It’s the Dog’s Fault.

 

Linking up with Five Minute Friday today.

The theme?

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I blame it all on the dog.

We were walking along, all flippy tailed and in step with Mercy Me’s “Shake.” I’m whistling. It’s a sunny, bright afternoon. And then, the dog really messed it all up.

Pun. Intended.

He went for the double poop.

Have you ever tried to talk a dog out of pooping? It doesn’t work. And also, this makes my dog, I guess, feel all nervous which seems to have a really gut wrenching (did it again) effect on his lower intestine.

“ONE bag, dog. I brought ONE bag. This is a double poop. This is just unacceptable.”

We were late to pickup my boys from school because my dog is a pooping machine.

I ran (with very penitent dog) to the school and I spotted him, Red. Standing by his teacher. I knew the look. He had worry, buried behind his eyes, and was trying to look brave, but the look was solidly there.

This all happened over seven months ago, and I just can’t forget that face. He spotted me, scooting in with Mr. Dumpsalot, and his eyes widened into a smile. And he ran to me.

“MOM MOM Mom motherrr mom MOMMMM.” He runs into my stomach. Dog promptly wraps entire length of leash around both our legs. I hug him tight.

Blonde catches up with us, and since he is in the first grade now, he never worried. He is a pro. He is old school, school. He doesn’t worry if mom is late because he knows she will always be there.

Red was new at this, and I could tell it was bugging him. And then, he fit his hand into mine and we started home.

“I am so sorry I was late, honey. Hosmer had some … issues.”

“Yep.”

“We had to basically fence off and clean up a two block radius. The dog can GO, I tell you.”

“Yep. I know that’s true.”

“I mean, it was epic. I needed a Hazmat suit. It was- Oh honey? You’re crying.”

His little mouth had slowly turned down, as if both ends of his smile were pulled down with strings.  His eyes were on his shoes and large, warm tears splashed on my knees as I crouched down in front of him.

“I waited and waited! Everyone else left. They all left. And I thought,” big shuddering breath, “I thought you FORGOTTED ME!”

I hugged him tight. And then, I said,

“Honey. I can’t forget about you. That would be… that would be like… how could I forget you? It would be like if my heart was outside my body – I couldn’t forget about that…”

This is one of those times that going for a deep, and rather visually icky, metaphor here was a mistake. Big mistake. Huge.

“YOUR HEART IS OUTSIDE YOUR BODY? WHYYYYY MOMMMMMM???”

Sobbing.

Now, he was tired. It was the beginning of the year; he was all new to this, but my goodness, he was really sad and upset and I felt? Well,

I kinda felt like my heart was outside of my body.

Which it is. Metaphor aside. My sweet boys go into that school and I sometimes watch them walk into those doors and think, “You are my heart.”

 

For future reference:

  1. I always bring TWO bags. Sometimes THREE.
  2. Hugs and popsicles help for a snack after crying.
photo

Out of small packages come… big things?

 

 

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What I learned this summer. Again.

Throw Back Thursday, y’all. Isn’t it funny how time just keeps marching on by?

Maybe not so funny. But life. Just life, afterall.

Soon I will post about my baby going to kindergarten. But, not today. Today I am just gonna look at old posts and pictures and glory in God’s blessings. And perhaps, feel a little heartbroken.

And take a very long nap.

big_chief

What I Learned This Summer

By: Momsie

Posted originally: July 31, 2014

1.  Do not fear The Big House Project.  Put on your Lord of the Rings soundtrack, bolster your Frodo resolve and hobbit courage, and begin your quest to vanquish the disgusting carpet in your living room.  You may be small, and the carpet may be evil, but fear not.  Goodness will prevail.

IMG_2946

That flying object above my head? It’s a sander. I don’t really know how it got up there, but no Momsies were injured during the Battle of the Shag Carpet.

2.  Sparklers still kinda scare me.  I have three boys (hubs included in this number, as always.)  I am out numbered on this notion.

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3.  Riding a carousel at the Royals game tends to make Red rather thinky.  After the ride was over, he looked up at me and said, “I wanna ride it again.  But a different horse this time.  So we can go farther.”  Poor dear.  Physics and all.

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4.  There will be shenanigans. Lots of them.  However: in this case, the wee ones were contained.

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5.  On a hot day, Momsie’s all “Let’s put out the sprinkler!  Now run through it, dear ones! Frolic!  Frolic about!”

The boys (aka savages) are all:

IMG_2681IMG_2684IMG_2682

Good heavens.

I just went inside to get some lemonade.  I returned to this.  What happened to the frolicking?

6.  My son got to be catcher.  IMG_2866

Which really just made me think this:

spaceballs-02

6.  There will be actual naps.  Like, for real.  IMG_2914

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7.  Popsicles are a must.  Every day.  They cover a multitude of sins – even bad haircuts because sitting?  Very still?  Dis is hard.

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And, when you take your five year old to ENROLL FOR KINDERGARTEN this morning, you bow down low and thank Summer.

Thank you, just for the sweet, sweet blessing of time.

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summer, 2012

Time is a game played beautifully by children. ~

Heraclitus

Won’t You Take Me to Dramatown

Y’all. We are in the last days of summer.

There is mixed feelings all around. I find myself dipping into hormonal moments of nostalgia. I start humming, “Sunrise, Sunset” and then snare a stray child, clutch him to my chest, start rocking and sorta moaning, “Mah babieeeeeeeee. My pweshus widdle cherub… Momma wuvs you so much,” until we both get nauseated by the baby talk and lack of oxygen, and said child breaks free and slinks off to do something annoying to balance out the situation.

But also, every once in a while, I act like this guy:

rasberry

Why?

Holy Braveheart, you have ask???

FREEDOM, Y’all! It’s not just for political ads, ok? It’s for mommies, the frazzled, the worn OUT,

Give us your tired, your poor, your huddles masses of mommies… THE KIDS ARE GOING BACK TO SCHOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!

And for you home schoolers out there. I salute you. You don’t really get to revel that much in all the chirpy back-to-school commercials and over-merchandising and backpacks that are grossly overpriced, but we still buy them because, lo, our children will take those backpacks and LEAVE WITH THEM!  I really don’t know how you do it, but I salute you anyway because you kinda terrify me.

Anyhow.

I have two extra boys at my house these days – and evidently drama is their thing. No, I mean really. They like to put on plays. So far I have seen Joe vs. the Scary Thing, A Very Long Play About Really Nothing, Something With Dragons and Joe Again, and then a piece so avant-garde there wasn’t even real children, just an audience who tried to secretly multi-task, and a weird dialogue that took place IN AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ROOM. There were some problems with that one – something about stage directions.

Also, there are costumes. Like (dramatic flapping of hands to add flair) THIS:

photo 1

Note the shoes. These pink mules with cute little bows from Nordstroms (back when I bought shoes) were donned to help with the sound effects. Blonde informed me that he was a ninja warrior but the shoes added a thunder sound. Of course.

Also, (more flapping of hands) THIS:

photo 3I apologize for the horrible pictures. I was laughing my butt off.

In this image, our main character is a troubled and conflicted soul who really, deep down, is TRYING to be mysterious and scary, but just, you know, for some reason, can’t pull it off.

Also, yes, there is a ninja with a Nerf gun lurking in the background. But, isn’t there always?

So, after about fourteen of these Oscar winners, I finally decided to get in on the act. (SEE THAT I KNOW THIS IS WHY YOU READ ME, ISN’T IT??) and I, of course, decided to make this a Teachable Moment! Because! I am a Mother!

So, I talked to the director, a budding James Cameron, about his plan.

“I think we will do a play about kids. Kids and Santa. Maybe also a Ninja.”

One actor sidled past and muttered, “No ninjas with Santa. Dats not ok.”

Actors are so temperamental.

Anyhow, with an encouraging, Mom of the Year smile, I offered MY brilliant plan:

“I know! Why don’t you make a play about Compromise!? We have had to really work on that in our house lately.”

The director eyed me. And then said,

“No. I don’t want to.”

And… cut.

Irony. It is wasted on the young.

Right now they are singing “Ding dong the witch is dead!” It’s part of the big showstopper at the end.

It’s fitting.
(MORE IRONY.)

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Postscript: To the teachers, ALL of you, I am one of you. I get it.  You are dearly loved and prayed for. 🙂

e35d0afdadc038bee24f56204256e20e

I Am Felling for You

school_starts2

My five-year old, Blonde, is now in kindergarten.  So, now we have mornings now that go like this:

Me:  Blonde, I need you to eat, dress, brush, and get your backpack on.  Maybe all in that order.  And within the next seven minutes.  I realize this is totally unrealistic but alarm clocks are hard.

Blonde:  I cannot respond to this.  It’s like BIG early.

Me:  Blonde, clothes, oatmeal, toothbrush – HERE.  Don’t be overwhelmed little one. Just try to remember to put your underpants on first.

Blonde:  Why? Why da underpants first?

Me:  BLONDE, WOULD YOU PLEASE GET GOING. NOW. WE NEED TO GET A MOVE ON.  LET’S GO. IT’S TIME TO GO. LIKE OUT THE DOOR. WE NEED TO GO.  LIKE, RIGHT NOW.  LEAVING.  LEAVING NOW.

Blonde:  I call your bluff, lady.  And Red is still sitting on the floor in the kitchen with his oatmeal.  Evidently he doesn’t think he can eat it. Or that tables are a thing.

Henry: (faintly, from the kitchen):  It’s too buttery.

Blonde: He’s crazy.

Me: He is crazy.  How can anything be too buttery?  Blonde, your hair. Smush it down.  And your pants are on backwards.

Blonde: I am expressing my individual creativity.  I gotta be me.

 

The cat just sauntered past.  He has not eaten, brushed, and he has no underpants on either.  This is chaos.

Me:  Ok troops. This is Momsie.  We are now in level ORANGE.  I repeat, Level ORANGE.  IF WE DON’T GET TO SCHOOL ON TIME THE TEACHER WILL BE MAD.  I CANNOT HANDLE THAT; I AM A TEACHER.  WE JUDGE EACH OTHERWE TELL YOU WE DON’T BUT WE DO.

REPORT TO THE DOOR, STAT!  AND I WILL SMUSH THE HAIR, BLONDE.  YOU ARE NOT HARRY STYLES.  NOT YET.

 

 

The troops headed out, on time. I was pretty sure Jesus just decided to take pity on  me and stopped time for a bit. He can do that, you know.  Once we got to the school, Blonde set his helmet on his handlebars, and started to tip over a bit on his bike.

“Mom! Catch me if I fell!”

I did.  And I will.  At least for a little longer.

But if you’re late, you’re gonna have to deal with your teacher yourself.  Unless it’s my fault.  Then we’ll just tell her I just got out of the hospital, brain surgery, something like that.  I am pretty sure she would buy it.

 

Red, as we are heading back on our bikes, glances back at the big school.  “Yep.  He’s in der!”  He heads for a hill.

“Here we goooooooooooooo!”

Yep. Here we go.

kinder1
Carol’s mother is a lot more relaxed about this whole deal.  And Carol has creepy eyes. Maybe that’s why – Carol needs to Get. Out.

No Really, I’m FINE.

 

I really don’t want to talk about it.

All week long, I have been dealing with We Came Back from Vacation and My House Fell Over Under All the Laundry.  Really, it did.  For some reason, as wonderful as Colorado is, it breeds laundry.

So, I’m prancercizing through my week, getting back into the whole Mom groove, feeling my vibe, chilling back into this whole nuclear family at home thing.

Next thing you know,  we’re hanging a stuffed backpack next to the door, and picking out clothes for the next day,  because it’s (DRUM ROLL):

THE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN!!! 

I was cool with that.

Totes cool.  We had bought the supplies a month ago.  We had the doctor’s papers signed proving that Blonde is un-plagued.  We had even bought him a new toothbrush to toast the occasion.

I did edit the outfit he had picked since the one he chose kinda looked like he wanted to enroll in clown school.  Other than that, we were locked and loaded for:

THE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN!!!

And everything was gonna be just fine!

Like, totally fine! No problems here!  I have been preparing for this day since, uh, well about 5 years ago!!

school_starts2

And then I took him in to the classroom, shook hands with the teacher, watched him hang up his gigantic back pack, and signed up for something (I am not sure what).  We did hit a bit of a snag there when I realized I was gripping the teacher’s hand rather tightly, and staring at her with a lot of intensity.  I was trying to read her.  What if she hated all children and as soon as I left she decided to sell them?

It’s possible my husband had to suggest I leave.  I waved a lot to Blonde as we left, sort of the over-wave.  Like “is she having a seizure?” kind of waving.   Blonde didn’t much notice because there was play dough.  She had carpeted floors.  AND play dough?  The woman is fearless.

And still.  We’re good! This is awesome!  Blonde is so gonna love it!

And we’re walking home, the husband is chattering away about something that I had absolutely no interest in whatsoever; no problemo.

About half a block later, he’s in mid sentence about something involving rotating tires on something vehicular, I turned around and thought:  “He’s in there.  I’m going to just go back now and get him.”

From thereon I think the husband switched gears (GET IT? SEE WHAT I DID THERE? Even amidst Momsie distress I still got it.)   The hubs has learned that if there are tears he must stop and start talking to me like I am an injured baby bunny.  And yes, I KNOW this is somewhat patronizing, but I like baby bunnies and I chose this analogy.  So, he’s all:  “Ohhhhh. What’s wrong?  Is it allergies? Did you wave too much back there?  Something’s injured?  Do you need a juice box?  Or some alfalfa?”

We are now starting to play that great game for husbands and wives called:

Try to Figure Out What’s Wrong With Me, but Do It Fast Because Otherwise You’re Totally Insensitive!

Then:  It HIT him (which means, I finally had to say it, but there was no actual hitting involved):  The wee blonde is gone.

 

I spent the rest of the walk arguing in my head with Einstein about his whole theory of space and time and relativity and all. Where did the time, uh, GO?

Pfft.  Einstein is so overrated.

But, then again, if Blonde keeps going to school, he can learn that for himself.  I guess that’s acceptable.

 

The one on the right is a bit tall for elementary school, but he's cute and good with a protractor, so I bet they'll take him.

The one on the right is a bit tall for elementary school, but he’s cute and geeky good with a protractor, so I bet they’ll take him.

 

 

 

 

What I Learned This Summer

big_chief

What I Learned This Summer

By: Momsie

 

1.  Do not fear The Big House Project.  Put on your Lord of the Rings soundtrack, bolster your Frodo resolve and hobbit courage, and begin your quest to vanquish the disgusting carpet in your living room.  You may be small, and the carpet may be evil, but fear not.  Goodness will prevail.

 

IMG_2946

That flying object above my head? It’s a sander. I don’t really know how it got up there, but no Momsies were injured during the Battle of the Shag Carpet.

 

2.  Sparklers still kinda scare me.  I have three boys (hubs included in this number, as always.)  I am out numbered on this notion.

IMG_2942

3.  Riding a carousel at the Royals game tends to make Red rather thinky.  After the ride was over, he looked up at me and said, “I wanna ride it again.  But a different horse this time.  So we can go farther.”  Poor dear.  Physics and all.

 

 

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4.  There will be shenanigans. Lots of them.  However: in this case, the wee ones were contained.

IMG_2979

 

5.  On a hot day, Momsie’s all “Let’s put out the sprinkler!  Now run through it, dear ones! Frolic!  Frolic about!”

The boys (aka savages) are all:

IMG_2681IMG_2684IMG_2682

Good heavens.

I just went inside to get some lemonade.  I returned to this.  What happened to the frolicking?

6.  My son got to be catcher.  IMG_2866

Which really just made me think this:

 

spaceballs-02

 

 

6.  There will be actual naps.  Like, for real.  IMG_2914

IMG_2691

7.  Popsicles are a must.  Every day.  They cover a multitude of sins – even bad haircuts because sitting?  Very still?  Dis is hard.

 

IMG_2408

And, when you take your five year old to ENROLL FOR KINDERGARTEN this morning, you bow down low and thank Summer.

Thank you, just for the sweet, sweet blessing of time.

304837_265064590178770_7568135_n

summer, 2012

Time is a game played beautifully by children. ~

Heraclitus