it's a chore to ignore

i marvel on a daily basis at how well our kids get along. i'm constantly amazed at how gentle liam is with susanna, how much she adores him, and how much they obviously enjoy each other's company. but as with any pair of siblings, they are far from perfect. take, for instance, susanna, who has mastered the role of the pesky little sister. she knows exactly how to get under liam's skin and, when she puts her mind to it, she can do it in ten seconds flat. while she was driving him crazy today at lunch, i introduced to him the concept of ignoring. i explained why it is sometimes okay to ignore someone, and even modeled it for him. the following is a scene from the stage director's (a.k.a. my) script: susanna continues to make funny faces at liam while he's trying to eat his sandwich. he has repeatedly asked her to stop, which, of course, encourages her even more. liam contemplates his next move. liam: "i am choosing to IGNORE you, susanna." susanna (very matter-of-factly, as she munches on an apple wedge): "no, you're not. you are not allowed to ignore me." liam: "YES I AM! I AM IGNORING YOU! I AM IGNORING YOU RIGHT NOW! STOP MAKING THAT FACE AT ME! STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES AT ME! I AM IGNORING YOU! MOMMMMMMMY! MAKE HER STOP! SUSANNA DOES NOT SEE THAT I AM IGNORING HER!" stage director: what's that, liam? i didn't hear a word you said. i was ignoring you.

lenten levity

one of the many beauties of the episcopal church is that the service is the same everywhere. we use the same prayer books and sing from the same hymnals, read the same Bible passages on the same sundays and kneel at the same times. and at the same point in every ash wednesday service i've ever attended, no matter where i've lived -- richmond, alexandria, raleigh, asheville -- for a brief moment, my mind inevitably turns into that of a middle schooler's.

katherine (who, incidentally, is liam's godmother) and lainey (who, incidentally, is susanna's godmother) and i all grew up together at st. michael's in raleigh. we were pretty much inseparable at church from sixth grade to twelfth grade, singing in the choir, participating in youth group, going on sunday school beach trips ... i have such amazing memories.

however, specifics with such memories are not my forte. i honestly don't know who started it, or how it even evolved -- all i know is that i think of lainey and katherine every year in the middle of the ash wednesday service. the liturgy is serious, the mood is somber. as our priests impose the ashes on the parishioners' foreheads, they solemnly remind us, "remember that you are but dust, and to dust you shall return." and yet, i can't help but giggle inwardly, just as my twelve-year old self and two cohorts did together decades ago.  

butt dust. remember, everyone, that you are butt dust.

live and learn

let's just say, hypothetically speaking, that you have a four year old son who complained all day yesterday of a stomachache. let's say that after not eating lunch because of his tummy hurting, he turned to you right before dinner and threw up his ginger ale and pepto-bismol tablet all over the kitchen floor. after giving him a bath, he went to bed at 6:30 pm, and slept around the clock. and let's say that you wake up this morning to hear him begging you for breakfast. your wits aren't quite about you, so you go downstairs to make him some oatmeal and blueberry yogurt, since you figure that he must be ravenous. you and your illogical half-asleep brain decide that whatever he had is now out of his system and that he's miraculously already back to normal. and let's just say that immediately after eating his breakfast, he crawls into bed with his daddy for comfort ... and then sits up to vomit his entire breakfast into your bed. if this were to all happen (hypothetically of course), i'd suggest you reconsider the yogurt flavor. instead of giving him blueberry, you might want to opt for vanilla, or maybe banana. or really, anything that wouldn't leave your mattress a permanent stain of purple. i'm just sayin'.

ask a dumb question, and you'll get ...

liam has discovered pockets. and let me just tell you, he loves him some pockets. if there are no pockets in his pants, he makes sure he wears a jacket with pockets. i'm careful these days to buy him only shorts or slacks that have at least two side pockets. i'm awarded bonus points if they have back pockets as well. i finally inquired this afternoon about the contents of said pockets. he had just returned home from a trip to the museum of natural history with my dad, and he had his hands stuffed into his jeans, looking just like a man who might be fiddling with loose change. i was curious as to what he might have picked up along the way. "whatcha got in those pockets, liam?" he looked at me as if i had just asked the most inane question he had ever heard, laughed, and then replied, "my hands."

speaking from the heart

"i love you," liam said from his chair at the kitchen table. my back was turned as i washed a few dishes while he finished his lunch. "why, thank you," i replied, touched at this out-of-the-blue declaration of feelings. i was intent on scrubbing some dried-on morsel of food off the bottom of a pot, so i remained focused on the sink. "i love you too." a few seconds later, he said, "you're cool!" i smiled to myself. i wonder how much longer he'll think that, i thought, but thanked him again. and then, he followed up with, "kiss me!" i immediately felt guilty about not even making eye contact through this entire exchange, so i stopped what i was doing and turned to go give him a big smooch. that's when i realized that he wasn't quite as extemporaneous as i was giving him credit for. lined up on his plate were the contents of his conversation hearts box that he had received at his preschool valentine's day party. i'd like to think that i would have caught on had he gotten to the next one: "fax me". but i'm not complaining -- i'll take what i can get. especially from an "all star" four-year old "lover boy" engaging in "sweet talk", sitting at my kitchen table.

over and out

if i could create the perfect day, weather-wise, and seal it in a bottle, today would be it. despite it being mid-february, the temperature is in the low-70s, with a warm breeze blowing and only a few clouds in the sky. we've got the windows open, the ceiling fans on the back porch going, and i've spent the last few hours playing in the backyard with the kids. recognizing this spring-like warmth this morning, susanna rummaged around her dresser for a short-sleeved shirt to wear. she ultimately decided upon her "carolina girls ... best in the world" tee, in honor of the huge UNC/duke basketball game tonight. helping her wrestle that size 4T over her quite-solid torso was like a battle tyler hansbrough has never seen. (i'm fairly certain i'm going to have to cut if off of her as she undresses tonight.) how did my little girl, who weighed less than 12 pounds at her six-month check-up, turn into such a tank? after looking through the pictures i took of the kids on the playset, i couldn't help but notice ... as we were in the yard hanging out, susanna's belly was, well, hanging over.

up down, up down

liam has recently mastered the art of writing his name. and if you go by the artwork that comes home from preschool, that's evidently all he ever wants to do. whereas most of his classmates enjoy doodling/scribbling/ drawing when given a piece of paper and a marker, liam prefers to practice his penmanship. there's usually not much coloring to be seen -- but his name adorns almost every square inch. his skill has really gotten so much better over the past few months. the first few times i witnessed it, he'd be frowning in concentration, chewing his bottom lip and holding the marker with a death grip. thankfully, it now comes much more naturally. but he still has room for improvement -- he hasn't yet progressed to the lowercase alphabet, favoring the straight lines that comprise all four capital letters of his first name; and he still often coaches himself aloud in the process. (i always know he's near completion when i hear him murmur, "up down, up down" as he forms the M.) the above picture is of a project from sunday school this morning. apparently, Jesus doesn't just love liam. Jesus loves "LIAM LIAM LIAM LIAM LIAM". oh -- and LIAM.

nature vs. nurture

years ago, i was offered a teaching position at an amazing private middle school in asheville that groups their students in single-sex classes for almost all subjects. although i ultimately declined the position because of having a toddler at home and one on the way, i did read the book why gender matters that the principal gave me at our interview. i found it so fascinating that a short while later, i drove an hour to see the author, leonard sax, speak at an educational conference. to sum up a 300+ page book in a simple sentence, there is an avalanche of research that proves that boys and girls learn in completely different ways because of biology, and not because of the way they are raised. we're fortunate to have both a boy and a girl, because we have a house full of toys that cater to both. susanna has certainly been surrounded by her fair share of trains and balls since birth. meanwhile, liam is quite the compliant tea party participant and can whip up a mean fake blueberry muffin in our play kitchen. but despite their exposure to opposite-sex interests, they always gravitate toward the traditional. i thought of all of this last week. susanna had her boyfriend davis, also two years old, here for a playdate. they're finally at the age that they can entertain each other so well that my presence isn't even needed much of the time, so i took the opportunity to empty the dishwasher and make the beds, while they played and played and played. at one point, i left them in liam's room zooming his matchbox cars around his parking garage as i ran to answer the phone. when i returned a few minutes later, they were in susanna's room, consumed with her dollhouse. i just had to laugh at the scene i encountered. susanna was the epitome of a little girl with a dollhouse: she had the baby girl figurine in the mommy's lap on the flowered couch in the dollhouse nursery, rocking the baby to sleep. and a mere foot away, davis was quite busy himself. there he was, lording over the manor, armed with the daddy and boy baby. the two male dolls were grilling up some burgers with the plastic barbecue set -- on top of the bright pink roof. if the dollhouse collection had included a couple of tiny bottles of budweiser, there's no doubt they would've been slugging them back as well. nature vs. nurture ... was there honestly ever a question?

airing our dirty laundry

i’m starting to think that laundry regenerates itself around here. never in my life have i been so inundated with such a mundane task. there’s always one load in the washing machine, another in the dryer, one being folded, and a few more in line to start the process yet again. to make the best of a bad situation, i decided to utilize said laundry as an educational tool today. i solicited liam to help me sort the clothes before folding them. chris and i have been working on giving him small chores around the house, and this seemed rather appropriate for his skill level; but i also thought that i could turn it into an academic lesson, preschool-style. so, we went through the hamper. liam’s clothes got put in, appropriately, liam’s chair. same with susanna’s. we put mine on the coffee table, and chris’s clothes on the floor. (that’s what happens when you’re not here -- you get last dibs on clean clothes placement.) liam would pull out an article of clothing, and we’d talk about what it was, if it was bigger or smaller than the last piece, and who wore it. how would you describe it? when would you wear it? on what part of the body did it go? what would you wear with it? and so on. after all was said and done, we surveyed our work and counted how many pieces were in each pile. susanna's and my amounts were rather small. chris’s was higher, but only because he’s worked out at the gym the past few days. and then … well, then there was mount washmore, teetering on liam’s chair, about to topple over. and i was amazed yet again of how messy and klutzy a four year old boy can be. “wow,” liam said, clearly impressed with his lot. “i sure make a lot of dirty clothes.” “yes,” i agreed, my brain on overdrive. not only had we achieved some academic success using adjectives and numbers and comparisons and order, but we now had the added bonus of a lesson in personal responsibility! consequences of our actions! ooh – how about environmental impact? should i locate the laundry machine manuals, to discuss how much water and electricity is used to wash and dry each pajama shirt bearing a clump of oatmeal from breakfast? the possibilities were endless. but i paused, and decided to ask him just what he had gotten out of it. “so tell me, liam, what have you learned from sorting all these clothes?” “i've learned,” he replied, glancing over the piles once more before turning back to me, “that i’m just happy i don’t have to fold them.”