Coconut, Anyone?

My poor dog, Khaki. While on spring break, she got to go on SO many walks. Spur of the moment kind of walks. Long walks that made her collapse into her water bowl. Short jaunts to check out the lake or little coffee shop down the street. Walking was so easy and dogs were so welcome at the beach. Back home, well, sorry Khaks. The backyard will just have to do.

One of our spontaneous walks was to a seafood place down the street. For years, Tom and I have passed it and wondered... was it a market or a tiny restaurant? Deciding I would find out, I grabbed the leash and yelled at Jack to get his bike. Jack and Khaki never need much of an excuse to explore. Jack would ride his bike way far ahead then come back. Khaki would saunter, then break suddenly to sniff. Saunter. Sniff. Saunter. Sniff. "Why does she stop so much?!", he says-- disgusted in a way only a pre-teen can be. "This is her way of getting news. She sniffs to find out who's new to the area. Who's sick. Who's looking for a girlfriend.", I say --pleased with my creative answer. "oh.", he says. Half moan, half eye roll, peddling off to see and to be seen.

This is the first year that Tom and I have noticed that Jack cares about how he looks. Usually, he wears only one t-shirt on vacation, even though I've packed many. Crying with the zeal of a newborn when he couldn't wear gym gear to a nice restaurant. This year, I notice him checking himself in my sunglasses, taking time to see if clothes actually "match" and developing quite the love affair with AXE shower gel. I yell at him, "Hey! Can you come hold Khaki while I run into this seafood place for a menu?!" He peddles back, glaring at me with all his pre-teeness. He drops his bike. I'm sure I heard a mutter. Ugh. "He's getting so big", I think to myself.

It takes me longer than I expect inside the seafood place. Turns out it's a fresh seafood market. I linger around to get the lay of the land. Study the process for ordering and buying. Take mental notes on any terminology/lingo that may be useful if I get enough nerve to actually buy something. Satisfied, I go back outside.

There's Khaki, loosely tied (dangling, really) to a pole. The bike still on its side in the parking lot... where's Jack? Oh, there he is. Scaling a palm tree like a primate. "Of course", I sigh. I guess I shouldn't worry too much about him growing up. He's still not so self-conscious that he doesn't see anything wrong with climbing a palm tree next to the highway and in front of a strip mall. I stand next to the palm tree and look at my son. Grinning from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment. And, I'm jealous. Slyly, I think to myself, "I bet I could do it." For a second, I think about kicking off my shoes and giving it a whirl. Then I realize, I am a grown up. I had my chance to climb palm trees. I wouldn't have done it though. My 11 year old self would have cared what other people (correction, just the boys) would have thought. Now, I don't care but I'm too old. I'm certain I would injure something and my son would die of embarrassment. So, I decide to praise him for his achievement. Tell him he's awesome and ask him to show me his technique. He scales back down and patiently shows me how to hold your feet, just so. How to hold tight with your arms, pull your legs up to your arm pits. Grasp the trunk with your toes ("like hands, mom"). Reach up, grasp with your hands again to repeat the process. Amazing. Still, I think I'll leave the tree climbing to him for as long as he wants to do it.

That's No Trash Can, That's My Purse!!

I live in a house of gum chewers. ALL of my kids love to blow bubbles, or at least try. They like scanning the candy aisle for any strange, yet exciting, new flavors. I personally think Orbit has the market on weirdness. "Mango Surf", "Maui Melon Mint", "Cinnamint" and my personal fave, "Mint Mojito"-- which is apparently a seasonal offering.

The gum chewing is new to my littlest darling daughter. She has been sniffing and walking around licking it for years. But recently, she thought she'd chew on it -- just to see what would happen. This is actually a good thing for her. Considering she still eats like a toddler. Only utilizing her 2 front teeth to eat her food. Chewing gum is actually forcing her to use her back teeth and her jaws a bit. So, from an OT perspective.. it's all good.

Before I realized that Mads was actually chewing the gum and no longer just licking and talking to it, I kept finding gum all over the floor. I naturally assumed the culprit to be the most prolific gum chewer of the family (Hays). I would drag her out of her room (using my best your in trouble voice and throwing in a few stomps for effect), lead her to the offending sticky, smashed glob and tell her to throw it in the garbage can or potty. Uncharacteristically a good sport, I assumed this proved her guilt.

As I discovered last night, Madden is my offender. She must have been paying attention to all my rantings about gum being thrown away when you are done. In her little mind, she heard "Throw gum away." And she decided to put it back where she got it in the first place -- my purse. While waiting for the transfer of power from me to my hubs so I could go to book club, I thought, "Hey! I'll clean out my purse." I pull out the iPod. "What?! Is that?" Pulling it almost into my eyeball to get a closer look, "Is that gum? On my iPod?!" I grab another handful from the depths of my purse, "Why is this hair clip so sticky?!" Squinting. Double squinting. "Oh. My. God. That's GUM in there." It was like the mini hair clip (the kind that sorta looks like a claw with teeth that you squeeze at the top and the "mouth" opens) was holding a gum ball and the gum was oozing through the teeth. With more zeal and passion, I empty out my purse. Turns out gum was on just about on all of my *gasp* lip glosses. It even glued my ear buds into a giant, twisted mass.

I didn't count how many pieces of gum had been released into my purse. I was too scared to lift the covered cardboard stability piece at the bottom.. all kinds of nasty things go under there to hide anyway. My hubby showed up. It was time to transfer the power. Go to my book club and crack some ice.

First Winter Snow

Only two days ago, I was out enjoying the warm days and cool nights of late fall. Then BAM! A white out. Well, by the my standards anyway. Hays and I went on a shopping trip before lunch and we saw three wrecks on the way back. Seriously. That fast. I only wish I had a video of Jack jerking his head up from his iTouch once he heard the weather guy say "Accumulation". Everyone knows, Accumulation = No School.

I ran out to Target for a snappy new sled last week once I got a hint of the impending snow storm. They were all saying 1 to 9 inches, so I knew odds were good for some nice sledding. Um. Not so much. After a good 45 mins of finding, sorting and applying all of last years snow gear, we got to the big hill. What a dud!! You could see grass sticking out from the snow. My fancy new sled only successfully snowplowed all the snow in front of me. After only the second run, Hays burst her zipper, Madden lost one shoe and one mitten and Jack, well, he was actually doing pretty good. But, he's the magical, first born.

It's only December 13th, I'm sure there will be more opportunities to burn down the hill. But, I will say, nothing makes the walls close in faster than a no-school-day right before Christmas.

Eight

"Figure eight as double four, Figure four as half of eight." Schoolhouse Rock... well, rocks! Eight is a special number in our house at the moment. Mainly because Hays just turned 8. And let me tell you, it's been a very long celebration.

We started on Friday by letting her stay home. Saturday night, we went to her favorite pizza place. Sunday, she got to go to the circus (for the 4th year in a row), Monday, she had her name announced at school OVER THE LOUDSPEAKER!!! and Tuesday - she had an edible arrangement delivered to her class. Whew! I'm tired.

To complicate everything (but in a good way), she and her Grandaddy have the same birthday. Poor guy. If he thought he might like to open his gifts, he thought wrong. Hays couldn't understand why someone would buy her golf balls and a "clapper". We all had a good laugh at her expense.

Such a sweet girl. I'm trying not to notice how big she's is getting. I'll just have to relish in the fact that she still loves the colors pink & purple. Melt because her best friends are her brother and stuffed animals. Giggle because she still kind of slow-runs with her hands flapping beside her. I suspect she won't want me to lay down with her at bedtime for much longer -- but, I hope I'm wrong.

Mad Skills

Madden has ball skills. Seriously. This tiny bird-like creature is destined to be a basketball superstar! She can fire a ball at you without even looking. Hitting you squarely in your hands. We call it the fish-eye. She can dribble almost as well as Jack. But she's 5 and a little over 4 feet.

Now I know, letting your child bounce a ball around the house is a bit unconventional. But, it's not what you think. For one, I have about 4 nick knacks left in my house. All the others were destroyed long ago by Master Jack. She's more of a leaving-a-trail-of-junk-behind-me-as-I-go kind of messy. Yes. She will bounce her ball off the wall. Duh? So she can catch it. And if you didn't KNOW she had skills, you might get a little nervous when she rears the ball back behind her head. catapult-style. (Much like the people at the Y childcare center, who were ducking and bracing when I walked in to collect her.)

I'm hoping to grow a college scholarship right out of this little hobby.