liam graduated from preschool on tuesday. at the ceremony held in our church, the teachers called each of their students up front individually and shared two tidbits: one, what the child said they wanted to be when they grew up, and two, what they said they learned this school year. and then each teacher held their arms out for a hug. 99% of the kids were so awestruck by the audience, or were looking out in the crowd for their family, or just simply weren't all that into it -- for whatever reason, almost all of them would give a kind of distracted sideways pat before scampering across the stage to receive their "diploma".
but not our lovebug liam. he's becoming world-renowned for his hugs. i swear to you, whenever i'm in need of a pick-me-up, i just ask him to come hug me. and he'll give me a hug so strong and so all-encompassing that it will almost physically and emotionally take my breath away.
i can't help but think ahead to his next graduation, six years down the road as he leaves elementary school and heads into the terror that is middle school. i suspect that by the time that graduation rolls around, he won't be jumping into our arms to envelop us in an embrace and smothering us with loud kisses. so i soak it all in while i can, enjoying every sweet, generous hug that comes my way.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
wordless wednesday
unbeknownst to her, susanna turned four last tuesday, on may 18. you see, tuesday was shaping up to be a not-so-special day ... no chapel, where birthdays are a very Big Deal (her preschool class attends chapel only on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays); liam's t-ball game right at 5:00, and i had book club right after that, so there was no opportunity for a special birthday dinner ... it was just going to be a boring, run-of-the-mill day. but wednesday was looking to be perfect. chapel! a class party! a trip to a real live restaurant with us and her grammie and granddad! what more could a girl want?
so we didn't utter a word about it on tuesday, except to tell her she had ONE MORE DAY until her birthday. and then wednesday was ushered in with grand fanfare.
she never had a clue. shhhh.
a princess pajama party (which ended at 7 p.m.)
quite focused on a 20-minute cinderella video
strawberry picking a few days before
Saturday, May 22, 2010
term of the day: enabler
"can i see that?" liam will ask anytime when a packaged food is within reach. we hardly even notice anymore; we'll just pass the box of cereal, or carton of yogurt, or container of pasta to him and ready ourselves for a lesson in nutrition.
"wow," he'll say, intently studying the back of the package. "this has EIGHT GRAMS of protein!" or he'll shake his head disappointingly. "this is not good. lots of sodium." somehow our five-year old has become our resident dietitian, interested in every aspect of what we buy at the grocery. (not that he really understands much of what he reads; how do we really explain saturated fat is to a preschooler?)
his newfound fascination, however misunderstood, proved to be quite the devil's advocate for chris a few nights ago. about a month ago after returning from a run, chris walked in the house, dripping with sweat, and sat me down for a serious talk. "okay. i'm asking you to do something as my loving and caring wife," he said. "DO NOT let me eat dessert anymore during the week. once or twice on the weekends is fine, but i keep treating myself to whatever the kids are having, and it's getting ridiculous. i just busted my butt to essentially work off the chocolate cake i had a few hours ago." i looked at him, not sure if he really meant it, but he assured me he did. so ever since, i've been pretty vigilant of reminding him that oreos, or strawberry shortcake, or even a popsicle is off limits. and he's been good about keeping his word.
but apparently tonight's offering of a homemade chocolate milkshake proved to be just too tempting. i was throwing some rocky road into the blender for liam and susanna when chris sidled up to me. "make sure there's enough for me," he grinned.
"oh no you don't!" i replied. "remember? it's thursday. no dessert for you!"
and then liam, ever the encouraging son, chimed in from across the room. "daddy definitely needs a milkshake, mommy. you know that ice cream and milk both have lots of calcium and even protein too. daddy needs those things to grow big and strong."
and really -- can you argue with that kind of logic?
"wow," he'll say, intently studying the back of the package. "this has EIGHT GRAMS of protein!" or he'll shake his head disappointingly. "this is not good. lots of sodium." somehow our five-year old has become our resident dietitian, interested in every aspect of what we buy at the grocery. (not that he really understands much of what he reads; how do we really explain saturated fat is to a preschooler?)
his newfound fascination, however misunderstood, proved to be quite the devil's advocate for chris a few nights ago. about a month ago after returning from a run, chris walked in the house, dripping with sweat, and sat me down for a serious talk. "okay. i'm asking you to do something as my loving and caring wife," he said. "DO NOT let me eat dessert anymore during the week. once or twice on the weekends is fine, but i keep treating myself to whatever the kids are having, and it's getting ridiculous. i just busted my butt to essentially work off the chocolate cake i had a few hours ago." i looked at him, not sure if he really meant it, but he assured me he did. so ever since, i've been pretty vigilant of reminding him that oreos, or strawberry shortcake, or even a popsicle is off limits. and he's been good about keeping his word.
but apparently tonight's offering of a homemade chocolate milkshake proved to be just too tempting. i was throwing some rocky road into the blender for liam and susanna when chris sidled up to me. "make sure there's enough for me," he grinned.
"oh no you don't!" i replied. "remember? it's thursday. no dessert for you!"
and then liam, ever the encouraging son, chimed in from across the room. "daddy definitely needs a milkshake, mommy. you know that ice cream and milk both have lots of calcium and even protein too. daddy needs those things to grow big and strong."
and really -- can you argue with that kind of logic?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
isn't she lovely?
Dear Susanna,
Stevie Wonder, celebrating the birth of his daughter, penned his famous song "Isn't She Lovely?" And while I don't have the same way with words (or music), I do share Stevie's sentiment about having a daughter. In our case, it's you, Susanna, who turns four years old today. I remember being struck at the very notion of having a daughter when you were born. With Liam, I knew what I was getting into -- but a girl? What in the world was I supposed to do with a girl?
Flash forward four years, and I can't imagine not being the father of a daughter. I'm still not adept at making pigtails, but loathe as I am to admit it publicly, I actually take pride in putting together a cute/adorable/precious outfit -- matching hairbow and all. And while princess dress-up might not be my thing, I can't get enough of playing dollhouse with you, reading tales of Dora and Disney, and hearing all about the various misadventures of your stuffed critters.
How do I describe my sweet girl? You're amazingly verbal, and yet are introspective, fairly shy with strangers. You're artistic, and can literally spend hours with your markers and coloring book, paying careful attention to which colors you wish to use and how they blend together. You are patient, taking the time to build Lego worlds with me, painstakingly snapping the pieces together and so proud of what we make together.
You're amazingly creative. Given a few minutes alone, you'll come up with the most elaborate, fanciful scenarios -- and will have roped in Liam to act them out with you. I've been instructed by you enough times on the proper way to play dollhouse with you that it's not a stretch to think you have taught your brother a thing (or three). You may be our child #2, but you are quick to show that you are in no one's shadow. You are a truly wondrous blend of characteristics and gifts, from a great sense of humor, a dash of sass, and a maturity beyond your years (are you really only four?!)
As music-obsessed as I am, you can't imagine how thrilled I am that one of your gifts appears to be a great ear for music. I remember you making up your own songs at the beach last summer, as you drifted along the tidal pools in your little floatie, or walked with me hand-in-hand by the water's edge. Of course, you love to dance like a ballerina and dress the part, and you've never met a maraca, keyboard, or drum you don't like. Like me, you remember all the songs you hear, often telling me when you hear songs you've heard before and when and where you've heard them. You seem to really dig the Beatles and Beach Boys, but you also shake your tail feathers when some sweet soul music comes on. Your innocent love of music is one of many things about you that brings me joy beyond compare, and makes me think I should introduce you to more Stevie Wonder! Again, Stevie sums things up better than I ever could ...
Truly the angels' best.
Boy, I'm so happy
We have been heaven blessed.
I can't believe
what God has done
Through us He's given life to one.
But isn't she lovely,
made from love."
Happy birthday, my sweet, wonderful, lovely Susanna.
All my love,
Daddy
Saturday, May 15, 2010
critter control
our house is being overrun by critters.
i've learned recently that that word, "critters", apparently means something different to others than it does to us. to the rest of the world, "critters" might refer to rodents, or pests, or other things that are alive that you really don't want in your house. to us, "critters" are stuffed animals. which actually isn't too far off from the other definition ... they may not be alive, but i really don't want them in my house.
i swear these things reproduce during the day while they're lying around the house and have nothing better to do. we'll return from school or work or errands and find three times as many as when we left, coming out of every storage bin and toy box we own. so every few months, i'll understandably have what i call a Critter Conniption. i will find myself on my hands and knees at 8:02 pm, fruitlessly searching for one particular critter underneath the family room couch so one of my darlings can rest his or her weary head, and it will occur to me how ridiculous this whole scenario is. one lovee, i can understand. i myself slept with a stuffed version of E.T. until i was a senior in college. but seven? eight? 47? where does it stop? so i resolve that TOMORROW, i will initiate a Plush Toy Purge. keep a few of the essentials, weed out the rest. i promise myself that i will do just that.
but then, something happens that makes me change my mind. for example, Critter School. recently, i walked into liam's room to find all 512 of their critters seated on his floor in a well-organized circle, while susanna sat in the rocking chair "reading" a book to them. (i use the term "reading" loosely.) liam informed me as soon as susanna wrapped up story time, he was going to take over and teach them math. afterwards, i watched them gather up all the critters and walk down to the hall for a bathroom break. next up was centers, and then chapel, and then snack time. this went on all morning. another example? Critter Choir. our children like to make their beds by lining up their critters on top of their pillows in rows -- mimicking how they stand in church and sing in children's choir. they try to come up with a different arrangement every day. the beauty of this is that all the while, they have no idea they're actually doing a chore for their allowance.
but trumping Critter School and Critter Choir was what we found last saturday. chris and i were hosting a party that night and of course had a ton of things to do that afternoon -- yard work, cleaning, cooking, etc. amidst all of our tasks, we kind of lost our children for a while. and by "a while", i mean about two hours. don't get me wrong -- they were in the house somewhere, we were sure -- but we had no idea what they were doing. we'd hear peals of laughter, we'd feel the steps shake as they galloped upstairs and downstairs and up again. but we had so much to do that just appreciated the opportunity to do it, and let them be.
finally, they called us. "come see, mommy and daddy!" they squealed. "come look at what we've done!"
i braced myself. they'd had enough unsupervised time to do some serious, irreversible damage on furniture, or walls, or floors. or all of the above. we weren't quite sure what we were going to find.
but there it was: a large circle of upside-down colored plastic wine goblets (pilfered from the kitchen counter, where they were washed and ready for that night's party), in the middle of the upstairs hallway. on top of each goblet was a shoe. inside each shoe was a piece of plastic food from their kitchen set. and in the middle of the circle sat a huge pile of critters. "it's a CRITTER CAKE!" they shrieked, applauding themselves for their ingenuity. "isn't it awesome?"
i didn't get it. i still don't. were the goblets were supposed to be candles? possibly. the shoes on top, the flames? might be. the plastic food tucked inside each shoe? no idea. am i reading way too much into this? definitely.
but i decided, then and there, that the critters will retain their residence here in the mann house. i'm sure i'll regret this decision as soon as i find myself crouched behind the piano one day in the near future, butchering my arm in order to retrieve some dumb critter that's wedged behind it. but i figure if we have some things that bring our kids together, that encourage them to explore their creative sides, and especially, that occupy them for two hours straight -- well, it's all good in my book.
but please, to anyone who's reading this and planning on giving susanna a birthday gift next week ... please, no more critters.
i've learned recently that that word, "critters", apparently means something different to others than it does to us. to the rest of the world, "critters" might refer to rodents, or pests, or other things that are alive that you really don't want in your house. to us, "critters" are stuffed animals. which actually isn't too far off from the other definition ... they may not be alive, but i really don't want them in my house.
i swear these things reproduce during the day while they're lying around the house and have nothing better to do. we'll return from school or work or errands and find three times as many as when we left, coming out of every storage bin and toy box we own. so every few months, i'll understandably have what i call a Critter Conniption. i will find myself on my hands and knees at 8:02 pm, fruitlessly searching for one particular critter underneath the family room couch so one of my darlings can rest his or her weary head, and it will occur to me how ridiculous this whole scenario is. one lovee, i can understand. i myself slept with a stuffed version of E.T. until i was a senior in college. but seven? eight? 47? where does it stop? so i resolve that TOMORROW, i will initiate a Plush Toy Purge. keep a few of the essentials, weed out the rest. i promise myself that i will do just that.
but then, something happens that makes me change my mind. for example, Critter School. recently, i walked into liam's room to find all 512 of their critters seated on his floor in a well-organized circle, while susanna sat in the rocking chair "reading" a book to them. (i use the term "reading" loosely.) liam informed me as soon as susanna wrapped up story time, he was going to take over and teach them math. afterwards, i watched them gather up all the critters and walk down to the hall for a bathroom break. next up was centers, and then chapel, and then snack time. this went on all morning. another example? Critter Choir. our children like to make their beds by lining up their critters on top of their pillows in rows -- mimicking how they stand in church and sing in children's choir. they try to come up with a different arrangement every day. the beauty of this is that all the while, they have no idea they're actually doing a chore for their allowance.
but trumping Critter School and Critter Choir was what we found last saturday. chris and i were hosting a party that night and of course had a ton of things to do that afternoon -- yard work, cleaning, cooking, etc. amidst all of our tasks, we kind of lost our children for a while. and by "a while", i mean about two hours. don't get me wrong -- they were in the house somewhere, we were sure -- but we had no idea what they were doing. we'd hear peals of laughter, we'd feel the steps shake as they galloped upstairs and downstairs and up again. but we had so much to do that just appreciated the opportunity to do it, and let them be.
finally, they called us. "come see, mommy and daddy!" they squealed. "come look at what we've done!"
i braced myself. they'd had enough unsupervised time to do some serious, irreversible damage on furniture, or walls, or floors. or all of the above. we weren't quite sure what we were going to find.
but there it was: a large circle of upside-down colored plastic wine goblets (pilfered from the kitchen counter, where they were washed and ready for that night's party), in the middle of the upstairs hallway. on top of each goblet was a shoe. inside each shoe was a piece of plastic food from their kitchen set. and in the middle of the circle sat a huge pile of critters. "it's a CRITTER CAKE!" they shrieked, applauding themselves for their ingenuity. "isn't it awesome?"
but i decided, then and there, that the critters will retain their residence here in the mann house. i'm sure i'll regret this decision as soon as i find myself crouched behind the piano one day in the near future, butchering my arm in order to retrieve some dumb critter that's wedged behind it. but i figure if we have some things that bring our kids together, that encourage them to explore their creative sides, and especially, that occupy them for two hours straight -- well, it's all good in my book.
but please, to anyone who's reading this and planning on giving susanna a birthday gift next week ... please, no more critters.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
wormy wednesday
the names the kids chose were pretty predictable: Wormy, Slimy, Squirmy. and then there was liam's. liam named his worm Henry Carroll. henry carroll is a friend of his in another class, and there are so many henrys at preschool that liam refers to all of them by their first and last names. i guess he just likes the name henry carroll, but it sure made things confusing. "i fed Henry Carroll my banana peel today," he'd tell me. or, "i had a hard time finding Henry Carroll when i got to the classroom, but he was curled up in the corner of the bin." it took me a few days to get to the point where i wasn't having to pause and think the whole thing through.
but that's not the end of henry carroll. he'll be playing with liam outside on the playground tomorrow.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
About My Mom, susanna style
just in time for mother's day, another post written by one of our children. susanna has been blessed with the same 3's preschool teacher as liam had last year, so it's been really interesting to see the same questions asked and how vastly different their answers are. liam's were pretty much on-the-money ... susanna's, not so much.
* i was quite confused by the choo-choo, since my girly daughter has never been interested in trains of any kind. it was in a conversation at dinner that we learned that she had actually said tutu -- which makes perfect sense. (meaning, it makes sense coming from my ballet-loving daughter. not that it makes sense that i'll want a tutu when i'm pushing 60.)
** she started with "Susann", ran out of room, and just stuck that last "a" at the front. that, too, makes perfect sense to a mom.
About My Mom
My mom's name is Sara.
She is 13 years old.
She loves me because I love her.
Mom likes to cook marshmallows.
She weighs 16 pounds.
Mom likes to play doll house with me.
She is special because we play together.
When I grow up I will buy her a choo-choo.*
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY 2010!
Love, aSusann**
* i was quite confused by the choo-choo, since my girly daughter has never been interested in trains of any kind. it was in a conversation at dinner that we learned that she had actually said tutu -- which makes perfect sense. (meaning, it makes sense coming from my ballet-loving daughter. not that it makes sense that i'll want a tutu when i'm pushing 60.)
** she started with "Susann", ran out of room, and just stuck that last "a" at the front. that, too, makes perfect sense to a mom.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
wordless wednesday
Mr. Bear is a mascot of sorts in susanna's preschool class. each student gets to bring Mr. Bear home for a week in the spring and document all the adventures he has during his visit. susanna returned him to school last monday, complete with a three-page journal detailing all that he did with us during his seven-day stay. he dined on honey for breakfast each morning, helped susanna check the mailbox each afternoon, and even got to accompany us on a trip to costco. not exactly the most eventful week -- but probably a welcome respite, after a traumatic experience at charlotte's house, where their dog gnawed poor Mr. Bear's nose off. (no wonder he was quite leery around super.)
we took pictures of Mr. Bear and susanna throughout the week, but i daresay the one below sums up susanna the most accurately these days. on her way to ballet, i asked her to simply pause on our front walk and smile. and this is what i got -- arm on hip, diva-like smirk. if she's this sassy at the tender age of three ... will any of us survive her teenage years?
we took pictures of Mr. Bear and susanna throughout the week, but i daresay the one below sums up susanna the most accurately these days. on her way to ballet, i asked her to simply pause on our front walk and smile. and this is what i got -- arm on hip, diva-like smirk. if she's this sassy at the tender age of three ... will any of us survive her teenage years?
Monday, May 3, 2010
who's on first?
a week ago, right before leaving with the kids in the morning for preschool, i was literally about to tear my hair out . [side note: okay. i was not literally about to tear my hair out. that would have hurt, and my hair is pretty thin to begin with, so i probably should keep whatever i've got. i only wrote that to make my point that people tend to use the word "literally" when it makes no sense. someone after a tennis match yesterday said to me, "my heart was literally beating out of my chest!" i just had to marvel at her apparent mad surgical skills that enabled her to tuck that sucker back inside her body in time to finish her second set.]
but i digress. back to the morning in question. we had cleared the kitchen from breakfast, gotten dressed, brushed our teeth, packed our snacks, and slipped on our shoes. and then, while i grabbed my keys, it started: the jostling for position by the back door; the "i was here first!" and "you went first yesterday!" that has begun to accompany each morning departure as of late. and what had begun as a beautiful spring day had, in five seconds flat, turned into the height of frustration for me as a mother, as i watched two preschoolers fight to the death over who got to open the dadgum door.
i won't go into great detail about how in handled it at that moment; suffice it to say i won't be winning any Mother of the Year awards. but i AM proud to say that upon further reflection, i came up with my very own approach of how to handle such battles. my very own idea that i might just try to patent. my crowning achievement.
now if i just had a name for it, my marketing plan could fall into place.
basically, the kids now alternate days. liam's days are the even dates on the calendar (easy for me to remember, since his birthday falls in august, an even month.) susanna's days are the odds (as her birthday is in may, an odd month.) when it's liam's day, he gets to be first. he gets to leave the house first, climb into the car first, descend the stairs at preschool first, wash his hands at dinnertime first, choose the first bedtime story ... this goes on all day long. all the while, susanna is quite compliant, because she knows her turn is coming less than 24 hours later. they know the deal, they follow along agreeably.
it's made my life infinitesimallly easier. and i'll be honest -- i was feeling quite smitten with myself, so proud of my accomplishment. but then i listened in from the other room as the kids explained the whole concept to the sitter on friday. "so today is my day to brush my teeth first," liam said. "you see, we go back and forth -- you know, liam, susanna, liam, susanna." but before he could finish, my feisty susanna interrupted. "no, liam! it's not like that! it goes susanna, liam, susanna, liam!"
i love them dearly. but goodness gracious, they can drive me up the wall sometimes. (not literally.)
but i digress. back to the morning in question. we had cleared the kitchen from breakfast, gotten dressed, brushed our teeth, packed our snacks, and slipped on our shoes. and then, while i grabbed my keys, it started: the jostling for position by the back door; the "i was here first!" and "you went first yesterday!" that has begun to accompany each morning departure as of late. and what had begun as a beautiful spring day had, in five seconds flat, turned into the height of frustration for me as a mother, as i watched two preschoolers fight to the death over who got to open the dadgum door.
i won't go into great detail about how in handled it at that moment; suffice it to say i won't be winning any Mother of the Year awards. but i AM proud to say that upon further reflection, i came up with my very own approach of how to handle such battles. my very own idea that i might just try to patent. my crowning achievement.
now if i just had a name for it, my marketing plan could fall into place.
basically, the kids now alternate days. liam's days are the even dates on the calendar (easy for me to remember, since his birthday falls in august, an even month.) susanna's days are the odds (as her birthday is in may, an odd month.) when it's liam's day, he gets to be first. he gets to leave the house first, climb into the car first, descend the stairs at preschool first, wash his hands at dinnertime first, choose the first bedtime story ... this goes on all day long. all the while, susanna is quite compliant, because she knows her turn is coming less than 24 hours later. they know the deal, they follow along agreeably.
it's made my life infinitesimallly easier. and i'll be honest -- i was feeling quite smitten with myself, so proud of my accomplishment. but then i listened in from the other room as the kids explained the whole concept to the sitter on friday. "so today is my day to brush my teeth first," liam said. "you see, we go back and forth -- you know, liam, susanna, liam, susanna." but before he could finish, my feisty susanna interrupted. "no, liam! it's not like that! it goes susanna, liam, susanna, liam!"
i love them dearly. but goodness gracious, they can drive me up the wall sometimes. (not literally.)
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