Efficiency Amidst Crazy Town

I write every day. Not that you would know this, as my blog has collected dust and cobwebs as of late, but I still write every day... in my mind.

When I first discovered that the voice in my head was my writer's voice, composing witty commentary on every day life, I was thrilled that this voice had a purpose. I admit, laughing awkwardly, that I had from time to time been concerned that I might have uncomfortable similarities to the Russell Crowe character in A Beautiful Mind.

And so I write. I write while I observe the adorable and not so adorable antics of Turbo and Smiley. I write when life surprises me (which is pretty much every day!). I write when I'm sad, I write when I've collapsed into a fit of giggles - or, rather, I write when I've recovered from a fit of giggles.

To paraphrase a Mary Poppins' tune, "I love to write, a-ha-ha-ha, loud and long and clear."

I'm going to challenge myself to blog every day in December. There is always something to share and even if I'm not putting my A work up every day, it's better to have my C work out more frequently. Writing takes practice and patience and willpower some days. I think it was Ted Williams who had the perfect swing and when asked about that natural gift, he answered, "hitting a baseball on a string, in my basement, 200 times a day."

With December comes the added and joyful work of preparing for Christmas and also for our vacation in Hawaii early next year. I am not in a position to take on a new project, but training for a marathon a number of years ago taught me that I can be very efficient when pressed for time.

I know I can do this, I can write every day. This post is my little pep talk to myself. Go, me!

Important

Dear Kids,

If it's important to you, it'll be important to me. I promise to support your passions so long as they don't involve sword swallowing or fire twirling, and even then... I will try to find a way to back you up in your pursuits.

Love,
Mom

Deep Thoughts

by Turbo Handy*

Tonight when I picked up Turbo from school, there was a well-worn paperback in his cubby along with a note, reading, "Please repair or replace." And then an explanation that Turbo had torn the book three times today.

The first tear was an accident, as he was grabbing the book off of a refrigerator (no clarification as to why books are in such cold places), but apparently the next two times were out of 4-year-old curiosity, as in, "say, I wonder what happens when I go like this."

When I asked Turbo why he ripped the book he gave me the most unexpected answer. I have come to depend on the "I don't know" answer and am now proudly skilled at getting a real answer out of my I-don't-know child. I was ready for the "I don't know." I was not ready for the existential dialogue that ensued.

Me: "Turbo, why did you rip this book?"
Turbo: "Because...I don't know what is life."
Me: "What does that mean?"
Turbo, shrugging: "I don't know what it is to be."

Whoa. Wax on, little buddy, wax on.

I did ask him if he'd like me to explain what life is. He said yes, and then I was at a loss for words. I'm going to revisit this important topic tonight at bed time. I love my little philosopher!


*invoking the very funny Jack Handy of SNL fame.

Wishing Wells

Tonight I read a new library book to Turbo. In the book was a shooting star and the two adorable characters made wishes on the star.

Turbo closed his eyes, turned his head to the wall and wished, "I wish that I could live inside your heart."

And so you do, little one. And so you do.

Turning Three

This blog entry might also be titled, Pinkmond.

One of my favorite quips to ever so wisely share with other moms is, "I thought two was hard until I met three."  Well, I'm happy ready to report that this is still right on the money in our home.

Of my two kids, Turbo has been the most challenging. Have you picked up on that? I mean, his nickname is Turbo. This kid loves to push the boundaries and seems to ask with each clever maneuver, "Is this the edge?" "How about this, is this the edge?" Repeat. He's also turning five soon and mellowing considerably. I can take him to movie theaters now (rejoice!), he's easily engaged in the latest Ninjago-Lego-sheriff role-playing games he's excitedly dreamed up, and I can look him squarely in the eye and tell him, "I know what you're up to." And he gets it and smiles back at me.

Smiley, on the other hand, has always been "my easy one." I have tried to avoid this phrase for worry it would creep into my spoken words at home and I would never want Turbo to think he's "the challenging one." Smiley from day one has been textbook on sleeping, eating, everything, and is, almost always, smiling. She is sweet, sweet, sweet.

Oh how the tables have turned. Smiley will be three soon and has found her scream. She startled herself to tears a couple of times by the intensity of her own screams, and looked around in panic for comfort from her mama. I remember asking her on one vociferous occasion, "Did that scream scare you?" "Yes," she nodded and sobbed and held me tight around the neck. Still cute. Still sweet, and now with an edge. A pink, wears-only-dresses, edge.

Earlier today our family was outside enjoying this extended stretch of sunny weather (thank you, weather gods), and my husband and I talked about options for replacing our deck, or at least the boards that are showing ground beneath them and thus creating alarms in my head every time I send the kids outside to play. It's time to get serious about deck repairs. Before long my husband had his tape measure out and both kids showed enthusiasm in their own unquie styles.

Turbo: "Dad, that's my tape measure. Give it to me."
Smiley: "I want a pink tape measure."

Say, they actually make pink tape measures. Can you say, birthday present?

The girl loves pink. And dresses. And sandals. And with her curly hair, one cannot help but conjure up the old nursery rhyme, "there once was a girl, who had a little curl..." Oh, Smiley, please never tip the scales to horrid.

One of my very favorite things about Smiley is that she has so much to say. Before she had the muscles for real words, she would wake each morning as a smiley, happy chatterbox. When she really started talking, probably at the precise moment she turned 2.5, she surprised me with her thoughtful reflections. Had I not been so busy these past 12 months, I probably would have recorded each and every one of them. I've got a lot of time to make up, so here is one fantastic kidlogical-kid logic moment that happened about 60 minutes ago.

INT.  Family Car - Evening
Smiley: "What town are we in?"
Me: "Redmond."
Smiley, with utmost certainty: "No, Pinkmond."

Stealing Thunder

Today is the tenth anniversary of my father's death. That is a very large statement and it requires some exploring and I had planned to write about my father today.

And then Boston happened.

I lost my dad to cancer and while that sucks about a hundred different ways, right now it feels like it pales in comparison to the sudden and shocking loss the families in Boston are experiencing tonight.

Perhaps comparing isn't all that helpful. Grief is grief.

Someone lost their 8 year-old son today. I am rocked with anger about an unnecessary evil that changed the path this family now has to take.

Jerks.

Kid Logic, Kidlogical

They say it takes two to three weeks to either break a bad habit or start a new (presumably) good one.

Well, darn it, I got out of practice with blogging again and I sorely miss it. I like to tell myself you've missed me too. Time to get writing again, even if just to remember how grand it feels to hear the clicks and clacks of my keyboard and how magical it can feel when the words pour from my mind onto these pages.

My darling son Turbo has an inquisitive mind. I love that about him. Or, in Internet-speak, I <3 that about him.

With fresh fruit more abundant at grocery stores these days, my husband and I have started introducing the idea of dessert after a few meals each week. So far, we've had strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Somehow, even though we are far far away from summer, the blackberries have been the overwhelming favorite as they were oh-so-juicy and not even a little bit tart. These kids are in for a rude awakening the first time we come across them growing on the local walking paths. "Sure you may eat those." "Mom, ew, these are terrible!" Or at least those are my memories when I ate them too soon in the season as a kid.

Tonight dessert was strawberries and before I describe the hilarious and beautiful kidlogical moment, I want to take a moment to pat myself on the back for introducing the concept of dessert without it having to mean piles of chocolate chip cookies or mounds of vanilla ice cream smothered in buttery caramel sauce... mmm, is anyone else hungry?

I am quite sure I do plenty of things the 'wrong' way (even though I swear there is no right or wrong in parenting), but this one feels right. Fruit is so naturally sweet and delicious and also full of fiber and other goodies. And I'm sure we'll have our chocolate nights too, but only after fruit is well-established as the norm.

All hail the strawberry!

Kidlogical moment #1
Turbo: "Mom, why are they called strawberries when they aren't made out of straws?"

Kidlogical moment #2

Turbo: "Mom, why are they called walkie-talkies when we don't walk on them?"

Keep the questions coming, kid.