Musical Tastes

Music has been a part of my life always. Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, Bartok......played it. (With varying degrees of success. I don't recommend Bartok to anyone, ANYONE! Especially an eight year old with fledgling finger dexterity.) Nat King Cole, Cole Porter....listened to it and sung it.

I consider my tastes as varied and diverse as my favorite bag of mixed Jelly Bellies; some fruity, some a little spicy and some are an acquired taste (like the buttered popcorn flavor).

But one type of music I shall NEVER, no NEVER, acquire a taste for is Dora the Explorer screaming, "Louder! Say it louder!" I don't care if it is in Spanish or English or Swahili. I don't care if she is sickeningly singing The Declaration of Independence...in seven different languages. I. Just. Can't. Take. It.

So, dear Dora the sanity slaying Destroyer.....consider yourself evicted from my home, my life, my television and my boys' budding musical tastes. Oh, and bring your whiny cousin, Diego, with you!

I will not have Drew, Owen and Kai thinking the screeching gibberish you squeak out is music. Here is how we roll in MY house (or car)......

We rock out to the Glee version of "Busta Move" cranked to full volume..bass pumping so the mirror is shaking. Right there in my hot gray mini-van. If I close my eyes and think hard enough I almost feel like I'm 24 again in my black Mustang GT convertible, making cute boys' heads turn and then flashing my wedding ring and a devilish grin. Now I'm turning heads for another reason...I'm that crazy mom looking like a gyrating lunatic who is damaging the developing ear drums of her impressionable young boys! But no matter...

While I'm grooving, Owen is bustin' his own moves like a champ. He gives no heed to the restraints of his car seat. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his arms pumping, shoulders wiggling and little booty shaking with complete abandonment. No embarrassment or cares for what might be cool or uncool. He's just dancing to the beat and loving every minute of it.

Drew knows every word to Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" and sings it with his own restrained enthusiasm. His arms aren't waving in the wind like Owen's but his hand is tapping to the beat and his foot is doing a tiny little dance of its own. I cock my rear-view mirror just enough to glimpse him executing a move that looks like a mini snake roll. I yell to him over the roar of the beat, "Work it out, brother!" And he smiles and continues bringing back the iconic move from the 80's. You don't see him doing that with Dora and her creepy monkey!

And then there is Kai who has opinions of his own when it comes to our musical selections. He prefers the Glee version of "Dancing With Myself" turned up to ear deafening decibels. Bouncing around in his seat, Kai's fluffy cheeks jiggle to the beat. Occasionally, I see wild arm movements that resemble a baby bird learning to take flight. Or my personal favorite, his legs flailing around like two big beef sticks stuffed into extrawide shoes.

So you see, my darling Dora, there is no room for you in our CD players or IPods. You've sung your last note on my TV. You've screeched your last screech. You've been replaced by real singers singing real songs that make me happy instead of enraged. There should be a warning on your shows: "Peligro! May cause spontaneous parental insanity resulting in the destruction of televisions." And we can't have that, Dora, can we?

Thankful Thanksgiving Thursday

This one is a no-brainer!

I am thankful for (in order of appearance):

• homemade rolls (NOT made by me)
  
• gravy
• smoked turkey
• heavenly hash
• regular and sweet potatoes
• homemade cranberry sauce (which is only enjoyed by me and Drew)
  
• stuffing
• corn, carrots and asparagus (which I forgot and then was too tired to make last minute)
  
• pies (fresh pumpkin, coconut, lemon)

Apparently Owen is NOT thankful for the aforementioned goodies. He ate NOT ONE BITE of the morsels we placed before him. He asked, instead, for a meal that was "not Thanksgiving" i.e. macaroni and cheese.

I am thankful for elastic waist pants.

I am thankful to have a new niece. It makes me so happy to hear the joy, pride and excitement in my brother's voice when he talks about his little Elsa Jane.

And it goes without saying...I'm thankful for my own little hooligans and their Dad.

This is Jay's favorite picture of Kai. He's just taking a leisurely stroll in Gettysburg with his hand in his pocket, looking like an English gent.

Thankful Thursday

I'm thankful for uninterrupted shopping time at the shoe store and in the breakable section at HomeGoods. I never venture into the fragile area when I have the boys with me. Six curious and clumsy arms are too difficult to keep away from the shiny, smashable objects.

I'm thankful that my brother is on his way home from Iraq 2 days earlier than expected. I'm thankful for his patient wife, Annalise. After he arrives it is time for a NIECE in the Lewis family...the baby countdown is on!!!

I'm thankful that Drew is still young enough to have simple (but wrong) logic like this....when we tried on his new shoes he stated that he thinks Grandpa and Grandma must have the biggest feet in the family because they have the oldest feet. I'm thankful for this but my Mom probably isn't.

And I'm thankful for this...Owen says,

"My root beer float floated

UP and

UP and

UP

to my brain
and made me
Smarter and
HAPPIER!!!!

A good root beer float does that to me, too.

He Said, She Said on the First Day of Kindergarten

Anne of Green Gables said, "If you only knew how many things I want to say and don't..."

I've always had a sharp tongue. It is one of my biggest flaws and best traits.....depending on who you speak to and when! Learning to choose my words wisely is one of many difficult life lessons I am studying as I desperately try to improve myself and try to NOT ruin my children.

Recently I faced a head to head battle of "the things I should say vs. the things I want to say." And the battle raging inside my head centered around Drew's first day of kindergarten.

He said: "Mama, can I have steak and dark dip (aka. A1), broccoli, potatoes, and cheese balls for my back to school feast?"

What I wanted to say: "Broccoli? Really? Cheese balls? The orange Styrofoam kind? You don't eat junk like that for dinner!"

What I actually said: "I'd be happy to make those things. It is your special dinner. And we'll have beautiful flowers (which were more for me than for him) and fancy napkins and candles."

He said: "Oh, Mama! I'm so excited to go to kindergarten tomorrow. I'm really going to love it and I'm going to make lots of friends."

What I wanted to say: "Live it up now. Kindergarten is a walk in the park compared to the next 12 years. You'll have playtime and snack time and crafts. After kindergarten it is all down hill! You'll get well acquainted with the alarm clock, playground bullies, pimples, braces, cliques, disinterested teachers, difficult choices, studying, homework and early morning seminary."

What I actually said: "You're going to have a great day and be such a good student."


What he said: "Isn't this a cool name tag?"

What I wanted to say: "NO! You have to wear it because not a single soul in that school knows who you are and you are going away from your Mama who knows everything about you and can take care of you the best!"

What I actually said: "That is a pretty cool duck."

He said: "Do I have enough time before the bus comes to put some salt on this slug?"

What I wanted to say: "Boys! They're so predictable!"

What I actually said: "Sure, just don't get slug juice on your shorts."

He said: "Look! Here comes the bus!!!"
What I wanted to say: "Go ahead. Get on the bus. But in doing so you will be ignoring everything I've ever taught you about stranger awareness and car safety, because you'll be getting into a vehicle with a complete stranger. And for the first time in your entire 5 years of existence, you won't be wearing a seat belt. Go ahead...."

What I actually said: "Wait until it stops completely until you cross the street. And don't forget that I love you very much and that we'll be waiting for you when you come home."


What I said: "Give your brother a hug good-bye."

What he thought I said: "Give your brother a good strangle."
And away he went....Our lives forever linked to this thing we call public education; where he spends more waking hours with a stranger than he does with me. Where he learns bad words and where he will get his first dose of reality.....when someone tells him the world has been lying to him about Santa Claus and the flying reindeer. OK, maybe he'll learn a thing or two about reading and writing but he'll learn oh so much more.

On that first day I was anxious and nervous. Owen was lost and lonely. We filled our time with games and puzzles and making cookies. But there just wasn't enough filler to make up for the glaring hole in Owen's world.....where was his best playmate? Owen was lost when he wasn't the shadow. At 1:00 Owen sat by the window to wait for Drew's arrival when he could return to the comforts of being the shadow instead of having to deal with HIS new shadow, Kai.


And at 4:10 Drew returned home from Gravely Elementary School on bus 743 to shrieks of joy from his brother and a sigh of relief from his Mama. He told me about Mrs. Innocenzi and that he sits at the rhombus table and that Mr. J.J. makes him sit at the front of the bus. When I asked if anyone threw up in the hallway he just looked at me and wondered if that was something he might have missed. (Not a day went by in my elementary school when someone didn't ralph on the bus or in the hallway, prompting cries of "ewww" and "did you see that?" and "Mrs. Calloway! Johnny threw up his fiestata all over my backpack." And then the story of who, where and what grew from a story into a legend.)

Nope. There wasn't any fanfare or hysterics or pleas of, "Don't make me go back to that place!" He liked it. And for now, his schooling is uncomplicated. And I like that.

**don't know why I didn't publish this when the first day of kindergarten actually happened back in September!**

Day Late, Dollar Short on Thanks

I was thankful for things this week. I really was. By being a bit tardy with my thankful decrees doesn't lessen my gratitude....it just makes me a procrastinator, something I'm not unfamiliar with!

I'm grateful that I have parents that can fly from Alabama to Hawaii to Utah to Virginia in one week just to spend time with 3 of their 5 kids and 5 grandsons. They would've gone 5 for 5 if one of their kids wasn't gallivanting around Alaska and the other one didn't have the audacity to be in Iraq!

When they were here I got to take a morning shower in peace, go for a mid-morning run and go on a date with Jay without even thinking of the boys once!!! It gave my brain a chance to re-boot.
Since Drew was born, my Dad has never missed our birthdays. I thought he was crazy when, six years ago, he suggested that Drew should be born on his birthday (and a day after mine). That would mean my baby would come 3 weeks early! I never gave Dad's request a second thought. But, lo and behold, he had his first grandchild on his birthday and my 28th birthday was spent in horrific induced labor! I've never given Dad a present after that. I figure Drew is the gift that keeps on giving!!!

On Forgetting

I've stated from the beginning of my blogging experience that this little online journal is a way of documenting for my boys the experiences in our lives that make us who we are. The things that bind us together, make me rip my hair out, melt my heart or just boggle my mind. It is my way of coping with the mundane, a means to see the humor in disaster, laugh at the absurd, reprimand my soda-loving husband (ha!), and compile some family photos.

It is so my boys will read these accounts and see me not just as their mother but as a person with feelings and faults and hopes and sometimes regrets.

It is also so I won't forget.

I don't want to forget that Kai's plump cheeks have such a satisfying jiggle when he walks or runs. Or that his bottom is so round and squishy and delicious that I sometimes have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from squeezing him too hard. And how he turns my face to his to make sure that I am paying attention to his baby jabbering. And that he isn't satisfied until I've replied to his chatter. I can't forget that he says "no" when what he really means is "yes." Or that he brings me his blanket and says, "Kai" when he wants me to cuddle with him. (I wish, however, I could forget that he flings his food from his high chair like a monkey in a cage.)

I don't want to forget that Owen gives me unprovoked kisses and hugs at the oddest of times. And that I always stop to receive them because his hugs are as important to my soul as air is to my lungs. I want to remember that right now his face is smooth and soft. (Someday it will be rough and gruff with whiskers. Oh, how will I bear it?) I hope he always wants to give me hugs and I hope he always squeezes just as tight. And if he doesn't, I'll still squeeze him just as tight anyway. And I'll always be his "prettiest princess." Even when he takes a wonderful girl to the temple to be married, I'll secretly and quietly still feel like his prettiest princess....even when he's telling his new bride that she has the title.

I don't want to forget that Drew is enduring being the oldest child like a champ. All our mistakes as parents tend to be concentrated in his direction! I don't want to forget that he acts like I'm Barbra Streisand when I sing him "The Star Spangled Banner" at night. I want to remember that what is momentous in the eyes of everyone else just seems like no big deal to Drew. Like Kindergarten....he is completely non-plussed and takes everything in stride. But little things like where we sit at the dinner table are HUGE to him. I don't want to forget that he is cautious and studious and maddeningly literal....and the best traveler around.

While I'm busy not forgetting, the boys are hopefully busy forgetting my multiple mistakes. Like today at Target when I said, "Fine, if you want to go ahead and get hit by a car.....see how much you like it.....and then you can apologize to me for not obeying and holding on to the cart like I asked!"

I said that, I really did.

And I said it loud.

And then I looked at another Mom with two cute little girls that were happily sitting in the cart just as quiet as can be. And that mother looked at me. And I was ashamed.

And I was jealous. (And simultaneously ashamed that I was jealous!) Jealous of her child that was happy to sit in the cart...unlike screaming Kai. And jealous of the other one that wasn't licking the cart handle like Owen just did.

And then I remembered what I just said to my children....the whole getting hit by a car outburst, and I rushed inside with my cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

I hope my boys will forget that.

I hope that Kai will forget that today at a Fall Festival place I looked him squarely in the eye and through my frustration and anger asked him, "Why can't you just be still and quiet and let me enjoy myself for once? Why can't you stop making my life so hard?" And in that moment I really meant it. And all Kai was trying to do was stick his hand up the slimy nose of a hungry calf and poke his finger at the poop chute of a goat. (I hate petting zoos.)

Do you think that maybe the rear end of that goat will be so memorable that Kai won't remember what I said to him?

Ode to Shoes

It isn't a secret, I've shouted it out
I like fancy shoes when I'm out and about.

They dress up an outfit and brighten dull days
They lift up your spirits in so many ways.

They fit when you're pregnant, they fit when you're not.
I like them with colors and animal spots.

I haven't had new ones in too long to count
Shoes are uplifting in any amount!

With moving and babies and renting and cars
Its not in our budget......not important, by far.

But my birthday is coming, so I decided to treat
Myself to some ornaments to cover my feet.

Wedges or peep toes or sneakers or flats
Maybe those boots I should purchase...perhaps.

But what should my wandering eye behold?
3 pairs of boy shoes that are looking quite old.

I look right and look left and look all around
And see 30 piggies right there on the ground.

They're running and skipping and jumping with glee
Not knowing the pleasure they're ripping from me.

Darn them, oh darn them
Oh DARN THEM, I Say!
They've thwarted my plan in the trickiest way.

They have luck on their side
Wouldn't you just know?
They had the audacity to go on and grow!

They grew out of their shoes but my shoes still fit.
So its off to the shoe store, the most dreaded of trips.

It isn't as fun to shop boy shoes for sure.
Its brown, black and navy....to me its a bore.

They got their drab boy shoes and I don't think they know.
How much I was coveting that yellow peep-toe.

Goodbye fancy pumps and black Converse, farewell.
You're replaced by wee small shoes that are destined to smell.

A mother must sacrifice in more ways than one.
But having old peep toes just isn't much fun!