Our Kingdom At Last

My lack of blogging lately correlates to the subject of today. I'd apologize for the lack of posting but let's face it, we all know as parents how quickly time can slip away. And these past few months have been chaos cubed. Why? Because as of Christmas time, J and I decided that we were finally ready to make the biggest purchase of our life.

We're buying a home.

Ever since we moved down here to NC over six years ago, I've been missing that feeling of owning our own little kingdom, with a fenced backyard, rooms for each boys, and an office J could work in. But it took us six years to become debt free (yay!) and have enough to put down for a down payment. Still, six years isn't too bad in the grand scheme of things to go from where we were to now. But I regret the fact that it took so long not to give the boys something so many take for granted with their own rooms to really decorate as they please, and  place I can kick them outside free of worry until dinner time as I was told when I was growing up.

We sat down months ago to figure out exactly what we needed and what we wanted. Our main goal was to stay in the same town we live in now as everyone feels like it is home. We had to have a minimum of four bedrooms so that each boy had their own space instead of sharing as they have since we came down to NC. We needed an office space for J. And most importantly, we needed a backyard, preferably fenced. And we needed it all within our budget.

As luck would have it, we found the perfect house that fit every single criteria on the first day of house hunting. With our feisty agent, Y, in our corner, we waded the waters of offering, paperwork, mortgage, inspectors, and everything else that comes along with house purchasing. All of the stress (not much because Y is amazing and I'm so glad she had our back) and time was worth it. This Friday we shall have the keys to our kingdom placed into our hands and finally own our own home in NC.

The boys have been promised that they can choose whatever they want to decorate their very own rooms. Each boy has been promised one wall mural, something I have been wanting to do for them for ages. Soren has chosen  Plants vs. Zombies (of course). Ashe is leaning towards Zelda (of course) and Xavier is still considering his options. Ashe wants a black room, Soren, red, and Xavier is still considering his options. All three want Christmas lights strewn about their room.

There are two sheds in the backyard, one of which I am going to convert into a clubhouse for the boys. I've already loaded up my amazon cart with a rope ladder, rock wall pieces, a ship wheel with a periscope. I'm purchasing chalkboard paint to paint one wall for them to color as they please, and have priced out the materials to build a sandbox with shade covering. I'm looking into hammock chairs to hang from the ceiling. Oh and I can't forget the zip cord, the most important thing I promised years ago.

There are gardens in the backyard and each boy is getting one plot as their own. Soren wants to plant flowers. Xavier wants to plant tomatoes. Ashe wants an Apple tree. Now I have to find an apple tree.

So this is why I've been absent, amongst other life stuff. I'm looking around my townhouse now, to see boxes and crates stacked haphazardly like wobbly Legos, and all I can think of is that I have to figure out how to make this next week fly. Because quite frankly, every single one of us is desperate for Friday to arrive. Every single one of us is dying to finally have that one thing we have all been wanting for a very long time. A perfect little place that we can honestly say is our home. really, truly ours.

Wish us luck!

Scrapbook 2013

Happy holidays everyone! It is that time of year when I pull out every photo of the boys I have taken over the past year, pick my favorites, and create my virtual scrapbook. It's always one of my favorite projects to work on.

This year was a crazy rollercoaster ride for us at the SRM household. We've had new additions added to our family (which reminds me to post the blog about our newest family member... must get on that soon). We've had family move closer, family friends move from the north east to join us in NC, Xavier started middle school, and so much more.  My apologies for the lack of reading material. I am finding that free time where I am actually awake and coherent is nonexistent lately. Maybe for Christmas this year I will ask Santa for more time in the day. I wonder if I've been good enough?

Anyways I hope that all of you are doing well, enjoying the end of the year, and I raise my glass of spiked eggnog to you in celebration. Enjoy the humorous antics of my boys, my gift to you!

It's Been Seven Years, Ashe

It's always amazing to me when another year has gone by and I look at my boy standing there, so proud, so excited that he is a new age, and yet, I can remember in vivid detail the day he was born. For each parent and child I am sure that this is common. But Ashe... Ashe is special. He was born on December 12 at 12:11 pm.

12/12 12:11

 

 

Do you know how many times, my lovely Ashe, that I have been asked why I didn't hold you in for one more minute so that you were born  12/12 12:12pm? Do you know how many times I have had to hold back from smacking those idiots? Of course, they do not realize that by that time I had been holding you back for ten minutes while the doctor ran as fast as she could to make it from the opposite side of the hospital, after already trying to keep you at bay from being born in the car during a five minute car ride to the hospital. Or that she barely skidded into the room when I yelled "Catch!" and you were born. And of course, they don't realize that, let's be honest here, there really is no such thing as holding you back.

The fact that you were born on 12/12 at 12:11 and not 12:12 is just another reminder that you are the writer, performer, and conductor to your own epic soundtrack of your life. You are the hero of your story, unstoppable, undefeated! No one can take that away from you, nor should anyone try.

Seven years, my love. Seven years you have graced us with your vibrant soul. It seems that not nearly enough time has passed for you to be seven while also trying to remember what life was like before you entered the world like a comet in a blaze of glory, hell bent to make your entrance to this glorious world known far and wide. I can barely remember life without you. I don't want to know life without you.

You make life so much more! More of everything! More fun! More loud! More inspiring! More chaotic! More frustrating! More fulfilling! More worthwhile!!!

You, my child, will go far in life in whatever you do. You own this stage called life, and you know it. And while sometimes this knowledge you keep creates many situations where I want to pull out my hair in frustration as you make some sarcastic comment with that little smirk on your face, totally confident in yourself, that confidence you exude as a child will be a huge strength as you grow and reach maturity. It will lift you up when you stumble and push you to move forward when many people would just stop and stay down after their fall.

My advice to you child, as you grow... don't stay down when you stumble. Don't ever stay down. You were made, not to fall, but to fly. And you will fly high.


I watch you now, at seven years old. So confident. So funny. So amazingly smart. So stubborn. So full of life. Everyone you touch is forever changed for the better. You make everyone laugh. You make them smile. You make them think. You make them wonder in delight. Seven years old and you can do all that and more.

Ashe, you are amazing. Never change your ways for anyone. And please, never forget that you are SO loved, that I can't even begin to describe to you in a blog, or through our chats just how much you are loved and cherished by me, your father, your brothers, your grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends.....

You are SO loved. And my love, may I wish for you today the most happiest of birthdays, and an awe filled year ahead of you.

Happy birthday Ashe!

Santa Reincarnated

 

This past summer J and I made an executive decision after a long time discussing all probable outcomes as well as the ethics involved revealing to Xavier a long held secret many parental units hold tightly to until they feel the time is right. Many parents are saved making this delicate decision by their own kids professing beforehand that they already know the secret. Some of you end up like us, having to walk a hairline wire to ensure you don’t forever damage your child.

I’m talking about revealing the truth about Santa.

 

Every parental unit has their own reasons that fuel this decision if they have to make it. Ours were because Xavier was now eleven, would be close to twelve by the time this Christmas would arrive, and because he had started the dreaded middle school era of his life. Xavier is so exuberant in his convictions of anything, that our greatest fear would be the topic of Santa discussed at the lunch table, and after Xavier professing his unwavering belief that a big guy in a red suit living at the North Pole flew around the world in one night to give presents t good boys and girls would cause his new friends to look at him with less respect and tease him. Or they would be the ones to tell him the truth and he would come home, trust broken in us.

 

We also wanted to be the ones to explain because while the mythical figure Santa may not exists as a corporal being, he does exist as the spirit of Christmas. We wanted to explain to Xavier that Santa is the symbol of love, family, charity, thoughtfulness, generosity, all wrapped up in a stocking hat and big black boots.

So we approached him cautiously one day as a team. We asked him what his thoughts were about Santa. And we asked him if he knew that there was a super-secret club he could join, that only adults and mature kids could join? And would he like to join it, with the understanding that once he did, he couldn’t undo it?

He was resistant. Defensive. Wary. Were we trying to tell him that Santa wasn’t real??? (No, not really.) Of COURSE Santa was real!!!! How dare we imply otherwise! Have we been lying to him this whole time?

So we left it then with him understanding that that was not what we were doing, and that if he became interested in talking more, to come to us.

Over the past several months, Xavier would approach us and ask us if Santa was real. We’d ask him what he believed. He said Santa was real. Ok then, that’s awesome.

And then came Thanksgiving Day. We were hanging out at my mom’s house when Xavier approached me.

 

“I think I’m ready to join the super-secret club.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then. Sit down and let me tell you some history about Christmas and Santa.”

“You mean mythology of Santa?”

“No, I mean his history.”

 

And so he sat, and my friend G guarded the back door so no other kids could show up unexpectedly, and I told Xavier the history of Santa. About a guy long ago named Nicholas, and how he helped out a poor family with three daughters who had no money for a dowry. How he slipped into their house and left dowry’s for them so they could have a chance at a good life that would have otherwise been impossible. And how that one good deed resonated so far that he was made a saint, St. Nicholas. And how that story spread far and wide across the world, and people latched onto it and started to echo that idea, about charity, love, generosity, etc.

And then I explained that while Santa is not what he always thought he was, he is real in the idea of Christmas. And that we adults continue to echo his deeds, varied over the years, to keep that meaning alive. And when a child becomes old enough, the parents ask them to join in and continue the message for his siblings, and later on, his own children.

Xavier, despite my fears, ate it up. It was like a light went on, and his understanding of Christmas grew larger, deeper, and more meaningful. And after I explained this all to him I asked him if he would like to be Santa with us this year. And he smiled and nodded…..but added a few caveats to it ;)

He didn’t want to help choose the gifts, because he still wanted to be surprised. He didn’t want to help wrap those gifts up, but did want to be the one to put them under the tree. He did want to help stuff his brothers stockings, but not his own. And he didn’t want to be around when J and I placed the rest of the family gifts under the tree. All easily done.

Since then, he has come up to me to ask me for more information. He’s asked about the Easter Bunny. The Tooth Fairy. He wants to know how we can hide eggs so well, and insists that I am part ninja for getting his teeth out from under his pillow while slipping money and a note as a replacement. He wanted to know why the Leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day stopped coming, and was he really scared of the traps set out to capture him by Xavier or was Dad (in charge of leaving chocolate coins out) just forgetful? (Yes)

I’ve watched Xavier over the past week as we set up our tree, do our advent calendars, and listen to holiday music. I’ve watched him cock his head once in a while, lost in thought. And then I’ve watched a little smile creep up on the side of his face as if he knows something others don’t. As he realizes just how important this secret club really is, and he is both in awe of how we parental units do it every year, and how he is now responsible for such a big secret.

And he is so proud to be a part of it.

 

I am too. I couldn’t have asked for it to have gone any better. May my two other children find the reincarnation of Santa just as awe inspiring when they too join our club.

Pool Reflections

 

The boys on their final pool day of the season

 

 

 

 

This past Thursday most of the fam spent enjoying our last day at the G-Rents pool. It's closing for the season despite the fact that it will stay hot enough for pool dipping for at least anther month. We can't complain though. Most pools around here close on Labor Day weekend while ours stayed open a bit longer.

Since the day it opened for the season, we have spent as much time as possible at the pool. In the past four months, my kids have grown a crazy amount, in many different ways.

For example, Xavier finished elementary school. He started at a middle school in July where he knew no one. At this time, he has just finished his first quarter, made honor roll, and most importantly, has created a lot of new friendships. His phone is off the hook, with friends texting him after school. His social life has grown as has his self confidence.

In the past few months Ashe has finished Kindergarten, started first grade, and finished his quarter with excellent grades. He also gained the confidence in the pool to let those swimming lessons kick in, and now he's swimming like a fish! Ashe has no fear of the deep end, of swimming under water, or even doing somersaults. In the beginning of pool season, he was hesitant to go further than three feet. Now I can't get him out of the water =)

And look at Soren in the photo above. In the beginning of the season where he is standing, he had to stand on his toes in order to keep his head above water. Now he stands shoulders above. Soren learned the most in the water this year. At first he refused to leave the stair area. Over time, we were able to get him to carefully tip toe out to G-pa in the middle of the shallow end. Later, we worked on him feeling confident lying on his back while we held him. And on the last day of the season, he kicked his way out to the deep end on his floating Yoshi (with us adults nearby). But even more impressive was when he decided that he wanted to be like Ashe and put his face all the way under water. And he did, over and over again. He was SO proud of himself, as were we!


I'm loathe to relinquish pool season. The boys and I, along with the G-Rents, really have a fantastic time playing together, learning new things, and celebrating the joys of life in the water. It's a place where fun rules, imaginations run wild, and new tricks are learned and shared. We'll find other ways, but the pool will most certainly be missed.

The boys have accomplished so much in such a short time, and I know that next year, when the pool opens again, they will not be the same boys they are here. They will have grown more, learned more, have had more stories to tell. We'll also have more friends and family to join us, as my close friends and their son are moving down. Next year's pool season will be amazing.

But until then, we'll find other ways to have family fun, to learn and grow, and enjoy life together. And so I say to the pool:

 

"Thanks for a most memorable summer. I won't say goodbye. Instead, I'll see you soon."

Anniversary

This last Sunday, J and I celebrated the 14th anniversary of our first wedding. I realize that the previous sentence is a touch confusing. You see, J and I actually had two weddings. The first one was with a JP and our mothers witnessing. We had quick vows, exchanged rings, filled out the paperwork, then headed out for a dinner before driving off to a theme park for our "honeymoon". I was twenty, and couldn't even legally drink the celebratory glass of champagne at my own wedding. I did, but don't tell anyone ;)

The second one was the one we spent over two years saving up. This was the traditional wedding with flower girls, ushers, and a big frou frou wedding dress. It was a year later, and most of our extended family think that this was the real wedding. But it wasn't. To us, it was more like a big party celebrating our love again with everyone.

Why we decided to tie the knot twice doesn't really matter. Suffice to say it was not for any major reason. I wasn't knocked up, and it was purely by choice.

So this weekend marked 14 years of our very first wedding. And of course J was sick, along with Ashe. We stayed home and didn't do much aside from a special dinner the two of us had after the boys went to bed. It was almost a typical day. However, I had a conversation with Ashe that really made me focus on something very special.

While Ashe was feverish, he and I headed upstairs to cuddle while we waited for the medication to kick in. We talked about his favorite  games, and how he wants to build his own games for kids when he grows up. And somehow we got to talking about family. He casually mentioned how Grammy was my mom so that meant Grampa was my dad....only he isn't. So I had to explain the intricacies of remarriage and family bonds can sometimes be tighter with love than blood. And then he asked what happened to my father.

"Well", I paused, not wanting to get into the gritty details, "sometimes husbands and wives decide to divorce."
"What does divorce mean?"
And it's at that point in time when I realize how lucky my kids are, if they don't even know what that word means at almost seven tears of age.

Growing up, divorce was a big part of my life. My parents separated when I was three, and divorced when I was four. It was NOT a good divorce either. It was messy, and scary, and long lasting. As I aged, most of my friends parents had also divorced. It was rare to find a peer whose parents were still together and happy.

So to see my child completely ignorant in the word and meaning.... it really hit home to me.

Some people may say that J and I married too young. And I will acknowledge that many of the marriages of very young adults do tend to end up in divorce. Many people are not mature enough at that age to make such a life changing decision.

And yet I would say that looking back, even at age twenty, I knew exactly what I wanted in my life partner, and J fit the bill and then some. Both of us came from homes that were rough. Both of us felt that FAMILY was of the utmost importance. And both of us desperately wanted to give our future children a home filled with love and laughter, done as a team.

That's exactly what we did. The road hasn't always been easy. It was filled with potholes, detours, and sometimes dead ends where we had to backtrack. But we worked together as a team to build our dreams, and we continue to do so.

When my child asks me what Divorce means on our anniversary, I know that despite our young age when we made our vows, we did know what we were doing that day so long ago. And here in the present, we are still as much in love if not more so, stronger as a partnership, and building a beautiful foundation to our children's lives.

That night, as J and I sat down to a quiet dinner alone, I thanked him for choosing me. And he looked into my eyes and said "no, thank you!" And we smiled and basked in the understanding that we do complete one another, and make the best team.

Happy anniversary Babes. I can't wait to see what the next 14 years bring.

Tracking Out

The past two weeks I have watched my newsfeed on FB spammed with photos of kids going back to school. Some parents are very excited, doing the happy dance that the long summer is in it's death throes, and their little children are off to a regularly scheduled calendar. Other parental units are sad, wishing that the time did not go by so quickly, and how they are counting down the days to the first big vacation time, months away.

And here I am, watching these photos scroll by as I contemplate that my kids are about to track out this week, and I have got to get off my ass and figure out how to keep them from killing each other for the next three weeks.

Year round school rocks. I can't advocate it enough. Nine weeks of school, then three weeks off, all year round, non stop. It's perfect. The kids are just about brain fried by the time the ninth week rolls around and everyone is ready for a break of homework. The third week of track out, the kids are itching to get back into a schedule and see their friends on a regular basis again.

It's this third week that makes me seek comfort in mojitos though. By that third week of carefree days, the kids are strangling one another an hour after waking up, deciding Gladiator style who wins the right to whatever electronic they are fighting to the death for.

I try my best to keep them all occupied during vacation. We live in an area that is filled to the brim with family friendly places and activities. The problem lies in the expense. While I have lots of great ideas of trips to the zoo, beach, aquarium, etc, many things can get pricey. And with three kids to haul around, it gets pricey FAST.

So I try to pick one or two costly things per track out that we can do, and the rest of the time I look for free things. We'll hit a lot of parks, do some hiking, lounge in the G-Rents pool. We'll have movie nights at home, head to the library to pick out bedtime books, and wander around a few of the free museums.

And this track out we're hitting the beach (rare treat) for two days and a night, our most expensive outing for five. It's the parental units way of showing pour gratitude for doing a kick ass job in school.

But even with all of these great ideas, there is still plenty of downtime at home. And that's where the fighting comes in. Each child, through genetic coding, is a lover of all things techy. Xavier likes the computer. Ashe loves the WII U. Soren adores the Xbox. Two of these are on one TV and the third is off in a corner, with a chair that has melded it's contours to the shape of my oldest rump.

After watching the kids this weekend and seeing how they glue themselves to an electronic device until we pry their wee hands off controllers (sometimes by force) I am going to reinstitute the track out rule of having a set time per day the kids can play. I am sure I will allow it to lapse on those days when I just need quiet for an hour or two. I'm not perfect, and can admit guilt in sometimes taking the easy way out when it's either that or run out the door screaming like a loony bin, pulling my hair out. But I'll do my best.

And maybe, instead of having them initiate the Gladiator death fights each morning, I can try to make taking turns fun. Maybe I can do some contests. Or see who can help me clean up the most. Or who can whine the least per day. I'll get creative.

Parents who sent their children to school recently, I acknowledge your happiness or sadness as you send your child off to school. I get it. And while I think of you in whatever feeling you are embracing, think of me as well, while I feel both sides simultaneously as MY kids start vacation.


Slainte!

House Full of AD(H)D

Over the last couple of months, J is slowly coming to the realization that he too, may have AD(H)D. Minor, like I have it, but there nonetheless. It has been entertaining to watch him comprehend what a world with AD(H)D is like. I was diagnosed with it as a child, and raising Xavier, I always saw our common ground when it comes to how we correlate with the world surrounding us. However, J, having always been under the impression that it was anxiety issues alone, didn't put two and two together until his new doctor asked him if he might think he has AD(H)D. Since then he has been reading books upon books, trying to determine if AD(H)D was the case all along. And it seems that it might be the case.

I'm actually thrilled with this new turn of events. This means that I can stop blaming myself in the dark corner of my mind, for being the sole parental unit responsible for screwing up Xavier with my genes. It looks like we are equally at fault, yay!

What has been the most entertaining has been watching J read these books about how AD(H)D can show itself, and his realizations on how it affects him. He'll tell me over dinner how, after reading the latest chapter, he learned this awesome new coping skill. It's called a schedule. And you write EVERYTHING down that you need to do, but only choose five things a day to focus on. Otherwise you would get overwhelmed.

Yeah, it's called a calendar. And everyone who knows me knows that if it's not written in my calendar, it doesn't exist. And I call it a busy day if there are three or more things I have to do in one 24 hour period. Even if it's just going to the pharmacy.

Then he mentioned how he learned that AD(H)D people procrastinate, because time doesn't work the same for them as it does for regular people. For example, if you know you have a deadline a week away, the average person will put that time to good use and parcel out time to work on said project a little bit at a time. But if you had AD(H)D, oh no!!!! That is NOT what we do. We physically can't, because that gives us too much time to focus. Instead, we wait until the last moment, panic, and begin what is called hyper focusing. It will be all that we can think of for that short period of time. It causes anxiety, which actually drives us to focus, and complete said project.

I did that all the time in high school, when I would have an eight page essay due. I still do it today with my blog. I lack the focus to sit down in a scheduled fashion and write a blog. Hell, I forget half the crap I want to blog about. Instead, when I have inspiration, I sit down and blog three to ten blogs in one sitting, then schedule them out so you are not inundated.

Another point J read, was that there are only four times we folks with AD(H)D can actually focus:

• When something is new and catches our attention (like my Pintrest/Twitter spree I do once every few months).
• something is of personal interest (reading for me. J finds that if I am into a good book, he literally has to stand in front of me, waving his arms like those guys at the airport who wave planes in, and shout my name three times.)
• something is challenging
• or you have an important deadline and time is running out

This explains my sporadic blog sprees. My blog is most definitely a personal interest, but like any blogger, sometimes it becomes more like work than fun, trying to find interesting things to post about while smacking my head against the monitor, trying to jump start my sarcasm. So you can thank my AD(H)D for acting like a moron and leaving you all to wait for when inspiration jumps me and smacks me down to the ground.

The latest nugget of information J dropped in my lap was that people who have AD(H)D do not "see" clutter. It doesn't register. He wandered upstairs while I was sitting in my recliner and surfing the web, despite the fact that our kitchen sink resembles a high rise in NYC, our bedroom looks like a tornado blew through it, and our dirty laundry pile resembles the leaning tower of Pisa.




Yup, I'd say that statement of clutter is quite accurate.




I'm actually very excited to know that J deals with AD(H)D. For one thing, he has always thought that he had an anxiety issue, or was suffering depression. But now that he is finding all these puzzle pieces that fit together, he seems to recognize what is actually the culprit. With that, he seems to be more relieved and less stressed because there is a VALID reason for why he feels the way he does. And there are tools that can help him.

Also, now that he is recognizing the symptoms, it's like we're suddenly talking the same language. Well, most of the time. We still suffer the XX/XY chromosome language disconnect. But in terms of why we do what we do, it seems that we aren't so different after all. And that makes it easier to  give one another support when we forget things, or act as we do. And as J learns new tools to help him, we can offer these tools to Xavier when he starts middle school and faces tougher deadlines. Having three of us in the family think the same way will help understand and acknowledge upcoming issues.

Lastly, I am just so happy that I am not the sole parental unit who gave poor Xavier the ADHD gene. J can no longer blame me when Xavier is off his meds and running around like a loon. I now can look over at my husband and smile beatifically, then stick my tongue out at him. Ha!

To My Children's Dad

Today is Father's Day, and with it will come a slew of home made gifts for dads across the country, or big gifts, like a new grill, seasons tickets to his favorite sports team, etc. And dads will smile, thank their children, and then the following day all will go back to normal.

While J was out of the house yesterday, I asked my boys why they loved their daddy.

Xavier:

• He gets up with me in the (early) morning and gets me breakfast
• He helps me when I get hurt
• He's really funny
• He lets me stay up late on weekends
• He helps me set up my games
• He surprises me with treats
• He is the best dad in the whole world!

Ashe:

• He helps me buy my games
• He gives me baths
• I like his clothes
• He's a boy like me

Soren:

• I just do

J is an amazing husband and father. I hear all sorts of stories from other moms about how hard it is to get their husbands to help around the house. This is not true in our household. If anything, I would say that J pampers me and the kids. It's so obvious that he loves us, and he shows it in so many ways.

J gets up every morning at the crack of dawn with the boys, because he knows that I have never been, nor ever will be, a morning person. He never complains about this, and feeds the boys breakfast, gets their lunches for school ready, gets them dressed. Each school day I just need to roll out of bed and carpool them. Even then, J carpools twice a week so that I can sleep in for an extra hour.

While I do the cooking, J does the dishes. Every night.

We alternate putting the boys to bed. He brushes the boys teeth, reads Soren a bed time story, chases monsters away, just as much as I do.


He's the Bath Master. He helps each kid clean up, washes the younger boys hair, and drains the tub.

J takes out the trash every week.

Every Saturday, J takes one boy out and does our food shopping.

I bring down the laundry, wash and dry it. Then J brings it up three flights of stairs and sorts it out.

J is always there to help out the family with electronic stuff: games, blogs, shows... anything related to electronics, J is our go to man.


J is an amazing father. You couldn't fantasize better.



Over the past few months I have heard him grumbling under his breath as he is packing lunches for the boys. When I asked him what was wrong, he would pick up the juice box case and point to where it said "Approved by Moms". He was bitter (and rightfully so) that it said moms and not parents. Because he is a DAD, and dads need recognition for choosing healthy food for their children.

We headed out food shopping one day and as we pulled into the parking lot, J grumbled again. When I asked him what was wrong, he said that he didn't think it was fair that the reserved spots where tagged for "Moms with Kids." Why couldn't it be "Parents with kids"? Dads do their fair of food shopping with little ones in tow.




And you know what? He is absolutely right.




Take away this one day a year, and what we hear from the media is how hard it is for moms. How much work we moms do to raise our children. How we moms are the ones to help with homework, drag kids to soccer practice, dry away the tears when our kids fall, or have a fight with a friend at school. How we moms are superwomen and can multitask a job, maintaining a household, and raise our kids.


But, aside from this one day, where is the praise for dads? Yes, there are articles being written that this day, dads are more and more stepping up. Dads are spending more time with their kids than ever before. Dads are stepping up and helping around the house more and more. And that is FANTASTIC! But most of the time when I read these articles, it almost seems as if it has been written as a relief article for moms, not a praise for this generation of dads. Now granted, there are a few out there that ae giving dads the praise that they deserve, but there are not enough of them...yet.


So you know what? Today, and every day, I want us to stop for a moment, and praise dads. Praise our husbands, our children's father. The man who checks the closet and under the bed for monsters. The one who packs a nutritious lunch for his kids. The one who will stop what he is doing to fix a boo boo. The one who is always ready for a hug. The one who helps to teach our children what it is to be a good guy, a role model for the future generation.


To all you dads out there, you rock! Seriously, society doesn't give you enough credit. Thank you for all that you do. You deserve so much more recognition than one day a year. You deserve a special parking space in the grocery store parking lot. You deserve equal rights of approval for juice boxes and other food products. You deserve equal recognition in the media.


I appreciate you dads out there.


And J, I appreciate and love you more than I can ever express. I couldn't do this journey without you. Nor could the boys. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for ALL that you do for us, your family. We love you so much.

J's New Look

Over the past several months, J has not been happy with his hair. As he grows older, it has started to thin. He's not balding, but with his already fine light hair, any thinning causes him concern.

And so J has grown unhappy.

We have been trying out different hair styles over time, trying to find one that makes J happy. We have tried styling it forward. That looked good, but J constantly complained of it getting in his eyes. We tried styling it to the side. We tried combing it back. Growing it long. Short. Buzzed.

And still J wasn't happy. He says that he would be happy with a mullet, but as the stylist in the family I put my foot down. He can have a mullet if he wants one, but he also knows that the couch will be his bed if he does so.

Last weekend he told me that he was going to surprise me by giving himself and all three boys mohawks. When I asked why this didn't occur, he sheepishly replied that only Xavier was on board with the idea.

This weekend I found him browsing through hairstyles for men, but he was growing frustrated because every guy had cuts that, in his mind, sucked. J doesn't want something normal. Nope. J said that he thinks he is going through a mid life crisis and wants something cool. Like a top knot. But every time he googled top knot only women with hair buns came up. He did not want a bun. He did not have enough hair to make a bun.

"I want something cool, like Ragnar."

Ragnar Lothbrook from History Channel "Vikings"

"Ragnar, huh?" I looked over his hair, judging length on top for the rows he'd need. "You will need to grow out the top of your hair a little, but we could start it." And I'm thinking to myself, 'Hell of a better idea than a freaking top knot or mullet.'

So I grab my comb, water bottle, and ask Xavier to grab me my little elastic bands, and get to work. It's been a long time since I've done rows in anyone's hair and it took me awhile to relearn. But I finally got the hang of it and within 30 minutes, I had five rows.

Looking at him from every angle, I decided five was too many. I took two out. Next, J grabbed the buzzer and, without a guard, I shaved everything else off, down to peach fuzz scalp.

I will admit, when we first started with this idea, I wasn't sure if J could pull the look off. Not every man can pull off such a daring style, and when shaved head comes to mind, I always cringe at the possibilities of a lumpy head. But despite my initial misgivings, I had to admit, J really rocked the Viking look:

J's new Viking hair

 

 

 

We did decide that his glasses don't really mesh with his new look. So J will be heading off to the optometrist soon to get new contacts. J is really digging the look and is already talking about getting a Viking woad tattooed on his scalp. We'll see. And of course, will post pics if he does.


So what do you guys think?

I'm Not Dead Yet....

I might have given myself a concussion today. Not sure yet, but if I start hurling, J is on notice to rush me to Urgent Care. And the day started off so well...

With the boys vacationing at the G-rents, I slept in this morning until 10. It was so wonderful to wake up naturally! I had a few errands I needed to run, so I popped in the car to get them over and done with, in order to come home before lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on the couch reading my latest book.

I stopped at the boys school to pick up Ashe's inhaler. While I was there, the school secretary mentioned she loved my ring back tone (Pirates of the Caribbean) so I taught her how to make her own. She had just bought her very first smart phone and was so excited to try out all of the new things her old cell phone couldn't do. We talked about multiple ring tones, ring tone editors, and how she could have a ring back tone for every day of the week if she wanted to. I left her giddy with excitement.

Next on my list was the kids doctors office. I needed to pick up Xavier's medication prescriptions. I figured I'd hit Ulta after that, drop of the meds, then head home.

Instead, after laughing with the doctors secretary over Xavier's recent sex ed debacle, when I went to open the van door, my spatial understanding seemed to have misfired and the van door smacked me upside the head like a bitch in a black market wrestling match. I went down.

Although I saw stars and planets, and maybe a comet or three, it didn't hurt at first. I glanced in the window and noticed that the side of my temple was literally indented. That's when I started to get woozy. I hung on to the car for a few minutes, trying to figure out if I was woozy from seeing my head  pushed in like soft clay, or if it was the injury itself.

After those few minutes passed I decided the best course of action was to not be an idiot and drive just yet. I walked back to the pediatricians office and ever so sweetly asked if they had an ice pack I could borrow. Ann, the awesome front desk manager, rushed over to take a look. I know she's seen some scary stuff so when her jaw dropped upon looking at me and my new mark of idiocy, I knew I was in deep shit.

She hustled me over to a quiet dark room, grabbed the nurse and an ice pack, then hustled back tsk-tsking. The RN, a new nurse to the practice,  asked if I was dizzy. I wasn't but I was seeing spots in my vision once in awhile. She asked if I had had breakfast yet (nope) and handed me two lollipops. It was then that I realized that if I was going to smack myself upside the head, I had done it in the right place. Sucking on a cream soda dum dum, I lay down with the icepack and waited to see if I was going to pass out.

The kids doctor sauntered into the room ten minutes later and she and I both laughed when she saw who was the mom who hit her head. I love the boys doctor. She has such a great sense of humor. She checked me out and said it was a shame I hit the side of my head.
"Why" I asked?
"Because if you hit the middle of your head, you would have looked like the perfect Klingon." We both gave the Vulcan hand sign and snickered.

She asked the normal questions one asks a person with head trauma: how many fingers am I holding up? What day of the week is it? What month is it? I got the first one right no problem. The other two I whined to her that it was not fair she ask me those questions! It's summer vacation and all days look the same. She laughed and asked me to try. Fortunately I knew today was Thursday (it is Thursday, right?) because tomorrow is Friday and we're headed to the symphony tomorrow. I also know it's June because the kids are out of school. So nyah.

After a lot of back and forth between the doctor, nurse, and Ann, it was decided that I would live. I was given another lollipop, gifted the ice pack, and told to head straight to Urgent Care if I pass out or vomit twice. I thanked them for their help, and now I am determined to send them a case of wine for the holidays. I also lament that I can not have them as my own doctors, as my PCP sucks donkey balls.

So here I am at home, alive but now in pain, sitting still and wondering if I am going to rush to the bathroom. I feel woozy once in awhile (not good) but that's the worst of it. Well that and the fact that my forehead is showing off a pretty little goose egg.


J just shook his head and muttered under his breath (although loud enough so that I could hear him) that it's my genes that cause Ashe to have so many Ashe-idents. I'd debate him on that, but I just want to lie down now and whimper.

Ugh

Educating Post Sex Ed

The other week, Xavier's class finally had "Health Class" which really means intro to sex ed. A few weeks prior, all parents were given a notice with the option to have their kids opt out. Poor Xavier didn't get that choice. We threw him into the deep water of embarrassing videos about puberty with the understanding that he was to ask questions both at school and at home if he didn't understand anything.

 I personally feel that sex ed is a very important issue, a life lesson that needs to be hammered into a child's brain again and again and again. Growing up, my mom was too embarrassed to discuss sex ed. Her idea was to let me learn in school, offer me the option of birth control pills when I felt I needed them, but then when I asked at age 15 (my monthly time was an awful 7 day hell of major pain and BC pills were supposed to help) she freaked out and screamed that I would turn into a slut and sleep with any boy who looked my way. I learned from the pitiful classes they had in school. I learned from books. I learned both good and horrible information, in the girls bathroom at school. And there was no way I was going to lead my children down the same path. My kids would learn everything they asked about in full detail, even if I had to suck it up and answer those questions that leave you red faced and trembling, wishing for a glass of vodka.

I've blogged before about having "The Talk" with Xavier and Ashe during different times in their lives. And knowing that sex ed was coming up in school, Xavier and I have been conversing about things he might learn, and how this was just a small portion of sex ed. I warned him that it would be embarrassing, but it was so, so important that he had to pay attention. And if he had questions, he needed to ask: ask the teachers, ask his dad, ask me. Anyone, so long as he asked. He promised me that he would, although he felt more comfortable asking me than someone in school. I actually felt pleased that this was so. I feel like I passed some parenting test, to know that my son felt comfortable enough to ask me questions about sexual health.

The day of sex ed came and I picked him up early from school. I asked him how things went. He said it was embarrassing. He learned about how he would get hair all over, including "down there". He wanted to know if he could shave it. I said sure, but it might be easier to wax instead. He blanched. He then said how he learned about how girls get their period, and how he was so happy he wasn't a girl. I agreed.

Then he said he learned how boys would have wet dreams. And I asked him if he knew what a wet dream was. And he said "Yeah, it's when you have a dream about wet things: like fire hydrants, hoses, rain and stuff."





........................



OK I admit it. I busted out laughing my ass off. Seriously though, who wouldn't?!!!


After I calmed down and my guffaws subsided into sporadic giggles, I explained what a wet dream really was. His face morphed into a look of horror as he began to grasp the full implications of what a wet dream meant for him. He asked more questions, I answered. Back and forth we went, covering everything else he had learned in school to make sure that he didn't have any other misconceptions.

And at the end, our deal was that when he started having wet dreams, if he didn't feel comfortable telling me, that was cool. All he needed to do was bring down his bed sheets and I would wash them for him, no questions asked. He was cool with that, and thanked me for being such an awesome mom. As we finished up the convo on sex ed, he said that if he had any other questions he promised to come to me and ask because it was easier to talk to me than ask at school. And I'm cool with that. Because if school is leaving the impression on kids that wet dreams are about water, than I have to make sure this kid gets the real information.

Losing a Friend

Wednesday night. long after the boys went to bed, J and I were sitting on the couch watching tv when we heard the pitter patter of feet slowly trudging down the stairs. A sniffle followed, ending in a sad sigh. We looked up at the stairs to see Ashe walking down the stairs, tears in his eyes. When we asked him what was the matter, he tearily told us that today, his best friend C told him that they weren't friends anymore.

Since the beginning of kindergarten, Ashe and C have been tight. I mean soul mate tight. C was the only girl in class who was as much of a video game junkie as Ashe was. In fact, I have had several conversations with C's mom, alleviating her fears that C would grow up with no friends because she is such a tom boy. I made it crystal clear that a gamer girl was going to be one of the coolest kids as she grew up, because she would have a ton of guy friends who would become like her big brothers.

Ashe and C loved Zelda. Ashe and C loved Mario. Ashe and C loved lots of things that many other kids didn't. One day, when I took Ashe over to C's house for a play date, he brought his Link doll with him, because he wanted to show it to her. When C opened the door, she was holding the exact same doll in her hand.

When Ashe had his birthday party, he invited C and one other friend, E, from school. When C had her birthday party, Ashe was the only one from school that was invited. C's mom and I used to joke that they really were soul mates.

So when Ashe came downstairs on the verge of tears, my heart tore in two. This was a situation that I know is common as kids learn to navigate friendships. And it was bound to come up one day. But to have it be C, his bestest friend, and not some other child, was a very hard blow. We knew something must have been going on, because over the last two weeks, when we asked Ashe what he did during recess, he would say that he played alone. When asked why, he said that C and the other kids were pretending to play "Skylander" and he wasn't interested in joining. J even contemplated buying the game, just so that Ashe could play it and join in, but Ashe was adamant that Skylander was not something he was interested in.

The story comes out that C was insistent that she wanted to play Skylander every recess and Ashe was insistent that he didn't want to join. So they each would go their separate ways. And this day, C decided that since their "hobbies" diverged away from one another, they were no longer friends. And Ashe kept silent about it all day, until he lay in bed at night, and reality came crashing down on him.

The day your child comes home and tells you he lost his good friend is going to break your heart. I like C's mom a lot, and still I felt the maternal urge to call her up at 10 pm and cry out "Your child broke my child's heart over a flipping video game!!!" It's a natural mother bear instinct to shelter your children from the harsh lessons that life has to offer, even to the six year olds, even when you know logically that the other parents have nothing to do with what transpires.

So instead, J and I sat down and brought him up to cuddle with us on the couch late at night. And we told him that we hurt with him, as we knew how good of friends the two of them had been. But then we started asking about his other friends. What about E? Or W? Tell us about them. So he did.

He told us how that very day, E had made him a paper laptop as a gift. Ashe even got a yellow bucket (le sigh) because she whispered to him during silent time what he wanted on it, and he whispered back. And how W sent him his phone number, and the two of them were excited to get together for a play date over summer vacation.

Within ten minutes, Ashe went from feeling really hurt, to realizing that he has some great friends still. And sure, they may like different things, but that doesn't mean that they can't be friends. And Ashe started to cherish what he did have, friends who liked him for who he was, not what he played.



I know over the years to come we will have similar conversations, both with Ashe and the other boys. It's a rite of passage for kids to go through it again and again. And it sucks, every time. But in the long run, I hope, that they realize that some friendships will come and go, but the true friendships will last over time, no matter what.

Left Alone

Today is a serious blog, discussing an event that happened to me a few days ago, and one I am still having a rough time wrapping my head around. This really did happen and the opinions are mine and mine alone. Normally I am not judgemental of other parents, but this is one time I feel like I could smack around the parents until my arm was tired.


The other day, after dropping the two older boys off at school and sweating my ass off on the exercise bike, Soren and I decided that it was too beautiful to spend the day inside. So we decided to hit a local park and enjoy the non boiling weather.

When we got to one of the smaller parks near our house we were the only ones around. Soren played on the slides, the swing, the rock wall, and had a ball. I watched him, cheered him on, and checked up on my email on my phone. And then suddenly we weren't alone. In front of me was a little boy smiling, holding a basketball. I looked around for the parents, happy that there was another child for Soren to play with, and to say hi. but as I looked around, I realized that there was no one else here. Just me, Soren, and this little boy.

This little boy was the FRIENDLIEST little kid you have ever met. He sat right down next to me and started talking like we had known each other all of our lives instead of 2.5 seconds. While he kept talking, I continued to scan the area looking for someone who had to have been there with him.


Nothing. No one. Not even a glimpse. My super awesome rebel parent powers kicked into gear. Something wasn't right.

So I asked the kid how old he was. He was five, Ashe's age. And then I asked him where his parents were. He told me they dropped him off at the park while they went to a few stores. What stores, I asked? He didn't know. Did he live nearby? Maybe somewhere you could see from the park? He lived within walking distance, but you had to walk down a lot of streets to get there.

This kid was all alone in the middle of downtown with no supervision. Fuck.

So I waited around for a good 30 minutes, hoping that SOMEONE would show up for this kid, but no one did. So finally, after a lot of "WWSRMD"? SRM decided to call the police.  The police were happy that I called, because like me, they thought five was waaaaay too young to be by themselves at a park with no supervision.

They came by, got the same story from the kid, looked around the park and came to the same conclusion that I did (the kid was definitely by himself). By this time no parents had shown up, and it had been over an hour that this little boy was on his own. When the police finally told me I could leave they had gotten Child Protection Services on the case. I went home quietly with Soren, all sorts of fucked up. Why? because I have a kid this boys age and I could never, EVER imagine him by himself for so long. Images of "What if's" ran through my head for hours:

• what if the kid ran into the road to chase his ball?
• what if the kid fell off the playground and got hurt?
• what if the kid talked to a stranger who WASN'T a mom?
• what if the kid left the park and got lost?
• what if he was kidnapped, or worse yet, killed?
• what if it was my child?

When the boys got home from school we had a very serious talk about this incident. We talked about stranger danger. We talked about what to do if they got lost. We talked about how it's never ok to go off by yourself without telling your parents. we talked about how it's not ok for parents to leave you alone. We've had these talks before, but it really hit home for all of us when faced with this real incident. Even Ashe knew right off the bat that it was never ok for him to be at a playground or anywhere without an adult.


The next day CPS called me to recheck my story and to fill me in. Supposedly both parents were home, and the little boy had been over at the neighbors house. When the kids went inside the house, instead of going in with them or going home, the little boy headed to the park without telling anyone. Supposedly the parents thought he was at the neighbors house. Supposedly when the kid didn't come home they started to get frantic. Supposedly they were worried sick until the police showed up.

So here is my opinion. Supposed my ass. Why? Because of the line that both parents were home, and frantic. I smell bullshit. If our son was missing, J and I both agreed wholeheartedly that one of us would be out pounding the pavement, screaming our kids name at the top of our lungs, and stopping every single person we passed asking if they saw our boy. The other parent would be home, on the phone with the police, news stations, and friends setting up a search party. No way in hell would we both be home, wringing our hands without having at least called the police.

While it is out of my hands now and the kid is home and hopefully safe, this is still bothering the hell out of me. I'm not usually a judgemental parent. But on this case, I judge. And all I can hope is that the parents learned how NOT OK this kind of parenting is, and that they were BEYOND lucky another parent was concerned enough to call for help, instead of a pedophile finding their child. They were BEYOND lucky this kid didn't get hurt and break his neck on the playground. They were BEYOND lucky to get their kid back. And I hope that with the police showing up on the doorstep and with CPS involved,that they realize how serious this was and they get their act together. When you have kids you have a responsibility to feed them, clothe them, house them, love them, and KEEP THEM SAFE.

And I swear to Bob, if I see that kid on the playground again by himself, there will be SRM hell to pay. So keep that kid safe and watched over. Or I will come beat your ass for shitty parenting.

DIY Sidewalk Paint

If I can do this, ANYONE can do it. You all know how I suck at crafts. But I saw this cool idea on Pintrest, and just had to try it out. By the way, if you haven't noticed yet, I created an account for SRM on Pintrest. I've been posting some pretty cool crafts that an idiot can do (which means I can do them) but I have also been having a ton of fun finding humorous memes about parenting. So if you have an account, you can follow me by clicking the Pintrest button on the right side of the blog. Or you can find me by clicking here.

Ok so back to crafting shit.

Every day while we wait for the boys to come home from school, Soren and I hang out on our front porch. I have to keep him occupied and happy. Usually we bring out the sidewalk chalk or bubbles and this will keep him from growing bored and not try to run out in the middle of the street. But often times he loses interest after 15 minutes.

Soren looooooves to paint. If he had his way, he would paint all day long. He will paint anything you put in front of him: paper, crafts, boxes, the kitchen counter if you're not fast enough.....


so while I was perusing Pintrest, I cam across this cool DIY craft that made sidewalk chalk paint. It was so freaking simple to make, I figured it had to be SRM proof. So I bought the ingredients and tried it out.

This craft was originally blogged by Jenny at Creativity Blooming. Jenny, thank you so much for such a kick ass craft.

So what you need to make the paint:

• 1.5 cups of corn starch
• 1.5 cups of water
• food coloring
• muffin tin

Mix the corn starch and water together, pour into a muffin tin, then add food dye. The blog suggested two drops of color per, but I went for four and recommend it. We made red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and purple.

We grabbed a couple of brushes, a bowl of water, and headed out on our front porch to play. The paint lasted us for over an hour of fun. While it went on very light, when it dried it was quite bright. This does wash off in raid, and will not dye your clothing.

Soren painting his heart out

The boys loved having their names painted on our front steps

Multiple psychedelic seahorses?

Packages

The kids go absolutely crazy whenever a package arrives on our doorstep. It doesn't matter if it's not for them. If the door knocks and the postman leaves a box on our doorstep, the boys will circle it like sharks coming in for a kill until someone finally opens it.

My mother in law loves to send packages to the boys every few weeks. She sends us our favorite Portuguese sweet bread since we can't get it here in NC. She sends the boys clothing. And sometimes she sends a little gift. It really doesn't matter what she sends, the boys adore packages.

I snapped two photos of the boys last time a package arrived. I apologize for the fuzziness, but it was on my phone, and the boys kept moving around. Like I said, they circle the package like a bunch of starving sharks.

After receiving permission, the boys go in for the kill.

He may be the smallest, but he won the battle of the package.
Notice the middle child down for the count in the background.

Firehouse Tour

A few weeks ago, the local mother's website I volunteer at, put together a tour at a local firehouse for the kids. I've been meaning to take the boys to one so that they can truly appreciate our local heroes. We popped in the van and headed out to see exactly what a fireman's job really is.


We headed to the firehouse in downtown Apex, and along with a bunch of other families, met three firemen (and women) on duty. They took us through all of the equipment they use, showed us all of the different trucks and explained the use of each one. We were lucky to see this particular station, as it was the only one in Wake county that was called whenever there was a water emergency. They had special boats, and diving equipment. When asked how often they were called for emergencies in the water, we were told that they are called about three times a month. Just the week before someone had crashed their car into a local lake and they were the ones called for recovery. It really hit home to my kids how important our local firemen (and women) are.




Checking out the equipment


We also got to see a cool truck that allowed the firemen to offroading in case there was a forest fire in one of our local parks. And we saw an antique fire truck from the 30's that is used in parades.




Antique firetruck used in parades


After the tour we got to talk to the firemen and found out one was also from Massachusetts, and had moved down the same time we did. We stood around talking about the Red Sox, why each of us moved down, and why we love NC. I promised him that while I suck at baking, the boys and I would bring him some snacks from the grocery store. The most important thing we learned about firemen? They loooove baked goods and really appreciate when people drop them off from time to time.





The boys posing with their new hero




The boys were in total awe of their local heroes, exactly what I was hoping for. They now realize how important a fireman's job is, how dangerous it can be, and how much they help at saving lives. If you're a parent, I highly recommend you take your kids on a tour of your local fire station. It was such an educational and fun experience for all of us.




Thank you so much to Trianglemommies.com, for putting this great field trip together, and to Station 1 in Apex, NC, for allowing us to join you for a morning!

Midnight Field Trip

One of our favorite songs from TMBG

This past Sunday evening we did something we haven't done before. I'm actually surprised J and I thought this was a good idea. I blame the copious amounts of wine we must have imbibed before this idea was hatched.

Sunday was the Perseid Meteor shower, one of the coolest natural light shows of the year, and we decided that with the weather behaving, the boys were finally old enough for a midnight field trip. Even on a school night. We were such cool parents that we told the kids they could sleep in if they wanted to and I'd take them into school late. I figure it was educational enough to give the thumbs up. Score on extra brownie points!
Come evening we put the kids to bed normal, hung out until 11PM, then after playing tooth fairy to Xavier while he was still comatose, we woke the kids up.Well we tried to wake the kids up. It was like peeling a melted sticker off a silk blouse after going through the dryer. Almost impossible and with a lot of mental cussing. Xavier kept sitting straight up, eyes wide, and he'd nod at us when we told him it was time. Five minutes later we'd go in to check on his progress and he'd be out cold, sleeping upside down.

Ashe was so out of it that we sat there for 15 minutes trying everything but dashing cold water on his head. I finally had to grab his hand and gently tug him to follow me as we stumbled around the room. That kid had to have been sleep walking because he passed out on the kitchen table while I grabbed everyone a quick midnight snack.

The only one to get up without a hitch was Soren. It took him a groggy few to put his head into the game, but once he got there he was golden.

After prodding two of the boys, and one almost toppling out of his chair, we threw them and blankets inot the van and took off to find a dark area with a good view of the night sky.






Unfortunately we live in the burbs, and our area, while beautifully taken care of with manicured trees and streetlights every 50 paces, had beautifully manicured trees blocking our view, and streetlights every 50 paces that dimmed our eyes to the stars. This meant that it was a pain in the ass to find a decent spot to watch the shooting stars


After trying the schoolgrounds (no luck due to the 50 odd street lamps lighting up the area like the fourth of July on crack) we found ourselves driving around an area filled with business buildings. Fortuntaely we found one dark building with NO streetlamps a big enough view of the stars. So we sat up on the grass near the parking lot, hoping the cops wouldn't stop by and ask us what the hell we were doing on most likely private grounds, and looked up.

Into a partly cloudy sky that of course, was cloudy right where Perseus is. Of all the ironic shit that could have happened......


But instead of bitching, we kept our eyes peeled. Well the boys and I did. J took out his phone and started putzing on all sorts of compass and sky map apps, trying to figure out where to look, and learning the names of all the constellations out.

We hung out for a good hour. It wasn't as spectacular as we had hoped, but the boys each got to see at least one meteor. We saw one really decent one, and about 6 other fainter ones. I tried taking photos but it was a lost cause.  I think I got off one photo of pure black missing a meteor by half a second. The rest of the time I was too busy snuggling with the boys, answering questions, pointing out constellations, and listening to J recite all of the cool new info he learned about the constellation Cassiopia.

After everyone had their fill and Soren fell soundly asleep on the grass, we booked it back home, put the kids in bed, and passed out. Even with the kids sleeping in I was still able to get them to school on time.

We may have to try this again. The boys really rocked it, and are now hooked on shooting stars.

Kayaking

After months of anticipation, hellish heat keeping us hiding in the air conditioned house, the freakish temperature finally cooled down enough for us to head out this weekend and go kayaking for the first time as a whole fam.

It was a blast.

We started off a little rocky when at first the folks in charge of boat rentals told us that only two per boat and three was not allowed. However, their sign stated three was ok, and I had been around in June to double check their policy and was told three was ok. After a bit of them bumbling around, they grudgingly agreed to the two smaller kids in one kayak with a parent. I admit, I was going to lose my cool if they refused. This is the only kayak rental place in the area and we have been desperate to get out there. And with the kids being so small, they fit perfectly.

J went with Ashe and Soren, while Xavier and I took the other kayak. Since Xavier wasn't paddling I gave him the responsibility of taking photos of anything that looked cool. This blog is a debut of Xavier's leet photography skill. For an amateur, I thought he did a kick ass job. Here are my favorite four:

I love love love this photo that Xavier captured of a Heron. He was fishing in a bend, standing as still as can be. We very slowly made our way to him, and I was surprised he didn't take off, despite our attempts to keep three rowdy kids quiet. But the Heron ignored us and I was able to get our kayak within five feet of the bird so Xavier could grab a few fantastic photos. We watched as he would dive his head down in a burst, to catch up small fish.

In the upper right hand corner you can see a baby turtle sunning itself on a branch. Xavier and I came up behind him and snapped this photo mere moments before the turtle splashed into the water.

This was the elusive picnic bench, usually seen only in public parks on dry land. We captured this one lounging in the shallow water in the middle of the woods. Who knew picnic tables loved the water?

This was a good size turtle sunning itself on a log. We were able to get right up to it before it got annoyed and slid into the water.

We spent about an hour going around the perimeter of the lake, catching sight of dozens of turtles, a bunch of water fowl, and even saw a few fish jumping. The kids decided that kayaking was waaaay better than canoing. They loved that you could go faster, and that mom and dad enjoyed racing, bumping into each other, and generally acting like big kids. If the weather holds, we'll try and go again next weekend.