Eight.

Today you are eight.

You're five years from being a teenager.  Halfway to driving.  A decade from adulthood and leaving home, spreading your wings for the first time.

But that's all so far in the future.  I don't want to dwell on it too much.  There will be plenty of time for those things later.

But today, you are eight.  And I always want to remember what eight looks like.

Sometimes I like to just sit and watch you.  I want to try to memorize the way your thick, unruly hair always stands up at the crown, even when you try like crazy to get it to lay down.  I never want to forget the way your blue eyes (so, so much like mine) sparkle when you talk about the things you love.  I want to always remember the tiny little dimple that only shows up when you're laughing so, so hard at a funny story or joke that you have to tell.  I want to be able to call to my mind that little sprinkle of freckles that peppers your nose so very lightly that no one else ever even notices.

This is the only time you will be eight.  The things you love, the things you do, the way you look, they are ever changing.  So I try every day to memorize them.  To capture them.  To freeze them in a photo or a memory so that I will never lose that part of you. 

Sometimes you get so annoyed with me - and rightly so.  "No more pictures, Mama!" It's followed by a sigh, and occasionally an eye roll, much more befitting someone who is twice your eight years, but I never do what you ask.  I feel a need, an urgency almost, to capture as many moments of your life as I can. 

The days seem so long sometimes, but the years are flying by.   Just yesterday you were born.  Today you are eight.  

Today you are eight, and this is the only day of your life that you will be exactly that age.  In the midst of the mundane day to day things, like laundry and preparing meals and homework and driving here and there and everywhere, I try so hard to memorize it all.  It's fleeting, this life, and every minute, no, every second is precious.

And so are you.

Today, you are eight. 

The bucket list.

In just a few months, I'm going to be turning 40.

Ahem.

It's true.

40 seems... significant, I guess, in ways that are hard to put words to, because I think it's just an overall feeling I have about it.  Not dread, not joy, just... crucial.  Urgent, maybe.

Anyway, this isn't making any sense at all - you should try living in my head for a day or two - but the point that I'm trying to make here is that I need some goals.  Some longterm life goals.  And I need to write them down.  I've never really like the term "bucket list" very much, because it makes me think that death is imminent, which hopefully it is not, but "list of life goals" just doesn't have the same ring to it, now does it?

So here I am, planning out the back 40 of my life, so to speak, and although I have many, many more things I want to accomplish, here are my top 10.


1.  Finish college.  GASP!  I know, it's shocking, right?  I seem so smart and put together that surely I have a degree or three sitting in a drawer somewhere, just waiting for me to pull them out, dust them off, and find a brilliant new career, right?  Right?  Sadly, that is not the case.  I started working while in college, and I got married while in college and suddenly in my 20 year old mind it just didn't seem all that important to finish.  So I didn't.  I won't say something overly dramatic like "and I've regretted it ever since," because I really haven't, but it is something I'd like to do someday.  I've even gotten as far as requesting my college transcripts.  The practical part of me says a degree won't make a bit of difference in what I do with the rest of my life and it will just eat up my time and resources, but I want to do it, so there it is.

2.  (Re)learn French - I took four years of French in high school and four semesters in college, and at one point, I was a passable speaker and an excellent reader.  I still surprise myself from time to time by how much I remember.  After all, it's been 20 years.

3.  Travel to France.  See #2.  Or just travel anywhere new, I suppose, but France sticks out in my mind as the number one place that I have always wanted to experience.

4.  Learn - REALLY learn - to use my camera.  My husband gifted me with a beautiful Nikon D7000for Christmas last year, and I have made huge strides in learning how to use it.  I even take it off AUTO most of the time ;).  There is still so much more to learn, though.  Maybe a photography class is in order.

5.  Run a marathon.  I really thought after my half marathon in 2011 that 2012 would be my year to accomplish that goal, but then I realized just how much time would be involved in training for a full 26.2, and I just didn't have it to give.  Not now, when the boys are so small.  It's not like I can say to Cooper "Hey, Mama needs to go on a two hour run so you just amuse yourself while I'm gone, ok?"  Instead for now I'm going to keep eking out 30 minutes or an hour as I can to run on the treadmill of doom, but someday, SOMEDAY I will do this thing.

6.  Write a book.  An actual, honest-to-god book.  Someone famous once said that every person has at least one book in him/her, and I believe that.  Heck, I might even have two.  My computer and my desk are littered with vague ideas, rough drafts, outlines, first chapters...  I not sure if it's fear of failure, or fear of success that holds me back.

7.  Get a tattoo.  I liked tattoos before they were as mainstream as they are today, but I've had a hard time committing to exactly what I want.  I've finally gotten it all figured out.

I want something like this:

to commemorate running my first marathon, and I want something like this:

to commemorate writing my first book.  They are small, meaningful and important to me and only me, and that's something I'm sure I could live with forever.

8.  Have my dream car.  This is one thing that was on my bucket list before I even had a clue what a bucket list was.  But I'm happy to report that it's the only thing that, to date, I can successfully mark off.  If you haven't heard the story of how Hugh came into my life, check it out.  Bring tissues.    

 9.  Learn to drive a stick shift.  It's with great shame that I report that this is a skill I have never mastered.  My attempts to try to learn, first with my high school boyfriend and later with R, all ended exactly the same way - with someone or the other threatening to walk home.  As a self-proclaimed country girl, this is a shame I don't want to bear forever.

10. Spend a week, maybe more, traveling across the countryside taking pics of old barns.  Old barns are my favorite thing ever, and while I'm sure I would take pics of more than that on my journey, that would be my number one goal.  

So, there are my top ten things to do before I die.  How about you?  Do you have a bucket list?  What's on it?



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On birthdays.

Last week, Zachary turned seven.

A few weeks before his birthday, the mother of one of his friends asked me "So when will Zachary's birthday party be?"

Was that an incredibly rude question? Absolutely.  But it was also totally without malice.  She was genuinely curious about when his party would be because it's the norm.  It's expected.  Zachary had attended her kid's party, so she assumed her kid would attend his.  Elaborate, expensive birthday celebrations are just a foregone conclusion, even in my rural, low-income community.  EVERYBODY does it.

Except I don't.

It wasn't like one day I woke up and made a huge decree of "There will be no themed birthday celebrations in this house, no clowns or circus animals, no pony rides, no paid magicians, no rented skating rinks or bouncy houses."   It just sort of happened that way.

And that's not to say that we don't celebrate our kids' birthdays.  We most certainly do.  But it's more...  understated.  More... family oriented.  

In the weeks leading up to Zachary's birthday, I started talking to him about how he wanted to spend the day.  We tossed around a few ideas, some of which I confirmed and some of which remained a mystery until the big day.  After all, anticipation of the surprise is half the fun when you're turning seven, I think.  One thing he asked for and held firm on was a "Pokemon-Superhero-Skylander-Mario-Angry Birds-Beyblade-Wipeout cake."

Ahem.

This Mama absolutely NAILED that one, thank you very much.

When his birthday arrived, the four of us spent the day eating pancakes for breakfast, shopping for a new toy, jumping on some crazy inflatables, roller skating, blowing out candles and eating cake, and we finished the day at our favorite Mexican restaurant where we ate quesidillas and nachos and the waiters sang to Zachary and let him wear the sombrero of honor.

On the way home, I asked Zachary how he liked his birthday and he answered "Best. Day. Ever."

It's hard to argue with that.

So even though I feel just the SLIGHTEST bit of guilt that we don't reciprocate birthday party invitations with invitations of equal or greater value, Zachary had a great day, the rest of our family had a great day, and it's what works for us.

At least right now.

I'm of a "never say never" mindset on this, though, and at some point in the future if one of the boys has his heart set on an space-themed-party-with-30-of-his-closest-friends-and-rocket-ship-rides-and-a-real-LIVE-ASTRONAUT I'm not saying that I'll say no.

But I might.

How about you?  How do you handle kid's birthdays in your family?  

Seven.

Seven years ago today, you were born.

Wait, that doesn't seem quite dramatic enough.  Let me try again.

Seven years ago today, you made your presence known.

When the nurse handed you to me the first time, you were a little ugly, wrinkled, screaming pink thing. And I loved you with all my heart.

But I wasn't sure I like you very much.

I'm slow to warm up to people, you know, and you were no exception.

But then you slowly started to become you.

You with your funny little smile.  You with your unwavering energy.  You with your stubborn streak.

And today you're seven.

And now?  Well now I like you quite a lot.

I like your odd sense of humor.  I think you got that from me.

I like your fascination and focus on things that I cannot even begin to comprehend, like sharks and Beyblades and Pokemon and superheroes and dinosaurs and bugs and snakes.

I like how you can speak to anyone, at any time, about any topic, without getting nervous about it.  Your self-confidence astounds me.  You most definitely did not get that from me.

I like how you act with your little brother.  I like how you treat other small kids.  You are kind, and that will take you far in life.

I like how your enthusiasm and energy for the things that you love are constantly, incessantly, relentlessly and sometimes painfully intense.  It wears me out.  But I like that about you anyway.

I like that you like to read.  I like that sometimes you even let me help you pick out books.

I like your funny little gap-toothed smile, your killer dance moves and your mad skillz at video games.

I like that you are polite and that you like to hold the door open for people.  I like that you say "please" and "thank you" and "ma'am" and "sir" when you should.

I like that whenever you have the chance, you run wild and loud and free.

I like that when you sink your teeth into something, whether it's a project or an idea or whatever, that you tenaciously, thoroughly, bull-doggedly see it through.  I KNOW that you got that from me.  Some may call us stubborn.  I prefer to think of it as determined, and it will serve you well if you learn to temper it, just a little bit.

I like that you enjoy school.

I like that you have found a home away from home at your Tae Kwon Do class, and I like that you take pride in doing your best there.

I like that you are curious about everything.  I like that you come to me every day to ask questions about new things, and I like that when I don't know all the answers you just say "Well Mama, let's go look it up then."

But mostly, I just like you.  I like the person you are and the person you are becoming, both because of and in spite of all that I know to do for you as a Mama.

Happy birthday Zachary.

You are going to absolutely ROCK seven.

I have no doubt.

On being a Capricorn.

The first time I went for a REAL job interview (whereby REAL=not fast food or phone sales) I sat down, nervously fidgeted with my skirt, and was promptly asked "When is your birthday?"

At the time, I was too young, naive and stupid to realize this was a highly inappropriate and illegal question, so I stammered out "January 16, 1974."

"Ah, so you're a Capricorn, then," my interviewer said.  "Capricorns make the BEST employees."

She really didn't ask me much after that, except to test my obscure author recall ("Who wrote Cry, the Beloved Country?" "Alan Paton."  "Who wrote Brave New World?""Aldous Huxley."), and 20 minutes later I had the job.  So basically a mind full of random trivia and the fact that I was a Capricorn netted me a 17 year career in bookselling.  Oops.

Until that time, I had never paid much attention at all to anything at all horoscope related.  But this first manager of mine was sort of obsessed with it, and she liked to point out to me all the ways that I was goat-like.

"You're such a hard, steady worker," she would say.  "So careful and patient.  But I knew you would be when I hired you, since you're a Capricorn."

"You got all that shelving done so quickly and accurately!" she would gush.  "But of course you did.  You're a Capricorn, after all."

"I love how you took to that challenge," she would gloat.  "Capricorns are SO competitive."

So slowly, over time, even I began to admit that there might be something to this horoscope business, even though it was in direct conflict with my practical, cautious, realistic, pragmatic CAPRICORN-LIKE nature.

And to be quite honest, when I read a description of a Capricorn's traits, it's like reading straight from my own personal rulebook of life...  Hard working, determined, practical, realistic, dedicated to the point of stubbornness, industrious, organized, unwilling to make waves, blessed with common sense, quirky sense of humor that many don't appreciate, self-critical, competitive...  Yeah.  I'm a Capricorn all right.

Whether I believe it or not.

The lies I tell my kids.

I lie to my kids.

Most of the time, I consider them to be mainly harmless Mama lies, like "Brush your teeth or they'll all fall out," or "Eat your broccoli or you'll get scurvy," or "Pick up your toys or the monsters that live under your bed will eat you," or "The vampires that live in the basement do NOT want you to go in that closet."

See, totally harmless.

But a couple weeks ago I told a lie so huge, so big, so ridiculous, that I still feel sort of guilty about it.

I totally lied to cj about when his birthday really was.

See, here's the thing.  I don't really do birthday parties.  That would require inviting people into my house and possibly dealing with other people's kids and for a recluse like me, that's just too much to deal with most of the time.  So as an apology of sorts, RJ and I always plan a fun-filled day of fun-filled activities and fun-filled other stuff for the boys on their birthdays.  Like the year zj turned five and we went ice skating, or all the trips to Chuck E. Cheese we've made.  I've blocked most of those.  Thank God.

But these days of too much fun really require two adults and multiple alcoholic beverages to get through, and cj's birthday fell this year, quite inconveniently, on a Tuesday.  RJ's day off is on Wednesday, and due to other people's vacations and scheduling and whatnot, swapping days off just wasn't an option this time.

So I lied.

We woke up on Tuesday morning and treated it just like any other day.  Same breakfast, same stories, same trips outside to play, same errands, same lunch, same nap time, same dinner, same bath and bed time.  All day long, I talked to cj about all the fun stuff we were going to do tomorrow, on his birthday.

Because I'm a Big Liar.

Cj woke up on Wednesday NOT HIS BIRTHDAY to this: 

and this:

Which is a great way to wake up on NOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

Then we spent some time shopping in the toy department so he could pick out his NOT HIS BIRTHDAY present:

Shopping was followed closely by lunch, and ice cream seemed like a perfect meal for a three year old on NOT HIS BIRTHDAY:

Then we spent the afternoon at this place on NOT HIS BIRTHDAY, where there were bouncy houses:

and air hockey:

and absolutely no alcoholic beverages of any kind.

Did I mention that they didn't serve alcohol there?

We finished up the day with dinner here:

Which, in case you can't tell is a McDonald's WITH A FREAKIN' PLAY PLACE.  And guess what? No alcohol there either.  Also, STILL NOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

Then the icing on the cupcake, so to speak, was covered in M&Ms:

When I tucked my exhausted, sticky three year and one day old into bed that night, he hugged me tighter and longer than usual and said "Mama, I love my birthday."

Except it WASN'T HIS BIRTHDAY.

But it will make a great story to tell his therapist some day, I'm sure.

Letter to the birthday boy.

Happy birthday Little Bit.

Three years ago today you showed up and made this crazy little family complete.

Even as you grow and change, I always want to be able to remember you just as you are today, because you are... delightful.

You like to make people laugh.  It's one of your many gifts, and whenever someone laughs at something you say or do you always say "That people thinks I funny."  Your Mama likes to make people laugh, too, so I know what a good feeling it is.





You wear your cape and your cowboy hat everywhere.  You say that you're a Cowboy Superhero, and I guess I'd have to say that's true.

You love Mickey Mouse, and Strawberry Shortcake, and cookies and ice cream and cars and trucks and craft time (and you are oh so left handed and I apologize in advance to your kindergarten teacher because I simply cannot seem to teach you to cut) and you think my Mustang is yours and you correct everyone who tells you differently.

You have little use for strangers.  Whenever someone you don't know tries to talk to you, you shy away and say "Mama, why dat people talking to me?"  I don't know, kid.  I really don't know.

Whenever we go somewhere, the minute our house comes back into view, you say "There's us's house! Us made it through!" like we've been away on a grand adventure.  I'll agree, sometimes a trip to the grocery feels like that to me, too.

You play pretend puppies and kitties with your brother, and your love of all things furry almost makes me want to give in to your never-ending desire for a puppy.  Almost.  You also play pretend ghosts and superheroes and zombies, but I'm not really interested in procuring one of those.

Your current dislikes, aside from strangers, are naps and green vegetables.  Someday you'll wish you had a chance to take more naps.  The green vegetable thing, well, I'm not so sure how that will turn out.

You love your brother and your Daddy and your Moo Moo and Blankie with astonishing fierceness, and you love your Mama.  Oh, how you love your Mama.  It amazes me and humbles me every day.

So happy birthday to you, my Little Bit.  I hope your being three is brings us both as much joy as your being two did.

Happy birthday to me!

Me on my second birthday, rocking some polka dots and a scary clown bottle.  The cuteness knows no bounds.  

Today is my 38th birthday.

That's pretty damn close to 40.

But since 40 is the new 30, and 30 is the new 20, and I wouldn't, for any reason, want to go back into my teens, lets just call it 25ish and be done with it, ok?

Ahem.  Moving on.

So anyway, today, for no particular reason other than I want to, and it's my blog so I do what I want, I thought I would share 38 random tidbits about me.

Fascinating stuff, this is.

You're welcome.

1. I have kept the same houseplant alive for more than 15 years.  I believe that this has made me unequivocally prepared for motherhood, where my main goal is to get them to adulthood alive and mostly intact.
2. I hate seafood.  Hate. It.  Sometimes I lie and say I am allergic to it in order to fend off the people who say "But you can't really taste the fishy/crabby/shrimpy/nasty in it."  I can taste it.  Trust me.
3. I still have all the bits I came into the world with - tonsils, gall bladder, both wisdom teeth.  Yes, I said both.
4. For the entirety of my childhood, I planned to be a psychologist when I grew up.  I became a bookstore manager instead, which is pretty much the same thing.
5. I'm a recovering nail biter, with many, many, many falls from the wagon.  Is there a 12 step program for that?
6. My hair is probably 80-90% gray.  It's genetic I think.  Other than some occasional root issues, you will NOT see what that looks like for at least 20 more years.  Hair dye is miraculous.
7. I hate to write with pens.  Pencils are preferred.  Mechanical pencils are best.  .9 lead size is divine.
8. I used to collect frogs - glass frogs, plastic frogs, ceramic frogs, metal frogs... Then RJ got me a real frog as a gift one year, and I managed to kill it within a month.  I haven't felt quite the same about them since then.
9. There are two songs that make me cry every single time I hear them - Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain by Willie Nelson, and He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones.  Yep, I'm a flaming redneck.  Deal with it.
10. I learned to read when I was four, and haven't stopped since.  I remember most of the first book I ever read out loud: "I see a bee!  Yes, a bee!  What do you see?"
11. There are many, many, many books I love, but if I had to pick one favorite it would be To Kill a Mockingbird.  Atticus Finch is my hero.
12. I'm going to run a marathon this year.  There.  I said it out loud.  No backing out now.
13. I love to cook and I love to feed people.  It makes me happier than just about anything when people enjoy what I've cooked for them.  I think I came by that trait honestly.
14. I'm a terrible procrastinator.  Luckily, I also DESPISE being late for anything, so it usually all works out.
15. I graduated second in my high school class.  It was the first and last time on record that there was no Salutatorian speech.  Nobody even bothered to ask me, because everyone knew I wouldn't do it.  Public speaking is so not my thing.
16. I'm a food hoarder.  There is probably enough food in my house to feed my family for six three months.  Don't judge.  When the zombie apocalypse comes and you run out of food on day 4 you will be totally jealous.
17. I drive my dream car.  I have wanted a '66 Mustang convertible since I was a little girl, and now, thanks to RJ, I have one.  And it's as wonderful as I thought it would be.
18. I don't want a dishwasher and have absolutely no desire for one.  I think dishes washed in a dishwasher smell funny and I don't like to eat off them.
19. I consider myself to be handy, crafty and fairly intelligent.  I can operate power tools with ease.  I cannot, however, operate my tv, dvd player or video game systems most of the time.  I often text pictures of all four of our remotes to RJ and say "I wanna watch a movie.  Which buttons do I push?"
20. My friend Natalie got me hooked on Fiestaware years ago, and now I have quite a collection.  Looking at all the different colored plates and bowls and cups in my cabinet makes me insanely happy, and I can't imagine eating off boring, matching dishes ever again.
21. My earliest memory was when I was not quite two, and my family was watching wrestling on not one, but two tvs - one black and white and one - GASP! - in color.  Our family had just gotten our first color tv and we were apparently comparing the pictures.  Redneck much? See number 9.
22. My two celebrity crushes are Nathan Fillion and Noah Wyle.  I stalk keep up with them online and watch everything they are in, even the really, really bad stuff.
23. I once won $1000 on a scratch off lottery ticket.  The problem was, I wasn't old enough to cash it in and my sister had to do it for me.  She let me have the money, though.
24. I'm the funniest person I know.  I often randomly laugh out loud at something that is funny in my head.  Or maybe I'm just crazy.  Either way, it sure is fun up in here.
25. Red is my favorite color.  Most of the things in my house are red - my couches, my small appliances, my car... I sincerely hope this never changes, because all that red crap would be a BEAR to replace.
26. I have always wanted to learn how to knit and/or crochet, but I am incapable of it.  I have tried MANY times, and the closest I ever got was one really, really long crocheted string.  Not much I could do with that, I'm afraid.
27. Heights, snakes and lizards all make me uncomfortable.  Not AFRAID, exactly, just AVOIDABLE AT ALL COSTS.
28. I use exactly the same password for everything, so if anybody ever figures it out, I'm pretty well screwed.
29. I make better potato salad than anyone in the world.  This is a proven fact.  However, I am the only person in my ENTIRE family who likes potato salad, so I almost never make it.  My talents are so wasted.
30. I played basketball for four years in elementary school.  I wasn't very good, but if I didn't play, there wouldn't have been enough people for a team.  It's ok, nobody else was all that good either.
31. The first time I flew on an airplane was after I was a married adult.  I didn't like it very much.  I still don't.
32. One of my feet is larger than the other.  By quite a bit.  This makes buying shoes - especially running shoes - kind of a challenge.  Oh, and my toes are slightly webbed.  Consider that little tidbit a bonus.
33. Spring is my favorite season, followed by summer, then winter.  I know there are a lot of fall fans out there, but I dislike it.  Stupid leaves everywhere.
34. I've personally owned six cars in my lifetime.  Three of them have been Mustangs, but the one I drove the longest was a truck.  Doncha just love a girl in a truck?
35. I have zero interest in watching sports.  When people talk about their favorite basketball, football and baseball teams, my eyes glaze over and a little drool escapes from the corner of my mouth.  I had a really good time at a baseball game one time, but that may have just been the free beer.
36. At one time, I had four cats.  Then I started having kids, and something had to go.  Now I am seriously, totally and altogether against ever having anything with fur in my house ever again.  We'll see how long I can hold out...
37. Someday I would like to go back to school.  I have no clue what I would study, but I miss school.  It's the one thing I've done in my life that I think I was really, really good at.  Maybe I'll be a professional student someday.
38. This post took me four days to write, and was really hard to do.  I guess I'm not as interesting as I thought.  If you are still reading at this point, you should be commended.  Or maybe committed.

Anyway, that's it.  Happy birthday to me!

You'll always be my baby.

Dear Cooper,

Happy birthday baby.

I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you're always going to be Mama's baby.

Whether you're two, or 22, or 52.

Yep.

My baby.

Except you're not really a baby any more, are you?

Because today, you're two.

Two years ago today, you came into this crazy little family and made it complete.

The first time I held you, I felt... peaceful.

It's been like that ever since.

You're a lot like your Mama sometimes.

It takes you a while to warm up to new people and situations.

I know a little about that.

You are content for hours playing by yourself, with your cows, or your cars.

I know a little about that.

You've never met a meal you didn't like.

I know a LOT about that.

You know the Dora theme song, the Spongebob theme song and can hum the Batman theme as well.

You can correctly identify most major superheroes, both Marvel and DC.

Mama's so proud.

I think when you grow up you'll be a great chef, or maybe a farmer.

You have decided to start potty training yourself.

Thanks, I think.

Your dimple is killer.

You are easy.

You're easy to take care of, easy to please and easy to love.

Our high-strung, high-maintenance family needed somebody like that.

You love your big brother with a fierceness that astounds me, and him.

Picking you up out of bed every morning, hearing you say "Hi Mama!" and feeling you wrap your tiny little arms around me for a great big squeezy-hug is the highlight of my day.

You call all the men you meet "Dada" and wave at them with this crazy back and forth wave that makes people laugh.

When someone is leaving, you yell "BYE BYE!  HAVE A NICE DAY!"

When I look into your big brown eyes, I see intelligence, and patience, and love.

It's been a great two years, Little Bit.

I can't wait to see what comes next.

Happy Birthday.

Mama loves you very much.

Becoming a Stay at Home Mama - Year One.

One year ago this week, I left my job as a bookstore manager for the last time.

I walked away from the long hours, the never ending cycle of "all that's old is new again," and the constant influx of people who needed, and needed, and needed things from me.

It was scary and terrifying in ways that  I cannot even begin to describe.

For many years I had defined myself and my worth by the successes (or lack of) that I had at work.

I was pretty good at my job.

I heard it from my staff, my peers, and my superiors.

I was the one who knew stuff, and who knew how to get stuff done.

And, then suddenly... I wasn't.

Suddenly all that I had previously used to define myself by was just... gone.

Instead,  I became the full time Mama to two energetic little boys who, prior to this, I had fed and clothed and bathed and loved... but had not really KNOWN.

I'd say we know each other pretty damn well by now.

There have been bumps in the road as the three of us got used to spending our days together.

Nothing has turned out quite like I expected it to.

As a serious Type A, anal retentive control freak, I fully expected by this point to be living in a June Cleaver clean house with Aunt Bea type meals and perfectly behaved little boys who were adorable in their clean tucked in shorts and ever-present suspenders.

Instead, I'm living in a house full of constant crumbs (WHERE DO THEY ALL COME FROM?!?!?!?!) with two sticky but sweet little boys who love to run and yell and throw things and who give their Mama spontaneous hugs as they run by.

Instead of spending our days in quiet, organized, scheduled activities, we kinda roll with the flow.

Sometimes we eat ice cream for lunch.

Sometimes we spend the whole day outside.

Sometimes we watch movies and eat popcorn all day, just because we can.

Occasionally, I yell "Stop punching/hitting/bothering/touching/picking on/licking your brother!" five thousand times.

And there have been a few times that I've gotten so fas as to look at the classified ads to see if maybe, just maybe, there was a little part-time gig I could pick up because oh dear God if I have to play pretend superheroes ONE MORE MINUTE I'm going to stab my left eye out.


But the thought passes quickly.

Because for the first time, maybe ever in my life, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

This is me.

Finally.

Crumbs and superheroes and all.

Happy birthday to my superhero. You're five. Really? REALLY?

Today is zj's fifth birthday.  I was all prepared to write a post about how much I love him and how much he's grown and maybe pull out a bunch of old baby pictures and sob hysterically as I thought of my baby boy growing up so fast, but then I remembered that I did that last year.

Well, then.

On to plan B.

We gave zj some choices about what he wanted to do on his birthday.  Just for the record, none of them contained an actual party, because as I have mentioned before, children's birthday parties make me want to drink gin straight from the cat dish.  His decision was quick and decisive.  We would go to Chuck E. Cheese and we would go ice skating.

Umm...  Ok?  I guess I'll have to drink a lot before we even leave the house I'll have to suck it up.  His birthday, his choice.

Here are some highlights of the day:

8am - Presentation of the birthday gifts.  Zj proclaimed the bathroom "the most awesomest thing he'd ever seen."

11am - Ice skating.  I can't skate.  Zj can't skate.  There was a lot of falling down.  There was a fair amount of "Are we done yet?"  I didn't think to bring gloves.  I feel certain that this is one of those memories that will be better after a fair amount of time has passed.  Ya know, kinda like having kids.  In six months, I'm sure we will remember how much fun it was and want to try again.  Or not.

12:30pm - Chuck E. Cheese.  Oh dear Lord.  Deliver me from large rat-like creatures bearing tokens and crappy pizza.  As I have mentioned before, this place is only suitable for the young and/or intoxicated.  Unfortunately, once again, I was neither.  Moving on...

2:30 pm - Build-A-Bear Workshop.  This photo sucks because by this time I had lost the will to live was getting tired.  Zj chose a dog for himself and a monkey to take home to cj, who spent the day at the sitter's the lucky little bastard.  And $60 later...

3:30pm - Barnes & Noble, because I joined their Kid's Club and had a coupon for a free cupcake.  I got to get a very large cup of coffee, too, but it was all for zj.  Really, it was a sacrifice.

4:30pm - Toys R Us.  Clearly, I have a death wish.  Zj was told he could choose one toy.  He immediately went to this one, which until now, I had successfully avoided buying for the past TWO YEARS, mainly because a) it's exorbitantly priced silly string and b) it's exorbitantly priced silly string.  How would not be swayed, even when offered a Kung Zhu thing, which I he wants desperately and which I have also managed to avoid buying.  So, in the bag it went.  For the record, three hours later, we were $14 of silly string down and my left eye wouldn't stop twitching because of the crap hanging off every available surface.

6pm - Zj declared this "the bestest day of his whole entire life, forever and ever" and promptly crashed.  

Next year, I'm just going to have a &#($ party and be done with it.