How the game "Fart Champion" Fulfilled my Dreams. No Really.

This game was named  "Fart Champion" by the four year old.  It involved racing from the bottom of the driveway to the top. Or the top to the bottom. As far as I could tell no one was actually farting.  They repeatedly yelled, "Ruchdown!" at random but balked when I yelled out "Touchdown!" trying to join in on the fun. Mila was granted a head start, but was never allowed to win. Every once in a while they pretended they were frogs.

There were more rules too-most just as asinine as above-but I quit keeping track of them as I sat back and watched them play from our porch steps.

I had dreamt of this moment. Ok, not this exact moment because: FART CHAMPION. But, the moment where the two of them played together-the made up games, secret languages and inside jokes. The unstoppable laughter and shared smiles. Yes, even the part where they wouldn't let me join in on the fun.

It's pretty amazing watching their friendship grow. I only hope they can get more creative with the names of their games.

Preschool Graduation, Take 2

Dear Tyson,

This week we celebrated your second preschool graduation. It was the same program as last year, same teacher presenting and same diploma handed out-yet I still cried. God, I'm going to be a hot mess at your high school graduation-my apologies now.

This year your teacher told me you were a leader in the classroom. She said you were smart and that you listened well and you were great at making everyone feel included. She said you were respectful, kind and funny. As she told me this, my smile grew bigger and bigger. I already knew all of this about you, but it's nice to know others notice how wonderful you are too.

This year you learned how to write numbers and that dinosaurs can be herbivores or carnivores. You got to touch a snake and wear your Halloween costume to school. You raced your classmates in the motor room and made up new games to play with your friends. You worked on your cutting skills and started recognizing some sight words. You made a new best friend and had playdate without your Mommy there.

At graduation, I watched as you sat politely listening to your teacher. You answered her questions with pride and sang songs confidently. You and your buddy Logan shared smiles back and forth. You prayed out loud with zest and every once and awhile you turned to look at me for approval with a shy grin on your face. And, I smiled back with tears in my eyes.

I am so, so proud of you, Tyson.

Happy 2nd Preschool Graduation, buddy.

Love,

Mommy

Big Kids

So.... this happened this week:

That's my baby in her big girl bed.

And, then this happened this weekend:

That's my other baby on a bike without training wheels.

I am happy report that despite the emotional toll these two events took on me, I am not locked up in a padded room using tissue after tissue while mourning the loss of my babies.

Mila's transition to her big girl bed went remarkably smooth (KNOCK ON WOOD). She's been sleeping in it since Tuesday night and has yet to climb out of bed when she's not supposed to(KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD). We're hoping she can teach her brother this supposedly simple skill.

Tyson has been asking to ride without training wheels since the end of last summer. We finally got around to letting him try it out this weekend. He picked it up on his first try and repeatedly yelled at me to "LET IT GO!" for most of the time I tried to run along side of him-and he wasn't just singing the Frozen song.

Let them go. I guess that's what  I have to do. They grow up, it's inevitable and it's slowly sinking in-bittersweet emotions and all

If At First You Don't Suceed

Dear Tyson,

There's a saying that if you don't already know by heart, you certainly will within the next few years. Daddy says it often:

If at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

 

It seems an easy sentiment, but it's something I still struggle with on a daily basis. I want to do it right, do it the best and do it first. The try and try again part is hard for me to embrace.  There is an inherent nature to give up when I'm not good at something. And, I'm pretty quick to throw in the towel if I can't do it perfectly the first time I try. Unfortunately for you, despite looking so much like you're Daddy, you seem to have inherited your personality from your Momma.  Type A, a bit obsessive, and perfectionists-you & me.

 

A few weeks ago, you started a skating class. Within minutes, it quickly became clear that you were far behind the other four boys in your class. They skated faster, looked more comfortable on the ice and knew skills that you hadn't even begun to grasp yet. My stomach twisted as I watched you struggle to keep up with the class and despite the smile I had plastered to my face I whispered to Daddy that maybe you weren't ready for this particular class yet.

 

 

 

You came off the ice on the first day a little flustered. The next week you quietly told me that your stomach gets a little upset before you go skating. As I watched the second class, I ached to pull you out of it. To protect you from feeling like you weren't good enough. To put you in a class where you would be the one who skated ahead of all the others instead of the one who fell behind. To stop your stomach from hurting before you got on the ice.  

 

But I didn't.  Despite knowing exactly why your stomach was upset,  I also knew it was good for you to learn that lesson up there. The one Daddy must have said to you at least one hundred times during your nine weeks of skating lessons.

 

If at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

 

 

 

That's what exactly what you did, Tyson.  Tried and tried again. Nine weeks of not giving up, not getting frustrated and working hard to succeed at what you couldn't do when you started the class. You practiced hard and hard work pays off.

 

 

On your last day of class, I proudly watched as you skated with the other boys. You could easily demonstrate all of the skills they could, but most importantly you  looked comfortable and happy on the ice doing so. Trying and trying again led to you successfully passing Skating 3.

 

I am so so proud of you, Tyson.

 

Thank you for teaching you old Mommy some new tricks.

 

Love,

 

Momma

 

PS: This peanut got on the ice for the first time on your last day of class. She has a lot to learn from you, buddy. Start with that lesson up there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easter 2014

I forgot to take the kids to see the Easter Bunny this year. That's my story if they ask. I'm sticking to it.

In reality, the thought of spending $20 plus on a picture that would result in a screaming two year old and at least seven hundred questions from the four year old made my skin crawl. I don't know how the bunny gets around the world so fast. I'm not sure why he looks different than in person than he does on Hop. And, I have no idea how he knows that you want in your basket.

The Easter Bunny needs an instruction manual.

We DID manage to dye eggs, play one hundred rounds of hide the plastic eggs and make multiple Easter crafts. Who needs an overpriced pic with a bunny anyways?

Both kids loved dying eggs this year-the extra enthusiasm and competition over who had the prettiest egg led to many beautiful eggs and a slightly more colorful wood floor.

The bunny face masks we made were a hit for both the kids and me. Tyson cut out all the bunny whiskers and the ears-we're working on fine motor skills a lot lately, so, this art project was perfect practice.

And, look, they each have a picture with a bunny now!

On Easter Eve, we left out carrots and a note for the bunny. The night before note is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of parenting and the Easter 2014 letter did not disappoint.  Tyson originally requested I write, "Give me some toys, Jesus Christ." After a quick refresher on Easter-at least he knew that Jesus was involved in the holiday somehow- he came up with this revision. Artwork completed on his own-proof of fine motor skills paying off!

 

Easter morning was filled with sounds of tiny feet running, small high squeals, and lots of laughing. The Easter Bunny hid eggs and baskets inside our house and then surprised the kids with a bike and scooter on our front porch.

 

The surprise, happiness and excitement in his eyes was easily worth the blood, sweat and tears we shed trying to help the bunny put the bike together.

This one liked her scooter, but LOVED her candy.

 

For those wondering, attempting to take Easter pictures AFTER the two year old has eaten all of her Easter candy is not a good idea.

We're all still coming down from our sugar high and happily packing away the plastic eggs until next year.

Mila's First Haircut

The little curl that trailed down her neck had been there since birth-soft, fine and wispy. For the last two years, it has wrapped tightly around my finger each night as I stroked her hair before bed. As time passed, the little curl grew even smaller. And softer and finer.

Last week we cut that little curl off.

It was time. And even though I knew it was time, I was worried there would be tears and apprehension.

After warming up to the idea of someone other than Mommy playing with her hair, Mila enjoyed her first trip to the salon. Of course, when it includes suckers and watching Frozen there's really not much for a two year old NOT to love.

She thinks her haircut is "Blue-ti-fow!"

And, despite the photographic evidence that proves otherwise, there were still a few tears of apprehension. I just didn't take a picture of myself tearing up at the first snip.

Daddy's Birthday

Last week we celebrated one of my favorite days of the year-Daddy's birthday.

I realize I should say it's my favorite day of the year because he's my husband and I love him dearly. Or because he's the father of my kids-and an amazing one at that. Or because he's my best friend who makes me laugh and holds my hand when I cry.

All true.

But, honestly?

It's my favorite day of the year because for the next month I get to claim being two years younger than him. It's like he's robbing the cradle.

This year, I left the kids in charge of Daddy's presents. Which means I took them to the Dollar Tree, gave them free reign of the store and told them to go wild.

The results were priceless. Daddy's present consisted of:

1) Work gloves-" Because Daddy works." Obviously.
2) Nacho Cheese Doritos-his favorite chips.
3) A non-working flashlight.
4) Silly string-which I suspect was more for Tyson than for Daddy.
5) A juice glass for, "Daddy's beer."
6) A 300 piece puzzle with birdhouses on it.
7) Speakers for his phone-when tested, the phone was actually louder without the speakers in.
8) Dull razors.

Let me just say, Daddy was impressed. 34 was a big year for him.

Did I mention I'm 32?

Happy Birthday to the best Daddy around!