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? 

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. 

He feels silly, oh so silly.

8 things you said to your kids this week that maybe other parents did not say to their kids.

1.  Zachary, why is your hair all... blue?

2.  So what you're telling me is that you had the ball of the blue silly putty in your hand, then you decided to lay down with your head propped on your hand but you neglected to put the silly putty down before that?  Is that what you're saying?  Really? 

3.  Seriously?  That's silly putty in your hair?  SERIOUSLY?!!?!?!

4.  Oh for the love go upstairs and get in the shower while I Google "what will get silly putty out of hair."

5.  Hey Zack, how would you feel about some WD-40 in your hair? I'm guessing it will burn.  It might eat some skin off too.

6.  Ok, fine.  No WD-40.  Let me see what else the internet has to say.

7.  Zack, we don't have any baby oil, which the internet says might work, but I have this really old foot massage oil.  Let's give this a try.

8.  Wow!  It actually worked! I'm sorry you smell like feet and old people, but at least your hair isn't blue anymore.

P.S. I could not make this stuff up if I tried.  And the really old foot massage oil did work like a charm.  

Thankful every day.

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? 

Dressed for success.

I've mentioned time and again that I'm not so much a fan of shopping for clothes, and that I'm certainly no fashionista.  I like jeans, t-shirts with superheroes on them, and my running shoes.  It's comfortable, practical, and that's that.

Zachary tends toward comfort over fashion, too, and his preferred outfit is nylon running pants, a stained white t-shirt and no footwear of any kind.  He also has a prolific selection of sleeveless shirts that he would like to wear all winter long.  My one and only ongoing battle with him is that I will not allow him to wear ripped up sweatpants to school, which apparently puts me in the "meanie" category.  

He also really prefers to wear things that are several sizes too large for him.  He says they are more comfortable, and honestly, the kid has a point.  

 And then, well, then there's Cooper.

Cooper likes to dress like this:

And like this:

And this:

Or like any of these:

And to be quite honest, I'm so baffled by this that I don't even know how to react most of the time when he insists on wearing a bow tie to go Krogering. 

I let him, by the way.  

Just the other day he asked me "Mama, do these shoes look better with this outfit, or should I wear my cowboy boots?"  

Now, I don't know much about fashion AT ALL, but I feel certain that cowboy boots win every single time.

I learn something every day parenting my kids, but I never really thought I would be in the position to need to know the latest fashion trends for a four year old.

Maybe soon enough he can give me some pointers. 

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.

He's becoming more.

I patted the couch beside me, and for once he came and sat down.

He is usually nothing but movement, always going, going, going, and feeling him sitting motionless beside me was disconcerting.  Even as a baby he was always on the go - crawling early, running before he walked.  So busy, so many things to do and see.

He leaned into me and we sat there, talking about everything and nothing for the longest time.  Inconsequential things, like something that happened at school and plans for the weekend, but for once neither of us felt the need to get up and DO something.  We are alike that way.  We both need to be moving or fidgeting or messing with something all the time, and neither of us likes to just sit.  To just be. Our minds are constantly going a million miles an hour, and our bodies struggle to keep up.

I felt the weight of him against me, sturdy and somehow so much more substantial than I remembered him being, and it gave me a sense of the young man he is growing into.  At nearly-eight-going-on-eighteen, he's in a weird place where things he loved just yesterday suddenly seem uncool, too "babyish" for today.  Toys are being replaced by video games.  Books read aloud are being replaced by harder, longer books that he reads to himself.  My influence on how he dresses or fixes his hair or spends his time is fading, slowly fading.  His need to spend hours regurgitating his day to me is nearly gone, and in many places and ways and things I've been replaced by his friends, who are a near constant influence in his life.

And I know this is the way it should be.

But with him sitting there next to me, still so much a boy, MY boy, it's hard to reconcile.  It's hard to reconcile that screaming baby, that defiant toddler, that active preschooler with this child who, sitting next to me on the couch, seems for all the world like someone he wasn't just yesterday.

He's outgrowing me.  Just a little.

And I feel equal parts awe and terror at the prospect.

Color Run, take 2.

Last year around this time I did a Color Run with some friends and I had a blast, so when I heard one was coming to my little old hometown, I jumped on the chance and signed Zachary and myself up for the low, low price of about a million dollars.

Ok, it wasn't really a million dollars.  But it was quite a lot.  Like grocery money for a week a lot.

After our "fits and starts" experience at our first family 5k, R opted out of this one and I left Cooper with my sister for the day, because there was NO WAY I was going to be willing to wrangle both of the kids by myself over the course of 3.11 miles.  NO. WAY.

We carefully planned our outfits, where by "carefully planned" I mean I ordered us these super cool socks WITH CAPES and it was determined that Zachary would be Batman and I would be Superman.  He always gets to be Batman.  It's really not fair.

And even though I'm still bitter about not getting to be Batman (AGAIN!!!) I will have to say our socks were quite a hit with dozens - DOZENS! - of people complimenting us.  So I was a little bit mollified.

Zack and I got there super early because I can't help it and also because I knew parking would be a bear (it was - I LOVE being right, don't you?) and we queued up and discussed our strategy (start out slowly, work up to more speed toward the end) then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And then we went and used the porta potties.  Then we lined up and waited.  And waited.  And finally we were off!

Although I had explained how things worked I don't thing Zack really got the full picture until we rounded a curve and saw the first color station (BLUE!!!) and he stopped dead in his tracks (nearly causing a massive pile of sweaty people to fall on us) and said, quite simply, "WOW!"  Then he took off for it like a bat out of hell and by the time I caught up with him he had run through, come back around and run through again, and was rolling around on the ground in it, making blue snow angels and giggling like a schoolgirl.  Getting good and dirty is a skill mainly reserved for seven year old boys, and he was in his element.

I finally convinced him that we had to move along (MORE COLORS! LET'S GO!) and we made our way through yellow, orange and pink (the pink people were particularly aggressive with their color squirt bottles, by the way) before heading to the finish line and of course to the after party.

This is my who knows what number 5k and Zachary's third, and it was one of my favorites so far.  The mood was festive, nearly everyone we encountered was in a good mood, I stopped a dozen times along the course to offer to take pics for groups of people, and I have no clue how long it took us to run the whole race because it wasn't timed, and for once, I didn't really care.

We went to have fun, and we accomplished that.  In spades.

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Introverted parents, extroverted kids.

I'm an introvert's introvert.

Sometimes I think my introversion might go just a TAD past the normal realm and fall into the "social anxiety" category, but that's probably a conversation to have with my therapist.  Oh wait.  I don't have a therapist since  she dumped me because I'm apparently so "stable."   Whatever...   Anyway, what being an introvert looks like for me is that I like being alone, groups of people and unfamiliar situations make me anxious, I recharge my internal batteries by having time to myself, talking to people, although often fun and meaningful to me is EXHAUSTING, and I sometimes seem aloof and unfriendly, when really I'm just awkward and bad at small talk.

I've always been this way, I assume I always will be this way, and it never really occurred to me that I would need to change for anything or anyone.  My hubby, though definitely an extrovert himself, totally gets me and takes constant steps to make sure my introverted nature is protected.

But then I had kids.

And along with all the other things nobody tells you about having kids, like how your bathroom will never be truly clean again or how a trip to the grocery alone will seem like a vacation, nobody ever, ever, ever tells you just how... social raising kids is.  Especially when one of your kids is a complete, total, unmitigated, extrovert.

Although the jury's still out on Cooper, Zachary thrives in the company of others.  He's not particularly picky about who or when or where.  He just NEEDS interaction.  And y'all?  It's HARD on this Mama, who would prefer a root canal to awkward small talk any day of the week and twice on Tuesdays.

But we're figuring it out.  And by "we" I definitely mean that Zachary, at seven-going-on-seventeen, is old enough and empathetic enough to understand that people are different and that they need different things to be happy.  It's been trial and error - more error on my part, probably, but we have come up with a few things that work for us.

Suck it up, sister (or brother, as the case may be).  Truth: You'd probably just rather not hang out with strangers at a play date or the park while your kids run wild, chatting up every person in the place.  You'd probably rather not host a baker's dozen of rowdy, loud, smelly, kids for a birthday party.  You'd probably rather  not navigate all the phone calls and texts and emails that are required to get small children together since the little critters just can't drive themselves yet.  Or text.  Or email.  Truth: Sometimes you're just going to have to do it anyway.  In as much as you need your time alone to recharge, your little extrovert NEEDS interaction to feel good.  Sometimes, you have to take one for the team.  But having said that, remember...


It's ok to know your limits, and to honor them.  Like I said before, Zachary is old enough and smart enough to know that I don't dig crowds and being constantly on the go and such the same way he does.  I try to keep a pretty open communication going with him about what's good for all of us, and I don't hesitate to let him know that I need a break from him (and from constant interaction) sometimes.  I might say to him, "we were busy all day yesterday so today I'd like to have a quieter day, ok?" or "since your friends were here yesterday we won't do any visiting today,"  or even "yes, we can go to this event/party/whatever but we will only be able to stay two hours."   We're a family; compromise isn't just a good idea, it's a necessity.


It's important that you teach your extroverted children to spend time alone.  But... and it's a big but, it's also imperative that you realize that your idea of alone time isn't going to be the same as his.  For me, the perfect alone time is spent in absolute solitary silence.  For Zack, alone time might be spent crashing around his room pretending to save the word or running outside sword fighting with trees.  It's really hard for me to not want to impose my ideals on him about what his alone time should look like, but it's something that he needs to figure out for himself.  He has to be comfortable with himself and by himself and it's not up to me to decide what that should be like for him.


Find a happy place or activity that your whole family can get totally behind. Recently the boys and I discovered a local nature preserve that has miles and miles of trails and streams.  We have been going nearly every weekend, because it appeals to their need to explore as well as my need to be outside among trees and green things and sunshine.  While we were exploring recently, I realized that as invigorating as it was for them, it was nothing more than peaceful for me.  We were having exactly the same experience but we were all getting really different things out of it.  The important thing though?  It appealed to us all on an equal (although very different) level.  Find something like that for your family, too, and use it as your fallback for days when activity is a must for your kids but high levels of interaction are not on your agenda.  Your happy place might be something outside like this or it might be something totally different, but figure out what it is.


Since I first realized that there were huge differences in how Zachary and I thrive, I've been able to help him put words to how he's feeling.  Now I don't get the "MAMA! I'M SO BORED!" very often.  Now it's more like "Hey, Mama.  Do we have anything planned for today?" which makes it much easier for me to figure out if it really is just some boredom on his part (which I'm totally ok with, by the way.  I think kids need a chance to get bored sometimes) or if his inner extrovert needs a little care and attention.  Either way, these things have helped me.

Are you an introvert raising an extroverted kid?  How do you deal with it?  

Learning new things with gusto.

Talk about something your child learned this week.

So the other day, I've just sent my kids out to play and I'm just getting ready to sit down with my Entertainment Weekly magazine, which is my guilty weekly pleasure, when I hear the doorbell.

DING-DONG.

I ignored it for a minute, thinking surely it must be one of my kids wanting a drink of water or a popsicle or a bandaid or for me to rescue a kite out of the kite-eating tree.  Usually if I don't answer right away, they wander off to do something else, but then it rang again, more insistently this time.

DDDIIINNNNGGGG-DDDOOONNNGGG.

I answered the door, and it was one of the neighborhood kids.

"Miss Jo," the kid says, (which is not my name at all but is MUCH closer than the "Hey" or "Hey, Zachary's mom" than I usually get) "Miss Jo, Zachary said a bad word.  A dirty word.  Ya know, a cuss word."

Well shit.  Where would he have learned THAT?

I thanked the kid for letting me know and then called Zachary inside where I said all the appropriate things to him including "Mama doesn't always set the best example about this, you know, but how about we both try harder since we both know better, ok?"

Then I sent him along to play and poured myself a small glass of wine even though it was the middle of the day, because this parenting business, it's HARD and sometimes you just need to shout a profanity or have a drink but then you're a "bad example" or whatever and how are these children ever going to grow up and lead normal happy productive lives with me at the helm?  HOW???

Whew.  Calm down mj.  Calm. Down.

And on the complete other end of the spectrum, the very next day I dropped Cooper off for his Kindergarden 101 class at the local library.  When I picked him up, I said, "So, what did you learn today?" and I totally expected it to be something like the letter B or the color blue something about dinosaurs but instead he said "I learned the months of the year."

Oh really?  Really kid?  You can't remember to ever flush the toilet EVER even though I tell you to every day - EVERY DAY -  but I leave you alone with a stranger for about a minute and suddenly you know all the months of the year?

"Oh yeah?" I said to him.  "Prove it."

So he did.

And that's the story of what my kids learned this week.  One learned to cuss and one learned all the months of the year.  Sadly, I can only take credit for one of those accomplishments.


Did your kids learn anything new this week?

Apple, meet tree.

Apple doesn't fall far from the tree...how is your child just like you?

This boy, he is EXACTLY like me.

He's funny and impatient and sarcastic and has the long suffering sigh thing down pat.  He's smart and stubborn and short-tempered and a brilliant reader.  His tolerance for pain is legendary.  He will forgo dessert in exchange for bread or potatoes every time.  He hates it - HATES IT - when someone messes in his domain.  He's completely territorial about what's his.  He loves what he loves fiercely and completely, and once his mind is made up, it's a done deal.  He looks like me.  He talks like me.  He's built like me, in a way I like to call "sturdy" but that can easily translate into "robust" if we aren't careful.  See: bread and potatoes.  He has my blue eyes and my thick, coarse, unruly hair that will probably gray early but will never, ever thin, and he has a love of the underdog and a penchant for collecting strays - people especially.   He thinks people, all kinds of people, are interesting.  Oh, and he completely geeks out about things he is interested in to the point of obsession, and he cannot tell a lie to save his life.  

This boy, he is NOTHING like me.  

He is confident and self assured in ways I'll never understand or know.  He has no fear.  No fear of things or people or situations.  He's loud and rambunctious and needs to be constantly on the go and around other people to be truly happy.  He judges no one.  Ever.  About anything.  He is accepting of others' idiosyncrasies as completely as he expects that others will welcome his.  He is always looking for the next adventure, and he is always up for anything and everything that someone suggests to him.  He's never met a bit of seafood that he didn't like.  He gives out his love and hugs and kisses so completely that sometimes it feels more like an attack than a kindness. He holds nothing back, and every emotion he has ever experienced has been written so clearly across his face it might as well have been tattooed there.  Sometimes I look at him and he's just so completely foreign to me that I can't even imagine I gave him life, and that half of his DNA came from me.  He's just so different from me.

But then he will give me a certain look, or a particular remark, or I see a gesture that is so clearly ME that it takes my breath away, because it's just like looking in a mirror, except without all the false trappings that looking at a mirror at yourself can bring, like preconceived notions and expectations about what should be staring back at you.  

And it's then that I know that we are the same, this boy and I, because the parts of him that I don't really understand are just the parts of me that used to be missing.

10 things to smile about.

This week, Mama Kat told me to write: 

10 Things to Smile About (inspired by Things I Can't Say)

1.  This boy.  THIS BOY just studied for, tested for and will receive (tonight!) his blue belt in Tae Kwon Do.  That means he's only four steps away from the black belt.  Seriously.  Putting him in Tae Kwon Do classes has been one of the best decisions R and I have made for Zachary.  It's increased his confidence, his ability to concentrate, his balance and coordination, and his understanding of respect and rank and honor by about a million.


2.  I secured Cooper a spot in our local library's Kindergarten 101 class, which starts in September.  It's not the three day a week preschool I wanted for him, but I was thrilled to find this for him (and me).  It will do him a world of good, I think.  And it's free!  I love free!

3.  Zachary started second grade last week.  SECOND GRADE.  This one is definitely a double edged sword, because I'm thrilled for him and he's thrilled to be there, but I can't believe how quickly the years are passing.

4.  Speaking of Zachary starting second grade, on the morning of the first day when he was telling Cooper goodbye, I overheard him say "Cooper I know you'll miss me today.  I'll miss you too, but it's ok with me if you want to play in my room today while I'm at school, so you maybe won't miss me so much."  These little unscripted, unplanned moments when I see how much they love each other and are willing to take care of each other melt my heart.  Big time.

5.  I finally broke down and signed Zachary and myself up for The Color Run that's happening close to me.  After the Lunar 5k debacle I wasn't sure I would do it, but R and Cooper will be sitting this one out, so Zachary and I can focus on having a great run together.  This will be Zachary's third 5k, and if it goes well, I just might look for another local race or two for us in the fall.

6.  R and I got a long-overdue date night recently thanks to my sister, who took the kids OVERNIGHT.  That is an unprecedented amount of time that I have been away from them, and R and I celebrated by eating Indian food, then coming home and going to sleep at about 9pm.  We're not really the partiers we once were...

7.  My friend Natalie is in the process of starting her own fresh juice business.  It's called Zest! Juice for life, and you can check out their website atzestjuiceforlife.com or their Facebook page here.  I am so proud of her for going after what she wants!  

8.  Thanks to an overabundant tomato crop from my sister's garden, I learned how to can tomatoes this year.  I was intimidated by all the steps in the process, but it turned out to be super easy, and all my jars sealed properly.  It made me feel totally capable and pioneer-ish.

9.  I feel like I'm finally getting back into the swing of running regularly after a fairly miserable and inconsistent showing this summer.  At 640 miles +/- so far, I'm still on the right track to make my goal of 1,000 for the year.  It's all downhill from here!

10.  It's your turn!  Tell me something good in the comments to make me smile.  Even if you just normally lurk without commenting (I know you're there!!!), you're up!  I can always use something else to make me happy.

Dirty pictures.

Zachary's taste in music is NOT the same as mine.

I've tried to teach him the ways of Willie and Conway, Loretta and Dolly, Garth Brooks and Keith Whitley, and he usually listens politely for a minute or two before saying, "But don't you have anything, you know, with some BOOM BOOM in it?"

Why are people always hating on my music? 

Anyway, over the last couple of years, R and I have both downloaded music for Zachary from time to time, and sometime last year he became completely obsessed with a song called "Dynamite" by an artist named Taio Cruz.  

Both the song and the artist were a complete mystery to me, so I enlisted R's help, and he downloaded the entire album for Zachary.  Zack played the song at full volume over and over and over for months.  He finally (thankfully!) got tired of it, and I completely forgot it ever existed.

It remained an unplayed album on an entire playlist of albums until just the other day, when it came to my attention that he was signing along with a really catchy tune called "Take a Dirty Picture For Me."

So here's my kid, just hanging out, playing Pokemon cards, singing dirty songs. 

WHA?!?!?!

WHO GAVE MY KID THIS MUSIC?!?!?!

THIS IS TERRIBLE!!!  UNACCEPTABLE!!!! WHENEVER I FIND OUT WHERE THIS DIRTY SONG CAME FROM HEADS WILL ROLL!!!  I WILL HAVE BLOOD FOR THIS I WILL... oh wait.  I did it.  It's totally my fault.

Well then.

After I realized it was a song on the album I had R download for Zachary last year, I calmed down just a bit.  And I vowed to maybe check things out a little better before giving my seven year old unrestricted access to them.

I had a quick (but hopefully meaningful and memorable) conversation with Zachary about how not every song is a song you'd want to sing, say, to a friend at school, determined he just thought it was a catchy tune and he had no clue what it meant, then I let it go.

It's not the worst thing he'll ever hear, I'm sure, because HE LIVES IN THE WORLD, and the world is full junk, not all of which is rainbows and kittens, and I'm glad it gave me a small lead-in to talk to him about some important stuff.

And I will pay closer attention to what he has access to, but truth be told, I'm not going to automatically say no to music with marginal lyrics.  That to me, just like a million other things, is just a teaching moment.  

And I'm the teacher.

Albeit an inattentive one at times.