Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Status Updates

I have a bit of a Facebook obsession. One of the things I enjoy most is the Status Update feature which allows the user to post a sentence or two about what's happening at the moment. I think it's spoiled me because it's so easy to throw up a thought or two every few days. Much easier that actually blogging. So instead of copping out and updating my status every five minutes, here's what's been on my mind.
  • Missing the City. I went through the drive through at Seattle's Best yesterday for a little pick-me-up as I've recently discovered that I'm a better mother when caffeinated. It was disappointing the say the least, but it's the only decent drive through coffee in town. This got me thinking about all the mornings in Boston that I enjoyed Peet's Coffee at Brigham and Women's Hospital, which made me think about Espresso Royale Cafe, that bastion of coffee goodness for BU seminarians and anyone else who lived and died for a mocha the way I did. On the way home from the disappointing coffee adventure, Colin Cowherd was making fun of sentimental Yankees fans. One of his comments was that "New Yorkers are some of the most well-read people in the country for no other reason than they have all that time to read during their 40-minute commute to work." I remember having all that spare time to read, to think, to doodle, to look out the window, both in Boston and in Chicago. Good coffee and a pleasant train ride. I could go for that again.
  • Looking forward to Fall. I've always been a spring and summer gal, but when Joshua showed me his "apple tree" art project the other day I almost exploded with excitement that Fall is so close. I've never cared much about Fall, but this year I do. I'm ready for the oppressive heat to go away. I'm ready for cool, crisp air. I'm ready for long sleeves and apples and winter squash and crock pots and pretty leaves. I'm ready to share fun Fall things with Joshua, who's finally old enough to enjoy them. I want to drink apple cider with him, carve a pumpkin with him, go on a hayride with him, and play outside with him without having reapply sunscreen every twenty minutes.
  • Too much growing up. Joshua loves playschool. Oh, he'll occasionally say that he doesn't want to go, but when I tell him that I'll call Miss Penny and tell her not to expect him, he almost immediately changes his tune. We were all over at the school this weekend laying rubber mulch on the playground, and we took our lunch break in Joshua's classroom. I thought about how he knows the ins and outs of that room while I know nothing. He does things in there that I'll never know about. He participates in a whole world that I'm not part of. And he's thriving in it. While I love that he's doing these things I his own, I'm still trying to figure out how to stop this growing up business. Maybe if I sit on him he'll stop growing up so fast. Or maybe if I hug him alot. If anyone knows the secret, tell me. Part of me wants this sweet little guy forever, you know, except for all the times he makes me want to scream.
  • Domesticity. I've been working so much and spending so much time advising my sorority women that I've hardly had time to do anything in my own house. Last night I finally finished ironing, but I would give anything for one whole day to dedicate to cleaning my house. We're not quite to the point that the health department would be interested in taking a look around, but we're not far from it. I don't who this person is that actually wants to clean the house, but she needs to go away.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

More Bathroom Humor

Today was "red day" at school, so we sent Joshua packing in his red polo this morning. When I went to pick him up I was surprised to see him in his green shirt that we had sent along on the first day in his "change of clothes" bag. Miss Libby stuck her head in the car to tell me that he had gotten "a little wet" but that everything was fine.

After we pulled out of the parking lot I noticed that he was wearing the same shorts that I had sent him in, so I asked him if he had an accident in his pants. "No."

"How did your shirt get wet?" I asked, thinking that maybe he had actually spilled something on it.

"Well," he said, "my penis was on the wrong way."

I hate it when that happens.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

That's a Relief

I didn't know I was a yeller until I had a two-year-old. Or maybe it started upon the arrival of a second child. Anyway, I'm a yeller. I'm loud anyway, and the frustration of the Terrific Twos sends me into yelling mode on a regular basis. It's not a screaming rage, mind you (most of the time) but it gets loud in our house and it's not always the under-three set causing the commotion.

I was getting Joshua set up to watch a video this morning while I put Clare to bed and when I turned on the TV "One Fine Day" was playing. Michelle Pfeiffer was in the police station yelling frantically about whatever it was that was upsetting her (I've never seen it), and Joshua said, "Is she yelling, Mama?"

Never one to pass up an opportunity to make myself feel more guilty than normal, I said, "She sure is. Does that sound like Mama? Does Mama yell like that?"

He thought for a moment before answering, "No. You don't. I think you're always fine."

Maybe I'll take a quarter out of the therapy jar and buy me something nice.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

First Day of School

And would you believe we all survived?

Joshua has rarely been happy in the church nursery. For about six months after Clare was born he did OK, but once she started having some separation anxiety, he decided that the nursery was no place for either of them. We haven't even been to church in about three months except for the few occasions that I've had leadership roles in the worship service, and even then Jay stays home with the kids.

I was understandably nervous about the preschool thing. I wrote Joshua a book and we talked about school for weeks. We even went over to school last Thursday so that he could play in his classroom for a few minutes and practice using the potty. He assured me over the weekend that he wouldn't cry when Vati dropped him off and that he would have fun.

And wouldn't know it? He did! I sat nervously on the bed waiting for Jay to get home from dropping him off and braced myself for the bad news. Jay reported that there were no tears at all, just a simple hand off and goodbye. Huh? Seriously? We waited for the next hour for the phone call and then realized that it wasn't going to come. Huh. Seriously.

I picked him up at 11:30, before the regular dismissal, and found him on the "toyground." He was happy to see me, but equally happy to continue playing. I found his teacher, whose first words were, "He's adorable!" and got the rest of the scoop from her. No tears. Got along great with everyone else. "He's so good!" she said.

I finally convinced him to go with me and he sweetly told Miss Libby goodbye. Then as we walked off of the playground he informed me that he wanted to go back to school. Immediately. I think he can probably wait until Thursday, but I'm not sure he'll be happy about it.

I didn't get too much info about the day, although I heard repeatedly from the backseat, "Aaallll through the toooown!" so I'm assuming he sang "The Wheels on the Bus." When I asked him what books the teachers read he said, "Oh, all kinds." so I guess I'm not getting much more info about that. He had Cheerios for snack. Beyond that everything's a mystery: Someone sat in a black chair, but we're not sure who. There's another Joshua in the class. And someone got germs in someone else's mouth.

My inner drama queen is a little disappointed that the whole thing was so anticlimactic, but I really am glad that he had fun. I don't know if I'll ever get used to not knowing what was happening in his world for a whole six hours each week. For three years I've been the keeper of the knowledge about Joshua, and now I share that role with two other people. I trust them implicitly, of course, but it's strange that there are entire chunks of time that I can no longer account for.

When Joshua doesn't know the answer to a question or isn't confident that he has the right information, he says, "Can you say it?" When we asked him questions about his day yesterday, there were a few times when he said, "Can you say it?" "Buddy, we have no idea!" we answered. That's weird. But fun. Sort of.