darn cute. He'd work tirelessly trying to step into them, and when it finally happened, he'd look up with a grin and say, "SHOOSH!"

He will also bring our shoes to us and then lead us by the hand to the front door, pointing frantically and making all kinds of urgent grunting noises. The kid absolutely LOVES to play outside. Watson took him out for a while yesterday. Jack loves his swing, and he went down the big slide in the back yard all by himself (but with Daddy hovering protectively behind) several times.

Sailor was outside all day today. She came in once for ice cream push pops, and then she disappeared again for another few hours. At one point, I heard her outside giving direction to the neighbor kids, who follow her every whim. Apparently, she was directing their musical, and I deduced this by the loud screeching notes that followed Sailor's count of three. I heard a lot of loud comments from the director, who is really rather tough. "No, Marci! Just freeze, then sing LOVELY, okay?"

At one point, I heard a lot of screaming and barking, so I ran to the window to look out. It looked like trouble from the little piss ant dog who lives next door, so I ran outside in my unfortunate-looking pajamas to check the situation. Apparently, the children felt there could be trouble eventually, even though the dog was inside his own fence (and about the size and proportion of a watermelon... not terribly agile, in my opinion). The two redheaded neighbors were "treed" in the fort on top of our swing set, and Sailor was standing in a swing, with a chocolate push pop in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. I can only hope this bat was grabbed up as defense against the dog and not as an "instructional" tool for her musical students.

She's upstairs now with her nose in a National Geographic for Kids magazine, and Jack is downstairs in the toy room with a sippy cup of milk and Max and Ruby on TV. Watson is piled up on the couch with a cocktail, a laptop and a remote (happy as a clam), and I'm here writing and trying to put off the next load of laundry.

Things have become suspiciously quiet in the toy room. I'm crossing my fingers and heading off to see what the little monkey king is doing.

Love to all and good night!