When they think I'm not looking...

A lot of stuff happens around here, stuff that doesn't happen when the kids and Ryan know I'm paying attention.  I've started to tune into the "secret" stuff over the last few weeks, and it's been horrifying and uplifting at the same time.

The horrifying part is that, when I was not looking the other day, Ronan dumped a basket of clean, WHITE, laundry and proceeded to throw it all into the ashy fireplace.  Lovely.  I also found a piece of burnt wood and some ashy clothes down the laundry chute. I have no idea how he found the time.  He laughed at me as I was picking the clothes out of the fireplace.  I have no pictures of any of this because I was too distraught and I don't want to have a visual reminder.  

But then, there were the sweet moments.  When I wasn't looking the other day, Maguire and Gan got Ronan all buckled up in the wagon and took him for a walk.  Roj loves the wagon.  When he escapes out the back door, we always find him sitting in the wagon ready for a ride.  The wagon ride was too sweet for words.  At one point, Gan even reached down and held Roj's hand while they were walking.  I almost teared up.   Okay, so I did tear up.  I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

Then, yesterday, the boys were outside "playing" while I was getting dinner ready.  They didn't know I was watching, which was why they decided to wrestle and engage in some weird ninja-sword-wielding exercises.

When I wasn't looking last night, Roj took the opportunity to snuggle Ryan and tell him, in his baby ways, that he loves him best in the world, always has, always will.

I plan to start paying better attention around here.

Love,

Momma T.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I wasn't sure how to tell you this to your face.  I can't bear to see the crestfallen look or the sadness in your eyes.  So, I've decided to write to you here, on your blog, so you can share your pain with your four followers.

Mom, brace yourself, YOU ARE BORING.  There, I said it.  It's been over a week since the big kids started school, and I miss them every second they are gone, except, of course, when I'm napping.

They are young; you are old.  They are fast; you are slow.  They are funny; you are not all that funny really.  They let me throw their toys; you don't let me throw your kitchen utensils.  See what I'm saying here?

In the week they've been gone, I've had to resort to desperate measures to entertain myself.

The other day when you went to the bathroom and I took off and you came out and were calling my name and you couldn't find me and you started to freak out a little but I still ignored you, I was in my room, teaching myself to read.  It really wasn't that big of a deal once I figured out which end of the book was up.

Remember when you found me and I forgot that I was trying to hide from you?  I was so happy to see you, until I realized that I was still missing the big kids.  

Then, this week, I taught myself to use dining utensils, so I can eat like less of an animal.  Again, you were in the bathroom, and I pushed the kitchen stool over to the utensil drawer, opened it, and took out a fork.  I'm resourceful.

So, anyway Mom, we're only on week two of this school year, so you're going to have to ratchet it up a notch.  I have faith in you.

Love,

Ronan

'Twas the Night Before Back to School

Last night, Daddy and the boys made a back-to-school dinner fit for a queen - pancakes and eggs and watermelon.

Because today is a big day -  Maguire starts second grade.  The boys and Magoo celebrated this morning with breakfast cereal.

And we took our annual back-to-school picture.

To give you a clue as to how far we've come, here's the annual back-to-school picture from first grade...

And from kindergarten...

The start of second grade, I have learned, is way different than the start of kindergarten and the start of first grade.  At drop off for second grade, there was little to no nervousness, just lots of greeting old friends and their parents.  They qualify as old friends when you've known them over a quarter of your life.  There's confidence - including asking the student teacher where the lunch bag bin was, which only caused the student teacher to slightly freak out because she didn't know the answer - and there are a lot of smiles.  There were no sad goodbyes for me, just a quick kiss followed by, "I'll miss you a lot," which, incidentally, made me want to grab her and make a break for it. 

She had a great day, as I suspected she would.  She decided to have hot lunch instead of the cold lunch we'd packed.  She said it was great to see her Spanish teacher, who was very impressed that Maguire could remember so much of her Spanish from last year.  She got a little bored with just talking about what they were going to do this year instead of actually doing it.  She even said it's nice to be in the "bigger kid" hallway (the second grade rooms are in the hallway with the third and fourth grades) instead of with the "little kids" (the kinders and first graders).  

A lot's changed in two years.  I wonder if I'll ever get over how amazed I feel every time I see them grow up just a little.  Doubt it.  I'm easy to amaze, and, I just gotta say, my girl's pretty awesome.  

Love,

Momma T.  

No pain, no gain

Gan screamed a blood-curdling scream the other day, and I panicked.  He is not a crier or a screamer or a yeller when he gets hurt.  He says, "Dang."  That's it.  He doesn't cry for shots; he doesn't cry when he takes a ball to the forehead; he doesn't cry when he falls off his scooter and skins up his knee.

I tore outside to see what was up, because I was pretty sure he had to be half-dead if he was screaming.

This is what I saw.

I took the picture later.  I'm not so cold-hearted as to say, "Hold on baby.  I know it hurts but let me get the camera so I can take a picture of your smashed toe for my blog."

I asked what happened, and Maguire quickly said, "I didn't do anything."  Gan explained, after he caught his breath because it hurt so dang much, that he picked up a huge rock and was lifting it so he could get big muscles like Dad.  He wanted to lift weights.

Here's an explanation in pictures.

He found a huge rock, picked it up over his head, tripped on his feet, and dropped the rock on his toes.  Ryan and I weighed it later - - it weighed TEN POUNDS.  Poor guy.

Here is the torture instrument...next to my lens cap for perspective.

I think he's abandoned his weight-training career for the time being.

Love,

Momma T.