I'm so bored.

"Mmooooommmmmm, I'm SO bored."

It's like nails on a chalkboard for me.

Yesterday was day ohmygahIlostcountIhavenoidea off from school due to snow, ice, cold and stupid winter, and we are all pretty over it, as is the rest of America, if my Twitter feed is any indication.  

I can deal with most of it just fine.  I can deal with the little boys with too much pent up energy.  I can deal with the disrupted schedule.  I can deal with the running, the yelling, the fighting, the trapped inside business.  I can deal with the near-constant requests for snacks and drinks.

But "bored" is my Achilles' heel.  I don't do bored. 

See, here's the thing (which may call my parenting abilities into question - don't worry, it won't be the first time).  I will read stories, watch movies, play board games and build things with my kids all day long, but when they start up with the "I'm SOOOOO bored" business, Mama playtime shuts right down.

I think it's good for them to get bored, because I think it's good for them to figure out - on their own - how to get un-bored.

It's a life skill that many adults don't seem to possess - this ability to keep yourself amused, motivated and happy without someone else pulling the strings.

So I think it's good to let my kids get bored sometimes, and I think it's good for them to have to figure a way out of that feeling on their own.  Once they manage to get past the initial shock, there is usually some grumbling, maybe a little bit of whining.  But once they realize Mama means business - "Go find something to do.  I don't want to hear about how bored you are," they wander off.

Sometimes they find a game to play on their own, without me.  Sometimes they ask to watch tv or play a video game, and I let them.  But sometimes, well sometimes something magical happens.  

When they are just so bored they can't stand it and none of the usual distractions will do, they start to use their imaginations.  They begin to create things.  They dress up, play pretend, act out scenes, make art, write words.

They use their own brains and feelings and actions to move themselves from "bored" to "amused."

It's an amazing thing to watch.

And it's a skill they will use the rest of their lives.

So yeah - I don't do bored.  There is too much to see and do and experience in this vast and wonderful world to let "bored" eat away at the finite time I have.  And as this skill and ability grows for them, neither will my kids.  And that is a beautiful thing.

 

Someone brought a gun to my kid's school, but I'm not really upset about it.

When Zachary came home from school Friday, we immediately went into "hurry up" mode like we often do in order to make it to his 4pm tae kwon do class, which is several miles away.  I did the hurried "How was your day?" bit in the car, but the rush rush rush of moving from one place to another - always somewhere to go, somewhere to be, it seems, kept me from delving too deeply below the surface of general "What color did you get to? (on the behavior chart)" and "What did you have for lunch?" kinds of questions.

It wasn't until later that night - much later, in fact, that I started digging through his backpack, past all the random scraps of paper, broken pencils and other unidentifiable things to see if there was anything I needed to sign or send back that I saw the letter.

It read:

"We want to make you aware of a situation that occurred today at SCHOOL'S NAME.
A lower primary student brought a small BB gun to school in a backpack.  The BB gun was not functional and there were no pellets/BBs.  A student reported the incident to his/her teacher at the end of the day and in order to control unnecessary rumors we wanted to make parents aware of what happened.
No threats were made and no students or staff were in any danger at any time.  As a precaution, the situation is under investigation by school staff and proper authorities.
As always, our primary concern is the safety of our students and staff. " 

I read it a couple times before it really registered with me what it was saying.

Someone had a gun at my kid's school.

I felt that weird hotness across my face and the heaviness of my legs that accompanies sudden fear, and I had to sit down.

I'm not one to overreact in most situations, but still.  A gun.  My kid's school.

Scary stuff.

I wanted to be angry.  I wanted to lash out.  I wanted to blame someone.  I wanted to call and email and march and demand answers, but I couldn't.  After the initial shock passed, I couldn't really muster up more that a vague feeling of unease.

It had happened.  It had been dealt with.  No real harm was done.

I called Zachary to me and we talked some more about his day at school.  When I asked him if anything out of the ordinary had happened, he talked of a nosebleed a classmate had had on the bus and something new that had been served in the cafeteria.

This thing - this thing that could have been so massive - wasn't even a blip on his screen.

This was last week, and I've thought about it a lot since then, but not with the anger I first imagined I would feel.

Even if I were angry, I didn't really have anyone in particular to be angry at.

I can't be angry at the school or the teachers or the principal.  By all accounts it was handled swiftly and appropriately.

I couldn't really be angry at the kid.  Even though he or she was the one who brought this BB gun to school, I know all too easily how this could happen.  Last year, unknown to me, Zachary sneaked some Pokemon cards into his backpack and took them to school, which he knew wasn't allowed.  They were confiscated by the eagle-eyed bus driver and returned at the end of the week with a note saying next time she would keep them.  Fine by me.  Zack knew he wasn't supposed to take them to school in the first place, but he did anyway and it totally slipped under my radar.  It was easy enough for him to do with Pokemon cards, and a "small BB gun" is probably easy enough to hide in the same way.

I could be angry with the kid's parents, I guess.  I really could.  But I don't know their story.  I don't know what they have going on in their lives.  What I do know is that in the area in which I choose to live, guns of all types and sizes are common.  Very common.  I live five miles from a major military base, which means guns galore.  It's also a rural area, and hunting is just... understood.  Where I live, kids grow up knowing how to handle firearms.  Kids go hunting.  And yes, kids play with BB guns.  Despite any feelings I may or may not have about it, it just IS.  I understand that is not the norm everywhere, but here it is.  Maybe it was lax of the parents to have this BB gun in a place where the kid could get to it without supervision.  Maybe not.  Maybe the kid broke through 15 locks to get it.  I don't know the whole story, and I never will.

Guns are as common as Pokemon cards here.  As much as I WANT to be angry,  I completely understand how it could have happened.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about it since last week, so I think I understand the significance of what did and did not happen, but at the same time, mostly I'm just relieved that it didn't turn out to be a bigger deal than it was.

Everybody is safe.  Nothing terrible happened, except in the overactive imaginations of a few teachers and parents.  Everyone is fine.

And it's hard to be angry about that.

 

This boy...

Something that made you smile this last week.(Close enough, right?)

I try not to be one of those moms... you know the ones.  The ones who think little Johnny is the smartest/brightest/cutest/bestest kid in the whole darn world and who think that YOU need to think that too.

But here's the truth:  My boys whine.  They smell weird sometimes (ok, a lot of the time).  They don't always follow directions on the first (or second, or third, or fourth) time they are asked.  They're messy.  Neither one has one single iota of musical ability.  Zack has weird ugly feet and Cooper will probably be bald before he's 25.  

And until about a year or so ago, I would have said that Zachary was the clumsiest kid in the entire world.

But then something happened that changed all that.

We enrolled him in tae kwon do.

The changes have been gradual - so gradual in fact that I'm not sure I realized just how far he has come until this week.

This past week R took him to a practice session where he got to put a lot of his knowledge and skills to the test.  I usually try to go to all these special things, but this time I stayed home since I'm still having some eye issues and I just wanted to rest.

R texted me a video of Zachary doing his board breaking routine, and to be honest, I watched it, then watched again and again before I really understood that this confident, graceful, athletic kid was MY kid.  

If you can't see the video click here. 

I've watched this video over and over, and over again, and every time it makes me smile.

That's MY kid.  And he's awesome.

What made you smile this week? 

His memories.

I sighed when I heard his little feet patter across the floor.

I had once again gotten up early to write, only to be joined almost immediately by Cooper, who seems to have a sixth sense that alerts him the minute I open my computer.

He wandered into my office, all warm and cozy in that rosy, half-asleep way that only only little kids seem to have.  He climbed into my lap and kissed the tip of my nose like he always does first thing in the morning and last thing at night, then said "Good morning, Mama.  Can we look at our memories now?"  He snuggled against me and sighed a happy little sigh, because in his world he could not imagine that I wouldn't want to do the same thing, or that I would deny him this simple request.

To look at his memories.

That's what he calls pictures.  He has for as long as I can remember.  It isn't something that I taught him or something that I have ever said to him.  But to him all the pictures stored on my computer are his memories, and he will happily sit for hours looking at them, commenting on every single one. "Oh I remember that day!  Don'y you remember, Mama?  We had such a good time!" 

I opened up my picture file and we looked.  We looked at trips to the park and the zoo and the beach.  We looked at fabulous shots taken with my "fancy" camera and blurry iPhone ones.  We looked at family vacations and ordinary days spent at home and everything in between.  He gasped with joy and commented on each and every one.  "Look Mama!  There we are making a craft!  Aw, I remember that time we went there, don't you, Mama?"  and so on.  And so on. 

After about an hour and without any warning at all, he sighed and stretched and turned around from his perch on my lap to give me one more kiss on the tip of my nose - an extra one on this day.  "I like looking at our memories.  Don't you, Mama?"

And I really did.  

I really, really did.

Snow days.

Snow Day 1:  It may not be as bad as I feared.  The natives, though somewhat restless, remain in high spirits and have not shown any signs of hostility toward me.  In fact, they seem to be tolerating my presence quite well.  We have plenty of supplies laid in, and I'm hopeful that this forced sense of togetherness will serve a greater purpose and will bring us closer together.  It may not be as bad as I feared.  

Snow Day 3: It is as bad as I feared.  The natives, grown bored with me and all my "silly little games" have begin to turn their aggressions on me and even worse, on each other.  Riots are happening regularly now.  There is a definite sense of animosity in the air.  Luckily, our supplies are holding strong, but I fear what might happen if staples begin to run low.  There may be a free for all, or even worse, a revolt.

Snow Day 4:  Things took a definite turn for the worse today as the in-fighting grew so great that it could not be contained.  I've holed up in a seemingly safe place but my defenses are weak at best and I assume that their ability to break through is imminent.  Also, several important supplies are beginning to run low and I fear for my safety.  

Snow Day 7:  The natives seem to be growing in both number and size.  I know this is merely my exhausted mind playing tricks on me, but it really seems so.  The natives have been able to break through my defenses and have surrounded me.  Their demands, once gentle requests, grow with each passing hour.  They ask for things I cannot give them, but I believe they know this.  I believe they have resorted to mind games - emotional warfare if you will - and I feel myself weakening under this attack.  

Snow Day 10:  Supplies are at a critical level.  Since the last time I was able to write, conditions have deteriorated rapidly.  The natives are definitely in charge now, and although the in-fighting has been kept to a minimum, that is only because they have decided to pool their own resources on a full fledged attack on me.  I fear for my safety and my life, and I do not know when or if I will be able to write again.

Snow Day 12:  Abandon hope, all ye who enter here... 

Talking about feelings.

I've been having a problem with the Disqus commenting system that has prevented some of you from making comments on my blog over the last couple weeks.  Everything looks ok from my end and Disqus support assures me it's fixed, but if you're still having issues would you please tweet me @mjaj74 and let me know so I can try once again to figure it out?  Thanks in advance!

I've always been fascinated by language and how it's used and over the years I've read article after article that explains how women use more words every day than men - some studies suggest that it's thousands more.  I can't say for certain that this is true in every single instance, but I can tell you that from my experience that when I ask my husband a question he usually uses as few words as possible to get his point across, while I might go off on a tangent about something else entirely, or I might start randomly waxing poetic about a situation that happened six years ago.

My boys - especially Zachary - are for the most part just like my husband in this.  Sometimes my conversations with Zachary go like this:  "How was school today?"  "Fine."  "Just fine?  Nothing exciting?  Nothing bad? Nothing new?"  "Same as always, Mama."

These kinds of conversations tell me a couple different things.  1) I need to ask better questions and 2) Zachary is a person for whom a few words will usually suffice.

And that's totally fine.  

Except for the times when it's not.

At some point in their lives, my boys are going to need to express their feelings, their innermost thoughts, their emotions, and it's my responsibility to teach them the language that's necessary to do that. 

It's really a two parter.  Then need to know the right words to express how they're feeling, and maybe more importantly, they need to know that it's ok to use those words to convey their emotions and feeling to others.

We live in a society that prizes "strong and silent types."  We live in a society that teaches people - but boys especially - to "suck it up" and to "act like a man" and to "never let them see you sweat."

But that's not what I want for my boys.  

Imagine the frustration that you would feel if you have a certain emotion and the need to share it but the words that describe it have never been made a part of your vocabulary, or worse yet, that you were taught to believe those feelings weren't necessarily meant for you.

How would you react?  How would you feel?

Anyone who has spent more than a minute around a toddler has seen this play out.  The feelings are there but the vocabulary and maturity to express those feelings aren't developed enough to correspond, so there are inevitable tantrums.  Crying.  Hitting.  Acting out.  It's frustrating for everyone.

If boys and men really do use thousands fewer words per day, then it's my responsibility to try to teach my boys the right ones.  I want them to know the exact words necessary to express everything from angst to irritation to boredom to anger to joy to elation to bliss and back again.  And more importantly, I need them to understand that it's ok to let people know that they're feeling that way.  

The privilege and the responsibility of this fall squarely on me.  

I have no clue what I'm doing, by the way.

I have always been conscious to speak to them using vocabulary that I want them to know.  I use words like "sympathetic" and "receptive" and "optimistic" and "courageous" and "determined" and "discouraged" and "embarrassed" and "resentful" and a million more every day.  I look for opportunities to ask questions about how they feel about certain things.  Sometimes it's sparked by a real life event, sometimes by a movie or a book, but I'm always on the lookout for an opportunity, then I help them work through the words in their repertoire until we find the right one to describe their feelings about it.  Then after we find the words, we can better discuss those feelings.  It's something.  But it never feels like enough. 

It's just one little thing out of a million and one little things that I'm responsible for teaching them.  When I try to think of all the things they need to know to go live and be happy and healthy and productive boys, then eventually men, it seems so overwhelming that it's almost insurmountable.

But I keep trying.    

And by sitting here, typing my own feelings out in a sometimes nearly incoherent string of thoughts and feelings, it helps me feel just a little more prepared and a little more capable of taking it on.

It still never feels like enough.

But I keep trying anyway.

Teaching my kids to receive gifts graciously.

Once fateful Christmas day when he was not quite three, Zack tore open a Christmas gift from some relative or another and immediately blurted "BUT I ALREADY HAVE THIS! Is there anything else for me?"  

I shushed and covered and all that, but the damage was done, and for someone like Zack who is really, truly, painfully honest, he couldn't understand what he did wrong.  He DID already have it, and why shouldn't he be able to say that out loud?

Since then, I've made a point to talk to my kids often about what it is or isn't ok to say when receiving gifts, and we have a crash refresher course before every gift giving holiday like Christmas and birthdays.

Has it been 100% effective?  Of course not.  Like most of parenting it's totally trial and error as to what will stick and what will wash away like the crumbs of yesterday's chocolate pie, but I've talked to my kids about this SO much that I feel like we are worlds ahead of where we used to be.

I let my kids be in on the selecting and giving of gifts for others.
My kids get to pick out (with minimal interference from me) gifts for each other, gifts for their dad, gifts for their friends and extended family.  Sometimes they hit it completely out of the park, and sometimes they pick out orange body glitter for their middle aged aunts (true story), but by going through the process of selecting and giving gifts for others, they learn empathy for what the gift giver goes through for them.  Both my boys LOVE giving gifts and I love hearing them talk about how much so-and-so loved the whatever-it-was that they chose.  It's a subtle lesson for the art of graciously receiving gifts, but an important one, I think.

I teach my kids to always look the giver in the eye and say "thank you."
This seems like a no-brainer, but I continue to be amazed at the number of times people - even adults - don't extend this simplest courtesy.  I have probably prompted my kids a million times, "What do you say?" when they are given anything from an elaborate gift to a drink of water, but I'm happy to say that it's finally starting to stick and I have to prompt them less and less often now.  A simple "thank you" really does go a long, long way.

I tell my kids to pick one nice thing they notice about a gift and to comment on it.
If Aunt Margaret hands them a horrid lumpy sweater, they can comment on how warm it looks.  If Uncle Jim-Bob gives them a well used shirt six sizes too large, they can talk about how blue is their favorite color.  What I try to teach my kids is that if someone takes the time to choose something for them, then that means care and time and effort went into it.  I don't want my kids to lie.  I absolutely don't want them to gush about how much they love something if they really don't.  But... there are positive qualities to everything, and it's a good life skill to be able to see those things and call them out.

I teach them not to comment about negative things.
This is another one that might seem like a no-brainer, but when you're dealing with ridiculously outspoken and honest kids like mine, it's worth talking to them about it (repeatedly).  If they hate it, if it won't fit, if they already have it... these are things the gift giver doesn't necessarily need to know.  Now it's a totally different story if the giver asks specifically "Do you have that already?" or some such, but what I try to convey to them is if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.

I'm trying - every day - every single day - to teach them there is more to any holiday than receiving mountains of stuff.
My kids have so much - TOO much - and they will get mountains more.  But when I talk to them about holidays, I stress the other parts - getting together with family, giving to people less fortunate than us, enjoying time together doing fun things.  Christmas is about so much more than THINGS, and I don't want that to get overlooked in the mad rush that Christmas has become.

Good manners are important to me, and being able to graciously receive gifts from others is becoming a lost art form.  I cringe a little when I see people - children and adults - who are unable to utter even a simple "thank you" when they are given something.   I want to ensure my boys grow up knowing that these little niceties are not just important, they are necessary.  I have prompted them a million times to say "thank you" and I'm sure that before they are adults I will do it a million more, but the more they say it, the more it become a habit, and that's just the kind of habit that I want to help them build.

What do you do to help your kids receive gifts graciously? 

On friendships.

I don't make friends easily.

A healthy dose of skepticism and general distrust of strangers combined with an extremely introverted personality and an unapproachable demeanor make me really, really hard to get to know.

People have to really work hard to be my friend.  

Having said that, I think I'm totally worth it.  Once I'm in your corner and I'm convinced you are in mine, I will go to the ends of the earth and back for you, and then go there again just to make sure.   Most of the people I consider friends have been in my life for years - decades even - and as such, I'm fairly out of practice in the art of making new friends or getting used to new people in my life.

Now that Zachary is getting older, he is starting to form real bonds and friendships with people, and I'm so clueless about it that I don't know how to help him along. 

When he was a toddler and then a preschooler, I was totally in charge of choosing his friends, therefore, his friends were ALWAYS the children, neighbors, cousins, grandchildren and friends of MY friends, and of course they were all kids I liked.

When he started kindergarten, any time I was around his class for volunteer duty I was so pleased to see that the kids - for the most part - all played together without grouping off much.  Or if they did group off, it was really fluid with people coming and going whenever they felt like it and it was all fine and good with everyone else.

Now he's nearly eight, though, and things are starting to change.

He's a loving, open kid, and he just wants to play his games and ride his bike and have fun.  And he really likes to be around other people ALL. THE. TIME, which is a huge drain on me and my limited social resources.  I really love that he seems so open to all different kinds of people and situations, but for the first time, he is developing actual friendships with other kids who have similar interests to him.  Some of these kids are people I know and love and welcome into my house and my son's life, and some... are not.

 It's really difficult for me - control freak that I am - to step back and let him choose friends that I personally don't like.  And maybe it's wrong of me to so harshly judge these kids, but I do.  

I've had to have conversations with Zachary recently about how real friends always have each other's back, and about how real friends don't threaten to withdraw friendships when something doesn't go their way, and about how real friends would never use their words to hurt you.  He seems to understand and grasp these things, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to play with the kids (ok, it's really mostly ONE kid) who do them.  While I certainly do not allow the kid(s) to act this way when I'm around, the truth is I send Zachary away from me for the biggest part of the day and I have zero ability to access what he's doing during this time.

I didn't expect to be having meaningful conversations about friendships with my second grader. 

He's trying to learn how to navigate these tricky waters of forming bonds with others, and all I want to do is draw him back into me and protect him so he doesn't ever have to be in a position to get his feelings hurt.

He's learning how to make friends, and I'm so bad at it that I feel like I often do more harm than good when I try to help him along.  My instincts scream one thing, but my more rational brain tells me to leave it alone.  He has to be allowed to choose his own friends and I may have to just suck it up and deal with it, even if I'm not thrilled with all his choices.

What do you do when your kids choose friends that you don't like? 

My kid got kicked in the face, and I'm so proud.

Starting Zachary in tae kwon do remains one of my favorite parenting decisions of all time.  I was really on the fence about enrolling him in random things in which he might have no real interest, but he has found a real passion for it and I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out to be a life-long thing for him.  

In the year and a half that he's been doing it, he has come so, so far.  Not just physically, although his coordination has improved dramatically, but mentally and emotionally, too.  There is a huge emphasis in tae kwon do on focus, discipline, respect, self control and indomitable spirit.  His instructor is the absolute BEST and spends the entire class teaching these basic principles to a couple dozen little kids, and it's really amazing to watch it get through to them.  

A couple weeks back, the class was sparring.  What that means is that the kids are matched up with another kid of similar rank, size and age, and they kick and punch at each other in a mock fight.  Even though tae kwon do is mainly a defensive practice, sparring teaches reactions to your opponents, how to sidestep an attack, and of course, how to counter attack.

It was a small class that day and Zack, at age seven and so very, very short, ended up paired with a much older, much taller kid.  No big deal.  It happens sometimes, and after all, they wear protective gear, plus he has sparred hundreds of times before.

He was doing ok, holding his own even though the other kid was much bigger, but then a kick went wrong and the other kid (TOTALLY by accident, to be clear) kicked Zack in the part of the face where there was no protective gear.  Hard.  Really, really hard.  

I heard it more than I saw it, but from the sound of the gasp that went up from the other parents watching - most of whom could see better than I could, it was bad.  

Every single piece of my being wanted to jump up and run out to check on him, but by gripping the edge of my seat, knuckles white, teeth gritted, I managed to stay where I was.  

His instructor ran to check on him, and I watched Zack shake his head, completely dazed.  It was a pretty hard kick.  Even from across the room I could see a big red mark on his cheek.  I couldn't hear what his instructor was saying to him, but after a moment, I could clearly hear Zachary answer "No sir. I'm ok.  I want to finish."  And with that, he took a deep breath, got back into position, and finished the match.  

There was no crying (except by me, later, when I was alone).

There was no whining.

There was no anger or lashing out at the other kid.

There was no fear that it might happen again.

He just... sucked it up, got himself together, and finished his match.

This is not the reaction he would have had a year ago.  Or six months ago.  Or maybe even a month ago.   He's always been a hot-headed, bull in a china shop kind of kid who only knows extremes when it comes to feelings, and to sit back as only a spectator and to watch him be able to grab ahold of his feelings like that was nothing short of a miracle.   

My kid got kicked in the face.  And I'm so, so proud.

Oh, nuts.

The other day Cooper was running around doing this and that while I was busy in the kitchen eating Nutella out of the jar cooking dinner. 

I heard a loud CRASH! followed by a BOOM! followed by a four year old's voice (MY four year old, to be perfectly clear) yell "OW!  My nuts!"

I decided on the spot that this was one of those pivotal parenting moments, the ones that probably change the course of a child's life and all that jazz, but this Nutella certainly wasn't going to eat itself, so I completely ignored him.

Then he yelled, quite loudly I might add, "MAMA!  I HURT MY NUTS!"

I guess there was no getting out of this one.

I sighed, licked the last bit of Nutella off my spoon, and as I was putting the lid back on the jar, I carefully started formulating my response and wondering how we had gotten here. I mean, really, where does the kid pick this stuff up?  He's FOUR.  He doesn't even go to school.  I seriously doubt he learned it at story time at the library.  

I promptly decided he had likely picked up that kind of language from his big brother, or possibly one of his big brother's friends, who come around quite a lot because the popsicles are good here and also because we have enough trees in our yard for everyone to hide behind during their rousing and uplifting games of Zombie Apocalypse.  (This is what they play.  It's apparently quite fun.  It's like tag, but with zombies and weapons.  Yes, my parenting skills are questionable at best.) 

"So Cooper," I began tentatively, "you hurt your... nuts?"

"YES! I HURT MY NUTS!"  he yelled.

"Oh, well.  Do you need an ice pack?" I asked.  It's not like I really wanted to check the situation out for myself if I could help it.  Plus he wasn't actively sobbing, so I figured it wasn't too bad.

"YES!" he yelled.  Apparently hurting one's nuts makes one quite loud.  "I need an ice pack for my nuts!"

So I trotted off to the freezer and grabbed the Incredible Hulk ice pack - desperate times call for HULK SMASH! measures here - which I handed to him.

He promptly took the ice pack and held it against his... head.

Justwalkawayjustwalkawayjustwalkaway.  Shit.  I can't walk away.

"Um, Cooper, I, um, thought you hurt your, um, nuts, not your head."  Seriously.  Mother of the year right here.

"Yeah," he responded, totally nonchalantly.  "My coconuts."  Then he reached up and rapped his knuckles on his head, complete with hollow "THUNK THUNK THUNK" sound effects.

Oh.  His COCOnuts.

Of course.

That's not exactly how I would use it in a sentence, but we value creativity here.

A little bit more thunking and a little bit more HULK SMASHING with the ice pack in tow led me to believe his nuts... um, coconuts weren't permanently damaged, so we went on with our day, coconuts firmly in place and ready to take on the world.


THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. 

A day in my life.

Mel at Adventuroo does an amazing series every year where she documents her life for an entire week, then blogs about it.  She invites other bloggers to join her, even if it's just for a day or a portion of a day.  It's a fabulous way to get a snapshot of what a day or week in someone's life looks like.  A couple years ago, I gave everyone a 15 minute snippet from my day, then decided to take mercy on everyone and stop.  This year I decided to play along for real.  I don't think I'll blog about the entire week, but I wanted to try at least one day, so I started with Monday.  Here's what my day looked like yesterday, from start to finish.

I roll out of bed 19 minutes before the alarm goes off and get dressed.  My alarm only goes off a couple times a year; I'm an early riser by nature.

After getting dressed, the first thing on the agenda is coffee! Then I do a little prep work for the boys' breakfast.

Whatever time I can carve out before the boys get up in the morning is usually my only blog reading/writing time for the day, except on Monday (more on that in a minute) and this morning I checked my Color Run post that I had scheduled to go up, plus caught up on most of my favorite blogs through Bloglovin'.

This one always wakes up happy as a clam.  I let him lay on the couch for a while watching cartoons while I get big brother up and going for the day.

"Zack, you need to hurry up and eat your breakfast.  Zack, hurry up and eat.  Zack, it's after 7, you need to eat.  OH FOR THE LOVE EAT YOUR BREAKFAST NOW!"

Finally ready for school and we are sitting in the car at the bus stop.  This is the first morning this year it's been cold enough to drive.

My bus stop view.  I love where I live and I will never get tired of looking at this tree.

R is off to work, Cooper is occupied with some Legos and action figures, so I hop on the treadmill for a quick (oops, I mean slow) 3.4 miles.

Shower over.  Hair looks amazing all wrapped up in my turbie thing.  (P.S. I'm really bad at bathroom selfies.  Obviously.)

First stop of the day is the public library.  Cooper has a Kindergarten prep class on Monday.  I get to drop him off in the classroom and have some time to myself in the library.  This has become one of our favorite times of the week.  He gets to learn stuff and play with other kids, and I get a little more time to write.  This week I worked on a blog post about marriage (HA HA!  Yes, I know!) that will go up on Thursday. 

Class is over, but he never wants to leave.  

Next stop is the grocery store. I usually shop for the week on Monday, right after Cooper's class.  There is a little Kroger near the library and it has become my favorite place to shop.  It was a quick trip this week.  I only needed bread, milk, fruit, some breakfast stuff, and beer.  Hey, beer's a staple.

Oh, and I gave in and bought a KitKat in the checkout line, which we split on the way home.  Obviously.

I will never understand why groceries do not put themselves away.  Also, I am OBSESSED with that Orange Shandy. 

Groceries are put away and Cooper is eating lunch, although he's not terribly hungry, due to the Kit Kat situation from earlier.  I eat my lunch standing up in the kitchen because...

I decided to bake some muffins, complete with Great Pumpkin muffin liners.  They're from a mix - banana chocolate chip for Zack and strawberry for Cooper.

Laundry time.  Typically, I do a load a day, about 5-6 days a week.  That way it doesn't pile up too much.  Zachary usually does his own laundry on Saturday (it's one of his allowance-earning chores), but we were gone all day this past Saturday, so I'm helping him catch up.  Also, that Thor hammer is one of the strangest things I've found in the laundry (this month).

Next, Cooper and I work on the dreaded task of switching summer clothes for winter, getting rid of things that no longer fit him, and going through the bins of Zachary's old things that I have put away.  The good news is, Cooper won't need any new winter clothes because I have plenty of Zacks' old things for him.  The bad news?

We have too much stuff.  A trip to Goodwill in definitely going to be in order for today.

We have just enough time for some stories and cuddles on the couch before it's time for...

Zachary to get home from school.  Today he is over the moon excited because he earned his AR reading necklace.  His school just started the AR program last week, and they are using a bead system for rewards for completing books.  This is right up his alley, and he sees it as one big competition.   Hmmm...  Wonder where he gets that?

Ready to head out again, this time to Zachary's Tae Kwon Do class.  Yes, that is my messy garage in the background.

But first, we drive right past the Goodwill, so I drop off five (FIVE!!!) bags of things there.  I love getting rid of things.  It's kind of like a sickness. 

Cooper and I sit and watch Zack's class - he's come SO, SO far.  

Then it's time to head home and start the evening rush.

The boys eat dinner, then

Zachary does his homework (he has to earn those AR beads!!!)

And meanwhile I'm in the kitchen prepping dinner for R and me to eat later.  R works until 8 most nights, so the boys eat separately, then I eat with R when he gets home.  It's an imperfect system, and we all look forward to the rare days we all get to sit down and eat together.  On the menu for tonight?  A variation of my shredded beef enchiladas. 

The boys are playing together for a minute, so I sneak off to the basement, where my sewing room is.  I'm helping a friend with her granddaughter's Bride of Frankenstein costume for Halloween.  I wish I had taken before pics...   Anyway, she's going to look awesome.

Bath and early(ish) bed time for Cooper tonight.  He's at a place where he really NEEDS a nap, but he usually doesn't take one, so by 7:30 or so it's super grump time here.  

I let Zachary play outside with the neighbor kids until pretty late tonight.  This isn't typical for a school night, but it's supposed to get really cold this week, so I'm afraid this will be his last chance to play outside for a while.

Both the kids are in bed and R is home from work.  He usually gets home in time to tuck them in.  That means Mama gets to drink dinner...  Oops, I mean 

eat dinner.  Yum.

R washes the pots and pans because a) I hate to and b) he's better at it.  I operate under the assumption that if if didn't come off when I tried to wipe it off, it probably won't come off on my food the next time I use it.  Anyway...  

Time to put my pjs on, get in bed and catch up on some DVR'd tv.  I predict I won't make it through one show tonight before falling asleep.  

Plus, I have to get some sleep, because tomorrow, I get to get up and do it all over again!

So there you have it - my entire yesterday!  That was fun (and harder than I thought it would be!)  I think I'm going to try to do at least one more day later in the week.  Thanks again to Mel at Adventuroo for the fabulous idea and link up!