Friday, October 31, 2008
Halloween Candy Dilemma
Please vote on the poll on the sidebar and solve the candy dilemma in our house.
Friday, October 24, 2008
My Little Quotables
Henry told me this morning over breakfast that he was full of Whines and he left his Thank Yous at somebody else's house.
That got me thinking about all the conversations I have fantasized about having with my kids, and ones I still imagine for when we are teaching them to drive or moving them out of the house. Somehow, Henry and Svea always come up with questions and scenarios that I could have never dreamt.
For instance, the other morning Svea came waddling into the play room, stark naked and said, "Look Mom! I'm an elephant!"
Then she turned around and she had her purple pajama pants wedged in her bum crack as her tail.
Then there's the potty humor that I find so disarming like when they ask for a piece of poop in a bowl for a special treat and then explain through giggles that they really mean a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. Who wouldn't laugh at that?
Henry came up to me the other day and say simply, "Smell my finger."
I had to explain that as a general rule, I just don't do that.
Then he got frustrated with me the one when dinner was taking too long to cook and his hair hurt and it also didn't look pretty when he took off his hat (all his words), then upon hearing me giggle at his trauma he yelled, "Mom, I don't want to hear another peep out of me!"
At that moment, I couldn't agree more.
That got me thinking about all the conversations I have fantasized about having with my kids, and ones I still imagine for when we are teaching them to drive or moving them out of the house. Somehow, Henry and Svea always come up with questions and scenarios that I could have never dreamt.
For instance, the other morning Svea came waddling into the play room, stark naked and said, "Look Mom! I'm an elephant!"
Then she turned around and she had her purple pajama pants wedged in her bum crack as her tail.
Then there's the potty humor that I find so disarming like when they ask for a piece of poop in a bowl for a special treat and then explain through giggles that they really mean a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. Who wouldn't laugh at that?
Henry came up to me the other day and say simply, "Smell my finger."
I had to explain that as a general rule, I just don't do that.
Then he got frustrated with me the one when dinner was taking too long to cook and his hair hurt and it also didn't look pretty when he took off his hat (all his words), then upon hearing me giggle at his trauma he yelled, "Mom, I don't want to hear another peep out of me!"
At that moment, I couldn't agree more.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Belonging, Obama Style
It is a known fact to all those within a 50 yard radius of my family's existence that Henry is a huge football fan. Just a general, love-of-the-game fan. He mostly attaches to the University of Alabama's team, but occasionally substitutes South Carolina or Auburn or those good ole Florida State Cinnamon Rolls.
From a before-walking age though he has fixated on this sport with intensity. It looks like brainwash material from that 50 yard radius. I will defend myself that we have not exposed him to football more than exposure to other things like painting, cars, blocks, princesses or "Charlie and Lola." Football is just his thing.
His father has the gene too, but not as pronounced. For the first 3 years of Henry's life, I stood one room over in the house while he and I,Husband embraced Game Day (which includes up to 11 hours of football and commentating) with commitment and determination. From where I stood, I could not understand the love of this game, of course, but more so, I could not understand wanted to belong to one team or group so much.
So what was wrong with me?
I didn't want to wear a certain team's colors all the time or dedicate an entire season of the year, not to mention a portion of the family budget, to any one thing. I didn't get the belonging part of football.
Until this presidential campaign.
I think I finally understand what it means to get sweaty armpits wanting a debate or interview to go my way. I understand now wanting to put signs on my car and wear certain clothes. I understand having a conversation and really hoping that the other person brings up a debate or the latest NYT article or the clever political cartoons that are being forwarded to everyone's email inboxes - have you seen them too???
When I drive with my Obama sticker, I feel myself trying to be a better driver. When I know I'm going to the campaign office one morning, I dress a little nicer. When I see or hear people discussing politics, I feel less shy and have a renewed interest in clear-headed research about election issues. Supporting Obama is making me more aware of ways I want to be better. And I want to belong to Better.
So Go Team Obama.
Beat the Mavericks.
Bring Joe Sixpack, all Hockey Moms and Joe the Plumber to the game. I'll proudly be in the Obama stands.
From a before-walking age though he has fixated on this sport with intensity. It looks like brainwash material from that 50 yard radius. I will defend myself that we have not exposed him to football more than exposure to other things like painting, cars, blocks, princesses or "Charlie and Lola." Football is just his thing.
His father has the gene too, but not as pronounced. For the first 3 years of Henry's life, I stood one room over in the house while he and I,Husband embraced Game Day (which includes up to 11 hours of football and commentating) with commitment and determination. From where I stood, I could not understand the love of this game, of course, but more so, I could not understand wanted to belong to one team or group so much.
So what was wrong with me?
I didn't want to wear a certain team's colors all the time or dedicate an entire season of the year, not to mention a portion of the family budget, to any one thing. I didn't get the belonging part of football.
Until this presidential campaign.
I think I finally understand what it means to get sweaty armpits wanting a debate or interview to go my way. I understand now wanting to put signs on my car and wear certain clothes. I understand having a conversation and really hoping that the other person brings up a debate or the latest NYT article or the clever political cartoons that are being forwarded to everyone's email inboxes - have you seen them too???
When I drive with my Obama sticker, I feel myself trying to be a better driver. When I know I'm going to the campaign office one morning, I dress a little nicer. When I see or hear people discussing politics, I feel less shy and have a renewed interest in clear-headed research about election issues. Supporting Obama is making me more aware of ways I want to be better. And I want to belong to Better.
So Go Team Obama.
Beat the Mavericks.
Bring Joe Sixpack, all Hockey Moms and Joe the Plumber to the game. I'll proudly be in the Obama stands.
War Eagle Weekend
Here it is:
Our annual Auburn football game. Some of us were there to see Aunt Brooke cheer, some of us were there for the actual game, some just wanted to high-five Aubie...and some of us were at a wedding in the north Georgia mountains and felt fine about that (though we did miss seeing you, Brooke!).
Here are some pictures of the good times on the Plains:
Woops...having a hard time getting these to load.
You can see all of them here.
Our annual Auburn football game. Some of us were there to see Aunt Brooke cheer, some of us were there for the actual game, some just wanted to high-five Aubie...and some of us were at a wedding in the north Georgia mountains and felt fine about that (though we did miss seeing you, Brooke!).
Here are some pictures of the good times on the Plains:
Woops...having a hard time getting these to load.
You can see all of them here.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Indecision '08
Henry has been stressing out and needing to talk about his Auburn football jersey lately. He can only talk about this when iDaddy is at work, so I get the ear-full during the day.
We had the jersey, we just had to discuss, for 2 weeks, what numbers would go on it.
First it was 18, then he had his heart set on 11, then he saw the pack of numbers and wanted 80-something.
I showed him some pictures on-line of players in various games this season, and he decided that 11 was THE number.
For the front.
And 87:
For the back. Good thing there are only 2 sides to a shirt.
During all of this, Svea thinks it's awesome that her horse can smell the basketball goal. Get it, Mom? He can SMELL it.
hahhahhaahhahahahhahhahahahhahahhaha!
I don't think i ever really got it like she did, but her laughter was too contagious.
We had the jersey, we just had to discuss, for 2 weeks, what numbers would go on it.
First it was 18, then he had his heart set on 11, then he saw the pack of numbers and wanted 80-something.
I showed him some pictures on-line of players in various games this season, and he decided that 11 was THE number.
For the front.
And 87:
For the back. Good thing there are only 2 sides to a shirt.
During all of this, Svea thinks it's awesome that her horse can smell the basketball goal. Get it, Mom? He can SMELL it.
hahhahhaahhahahahhahhahahahhahahhaha!
I don't think i ever really got it like she did, but her laughter was too contagious.
Last Night
I'm not quite sure how Svea managed this one, but we walked in our room last night and found her on Brian's pillow like this:
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