Thankful Thursday -- better late than never

I made a promise to myself to list things that make me thankful every Thursday. Technically it is Friday, but I am no less thankful for these things.

Apple picking at beautiful and fragrant Hartland Orchard.

Enough teeth left to take a bite out of every apple on the ground.

Successful first days of Kindergarten.

Kai's Tooth

Get Drew off to school for his second day of kindergarten.....check.

Clean house for Book Club discussion at my house....check.

Host 5 ladies and 10 children for lunch and delightful amounts of girl gabbing.....check.

Welcome home Drew from another successful day at school.....check.

Watch as Kai barrel rolls down 3 stairs and pops out a tooth....check.

What?
It popped out?

Yep, his bottom tooth just shot out of his mouth like a pop gun. Kind of sounded like one, too.

Between the copious amounts of blood and wailing I managed to call his dentist at 5 minutes to 5:00 and was told "bring him right in."

I was sure that he was going to be in terrible tooth pain the entire 20 minute drive to the office. However, after Kai managed to pitifully moan "coooookieee," I had a feeling that the pain and wailing were just about over.

After an inspection from the dentist, Kai was declared "just fine." Just fine if you don't care about a gaping hole in your child's grin!

We were also told that it may or may not (a phrase I loathe) cause damage to the future permanent tooth and that.....I'll quote directly here...."Even if it did, there isn't a damn thing we can do about it." (We really like this dentist. She's just our style.)

So out we went to get some chicken nuggets and fries and begin our life with hillbilly boy.

It is about perspective, right?

Sure it isn't a limb or otherwise necessary appendage. But it was his perfect little tooth that helped to make up that perfect little smile on my perfect little round bottomed baby.

I feel a little bit in mourning. Perfect has now turned into "quirky." And dare I say it....

Red-necky? (I AM from Alabama. I'm sensitive about those kinds of things.)

Now he will be followed by a question...

"Oh, your boy is so cute....what happened to his tooth?"

"Would you look at that smile? Darling.....has he ever been able to eat corn-on-the-cob?"

So, I don't have the heart to post a picture today. I'm admittedly vain (and dramatic, Jay says). I'll gather up my courage and gain perspective and make myself laugh at the whole thing............tomorrow.

Then I'll post a picture.

Oh, give me strength! (that would be the dramatic part)

Dear...

Dear Sleepless Night,

Your presence here has been most enlightening. I've learned a lot of things about life during our HOURS together beneath the full moon. You've educated me on the world during the twilight hours, when half the world is asleep, and you continue to do your tap dance on my brain. I can hear the crickets and the frogs and the birds doing dances of their own.....you must be two-timing me, because they're awake, too. Could they also be contemplating the same things that my mind has been churning around and around like a rock tumbler?

Last night I spent a good hour on how nice those little salad forks are that are made of wood and look like robot hands. A FULL HOUR!!! I've always wanted some of those. A modest wish...

I tumbled around some menu ideas for my upcoming lunch with my book club ladies. A pasta salad, perhaps? What about a strawberry spinach salad that would be perfect with the aforementioned tongs? We read "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" but I don't think a potato peel pie would be edible for our rather feminine palates. And yet, I contemplated...

I made mental lists of food needing to be purchased, abandoned projects that needed to be revived and windows that are so filmy with little hand prints that they look frosted. Nice for privacy but not so nice for aesthetics. And still, I pondered...

And I thought about kindergarten.

I mulled over how I felt about sending my child off with strangers for 8 hours and how I was informed that 10 days advanced notice is required to take my child on an extended vacation. 10 days!!! And I have to get "approval" for MY child! MY child.....or is he now Prince William County Public School's child?

Can't we talk about these things at three in the afternoon instead of three in the morning? My dark circles would be so appreciative.

Sleepless Night, you weren't so bad to have around when I had to study for a test. But when my alarm clock squeals, "MAMA!" from its crib at 6:30 a.m. and I have to attentively listen to Captain Owen talk about how he "dream-ded" about putting eggs in the wrong place (which was this mornings dream conversation)......well, I need all my wits about me.

So I've devised a plan to make your transition OUT of my life a bit easier.

I bought myself a pair of these.....

I wrote down all my lists and checked off a few to-do's.

I've tumbled and pondered and contemplated and mulled and wished and listened. What more could you want from me?

Please. Go. Away.

Thank you, and good night.

Thankful Thursday

**Photo sizes are a little crazy. Still trying to figure a few things out with a few different programs.

With all the complaining and belly aching that I post on my not-so-private family journal, I've decided to infuse a little cheerfulness so that my posterity won't think I'm a grumpy, petrified old stick in the mud. So every Thursday I shall try to list some of the happiest thoughtful thoughts I can think. Hopefully one day, if my boys read my ramblings, they will know that their Mama loved her life staying home with them.....well, most of the time.

I am thankful for.......

Boys that recognize my vocal acumen by requesting
"The Star Spangled Banner" (Drew)...
and
"Santa Clause is Coming to Town" (Owen)
for their bedtime recital.

Cankles....
when they aren't my own.

Brothers who find the fun in everything...
and nothing.

Husbands who always carry their fair share of the "family business"....
and then some.

Big boys that say (after an overwhelming orientation),
"I thought you should hear some good news, Mama.
I'm really excited about my Kindergarten class."

Squeals of delight... on the baby swing.

A carefree childhood.
They'll be grown up soon enough.

A Few Teeth and a Dog (written in May when the events actually occurred)

I wasn't expecting it.

I knew it would happen soon enough because it was loose, but not THAT loose. I thought the Toothfairy had at least another month to prepare for her first arrival at the Spencer home. So when Drew bounded down the stairs exclaiming, "I lost my tooth!" I was taken aback.

"You lost your tooth?" I asked.

"Yeah, I lost my tooth." He replied

"Well, let me see it!" I said. (My first baby lost his first baby tooth!!! What a milestone!)

"But Mom, I said I lost my tooth." Drew replied with exasperation.

"I KNOW you lost it. I heard you. Did you already put it under your pillow?" I replied, just as exasperated.

"MAMA!!! I SAID I LOST IT," he reiterated.

.......Silence.......

"You lost it?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I lost it." He answered matter-of-factly.

"Like, gone?" I quizzed, in disbelief.

"Yep. I don't have it anymore," came the reply with an "I've-told-you-that-a-million-times" look.

"Did you spit it in the sink after brushing your teeth? Did you swallow it? Did you drop it on the ground after you pulled it out?" I implored, practically shaking him to get an acceptable answer.

"I don't know, Mama. I LOST it. It's just....lost."

After I sat there digesting that bit of information and contemplating if a little tooth could indeed be digesting in the belly of my 5 year old, my mind raced ahead to the little issue of the Toothfairy.

Earlier that very Saturday the Toothfairy spent the meager amount of cash she had at a roadside stand advertising fresh orange blossom honey and kettle corn. (She'll fly over a dozen Wal-Marts without a second glance; but put a hand painted sign on the side of the road advertising fresh foods and goodies and she'll magically appear there every time.)

In an effort to make-up for the woefully inadequate supply of cash in her coffer, the Toothfairy (disguised as me) brokered a deal.

I explained that since Drew didn't have an actual tooth he would have to come up with an alternate plan as to how the Toothfairy would know that he had lost his tooth.

After some consideration, the plan was to place a shark's tooth from our shell collection underneath Drew's pillow and then hope that the Toothfairy was in a generous mood.

Seeing as how the Toothfairy didn't have any cash, she devised a plan of her own. A kind note was left under the pillow of the now gap-toothed little boy explaining how her business works. She couldn't just leave the money for a tooth that clearly belonged to a ferocious fish and not a sweet child. No, she had a reputation to uphold!

The next morning Drew discovered a note stating that an explanation was required for payment to be received.

Drew was completely nonplussed. It was as if he got notes under his pillow every day. He was a calm, cool, collected businessman who had one goal in mind....to seal the deal. So, he did as he was asked and got a dollar under his pillow.

There were lessons to be learned all around. The Toothfairy learned that she must always have cash on hand when boys have wiggly teeth. Drew learned that the Toothfairy, despite the fluffy name, drives a hard bargain.

And thankfully, one week later the lessons had not been forgotten, for Drew lost his second tooth in his hot dog! Yes, his Oscar Meyer all beef frank had a little tiny baby tooth stuck right in the side of its all beef goodness.

No strings attached to a tooth, attached to a swinging doorknob. No tooth dangling by a thread for weeks before the parent holds down the screaming child and yanks out the offending tooth with a pair of rusty pliers from the tool shed.

Nope, just a hot dog. Charming.

Unfortunate Sequence of Events

Today was "one of those days."

I feel like I am the captain of a team that is 0 for 50 and each loss is by only one point. ONE tiny point! Somehow it is harder to lose by one point than to lose by 75 because, let's be real, losing by a lot means you were never in the ball park to begin with. Losing by only one means you just couldn't get your act together and go the distance. Very disheartening. You can smell the sweet aroma of victory but you're not going to get the feast.

And when the other team hoots and hollers after their mere margin of victory...well, you want to go over and duct tape them to the wall, take away all their toys and then climb in bed with a good book.

Here's the play-by-play:

I heard the captain of the "other" team opening the cereal box and leave it on the table. Before I could put up a block, the co-captain threw a hail-Mary and dumped the contents on the floor. Then the third member of the team snuck in for the extra point and stepped all over the Kix, doing the obnoxious victory dance.

Score one for the other team!
Zero for me!

I was a day late and a dollar short. Behind the 8 ball. Running to stand still.

Jay is trying to convince me that it isn't about the battles. It is about the war. So, it is with that little nugget of rubbish that I took the other team to the library and to Costco. Bound and determined to win one of the battles today.

Nineteen books and three kids excited about one day being literate...Score!!! I win at the library!

But......

They won in Costco. (Ask me later how loudly Kai's screeching can reverberate off the warehouse walls. I'm not prepared to talk about it. But suffice it to say...it's like the Swiss Alps in that place!)

So now the teams are all tied up.

Back on home turf I was ready for battle.....

Kai was thirsty (who wouldn't be after the opera he performed at Costco?) and I couldn't find his sippy cup. This isn't unusual, I found it in Jay's toilet yesterday. So I fill up another and go about the dinnertime routine.

I preheat the oven and head outside to start the grill and poke around the yard. I return to the kitchen and smell a funny aroma. I take note of this and head off to put the burgers on the grill and poke around the yard a little more.

Upon entering the house the funny aroma had given way to full-on noxious fumes and the smoke was stinging my eyes. I rush to the oven (preheated to 450 degrees, of course) and discover......

The missing sippy cup.
Kai found a new hiding place

Final Score: Me - 1
Other Team - 4,253,967

It wasn't anywhere close!
There is some consolation in that.

Poetry

I am NOT a poet.

If truth be told, I don't even like poetry.

The only poetry I've read is what was forced on me in high school and a college lit class. And it was torture. Like, poke your eyes with toothpicks to stay awake, or gag myself with my mechanical pencil with all the lovey-dovey, tortured soul poet stuff, kind of torture.

Robert Frost is not my friend and I'm not inspired by Emily Bronte or the like. However, give me a great Dr. Seuss book and I'm good to go. (I don't call his work poetry out of principle.)

Call me simple minded, that's okay.

I've never written a single poem in my life. So when I sat down to write my little "Ode to the Soda Can" a while back I wasn't thinking of poetry. I was thinking of Dr. Seuss and how to complain about my husband without sounding like a nagging, bitter housewife who is airing her dirty laundry on the information super-highway!

So it is in that vein that I write about our beloved middle child and his problem with socks. Yes, socks.

A wee tiny babe with bright orange hair
A mother's delight that made others to stare.

You've had stitches and super-glue
To mend your deep wounds
And you only eat food with self-titled "Owen spoons."

Angelic and peaceful you seem to appear
But under the smile is a sinister sneer.

You have a dirty secret,
An obsession so great
That rehab and hypnosis would be needed to break.

You refuse to eat bread or things of the like
A muffin, a roll, Sacrament bread...Not one bite!

But one thing you will have
And plenty, you do!
Socks! Socks! and more Socks!
A strange passion....who knew?

You love them, its true
You've made that apparent.
But why can't you listen to me?
I AM YOUR PARENT!!!

Put them, oh, put them, oh
PUT THEM AWAY!
I'm tired of just finding one dirty lost stray.

It must be genetic 'cause it is no joke.
You're just like your Dad and his wandering Coke.

You leave them on driveways and porches and grass
On counters and tables and in the gross trash.

My room and your room and Kai's room and Drew's
It would be nicer if you could just choose!

I've given you baskets and buckets and bins
Containers and cubbies to keep your socks in.

Old Navy and Target and Wal-Mart we go
In search of accoutrement's to cover your toe.

I've spent my life's savings (which wasn't that much)
To feed your obsession- Your 3 year old's crutch.

You've lost your inheritance. It pains me to know
That one day you'll ask me,
"Mama, where did it go?"

I'll answer sincerely, no sarcasm here.
(Well, maybe a little wee motherly jeer.)

"Look down and you'll find it! It's not hard to see."
My boy, you are wearing it so....

DO NOT BLAME ME!!!"

Another Fave Quote

And its only 8:30!!!

Drew yells from the toy room:
(Sometimes it is nice that he is a tattle tale.)

"MaaaaaaMaaaaaaa.......... Kai is putting some of Daddy's things in the toilet!"

So, I rescue said items.
I decide to lock the bathroom door.
Something had to be done,
I've fished Kai himself out of the toilet several times in the past week.


But I have a small confession....
Maybe I giggled, just a little bit, when I retrieved Jay's things from the toilet.
He'll never know what things they were.
I won't tell him.
Everyone needs an element of danger and "living on the edge" in their life, right?

Fave Quote of the Day

Captain Owen says (through giant tears and choking sobs):
"MAMA, YOU ARE RUINING MY HEART!"

Mama says (with great concern and compassion):
"Why, sweet boy?"

Captain Owen (with great emphasis):
"BECAUSE YOU WON'T DO WHAT I SAY!!!"

Mama says:
"Three words for you.....

Pot.

Kettle.

Black."

A Little Love Letter

Dear Husband:

Oh, how I love you so!!

I love your thick and meaty hands.
I love that you dream with me about future home plans.

I love that you make homemade ice cream.
And that together we make a good team.

I love that you work so hard
Carefully sculpting and manicuring our big giant yard.

But with every love story there has to be this,
There has to be something to banish our bliss.

There is something I just cannot stand.
If you try real hard, you'll understand...

I DO NOT love your soda cans!!!!!!!

I do not love them here:

or there:

I do not love them ANYWHERE!!!

I find them in the sink and car.
It's like our house is a soda bar.

Please don't think my feelings are rash....
But I rarely find soda cans in the trash!!!!

Our baby hunts them high and low.
The caffeine drug, he shouldn't know.

So consider this your final strike.
I've banished soda day and night.

You will not find them here:

Or there:

You won't find soda ANYWHERE.

I love you still
It's for the best.
'Cause I want our marriage to stand the test!

So its me or the cans,
One has to go.

I've spoken my peace
And now you know!