Of pirates and princesses...

Overheard in the backseat of the car:

Sarah: I’m a princess and you are going to be a pirate!

Peter: (authoritatively) Well, I can be a pirate but you can’t be a princess and live here. We have a president in this land so you will have to go somewhere else if you want to be a princess.

Sarah: (defensively) Well, Mommy and Daddy call me “princess” so I am one already!

I chuckled for the next few miles. They are both correct for a change! There are still real pirates plundering and pillaging on the high seas so I guess if Peter really wanted to be a pirate he could be one. Of course they probably don’t wear eye patches and carry cool swords, but still.

And Dan and I do call Sarah “princess”. But why wouldn’t we? Her name does mean “princess” in Hebrew, she only wants to wear dresses and she has no less than 5 tiaras so it seems to me that she is destined for the monarchy! But it’s too bad she would have to live in another county since we “have a president in this land” because I was totally looking forward to babysitting the grandkids!

Another Mommy?

Last Friday was one of those summer days that a mother dreads. We had no plans until 2:30 p.m. and both kids were up by 7:30 a.m. so I knew it was going to be a long morning. It was going to be in the low 90’s with high humidity so go to the park wasn’t an appealing thought to me or the kids. My parents who live right next door were both busy. We had already been to the Children’s Museum and Bounce U earlier that week. I needed to return something to Target but both kids immediately starting grumbling about that – even with the prospect of getting a hot pretzel. Target has really good pretzels and they keep my kids quietly occupied in the shopping cart for about 20 minutes. Since they weren’t thrilled at the idea of going to Target and since I didn’t absolutely have to go I decided we would just stay home and play. Great idea for the kids not so great idea for Mommy.

We ended up playing “pirate ship and baby”. How does one play pirate ship and baby you might ask? Well let me explain. Sarah and I toted three baby dolls (Stella, Riley and an unnamed naked doll with wild hair), diapers, bottles, baby clothes and several books around in our arms while we followed Peter from bedroom to bedroom. He informed us that he was the pirate captain and we were the first mates. As mateys we had to PRETEND to hoist flags, swab decks, throw anchors, prepare meals, etc. all while Peter was telling elaborate pirate stories. We did this for one hour.

One. Hour.

I thought I was going to cry at about the 15 minute mark but since we didn’t have anything else that we had to do and no where else we had to be I decided to just deal with it and live in the moment. Both kids were having lots of fun and I have to admit that I enjoyed it to up to a point. Sarah was even allowing Peter to boss her around for a change. That never happens. Ever.

So for one hour we played this and life was good until I casually said, “O.k. Mommy is going downstairs now. You guys can keep playing but I am going to fold the laundry.” And then all hell broke loose. There was screaming and wailing and whining and gnashing of teeth. There were red faces, tears, and snot. There were two kids jumping up and down on the beds, rolling around on the floors and general bedlam.

When my kids get crazy like this the only thing I can do (other than give in and play pirate ship and baby for another hour. Which was not going to happen.) is to tell them I love them and remove myself from the situation. I headed down the stairs and even though I felt guilt at ending the game after ONE HOUR I also was proud of myself that I played the game for ONE HOUR. I’ve mentioned before how much I don’t enjoy playing pretend games so I felt good with my accomplishment. My kids being kids however just wanted more.

They followed me down the stairs and as they began to stop their crying and whining and gnashing of teeth Sarah, my beautiful darling daughter whom I love more than the world itself, said to me,

“Next time can we have another mommy? I don’t want this one anymore.”

That stopped me in my tracks.

My kids have said mean and hurtful things before. Peter’s usual response when I tell him no to something is “I don’t like you!” or sometimes even “I don’t love you!”. I usually just respond with “But I love you” in an annoying singsongy voice and that just makes him huff even harder.

But to ask for another mommy. Because they don’t want this one anymore. Wow. I was floored. I don’t even remember my response but she must have realized she actually hurt my feelings because she started to backpedal.

“Well I mean we should have two mommies AND two daddies and blah, blah, blah, blah.”

I don’t remember the rest of her “explanation” but it was clear she was trying to cover her tracks. I like how she brought in Daddy as if wanting another daddy would make the fact that she said she wanted another mommy less hurtful. Even as I was standing there trying to figure out a response I was impressed with the fact that she immediately realized she hurt my feeling and that she was quickly trying to “explain” her statement.

I’m not sure why this statement hurt so much. Maybe it stung because it came from baby. My last baby. Maybe it stung so much because she said it so matter-of-factly so pointedly. I guess she is starting to take steps toward her inevitable independence. I guess I was hoping to wait until her surly teenaged years before I had to hear anything like that. I guess I was secretly hoping that she would always put me on a pedestal and always look up with adoring eyes. I’m her mother after all! I deserve that! Don’t I??

It’s been a week since she asked for another mommy and I’m sure she’s forgotten her request. I am over my initial hurt and realize that it was something said in the heat of the moment and not something she really meant. But we’ve turned a corner now and there’s no going back. She’s hurling down the road to being her own big girl and getting farther and farther away from being mommy’s little girl. I guess she can’t be my baby forever but I’m going to tighten my grip on her little hand for a little while longer.

Another mommy?? Sorry kid. You are stuck with this one.

That Smell*

There is a lingering odor in my house that I can’t get rid of. It’s my own fault that it’s here and nothing I try will get rid of it! If there is any such thing as a smell exorcism I need to perform one!

Early one morning, several months ago, I walked downstairs to make my husband’s lunch and make myself a cup of coffee. As I was turning down the stairs a stink hit me in the face. (Our stairs are such that you come down one little flight, turn on a landing and come down them in the other direction. Hard for me to explain but I think you all know what I am talking about.) It wasn’t the smell of poop, or dirty feet or even skunk (living out in the country we get lots of that!). I can instantly identify these smells. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on this one. It was vaguely familiar but what was it??

The odor was very subtle. So subtle that my husband didn’t notice it and I never mentioned it to him figuring that it would just go away on its own. Odors do that right? Isn’t that called dissipation? Didn’t I learn that concept in science class? The odor was only in the stairway. It would hit me in the face at the landing of the first flight and then would get stronger as I would come down the final flight. The smell was driving me crazy. Not only the fact that it seemed stuck in my stairwell but also the fact that I couldn't identify it.

It is hard to describe this smell other than to say it is slightly unpleasant, extremely subtle and just not a smell that I want in my house! This smell hit me in the face for weeks and finally I resigned myself to the fact that I would never figure out what it was and that it was never going away. Then I made Adobo in the crock pot. Again.

After a couple of hours the odor started to fill the kitchen and I had a sinking feeling. I realized what the smell in the stairwell was. It was the Adobo! I recalled that I made Adobo right around the time I first started smelling the smell.

If you aren’t familiar with Adobo it is a dish prepared in the Philippines and basically is meat cooked in vinegar and soy sauce. The recipe I used called for the meat (you can use chicken, pork or beef) to be cooked all day in a crock pot. So I wasn’t just creating this smell again but I was reinforcing it ALL DAY in the crock pot!

And sadly enough the Adobo wasn’t even that good the first time I made it. It was just really easy. After making the Adobo I pointed out the smell to Dan and he agrees that there definitely is an odor in the stairwell. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with it because after all it is subtle and it usually only resides in the stairwell. But it is driving me crazy.

I have tried covering it up with potpourri.

Didn’t work.

We switched out our air filters. Not so much because they were really dirty and it was way past time but because I thought perhaps the odor was stuck in our air vents.

Didn’t work.

I even bought those air fresheners that you attach to the air filters. They smelled great for two days and now I can’t smell them at all. So much for lasting for 30 days. And as for getting rid of the Adobo odor…

Didn’t work.

I have thrown away the recipe for Adobo and have resigned myself to smelling this smell every single time I go up and down the stairs which as a stay at home mom means possibly 20 times a day. Maybe more. Sure feels like more. Perhaps in a few months the odor will be gone. I can only hope so but in the meantime I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of it.


*Everytime I come down the stairs the chorus of the song That Smell by Lynard Skynard pops into my head.
" Oooooh, that smell. Can't you smell that smell?"

Just realized. If you type smell enough times it starts to look mispelled.

Mommy? Will you play with me?

It all begins innocently enough. After breakfast Peter will watch an episode of The Magic School Bus and then he will head into the playroom. I am usually in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee, washing the breakfast dishes and trying to scan the headlines from the morning paper so I don’t sound like a complete idiot when someone says, “So what did you think about the huge volcano eruption in Canada?” Too many times I’ve been completely unaware of some major world event and have had to politely say “Oh, yes, um, horrible!?”

Inevitably after he heads into the playroom I will hear a sweet little whiney voice call out to me, “Mommy. Will you play with me?” And so the day begins. I trudge into the playroom wishing there was more coffee in the pot and plop down onto the floor right beside him. He has dumped three Rubbermaid bins of Mega Blocks Pyrates toys on the floor and asks me to play pirates with him.

Peter got his first Pyrate toy from my parents in his Easter basket. Yes. In addition to chocolate bunnies the Easter Bunny brings toys. The Easter Bunny (especially the Grandma Easter Bunny) feels bad for Peter and Sarah because they don’t get any toys except on their birthday or Christmas. They get plenty of toys on these two occasions but the rest of the year is toy free except for the occasional minor gift giving holiday toy. (Minor gift giving holidays would include Easter and Valintine's Day.) I’m sure this is the case in many households and it is true at our house too. We have never given into requests for any new play things. We always answer with, “Put it on your list for your birthday.” Or with “Maybe Santa will bring it.” Luckily for Peter and Sarah they have generous relatives who like to begift them throughout the year. (Grandma, Aunt Cathy and Aunt Barbara immediately come to mind!)

Peter has been playing with these Mega Block Pyrate toys since March and his love for them has not diminished. When he finds a toy he likes he will stick with it way past the time that Mommy is completely OVER IT. For in stance on his second birthday we got him a set of cool blocks. He played with these EVERY DAY until around age four. At that point he started getting bored with them. He still brings them out but it’s usually just a once or twice a month now. (I highly recommend these blocks by the way! $25.00 well spent!)

Anyway, back to the Pyrate Megablocks. He creates little islands with the blocks and then starts making up very detailed stories about them. He always asks me to play with him and I’m never sure why because I never seem to do it right. I will always go into the playroom and ask him what he wants me to do. He usually asks me to build an island. But I always do it wrong. No matter what I do I get an emphatic, “You’re doing it wrong, Mommy!” So I will try to do it “right” whatever right is. After a few more failed attempts I will put together an island to his satisfaction and then he will start yelling at me to “Play, Mommy! Play with it!” Agh! Am I not already playing with it?? Have I not already been playing for 15 or 20 minutes?? So then I will start to take the little pirates and make shooting noises and will start to say things like “Arghh, Matey! Where’s the treasure!?” Sometimes this will appease him and other times not so much. I always say a silent prayer of thanks when Sarah comes downstairs asking for breakfast. Thank goodness for my other duties! No more pirates. For now.

But once she’s awake and fed I start getting requests to play “baby”. This game is a little less annoying for me since it only involves me sitting at her table and pretending to eat the food she has prepared for me. Many times it involves a tea party which is easy enough for me to pull off. I usually don’t get yelled at during these rounds of make believe play like I do when I am pretending (poorly) to be a pirate. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and “baby” comes more naturally than “pirate”.

I didn’t realize being a parent would require so much pretend play. And I’m not sure why I dislike it so much. I can read them book after book. I can do craft after craft. I can push them on the swing for hours on end. But for some reason I can't get into the pretend stuff. In my head I imagine other parents playing happily on the floor with their kids for hours on end laughing and serving up another round of tea or engaging in yet another bloody pirate battle. Meanwhile I’m thinking to myself “how much longer do I have to do this?” I worry that my lack of enjoyment for these activities makes me a horrible parent. I keep telling myself that the kids need to learn to play by themselves. I think I’ve read that somewhere. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway…

I know I can’t get out of playing pretend games with my kids so I have found something that makes it a little more bearable. Luckily our playroom is located fairly closely to the family room which of course contains a TV. So now before a round of pirate or baby I make sure that the TV is turned to a Mommy show (usually the Today Show) and that the volume is turned up.

Way up.

For some reason as long as I can hear adults in the background having adult conversation I can suffer through the pretend games. And as an added bonus I can learn more about that volcano eruption in Canada at the same time.

Ahoy, Matey!

Family fun? Not so much...

I love Family Fun magazine and have been subscribing to it for over two years now. It’s really cheap and it’s loaded with lots of really cool crafts and other great ideas for family fun! The crafts look so cool but I never seem to get around to doing them. A lot of them seem a little too advanced for my kids but I found one that one I thought would be fairly easy to do. We made this birdfeeder!

And the craft was fairly easy to do for the kids because Dan and I did most of it. (Well, correction…Dan did most of it.) All I really had to do was buy the bird seed (the cheapest I could find was $1.87 at Wal-mart) and four wooden spoons ($1.25 at Wal-Mart - of course). Daddy took over from there.

Dan cut circles out of the plastic bottles while the kids pestered him to help. Of course Exact-O knives don't make great toys for kids so they just watched and whined (and hammed it up for the camera!) during this step.

The cheap wooden spoons I bought at Wal-Mart weren’t all the same length so Dan had to use his saw to shorten them. He was pretty excited about having something to saw and so were the kids. This extra step which could have been avoided all together was the most fun for the kids. They loved “helping” Daddy use the saw.

It was finally time to pour the birdseed into the feeder! The kids could actually help with this step. We filled Sarah’s inside and quickly realized this was an outside step due to the mess it made! I am still finding birdseed on my kitchen floor!

Then Dan inserted little hooks in the bottle caps and we hung them on a tree and ... TA-DAH! The finished product!

Dan and I were very happy with how they turned out. The kids really seemed to care less though. I suppose this craft is for older kids but it looked so neat and easy that I wanted to try it out. All in all the craft took about an hour to complete and the kids spent a lot of this hour complaining that there wasn’t anything for them to do and there really wasn’t a lot of hands on time for them in this craft. I really thought they would be more excited when we got to watch the birds eating from the feeders.

However, the birds weren’t thrilled with my cheap birdseed and aren’t coming to eat it. After a week of hanging in the tree all of the birdseed was still in the feeder so I reluctantly purchased a slightly higher quality birdseed. After a day in the feeder it too appears to be uneaten and completely ignored by the birds. Hmmm…wonder if it’s the design of the birdfeeder? I’m not sure what it is but we are very disappointed that the birds aren’t using it and I'm not going to buy any more birdseed!

This isn’t going to be the end of crafting for me and the kids. I am still on the look out for an easy and fun craft for the kids. They are getting tired of painting and coloring and there are still 4 looooonnnnng weeks left before school starts so leave me a comment and let me know if you have any ideas. And check back here because I have something up my sleeve for all of my left over birdseed! And no…it won’t be a recipe!

Do you want it done? Or do you want it done right?

Anyone who has driven past our house lately knows the sad state of our grass. And when I use the word grass I use it very loosely. I guess technically there is grass there but it’s mostly Bermuda and crab. Don’t get me wrong. There is also quite a bit of winter rye which is gorgeous grass in the winter but in the summer it turns into hay. Literally. Just ask my kids who can’t run across it barefooted because after it has been mowed feels hard and rough like…hay. So in a nutshell we have green weeds and brown hay and lots of bare patches in between.

My husband has spent many hours fretting over the state of our lawn. We had TruGreen Chemlawn apply two rounds of their wonder chemicals before we realized that even their lovely product isn’t going to help the hay. Any fescue that we did have in the early spring had long since been completely overtaken by the weeds so basically we were paying them for nothing. Shame on them for taking our money when it was apparent that there was nothing left to even salvage. And then they had the nerve to leave a follow up review on our doorstep stating that the condition of the lawn was “improving”. Ha! (In their defense, we did use them before at our other house on a lawn that was established and not planted with hay and after several visits from them we had the nicest grass on the whole street.)

So being the good wife and stay-at-homer than I am I started checking the phone book for reputable lawn care companies. We decided we need to have someone aerate and overseed in the fall. We wanted to start looking now so we could figure out how much money we were going to have to spend and get on their to-do list.

I found four places in the local phone book that I decided I would call. How I determined which four companies to call was based solely on how their ad looked in the Yellow Pages. That’s such a girly way to go about it. My husband probably would have just starting calling in alphabetical order but I spent a lot of time analyzing how their ad looked, what it said, where they placed the words aerate and overseed in the ad, what kind of graphics they used in the ad, etc.

There was one company that had a glowing cross on either side of their name in the ad. I decided that was a good sign. The company is probably run by good Christians if they have glowing crosses beside their company name in their Yellow Pages ad. I called them and liked the sound of the owner’s voice right away. I liked it even better when he said he would come out later that afternoon if we were going to be home. Great! Nice voice and good service! Those glowing crosses didn’t let me down! Surely I have found the company for the job! I said we would be home and for him to come on over at any time. That was five days ago and I’m still waiting. So, mark the glowing cross company off the list.

The next guy I called told me he would come out in a couple of days to give me an estimate. However as he was telling me this I heard a toilet flush in the background.

Ew!

This guy actually did come as promised and gave me a very low quote…almost too low…but all I could wonder about the whole time I was talking to him was whether he was going number one or number two when we were speaking on the phone. I took his business card but for some reason I didn’t want to keep it. I guess it’s because after I heard the toilet flush I never heard any water running, any hand soap pumping or any towel drying going on in the background.

Ew!

So, I marked the talk on the phone and then flush and then not wash your hands guy off my list.

The next guy I spoke to gave me a quote over the phone based on estimates of how big the yard was and conditions of the lawn as described to him by me. His price was about what I expected and he seemed nice enough but he didn’t want to even look at the grass and give me a firm estimate until we told him we were going to use him. The last thing I needed was to have someone come out in September and say “Whoa! This yard is bigger than I thought. That price I quoted you in July is waaaaay too low!” So I politely listened to him talk about the seed he used and the fertilizer he recommended and I silently crossed him off the list.

I called one more guy. He was all business from the minute he answered the phone. I was describing the grass and where we lived. He then declared that he saw the contractors planting the grass when they were building our home and that he has been by there recently and had seen how bad it was.

He then got very serious and said, “Do you want it done? Or do you want it done right?” I didn’t answer thinking that it was a rhetorical question but when he remained silent I quickly realized he actually wanted an answer. So I let out a little nervous laugh and then said, “We want it done right.” I mean what else was I going to say? His response was, “I only do high quality work so if you aren’t interested in doing it the right way then I’m not your guy. If you want it done the right way I’ll be out tomorrow to take a look at things. When will your husband be home? I’d like to talk to you both if possible.”

This guy knew what he was doing. He actually wanted to talk to my husband. In this case that’s a good thing because before my husband spends a dime he wants to know exactly what he’s getting. I had been trying to explain seed and fertilizer types, aerating methods and other landscaping stuff to him based on what the other landscapers had told me and we were both getting confused. It was going to take him talking to an actual landscaper before we spent any money. This landscaper probably knows that most lawns are managed by the man of the house. I hate to stereotype but I think it’s probably true. At least in this household anyway. I take care of the inside of the house. Dan takes care of the outside. This isn’t to say that we couldn’t switch roles if we wanted to or needed to but we tend to fall back on the 1950s method of division of household labor. It works for us.

After I hung up I started to become annoyed. Do you want it done or do you want it done right? What kind of a question was that?? I only do high quality work. Whatever! But the more I thought about it the more my conversation with him reminded me of a conversation I had with Ken Bloch. Before we moved here we had to sell our house. We had our house on the market previously and the house remained on the market for eight months with zero offers before we finally gave up. We used two different realtors both of whom came by word of mouth and neither of whom I really interviewed before selecting them. I wasn’t going to make that same mistake twice so when my husband got his new job here I actually interviewed several realtors before choosing Ken Bloch. I had it narrowed down to two. One was Ken Bloch and the other was a nice husband and wife team. They seemed so sweet but Ken was super confident. His confidence was almost off putting but I just knew in my gut he could back up the big talk. So we chose him and three weeks after we put the house on the market we had two full price offers on the same day! So I decided to meet this landscaper in person before I turned him away because of his bravado.

We met him two days later and he had nothing good to say about our grass. But I would have questioned his knowledge as a landscaper if he had. He recommended starting from scratch. He told us how he would kill the crab grass; how he would use a tractor to aerate and then have three people come behind the tractor with hand aerators. Then he told us all about the seed blend he would use and then he said, “If he (pointing up to the sky) gives me good rain then 14 days after I’m done you will have new grass!” He did a great job selling his service and we definitely believe that if he gets rain then we will have grass. Unfortunately he didn’t give us any suggestions on how to pay for his services. I’ve decided that perhaps the kids don’t need preschool next year and that maybe eating isn’t quite as important as it used to be. I am trying to loose a few pounds after all…

I won't be offended. I promise.

Have you seen TLC’s What Not to Wear? I love that show and was wondering, will someone just please nominate me and get it over with? I won’t be offended. I promise.

Every morning starts the same way. I open my closet and ponder the same question. Should I wear the white tee-shirt or the black tee-shirt? I buy a couple of new tee-shirts each spring and add them to my existing collection of white and black tee-shirts. I just can’t help myself. I’m not sure what my problem is but even when I do decide to add a little splash of color to my wardrobe it’s always with a tee-shirt. I often wonder why I can’t dress a little cuter or a little trendier like some of my friends from M.O.P.S. (Mothers of Preschoolers). You know who you are ladies so I won’t mention any names.

Heather.

Honey.

Okay so I guess I lied about not mentioning any names but I couldn’t help myself. These girls always look so nice.

I used to have a much nicer wardrobe but ever since I’ve become a stay-at-home mom I have gotten into this horrible rut. Maybe I’ve just gotten lazy. Or perhaps it’s called having a 3 year old and a 4 year old and who has the time or money to grab anything other than a couple of tee-shirts when I am out shopping. For myself. Which is rare.

I do have a couple of nice things that aren’t tee-shirts and if I need to I will buy something new for a particular occasion but I guess I just don’t see the point in dressing up to schlep the kids to school or to go to Wal-Mart to get groceries. Heck. When I’m at Wal-mart as long as I’m just wearing a shirt I look better than half of the people I see there.

Anyway, after watching quiet a few episodes of What Not to Wear, I know that Clinton and Stacy would have a field day with all of my white and black tee shirts. (I just got up and went to my closet. I counted 6 white tee-shirts and 8 black shirts. I think I have a problem.) They have done episodes with stay-at-home moms before and they always suggest getting some cute jogging suits for errands and a really nice little dress for date night with hubby. The prices that these moms end up paying in New York City for some cute jogging suits really make my jaw drop. I could send both of my kids to preschool for one month for they price they are paying for one jogging suit!

And don’t even get me started with how much they will spend on one really nice dress to wear to dinner with their husbands. Let’s face it. Where am I going to go around here that I would need to wear a dress to dinner? Unless it was prom night, I would be laughed right out of Carrabba’s! And I think I would feel ridiculous running errands in a $300 jogging outfit. But seriously folks, I could probably get used to it.

So if you do nominate me and they pick me for the $5000 shopping spree, I promise to look surprised. I will even pretend to be upset that my friends thought I needed a makeover.

What about all the lasts?

All of the baby books go on and on about when to expect the first smile, the first step, the first word. They go on in great detail about what milestones your baby should be reaching and when they should be reaching them. We made sure to get as many of these firsts as we could on film. We got Sarah rolling over for the first time and Peter taking his first step. I have journal entries about their first words, where we were, how we felt, how they looked. All of this care was taken so that I would be able to look back and fondly recall all of the important firsts in my babies’ lives. So that I could remember everything exactly as it was.

But no one warned me to be on the look out for the lasts. No one told me to pay attention so that I would notice and remember the last time my son twirled his hair the way he had done a thousand times before. I used to think it was an adorable little nervous habit and at the same time I worried that he might be sitting in his very first job interview nervously twirling his hair between his right thumb and forefinger trying to figure out the best way to answer the question “Which piece of fruit would you be in the fruit bowl?” He used to do it all the time but he doesn't do it any more. I wish I could see him do it again. How did I miss the very last time?

No one told me to pay attention so that I would recall the last night, the exact last moment my little girl would fall asleep with her pacifier plunged firmly between her lips sucking like she was Maggie Simpson. She always looked so calm and peaceful sleeping with her paci but I was too busy worrying that she would be the only kid in kindergarten toting a pacifier, an assortment of blankets, doll babies and other lovies with her on her first day that I forgot to notice the last time she used it.

And what about all the other lasts I have missed. When exactly was the last time Peter said “oh-goo” when he meant yogurt or “nambies” when he meant bananas? When exactly was the last time I carried a sleepy Sarah to her room and whispered “lay your head on my shoulder” and she did? How did my babies look as they drifted off to sleep the very last time I held them after giving them their very last bottle? Why don’t I have a picture of that sweet sleepy expression? How did they look the very last time they splashed happily around in their little baby bathtub? How did it look the very last time they scooted across the floor on all fours before they learned how to walk? How did they look the very last time they threw Cheerios off their high chair table? How could I have missed all these lasts? Why didn’t I know to be looking for them, recording them, capturing them?

There are many days over the last 4 and a half years when I have thought things like "when will he be potty trained?", “will she ever learn to walk?", “if only they were older we could…” and now I look back and in my quest to hurry and grow them up I’ve missed too many of the lasts.

I don’t want to miss any more. I want to remember the very last time Peter is small enough to be picked up or the last time Sarah gives me her hand as we are walking across the backyard. I want to remember the last time they call me “Mommy” because it won’t be long until I am just plain old Mom. I want to remember and enjoy it all. I don’t want to hurry things up because unfortunately things are moving way too fast on their own.

He's less Jerry Seinfeld, more Chris Rock...

Up to this point Peter’s attempts at comedy have gone a little like this:

Peter: Knock. Knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Peter: Orange.
Me: Orange who?
Peter: Orange in that bowl over there! Hahahahahahahahaha!
Me: (weakly) Ha ha!

Luckily he passed quickly out of the knock knock phase after a couple of weeks of doing these lame jokes at the dinner table. But yesterday he entered into a whole new realm of funny. It was so funny I’m not even sure he knew he was making a joke. In fact, I’m quite certain he didn’t.

The weather around here has been so beautiful the last couple of days that we decided to eat dinner on the patio. After dinner we sat on the front porch with my parents to enjoy the breeze and the mild summer weather we have been having. Peter was playing in the yard while the adults were sitting on rocking chairs chatting. He came running up to me with his hands behind him on his bottom. My first thought was, “He’s got to poop.” He was running oddly with a strange gait and he had a peculiar look on his face. The look was part grin and part mischief so my second thought was, “Has he already pooped?” He stood in front of me and said, “Mommy, I need to go poop!” I said, “All right. Let’s go.” Before I could stand up to head into the house he made a farting noise with his mouth and from behind his back threw down a stick that was about 6 inches long, two inches in circumference and curved a bit in the center. He started to giggle and I laughed until I cried.

Sarah decided she wanted to get into the act so she ran up and said, “Mommy! I’ve got to poop.” So I said, “O.k. let’s poop.” And then she just stood there and started laughing. So we all laughed at the fact that she didn’t have any idea what was going on.

Peter was so proud that he had made us all laugh that he did it again and again and again and again until finally I had to tell him to stop and stop and stop and stop. Finally he stopped but not until he tried the gag with every stick, rock and twig he could find.

Even though the joke was a little crude, okay maybe a lot crude, I was so proud of him! I took his joke as a sign of his grand intelligence and brilliant sense of humor. Okay maybe that's taking it a bit far but I can't wait to see what other jokes our little comedian has up his sleeves in the future!