Caught in the Act

Just not sure what the act was...
He is, in fact, standing on the furniture, with a screwdriver handle, wearing protective head ware. Sounds like a card in Clue.

Lesson #1

"So, Svea, this is an I-formation here on the Line of Scrimmage, as seen in my library book."



"So, Henry, this is the pincher grasp I can do with my toes. I can also pick things up and throw them in the air, all while wearing this blue angel dress and pretending to listen to you. Roll Tide. Or whatever."

Look What We Caught

Auburn Lost Its Shoe!

At 4 am this morning, Brian and I were both awake so I decided to ask who won the Auburn v. LSU game. We got to see famous Aunt Brooke on ESPN Game Day that morning/afternoon:



(yeah, Brooke!)
but since I went to bed at 7 pm, I missed the game. Brian told me about Auburn losing and then about what that meant for the SEC, but he was interrupted by the squirrel trapped in our bedroom wall, who was the initial reason that we were awake at 4 am on a Sunday morning.

We listened to the squirrel (we hope it's a squirrel) dig and run, and maybe have some babies, before Brian moved to the guest room and I listened to Svea get up and start running up and down the stairs while Henry turned pages, studying player formations for football and baseball, in paperback books at the base of our bed.

Then Brian walked back in the room, Svea ran in the room, and Henry nested the baseball paperback into the football paperback and closed them so they looked like only one book.

Svea crawled up to cuddle with me, while Brian began to explain more about the Auburn-LSU game. I turned to Henry and said, "Auburn lost to LSU."
Svea overheard me (two inches from her face) and turned to yell at Henry (6 inches from her face) that, "Auburn lost its shoe!"

Henry stared at her and then held the binding of his football paperback so that the baseball paperback stuck in there fell to the floor. Then he looked at me, smiled devilishly and declared, "Look, Mom. The football book pooped it out."

Welcome to my world where everything is SEC football, poop, Cinderella, and squirrels.
COMBINED.



Some commentary NOT from I, Mollie:

Along those lines, I, Husband wants to point out that in the picture posted, Kirk Herbstreit wonders "What will we learn about the SEC today?" I, Husband is happy to report that what we learned about the Southeastern Conference can be summed up in the following 2 points:
1. Alabama is like completely awesome and a half.
2. Auburn is not.
Okay, 3 points:
3. Auburn is still not. And that is awesome.

Knock, Knock.

Who's there?

Our house is full of knock-knock jokes. Henry and Svea like to switch up the punch lines just for fun, not because they don't get it or anything.

So we're telling lots of jokes, lots of stories, lots of make-believe (which is fun to listen to since in Svea's version they are in a boat, but according to Henry they are in the jungle and eventually they end up in a jungle boat with Sheer Khan and Bhageera and maybe Mickey Mouse. John Parker Wilson is throwing footballs in there too somewhere).

Brian and I have been listening to them play, participating some, but mostly we're glued to news commentaries, local stations and papers, web sites and Daily Shows tracking the presidential campaign. Brian wrote a moving plea for dialogue on his Facebook page which generated a good bit of discussion.
Now it's my turn.

For the first time in my life, I do not feel the need to shy away from a political race. I did learn the rule about never discussing politics or religion at the dinner table...or in public...but I married a preacher and I'm from the South where going to the grocery store is a political event. I'm stuck, there's no way around it, and I need to talk about it.

The root of my fear in bringing up candidates is isolation. I don't want to make anyone feel isolated, nor do I want to lose friends over this. To stay silent and implode versus speaking up and losing friends is far too binary for reality; I am convinced there are more options out there.

Shamelessly I will lay down my cards and declare my support for the Obama-Biden campaign. I am committing to research and discussion, but not isolation nor condemnation. I will continue to love my friends and family who choose to support McCain-Palin. But I insist on dialogue.

As a parent, I need Obama-Biden to win for issues in education. Because I have parents, I need Obama-Biden to win for issues in health care and social security. Because I want to remain a parent, I need Obama-Biden to win for issues in foreign policy and national security. As a woman, wife, sister and friend, I need Obama-Biden to win for issues in civil rights, gay rights, abortion, energy and the environment. Most of all, I need us all to keep talking, learning, and listening.

So, here goes:
Me: Knock, knock.
You: Who's there?
Me: Lettuce.
You: Lettuce who?
Me: Lettuce be friends. Lettuce keep the conversation going. Lettuce commit to change and hope, together. Lettuce get the punch line right to this one. I'll teach my kids, you teach yours.

Just Wasn't Expecting That

As a committed Planner of My Days, sometimes I lose sight of the how great it is to be surprised. I probably try to control way too much from sun up to sun down, and Henry and Svea have been helping me with that.

For instance, Svea walked downstairs the other afternoon, marched over to Brian, gently laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't worry Daddy. Your sheets will dry."

(apparently she had been having a tea party with water on his pillow)


Then I walked into Henry's room after rest time one day to find he was in the middle of a complex football game with lots of athletes:



Just wasn't expecting to see that.

Frolicking with the BFF

We got to spend some time with Svea's BFF Lilah this weekend (she's Henry's GFF, I guess).



There was an art fair at a local winery, Ruby Moon Winery, and it was 92 degrees, so why not? It filled 2 hours of our day at least. And it was nice to do something local.





Sweet girls...

Johnnie White Shoes is 31

Today is Uncle Johnnie's birthday. Except he lives in Singapore so his birthday was actually yesterday our time.

Its hard to explain to Henry and Svea things like "time zones" and "long distance" so we settled for making him a card (that's a green motorcycle race on the right, by the way):



Happy birthday! We are so glad you were born.

Overheard This Week

That's glue, honey, so we don't put that on our lips"
(Brian to Svea about a glue stick. Which does kinda resemble her new glitter princess tubes of gloss)




Omigosh, if I was anything like that person I would never admit it.
(I'm not sure which National Convention that was during)


Will you just come over here and lift my butt up?
(someone actually asked that of the yoga instructor during a class)




I don't want to say the blessing, I just want to make a wish.





I think the Florida Gators are going to beat the Florida Cinnamon Rolls.




It feels so GOOD to NOT be freaking out. You should try it.
(Right on.)

'Member That Time...

I have been finding scraps of paper, trash and notebook pages with phrases Henry and Svea have said in the past few months. I must have jotted them down in my laughter or tears thinking they were blog-worthy and wanting to get them posted. Months later, here I am.

So in a notebook in the car buried under cashew crumbs and cranberry pieces that I found today, I recorded these conversations:

Henry: Mom, will Papa be there when we get to his house?
Me: Yes, he will be there.
Henry: Oh, Mom!! Papa makes me so ridiculous!



Svea: (while eating the curved kind of pretzels in the car bites off one ofthe curves so it looks like the letter "P") Mom! Look it's the letter "P"!
Me: That's great, Svea. What sound does the letter "P" make?
Svea: (thinks for a while). Chocolate.
Me: Definitely.



Then on an old photo case, I wrote:

Henry: Mom, if you say that again I'll show my scary muscles.



I am realizing more and more that I move at the pace of efficiency, while Henry and Svea move at the pace of discovery. Discovery usually takes a lot longer than what I consider to be efficient, so this has been a learning curve. There are many times in the day when nothing is pressing our schedule and I still want them to hurry up already. Hence, the Rotten Egg Game to get them to get in their car seats and buckle up.
Usually Henry wins.
When he doesn't, we try to celebrate second (or third) place.
He trumped all of that the other day to inform me, as he was losing, that he was NOT the rotten egg because THIS WAS NOT A RACE.

Okay then.

Super Shanti Superhero

Svea has changed her name to Shanti (the girl on the left on Baloo's shoulder. She carries a water jug on her head from the river back to the village) and now she carries her toys on her head around the house. She's Shanti on the days when she is not Princess Pea, Snow White or V-V. That is the letters "V" and "V" which makes me nervous to say because it sounds so much like "Fifi" and I just can't go there. Yet.

When she got up from her non-nap nap today, she exclaimed loudly that she was not Shanti, but Super Shanti.



So I asked her, "What does a Super Shanti Say?"
And she thought about it. Hmmmmm...



Then decided on:
"I have the power to READ!"



Thank you, SuperWHY.




Does this mean we are watching too much TV?

Otters Game, Altoids and Lipstick

We got to go to two Otters games in 8 days. it was hot, but entertaining, and we lasted 4 whole innings both times. The first time, Svea wanted to go through my purse while Brian took Henry to get Sprites.

After she swallowed 3 Altoids in a row like they were vitamins, I took them away.



Then she got to the lipstick, which entertained her for a full 25 minutes. She tried each one, 89 times. I'm just glad I'm fresh out of the Revlon All Day.

First Day of Preschool!!!

We made it through the summer!

Things I Learned About My Dad (in therapy)

Not really MY Dad, but other people's dads and other people's therapy sessions.

One of my favorite writers, Heather B. Armstrong, aka Dooce, has edited a book of of essays. She wrote a few essays, her husband wrote a few, in addition to some other writers and bloggers. The first few essays made me start calling people to tell them to go out and buy the book immediately...then the middle few I wasn't as fired up about, but by the end I was so glad I had read it all and still wanted to recommend it. Especially to fathers I knew.

My sister gave me the book for my birthday this summer, right about the time Svea started stealing stuff off of my bedside table to put in her Little Things piles around the house. She also started reading my books. I think she really enjoyed this one.

Catching Up

We've been busy around here, these final weeks of August, so I have some catch-up pictures to post.

First, THANK YOU to all of you haiku-ers out there who participated in Hurry Up and Haiku. I still have a few submissions trickling in that I may post here and there. This may never end...

In the meantime, Henry and Svea have been very busy stacking toys, rearranging things in rooms, going to Otters baseball games, riding carousels, etc.

The other day I walked past Svea's Workshop (which is the lowest shelf on our wedding cake stand iron sculpture my brother made) and saw some weird arrangement of toys.



Svea routinely packs up her Little Things in various combinations in various backpacks (usually a Dora backpack) and then rearranges the Little Things into a party formation, gets bored or distracted, then walks away. Then I walk in. It's full entertainment around here. Especially when Jesus is preaching to the masses.



Henry is still committed to getting something new, in the form of a Special Treat, every single day. Shopping for school supplies was the best for him because we had to go to no fewer than 5 stores to get them all and he needed a Special Treat at every store.

The kind of construction paper that his 4-year-old class required could only be found at Hobby Lobby (not Target, Wal-Mart, Big Lots or The Dollar Store). At Hobby Lobby he picked out a set of football appetizer toothpicks. I feared buying these thinking I should just throw my seventy-five cents straight into that parking lot trash can or that they would become lodged in Svea's eyes or ears.
I was wrong.



He has been so careful and creative with them and a week and a half later, is still loving them.