Show me the mommy

The infamous Laura a few years back encouraged us all to post pic of ourselves to get us, as moms, into pictures. I loved the series!

This is a picture of me that Wyeth took. And I love it. For several reasons. I love that it shows our messy kitchen. Our not quite clean cabinets. Our out of place stool. I love that it is from his perspective. Of what his Mom looks like on a weekend. In my mom clothes.

(Do you have "Mom" clothes?)

But I also like it because it captures who I still want to be. A person  who believes in the spirt of Americorps. Of getting things DONE. In community. Of making a difference in the world. To people who really need the basics. Food. Shelter. I haven't grown to be that person as fully as I once envisioned. Not yet.

But I'm still there. Still hopeful that my life- at least some part of it- will be dedicated to some sort of service.

If only through the eyes of my children.

Beach Weekend 2012

You know how you have endless conversations with dear friends that go something like this:

"We should really get together."
"We should. We should plan something."
"It would be amazing if we could go away to the beach."
"I know, right! That would be awesome!"

And these conversations happen frequently but the weekend/dinner/drinks never really happen? Well this March, it really did happen! I have a dear friend from high school named Jessica. She and I went to elementary school together through high school. We connected over creative writing and long conversations during road trips in high school. But then life got busy during college. She lived all over the world. I lived in California. Despite the miles, we stayed in touch and she gifted Sam and I by performing beautifully at our wedding.

She is one of those uber talented people. Among other talents: She has a PhD. She paints. She has a record album. She salsa dances. She is a yogi. She is also a mom to a super cutie toddler. But just as importantly, she is hysterical and makes me laugh.

She invited me to her family's beach house for a weekend two weekends ago. I looked forward to it immensely. We'd be able to have full conversations! Finish our sentences! Drink wine! Have a LONG dinner! Drink coffee!

And we did all of those things. We met up around 11 am and drove to the beach. We set up shop, made lunch, walked along the beach, did yoga, had coffee, played scrabble and went on small adventures. It was all of the little things that I love. Nature. Conversation. Rest.


She is also an amazing cook and I am an amazing eater. :)

I woke up to the sound of sea gulls and then we had mimosas for breakfast! Hello! Perfect!
She is a great conversationalist so my mind spun for a few days afterwards- mulling over parts of our conversation from the weekend.

In short? It was a gift. The whole thing.
Thanks so much Jess!

Who wore it best?

The red carpet is being rolled out. Who wore it best?


Dress Number 1:

Dress Number 2:

Who rocked it with grace and elegance?? Any votes!?

Hypothetically

So...hypothetically speaking...

Say that you live in a modest home with modest cars. You make a decent income but not enough to cover everything. You pay most of your bills. But not all. You accrue debt nearly every month  not by overspending on anything but just by being short. But you refinanced recently and are making some changes.

Say you really value education. You want the question to be "where are you going to college?" and not "do you think you will go to college?"

Say you send your daughter to White Meat school.

But you attend UU church on Sunday and have progressive liberal politics.

Say that you go to parent events at school and just feel like you don't belong. At all.

Say you hypothetically can't stand what is going on in the school. Daily watching of videos. That have nothing to do with school. A lack of books in the classroom. A lack of creativity among certain teachers. Union issues. A 10 day strike that has divided a community. A total lack of organization and structure.

But say, despite all of that, you have a daughter who loves to learn. And who likes school. Who taught herself how to count in 5s. Who is reading everything she can get her hands on.

But whose teachers do not seem to not know it. Or care.

But you can't afford to move to the "good district". Not by a long shot.

Do you try to pay for private education? Even though you really can't afford it. Should you attend Catholic school even though your family has attended exactly one mass ever? Should you home school? What would that mean? Should you continue to attend and justify that it is "only" first grade? And maybe it is just a tired teacher and others will be great. Do you talk to the principal? What do you say? Do you move out of state where homes are more affordable and the schools are better? Do you move to a small box in the good district and just fix it up? Do you sell your home and rent in the good district? Do you just realize that you are still your kids' best teachers and hold on?

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Help.

Bigger Boats

Wyeth is playing us.

We are being played hardcore.

About two months ago we started to enforce the "sit on the potty" twice a day rule.

He got a sticker just for that.

He got bored.

We got bored.

Then one month ago, as I was bathing him in the bath, he stood up, grabbed a plastic red boat that we use for bath play and peed directly into the boat.

Are you kidding me?

I praised him and dumped the pee in the toilet and flushed it. With much bravado! GOOD JOB!

The next few times when I asked him to pee, he responded that "I already peed in the red boat."

As if this was a one time deal.

Sam wrote about it  here.

But now when I put him in the bath every other day he refuses to pee in anything but a plastic boat. Or a tupperware container. He loves peeing in any of those things. And does every time we take a bath.

What the hell? How do we move from peeing in a plastic boat, standing up with remarkable control to I don't know, say, a TOILET!?

I did give him a M and M the first time he peed in the boat to make the correlation that we liked him doing that and to give him some credit. So last night, when he peed in the little tupperware container, I told him he wasn't getting an m and m until he actually peed in the toilet.

We'll see.

Send  help.  And as Sam would say, 'send bigger boats'.

We are so being played.

New "Friends"

Weyth's imagination over the past two months has exploded! He has amazing adventures these days! He shops at imaginary shops (Stock'N' Shop) that offers anything anyone could want. He has playdates with friends that don't really exist. He rides a magic carpet to go places. He has an apartment. With an elevator. He even has another family! Another whole set of relatives. And he takes all of this very seriously. He isn't joking at all when he says that he has to go to StockNShop. When Seren giggles, he gets very angry.

Pretending is VERY serious business.

Last Thursday he informed us that Jolly (a boy) and Toothpick (Jolly's sister) were spending the weekend at our house. They came early in the evening and would be staying with us.  So periodically this weekend he would say something like "well, they just woke up". Seren is a great trooper with this sort of thing. "Wyeth, are they done eating? Can they play."

"Yes, they can. They can come play with us now. They are done."

And so it went.  Seren also had these friends, pink elephants.They showed up right before she turned 3.

It is good to know that Jolly and Toothpick aren't big eaters!

As if I didn't feel old enough already

Children help us mark the time. We vividly recall (nearly) every moment of their young lives. We remember when they couldn't reach the counter top. And when they fit into newborn diapers.

So just looking at our growing children already tells us that they are growing and by extension, we are aging.

We don't really need too much 'help' to realize that we are aging.

Wyeth recently really brings this home.

His favorite stuffed animal, by far, is Webbie. Pictured here.

And here:

Webbie is his 'son'. And he is his Dad. Of course. Seren is the mom. (Ignore the incest in that statement) And me? I'm the grandma.

At least once a week, when I put Wyeth to bed, and he needs something from me, he will yell from  his bed,  "GRANDMA!!! WEBBIE NEEDS YOU! GRANDMA!"

Thanks.

I will now go and pluck out the grey hair.