Toothie

All of my boys were/are late to get their teeth.  Dean will be 2 in a few months and we're still waiting on some of his chompers to pop through.

For this reason, it wasn't a huge surprise when Ry was late to loose his first tooth.  This didn't come as any sense of comfort to the poor kid, especially when he was the last of his friends to get a visit from the Tooth Fairy. 

So imagine our surprise and delight when he lost #1.  Only to be followed by a literal loss because he misplaced said tooth about 5 minutes after it fell out of his face.

So we wrote a note and lo & behold, the Tooth Fairy still came.  Cut to yesterday when he was eating an apple, and out popped #2.  I put it in a plastic bag so we were sure not to loose it.  And whaddaya know - we lost it.

Phil whipped up this note and all was well with the world:



I don't know where all of these teeth are going.  I figure (a) Sammie is stock-piling them for some doggie arts & crafts project, or (b) There really is a tooth fairy scooping them up. 

I calculated that we'll eventually work through 80 lost teeth (I did that math myself).  Hopefully we get this under control before the other boys get into the mix, otherwise Sammie is going to build up quite a collection.

Wordle

I've been having so much fun playing around with Wordle.  It creates clouds that display which words appear most frequently on web pages.

I wordled our blog and here's what came up.  Of course my eyes went right to: Intense / Ashamed / Scream / Chaos.

But I'm just happy that mixed in with those words our blog also contains: Idea / Appreciate / Dreams / Laughter.

Also I'm happy that the word "pretty" appeared larger than the word "bite" - for some reason this gives me a feeling of parental peace. Try it for yourself and let me know if you have any wordle epiphanies of your own.



The Pinewood Derby

There's this Boy Scout tradition of carving race cars out of wood and racing them on tracks set up in school cafeterias across America. This is known as the Pinewood Derby.

Ry and Phil worked for weeks on his car...it had custom decals and a hand-painted coat as shiny and bright as Ry's hopes for victory.

The night of the Derby came and Ry was excited but nervous at the same time. Before they left Ry took this picture with his car while giving the Boy Scout salute. Can't you just see the eye of the tiger?



So about an hour after they left I received this dreaded text message from Phil: "OMG. He just came in last place 3 times and is currently crying."

I paced the floors trying to rack my brains for how to comfort him when he came home. Things like - "You gave it your best shot" or "Winning isn't everything" or "There's always next year."

In the midst of all this pacing I received another text from Phil: "Some other kid named Ryan won 3rd place. So our Ryan thought they meant him and jumped up and took the award. So pretty much problem solved."

[These are the actual texts - I couldn't make this stuff up].

As a parent I'm torn on many levels. (A) What about poor other-Ryan who has no award? (B) Our Ryan now thinks he's the bomb and is sleeping with the ribbon. (C) The kid needs to learn that sometimes he's going to come in last place.

So now I'm confused. And tired. And dreading next year's Pinewood Derby. And sort of laughing about this whole thing. Then feeling guilty for laughing.

Welcome to my world!

My Life Before 8 am

People ask me all the time what my mornings look like. To me it all seems very normal and manageable – until you throw in the inevitable tantrum or have to spend 10 minutes convincing your almost-4-year-old that his legs are not broken and he CAN get out of bed if he would just try (true story - see bullet #6).

For all of you who have asked, here is my account of a typical morning (this morning, to be exact):

• Woke up and scanned work emails for any overnight drama. More importantly, played my turns on Words With Friends


• Folded laundry/put in new load (truthfully I just needed clean socks, I'm usually not that motivated)


• Threw together dinner and revved up the crock pot


• Got myself showered, dressed, and presentable for work


• Woke up #1 and #2 out of Daylight Savings coma


• Convinced #2 that his legs were not broken, he was just tired. Got #1 and #2 dressed, teeth brushed, wrestled with cowlicks


• Woke up #3. Dressed, teeth brushed, wrestled with cold medicine


• Woke up #4. Changed clothes, fed bottle, wrestled with reflux medicine


• Reflux medicine rebelled. #4 puked on me – back to the closet to change shirt


• Brief moment of scowling due to the fact that I really liked how I looked in the now-puked-filled shirt


• Hustled all kids downstairs for granola bars and juice


• Crawled around on hands & knees searching for the stuffed hippo so #2 could bring something grey to show & tell. Finally located said hippo in pantry


• Corralled #2 and #3 into van. Drove to daycare


• Dropped kids off, completely forgot that #3 is out of diapers


• Drove to drug store, picked up overly priced diapers. Drove back to daycare to drop them off


• Back into van, convinced myself to ignore the gas light and wait until after work to fill up


• Drove to the Q to start my second job. Settled into desk at 8 am


• Sipped lukewarm tea in peace and quiet. Ohm.
  
  

Mama's Boys

Not to sound cliche, but if I had a nickel for every time one of my children screams "Mommy" in a day I'd be a rich woman.

The upside of all this is the lovin'. Ry has never been into all that - he's an independent soul and resists my attempts at hugs or kisses. Cole and Cha, on the other hand, love themselves a good snuggle.

Whenever I meet a mom with older boys I always ask, "Do they still let you hug them?!?" Results are usually mixed, but I think it's a sure thing for my second and third born.