the winter of my discontent

i am seriously affected by the weather.  most specifically, winter.  words cannot adequately express how much i hate detest winter.  i can almost hear one of the kids admonishing me: "mommy said a bad word!" (we don't allow the word "hate" in our house, at least at these young ages.  it seems so negative.  heretofore i shall use "detest."  and no, the irony is not lost on me.)

i have often told chris that i would move to florida in a second if he'd let me.  "wouldn't you miss the seasons?" he always asks.  but you see, that's what airplanes are for.  you get to ride on one, step out into a blast of frigid air, and then hop right back on for a return flight back to warmth.  sounds heavenly to me.

because i hate detest cold, dreary, dark, somber days, i sink into a funk every year around this time, and become cold, dreary, dark, and somber myself.  i grumble far more than usual.  i get irritated more easily.  even the simplest tasks become a pain in the you-know-what.  (take driving.  have you ever tried to squeeze a four-year old dressed in a puffy winter coat into a car seat?  i have to add five minutes to every trip just to stuff her into that dadgum britax.)  i try my hardest to conceal my funk from our children.  i try just as hard to convince myself that i'm succeeding.

this winter, in particular, has seemed never-ending.  and it's still january.  so when people began talking about the downright balmy weekend forecast, i kept a close eye on the news, my excitement rising ever so slightly with each passing day.  and then saturday, i awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside my window.  truly!  straight out of a disney movie -- i wanted to break out into song as bluebirds tied a ribbon in my hair ala cinderella.  the thermometer rose, and with it, my spirits.  the sun does exist!  there will be an end to this terrible season!  we can spend time in this vast area called the outdoors!

and outdoors we were.  in the back yard playing tag, in the driveway shooting hoops, at the playground on the monkey bars.  and, as icing on the cake, i unearthed a tennis skirt and sleeveless shirt from the depths of my closet and hit the court for the first time since november.  it was glorious!

and then, in my warm-up, i went for an overhead ... and threw out my back.  it's something i do maybe once every couple years, and, just my luck, my body chose this perfect saturday afternoon to decide it was about time again.  i've been pretty much immobile ever since, lying on a heating pad in my bed except for the occasional trip to hobble around like an old man to the kitchen or bathroom. 

i still hear those birds.  but they're not the bluebirds from cinderella; they're mockingbirds.  (get it?  they're mocking me.)

wake me up when it's spring.

make no mistake

i love eavesdropping on my kids.  the conversations they have when they don't think adults (or, according to susanna, "anadults" -- she is convinced that the article and the noun together form the word) are listening can be riveting.  most are silly, and some are profound.  and then some just make me inwardly groan and wonder just what in the ham sandwich my older is teaching my younger.

take today's conversation.  they were both at the kitchen table, liam laboring over his math homework and susanna creating yet another art masterpiece.  i paused in the doorway, unseen, curious as to what they were discussing.  susanna was mulling over her options for what to bring for show-and-tell when she suddenly exclaimed, "oh no!  i made a mistake!"

liam was so focused on his subtraction problems that he didn't even look up.  "that's okay," he replied.  "that's why God created the eraser."

"but i'm using marker!  did God create something to erase marker?"

an inquiry such as this caught his attention.  "um, i don't know.  i guess we could google it."  he paused, and i assumed he was probably pondering if a marker eraser was even possible.  but then he followed it up with this reassuring gem:  "but you know that everyone makes mistakes.  so it's okay.  even i make mistakes."

now susanna looked up, surprised.  "really?" *

"yep.  i made a mistake one time in 2009.  you remember?  it was that day we went to target."

i couldn't make this stuff up if i tried.

---
*note: i believe everyone should have the privilege of having an adoring younger sister.  mine still worships the ground i walk on, even after all these years.  (right, leslie?)

mr. sensitivity

oprah has coined the phrase "aha moment" for times when she experiences a revelation.  you know, when all of a sudden, you're struck with a discovery that you'd never noticed before.  for me, these are never earth-shattering; it's not like i figure out the meaning of the universe or anything.  they're more often just simple things where i want to slap my own self up the side of the head because i'd never realized it before.

for example, the bike zing.  i was probably twenty-five years old when i learned that a BIKE XING sign meant "bike crossing".  i had always thought that it signified a bike zing.  you know, the narrow lane on the side of the road for bikes.  i'd always wondered why the DMV person laughed when i was going through the sign portion of the oral test.  (but i always passed, thankyouverymuch.  guess they just thought i was being comical.)  chris will roll his eyes when he reads this and wonder why i'm actually admitting this to people ... but i use this example to show that these "aha moments" for me are sometimes the most blatantly obvious things that for whatever reason, i'd never known before.

anyway, i had one of these "aha moments" yesterday with liam.  he was sitting in my lap in the family room at about 3:30 pm, and we were talking all about his day.  we talked about him buying a jump rope in the school store, what he did in his special math class, and how he enjoyed his lunch since fridays are hot dog days which are the only times he eats from the cafeteria.  and then the conversation turned to what was in his bag for his morning snack. 

as i'd been putting it together the night before, chris walked in from a tennis match and i handed him the napkin and a marker.  i thought it would be fun for him to write liam a cute note as a surprise.  i left the kitchen and when i returned five minutes later, i was amazed to find chris still laboring over the napkin.  i glanced over his shoulder to find this:

so now that you know the background, this is how our conversation went:

me: did you like the silly surprise that you found in your snack bag?

liam: no.

me:  the napkin with the drawing daddy made for you?  we thought you would be so happy to find it!

liam, of all possible reactions he could have, actually begins to cry.

me:  goodness, liam, what is wrong?

liam: i just felt so sad that daddy was losing in our game.  i was beating him by a lot!  that's just horrible for daddy! 

i pause while this sinks in.

me: sweetheart, it's just a drawing.  it didn't really happen.  daddy was just being funny.

liam: but why didn't he draw me playing against someone i don't know?  like a boy named maybe hank or bob or something? 

me (beginning to have my "aha moment"): is this why in all your sports drawings, you're always playing against people who aren't friends or classmates?  because you don't want to be beating them?

liam (tearfully):  yes.  i don't ever want someone i know to lose.  i would feel horrible about that.

AHA.  after months of wondering why his opponents in his millions of sketches had names of people he didn't know, all of a sudden, i got it.  my sweet, kind, sensitive boy didn't want even a depiction of any of his friends having a bad game.  it suddenly made sense.  i don't know how i'd missed that before. 

i so wish that i could keep him like this forever.  unjaded, sensitive to others and their feelings, convinced that everyone wants the best for everyone else.  sadly, we all know that the world just isn't that way.  the only way he'll survive is to develop a thicker skin, toughen up, all those phrases we throw around to mean that basically it's okay to not be as empathetic to others as we should be.  and those are lessons that, as a parent, i can't really teach him.  he'll learn them as he experiences life and continues to grow. 

(so instead, i'll focus on the things that i can teach him.  like, exactly what those signs BIKE XING really mean.)

works of art

the kids received loads of fantastic presents for christmas, mostly from very generous grandparents.  in fact, the only thing on either of their lists that didn't find its way under the tree was the ipod susanna requested.  (she doesn't even know what an ipod is; she just knows that half her preschool class has one.  you probably think i'm joking.)

but out of all of the kids' new treasures, my personal favorite is the small lazy-susan-of-sorts my mom gave them that now holds every last dadgum art supply we own.  fat markers, skinny markers, colored pencils, crayons, pens, pencils, erasers, stapler, glue sticks, tape, scissors ... they are all now neatly contained in one glorious piece of plastic.  my mom, bless her heart, searched every craft store in the area before giving up and ordering it from the pampered chef catalog.  i think it's designed to hold utensils or cooking tools, but it's doing a superb job meeting our needs.

i am especially grateful for this gem because of what our burgeoning art supply used to look like.  a while back i created laminated labels for our playroom bins: dolls, games, trains, etc.  and on one small white box i put the "art" label, knowing that it would easily hold what we needed it to.  fast forward a few years, and the box was just about obsolete.  we had markers spilling out the top, glue sticks uncapped and dried out, crayons broken into a million places at the bottom of the bin, and paper crammed in from every angle.  all because our two children had decided to adopt art as their new hobby passion -- two picassos in the making.  nowadays, at any given time, you can find one or both of them at the kitchen table, heads bent over their new spiral sketchpads with marker or crayon gripped in hand, frowning in concentration as they pour their little souls into their newest creation.

of course, now that i've got it all figured out where to put all the supplies, i have an entirely different problem: where do i hang all of their masterpieces?  the corkboards in the playroom have no square inch left; the walls are a definite no since neither chris nor i relish the thought of repainting; and i'm just a little too type A to clutter my fridge doors.  (my kitchen, pre-remodel, is cramped enough as it is.  the last thing i need is 100 sheets of paper decorating the biggest appliance in the room.)

i originally suggested door frames, until we got tired of the sound of paper flapping whenever we entered or exited every room in the house.  (and you know my dislike of clutter.)  so then we moved to the playroom windows, until we couldn't see through them.  and then i finally suggested that they use their bedroom doors -- conveniently located on the second floor where no one but us would see them -- and it is there that they now reside.  we've recently had to implement a rule: when one goes up, one must come down.  (spinning wheel's got to go round ...)

the most ironic thing about all this is that while susanna likes to mix up her subject matter, going from princesses one day to rainbows the next, liam's focus is always the same.  it might be football, or tennis, or basketball, but every single last drawing is one of a sports game.  and they all have the following characteristics: there are two boys, liam and an opponent.  every opponent is named, but never with a name of anyone he knows.  liam is smiling.  his opponent is frowning.  labels are atop everything, including the obvious (i.e., "ball", "hat", "racket".)  the score is written at the top.  and liam is always, always the victor.  so the irony is that he continues to create drawings that are almost exact replicas of the 127 drawings he's created before, and then spends an extraordinary amount of time mulling over which one to remove to provide space for a new one to go up.  when they're just about the same darn thing.



i titled this one Ping Pong Perfection.  notice the details: the score (liam 3, al 0), the raw emotion shown on the faces, and how every single aspect is labeled.

i suppose if i were a truly loving, doting mother, i would save all of these treasures and store them away for when he becomes the next monet and i can sell them on ebay for millions of dollars.  but i don't.  therefore the most valuable lesson i've learned in all of this: discarded artwork should only be placed in the trash if the liner is going to be immediately cinched and taken out to the garbage.  otherwise, be prepared to issue a response such as this: "sweetheart, i have no idea how that beautiful picture of you winning the football game against harry 28 to 10 wound up underneath that raw chicken.  so sorry about that!"

stay tuned for some actual real artwork i'll share in a future post (once i get around to taking the photos) ... their oil portraits have finally arrived, are framed, and hanging in our dining room.  but until then, feel free to ooh and aah over the gallery of our artist-in-residence below. 

(and if any of these catches your eye, a small processing fee plus shipping and handling will get you a liam mann original on your bedroom door in no time.  just let me know.)

wordless wednesday

here's the video i mentioned in yesterday's post.  they were all thrilled to be out in the white stuff -- chris, susanna, liam, and even super.  especially super.

at a loss

unlike the rest of the east coast, here in raleigh we didn't get snow in the most recent storm.  which suits me fine; i just need one good snowfall per winter and am more than satisfied.  however, we were saddled with ice.  lots and lots of ice.  and i don't care how you look at it, there is absolutely nothing at all positive about ice. 

on a very somber note, my dear friend erin, who was one of my closest friends in asheville -- i'm talking about the very first person i ever met when we moved there, someone who was with me in book club, two supper clubs, junior league, bunko, and playgroup; who was my i'm-in-the-middle-of-a-crisis-please-come-help-me friend, baby shower thrower, farewell party hoster ... that kind of friend -- lost her mom because of this recent storm.  her mom, who had recently battled breast cancer and had emerged victorious, went out for a walk with her husband of 40+ years on monday.  she slipped on some ice, fell, and started to have vision problems.  hours later, she was declared braindead.

it's all i've been able to focus on these past few days.  how quickly your world can be turned upside down.  in one second.  doing one normal activity.  on one pretty average day in january.  i think about this, over and over again, as i read my Bible passages for the day.  we can never know what the future holds -- or how long that future here on earth may be.  please keep erin and her family, now in kingsport as they prepare for a saturday funeral, in your prayers.

i actually started out this post to share a video of liam and susanna sledding back when we actually had some snow (and not ice) on the ground.  but my thoughts led me elsewhere.  perhaps tomorrow.  until then, i sit and reflect.  and ponder.  and study.  and pray.

wordless wednesday: scenes from the season

i'm totally missing christmas already, so what better way to reminisce than to finally get around to transferring over some pictures from my iPhone?

susanna became the master baker this december. these are reindeer cookies we made for her class, with chocolate chip eyes, M&M noses, and pretzel antlers

chris and i always had a real christmas tree until our first holiday with a puppy, when spider almost knocked the thing over in her quest to drink the water from the tree stand. so in 2001 we invested in kmart's very own "the perfect christmas tree".  we got a good decade's worth out of our $75 purchase, but after battling lights that didn't work and branches that were hanging by a thread, we decided that our Perfect Christmas Tree wasn't so perfect any longer.  off to the dump it went.  will we be back to the authentic thing next year? time will tell ...

 enjoying disney on ice

you would not have believed the spread at liam's elementary school for their gingerbread house activity.  every table in the cafeteria was filled with goodies to construct these houses palatial residences

 susanna's house was certainly on a smaller scale -- just the two of us on a cold afternoon in the kitchen -- but no less fun

susanna at the nutcracker (doesn't the dancer look thrilled?)

the snow started late on christmas night (the first white christmas chris and i had ever seen!) and left us a good eight inches the next morning to make the perfect snowman

and a mere five days later, we were at the beach in 70 degree weather and having a marvelous time

it's like riding a bike

liam is closing in on six-and-a-half years old.  he can jump off the diving board, make baskets on a ten-foot basketball goal, and do all those crazy foot moves in soccer with both feet.  the kid is far more coordinated and athletic than i ever dreamed i could be.  and yet, the one thing he couldn't do -- the one challenge he just refused to even attempt -- has been riding a bike without training wheels.  at some point (long enough ago that i don't even remember how old he was) he was going down a slight incline too fast and fell, and ever since then, he's pretty much refused to even look at the thing.  even bringing up the idea of taking it out of the storage room was an exercise in futility. 

but after having visions of a 20-year old liam tooling around his college campus while perched on his 16" huffy with training wheels, we finally decided that enough was enough.  we were headed down to the beach for the new year's weekend, where the roads in our neighborhood are quiet and, most importantly, FLAT.  chris removed the training wheels and packed the bike in the back of the SUV, and we were determined to, as we southerners like to say, git 'er done.

friday afternoon we went out there and it was, as i kind of expected, a disaster.  tempers were short and patience was nowhere to be found.  after about fifteen minutes of father and son getting frustrated, we left the bike at the edge of the driveway and headed to the beach to take a family walk, collect seashells for our new microscope, and play tag.  (eight inches of snow on sunday; 70 degrees on friday.  gotta love north carolina weather.)

on saturday, chris and liam headed out the street again with the bike and a fresh new supply of patience.  susanna and i were putting the finishing touches on a puzzle and followed them out there ten minutes later.  and as we neared the edge of the driveway, i could hear the boys around the bend ... and i craned my neck ... and there liam was!  cruising straight towards us all on his own, with a smile on his face so wide i thought his cheeks would crack, as if he'd been doing it all his life.  i was absolutely stunned.

because i appreciate you readers so much, i have opted NOT to share the video of that very first ride i witnessed, for it is full of that same high-pitched squeal of mine that you heard on christmas day.  (instead, you'll get to witness just how bossy a little sister can be.)  regardless, the evidence is the same: our six-year old son has finally, FINALLY, learned how to ride a bike.  hallelujah!