life with WE

Someone had their art displayed in a show...

at a gallery!

It was this particular piece.

It was up a little high on the wall, so the artist needed a boost to get a photo near the artwork.

She'll work on some commissioned prints at a later date!

*Also, look Kevie Boetcher - Mike's alive!  Still got one of those.  :)

Oh I still have a W.

I'm not writing much about Warren anymore.

Why?

Because sooner than later, he's going to read this stuff.  And I need it to be more later than sooner because I haven't started saving for his therapy yet.

But imma tell you this.  That boy of mine is about to turn nine years old.  As in NINE.  Like, really close to double digits.  The last year of his life as a single digit.

And while nine is not that big a number, it does come with issues.  Mainly that I have been a mother for NINE years and I feel like he was just born yesterday and OMG I am nine years older than I was in 2002.  How does this happen?

Of course around-ish his birthday I'll have a post about how wonderful he is/ stinks like a total boy/ really likes his dad best (which is fine but I don't want to be in charge of Elaine all the time it's so not fair!).  But for now, you'll have to do with this. 

Warren is the king of the sarcastic one line zingers.  And some of them.. well, they aren't funny.  But when he giggles and crinkles his eyes and gets this look - well you can't help but laugh.  Some of them are freaking hilarious.  Others are just rude.  Lately though - they've been on the funny side.

On a cleaning rampage recently, I went in his room.  He was on his bed playing with legos and reading.  I opened his closet to get empty hangers, and then growled.  His closet is a hot mess.  Clothes on the floor, shoes everywhere, underwear everywhere, socks torn apart and mismatched.  Everything is dirty and stinky and smells like shoes.  Without turning to face him I said in my meanest firm mom tone, "seriously Warren?!  This closet of yours makes me so angry!"

His response?

Without batting an eye, he responded, "good to know mom.  Good..to...know."

Now that's damn funny.

The pains of Elaine

Elaine's been ... not quite right lately.

It's a reminder of how parenting can be one of the hardest jobs in the world when you are trying to figure out what gives with your six year old.

She's just been out of sorts.  I feel like she's about to get sick or something, but it's been over a week, and she's still not sick.  But she's acting like that, you know?  She loses her temper, quickly, and for no reason.  She's more prone to crying than usual.  She's worried, but she doesn't know about what.

It took awhile for me to admit something was going on with her.  I brought it up with Mike and he agreed.  Never a good thing - I like it when it's just me overreacting to something.  I emailed her teacher, who happens to be my friend, and she too agreed.  So now several adults are in agreement, but no one can really figure out the problem.

My best guess is a growth spurt/tired/anxiety.  And I thought (hoped) that only Warren had inherited my anxiety gene.  Alas, it is a strong one.  Dominant that anxiety is. 

Clearly to keep it interesting, she does not display her anxiety nueroses like Warren does.  That would be too easy.  Nope, she just acts out.  Attacking her bff with mean words.  Crying when you raise your voice in the slightest.  Not listening to a damn thing you say becuase her brain is already filled with who knows what.

I've talked to her.  I've said things like, "are you okay?  You don't seem like yourself."  She responds wtih an "I'm just tired."  She acknowledges she has been mean to her bff and yet, she acts as though it is acceptable with an "I'm just crabby."  I explained how friends won't stick around forever if you keep being mean to them.  She just stared at me.

I tried again, and asked her if there was anything on her mind.  Anything she was worried about.  "Yes," she replied.  "I'm worried, but I don't know about what.  And you know what?  A girl left from my class, and it's this boy's last day tomorrow.  And now I'm not going to ever see them again."

Bingo.

We know from experience (i.e. TV and Christmas decorations) that Elaine is NOT a fan of change.  And friends leaving your class would totally bother a kid who prefers things to always stay status quo.

We talked about the friends and how we could still be friends with them, and call them and have play dates and whatnot.  And then I let her in on a secret.  I told her that her job was to be a kid.  And kids do not have to worry.  If she has worries, she should tell me or her dad and let us worry for her.

Hopefully, she'll take us up on that and get some sleep.  Perhaps then she can find her niceness again!

An education on marriage from my six year old.

Elaine would like to live with us forever.  At least that's what she told me last night.

Why?

Because her friend told her that when you get married, you have to share a bed with your husband.  And sometimes, you lay on top of him and kiss.  You can also do that in the bathtub.

Elaine does not want to do any of these things.

Totally fine with me!

I'm going to get me some culture this morning!

Today I will be a chaperone on Warren's field trip to Powell Symphony Hall.

I cannot tell you how geekily excited I am to go!  I haven't been to the symphony since I took a field trip there in like fifth or sixth grade.  I mean who goes to the symphony?  Not me.  I wish I was that cultural and had extra money, but um, my extra money takes me to Cardinals games and such.  Or to concerts at Busch Stadium where I buy expensive beers.  I guess all of my money goes to Busch Stadium basically.  That's kind of the same, don't you think?

My memories of that field trip back in the day are spotty.  I remember how pretty Powell Hall is and thinking that I had better not touch anything.  I'm sure we were in our uniforms, but maybe we got to dress up?  I do know we got a bus, which is a big thing for a Catholic grade school that doesn't have buses.  I remember thinking that I could be in an orchestra if I perfected that flute I was playing in band. 

Hey guess what?  That never happened.

So today, I'm going back.  And the only bad thing is that I have to iron some pants.  I mean who irons pants when they are a stay at home mom?  WHO I ASK YOU?

My first Valentine.

These were on my porch early Saturday afternoon when we returned from Warren's double header basketball game.  (And I cannot take pics with my cell phone.  Whatever.)

"I see flowers," I giggled.

"Your father is the worst!" Mike replied.  (Or some similar sentiment I was really tired and can't remember.)

Every year my daddy sends his girls and his wife Valentine's bouquets.  Every year for as long as I can remember.  The bouquets continued while I was at school in Kirksville.  They've continued since I've married and had children.  I love it!  Mike on the other hand...  Early on I told him not to bother with flowers on Valentines.  Number one - they were too expensive.  And number two and perhaps really number one - my dad already sends them to me!  He's given up, but still lovingly grumbles about it each year when they arrive.  The beauty of being back in the metro area is that the flowers are by the florist who did my wedding.  I LOVED my wedding bouquet.  Specifically the lillies with the pink in the middle.  Aster lillies maybe?  And there is always one or two in my Valentine's bouquet.  Mike notices them too, and likes them as much as I do.

The second part of this tradition involves me calling my sisters and bragging in no uncertain terms that my flowers are bigger or that my card conveys a better message than theirs.  Of course, this is not true, but still, it's part of the fun.  This year I called them and told them that my card read, "Happy Valentine's day to my favorite.  We should have stopped with one kid."  Mwa ha ha, I'm evil.

I suggested this year that Mike start giving Elaine flowers each year for Valentine's.  Then when she gets married, her husband can complain about him to her.  It's the circle of life people.

Happy Heart Day to you and yours.  Elaine thinks that Valentines should have a cake with candles and singing.  That's a girl thats in love with love.  Any bets on the number of tears when I take down the two Valentine decorations? 

A forewarning is good, isn't it?

You undo some of the bitchy by warning your husband about your pity party first, right?

Because that's what I did yesterday.  I told him, "just so you know I'm in a foul mood.  And I'm totally having a pity party and I feel like I do everything and no one appreciates it and it's not fair blah blah blah.  There's nothing you can do to fix it, so don't even try, just tell me how great I am."

And he did.

Because he's smart.  And he was also probably a little bit scared.

But back to my original question.  That warning/heads up negates some of my pity party, doesn't it?  I mean, people say that admitting is half the problem.  People can be right sometimes, can't they?

(Give yourself 2 points if you figured out that I am suffering from PMS!  Add 10 more points if you were smart enough to not say it out loud!  And a BONUS 100 POINTS are awarded to anyone who determined that I finished yesterday's pity party with not one, but two bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch!  What's your score?)

Could we really be back into the swing of things?

I think this might wind up as our first "real" week back to life in a long time.

There should not be any snow or ice days this week.

Sports practices should go on as scheduled.

Scouts will meet.

Dinners will be made.

Schedules will be kept. 

Pajama days will be saved for Saturday and Sunday.

I will go to work at Melissa's.

Mike will work a full week.

Homework will be done, valentines addressed and backpacks packed.

OMG I think I might pee my pants with the excitement of the routine of it all!

Observation Log part deux

Snow Day #3.  Stress level has maxed out.

When the phone call came in last night, the mother just about lost it.  "WHY?" she screamed.  "WHY WHY WHY?"  Then she got on the phone and called a few people, dropping f bombs like she was avenging a family member's death.  I don't know what's with that one.  I saw her take her zoloft yesterday.  Perhaps her dose isn't high enough?

The older boy was not pleased with the news of no school.  He seems to love school.  Nerds are like that.  Love the nerds.  Even the daughter was sad that she wouldn't get to go back to school.  But she immediately recovered when she realized that she would get to stay up late.  Six year olds - so very easy to redirect.  Squirrel!

An announcement was made that showers were required regardless of the school situation.  Surprisingly, for once, the kids cooperated.  Probably because they knew there was ice cream afterward.  While they showered, the mother scoured the internet looking for physical activities for the children.  Swimming?  Bust - no open swim on Tuesdays or Thursdays.  Skating?  Nope.  Closed.  Rainbow Recreation Room?  Negative, not open until Feb 8th.  There was more cursing, and then she got on facebook to type furiously.  I feel bad for that keyboard upstairs, it sure takes a beating from her.

I think the husband is heading to work today.  That should help a bit.  I heard the mother say they were going to Costco and the grocery store.  She's probably already too far gone if she thinks that taking the kids shopping is a good idea.  I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.  

I hope she doesn't eat her way through bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch again.  That was difficult to watch.  She'd be better off drinking I think!

I'm scared.  I hope this snowpocolypse ends tomorrow. 

Observation Log

Snow Day #2.  Stress level is building.

The natives are getting very restless.  The mother especially.  She keeps saying she's bored and she wants her family out of the house.  What kind of mother is she?  (I sort of like her.)

The children..oh the children!  They can't stand the sight of each other, yet they can't leave each other alone.  They are fighting and bickering and hitting and bickering and arguing.  The mother's tension is visible as she overhears all of this.  I'd suggest a workout, but it looks instead like perhaps she's heading toward the liquor.

The husband decided it is time to shovel.  He'll be out there for hours in that cold.  Likely to get frostbite or something.

I give it one more hour before the situation implodes.  Or before the mother is rocking in the corner singing to herself with a glass of whiskey.

The children should probably get out of their pajamas today - after all, they are yesterdays pajamas.  What a dirty family they are.

This observer wants to head for the hills!

**Update: The giant beast of a dog just vomited his entire breakfast at the top of the stairs while the mother yelled at the children to just get along already.  I think I saw the mother crying as she gathered up the spot shot and paper towels.  Oy vey!