Q: What Could Be Better...

...than Eric taking the kids to the park so I could stay home and nap?



A: Waking up from said nap with this picture on my phone.

It's impossible for me to look at it without laughing. It seems that one of my children had a better time than the other.

Eric, you are such a fun dad.

If We Don't Talk About It, It Isn't There

Ah, Minnesota. You're full of stoic, passive-aggressive Norwegians and I'm proud to say I'm one of them. I'm fourth-generation off the boat so it is less apparent in me. 90% of the time I'm straight forward but sometimes...

Last week our microwave started beeping. The beep was like a flutter and I couldn't get it to stop. I finally unplugged it. Later that night I plugged it back in to use it and I couldn't get it to work. It would turn on before I could enter a second number, so I was stuck reheating something for 90 seconds in 9-second increments. Eric tried his hand at it and got it going for a bit but it didn't seem to be heating up. I unplugged it again and warmed dinner in a saucepan.

We didn't speak through any of it. No mention of the cost of a new microwave. No worrying about having a new one installed. We simply pretended it wasn't happening. A few days later, it was still sitting there, dark. I am fourth generation, so I thought I'd bring it up. "Do you realize we haven't talked about the microwave?" I asked Eric.

We both laughed. "We're pretending it isn't happening!" I continued.

The best part of that is somehow one of us changed the subject and we didn't talk about it. The next night I pointed out that we still hadn't talked about it and again we shoved it back in our minds and didn't talk about it. Yesterday the microwave started working again.

My ancestors knew what they were doing.

Sony, How I Love Thee

I was 12 when the world really started moving from cassettes to CDs. I had my cassette player and was amazed by how awesome CDs were. You could skip directly to the song you wanted!

One Saturday morning my dad and I went to Best Buy. We started looking at the CD player/stereos. I ooohed and ahhed over them - some had remotes! I really loved a bookcase stereo that had separate speakers. I thought it was amazing. There was also one that was more like a boombox - one compact piece with a carrying handle (who put 23 D batteries in those things and carried them anywhere?).

My dad asked me which one I liked better and I said I liked both of them. He said, "If you were going to pick one to buy right now, which one would you pick?"

I started to get a little excited then, wondering if I was going to get one. It would have been unprecedented - a HUGE gift and no where near Christmas or my birthday. I really wanted the bookcase stereo, which was something like $99.99. The boombox was less, around $79.99. I didn't want to appear greedy so I said I'd pick the boombox.

Without another word, my dad reached to the bottom shelf and picked up a box containing the boombox. He started toward the registers as I screamed and ran to catch up, hardly able to contain my excitement. I can still see his back in my mind as I ran after him. I can see his black coat and the edges of the box showing on either side of him. It was a REALLY GOOD DAY, y'all.

The point of this story is that there is no way my dad and I could have imagined the life of that stereo when he bought it. I used it all through highschool and it went to college with me. It was my stereo in Colorado and the one I used to choose the song Eric and I wanted at our wedding. And right now, today, it is in Sam's room. Whenever he is in there playing he is listening to music. The last thing I do for him at bedtime is put in a CD and press play.

If you've done the math you've realized that my dad's $79.99 has been keeping me entertained for 18 years and it keeps on kicking. Every once in a while it won't play a CD or will take a moment to get going and I wonder if that is the day it finally quits working. But so far, so good. As I write this, Sam is listening to Disney's Hero Songs as he plays with his turtles.

Thanks, Dad.

Pipsqueaks

Oh, Rochester. I'm happier here than I ever thought I would be. If it only had a library (no, I don't consider that building downtown a library) and more than one play gym. To be fair, as far as indoor gyms go, Pipsqueaks IS a good one. About a month ago I invited Dusty and Charlie to join us for a morning playdate. Dusty is the type of mom who carries a camera with her and was snapping away the whole time.

Sam and Charlie having a meeting in their cars. Poor Sam is so big.

This is the top of the huge play structure. Sam is in the opening of the spiral slide. Charlie would not go down it and Matilda was just mad she had to wait.

You can't really tell here, but Matilda the Brute started pushing one car and picked others up on her way across the gym. By the end she was pushing a pile of 10 cars.

Matilda Speaks

Mom: Matilda, are you hungry?

Matilda: Glrph.

Mom: Do you want to eat?

Matilda: unintelligible screaming

Mom: Here, have a graham cracker.

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(Garage door opening)

Matilda: Da!! Dada! Dadadadada!!!

Mom: No, it's just me. Dad's not home yet.

Matilda: unintelligible screaming

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Matilda: Mama! Zim!

Mom: Sam's in his room.

Matilda: Glrph?

Mom: No, you don't need to go in there.

Matilda: unintelligible screaming

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Matilda: Ni-ni.

Mom: You want to go to bed?

Matilda: slaps Mom across the face

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Sam: Tidda, do you want to get up on the couch?

Matilda: No! Zim no!

Sam: Honey, do you need help?

Matilda (throwing herself on the ground): No!

Sam: Okay. (Gets up on the couch alone.)

Matilda (hitting Sam for not helping her up onto the couch): unintelligible screaming

Sam Speaks IV

Sam: Mom, I want to talk to Jesus.

Mom: You can talk to Jesus any time you want. What do you want to say to Him?

Sam: Thank you.

Mom: Thank you for what?

Sam: Thank you for dying for me.

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Sam: Mom, I remember you and Dad's wedding.

Mom: You remember that we are married? Or you remember the wedding?

Sam: I remember the wedding.

Mom: Sorry, dude. You weren't there. Neither was Matilda.

Sam: Why weren't we there?

Mom: Because we didn't have you yet. It was just me and Dad when we got married.

Sam: And then (dramatic pause)...GOD GAVE US TO YOU!!!

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Sam: Mom, why is your stomach big?

Mom (devastated): It's not big, honey. It just isn't flat any more. Remember how big it was when Matilda was in my belly? It just couldn't go from being that big to flat again.

Sam: Well, I think you should make it flat again.

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Sam, standing with his feet together and arms pressed down at his sides: Mom, look.

Mom: What?

Sam, now raising his eyebrows as high as they go and straining the tendons in his neck: Look...at...how...tall...I...am.

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Mom: Sam, why are you so nice?

Sam: I don't know. I think because I'm four.

GOOOOOOOOOAAAL

Sam had his first soccer lesson yesterday!

Matilda and I stayed home, as she was napping, and Eric and Sam headed out to Soccer World. Eric reported that Sam had a great time and really jumped right in. A few times Sam would just stop and watch, the observer that he is, but otherwise he was part of the action. Eric had a couple videos on his phone and I could hardly believe it when I saw them. The kids were running the ball up and down the field and Sam was right in there. He ran drills and practiced dribbling and shooting. He absolutely loved it.

Sam was, of course, the biggest kid in the class. Coach Kate asked if he was in kindergarten. He's big but we're not yet sure if he has the spirit or aggressiveness for sports. When the kids would get rough around him he'd mostly flinch and try to block himself. Maybe his confidence will increase when he starts to figure out that if he wanted to he could make each of those kids just a grease spot on the floor. Not that we WANT him to do that, of course, but the fact is there is a level of confidence and aggression needed to succeed in most sports.

There are just two more classes for us to attend. I called Soccer World all day yesterday, trying to get Sam into the next session, too, and never got in touch with anyone. I'm holding out the small hope that it isn't full so he can keep going with this.

We are so excited for Sam to be starting this part of his life!

He's Got High Hopes

"Mom," Sam said, "I want to tell you my dream."

"You had a dream last night?" I said.

"No," he said. "A dream like a wish."

"Like Martin Luther King, Jr?" I said.

"What?"

"Never mind. What is your dream, Sam?"

"My dream is that my turtles can sing."

I stifled a laugh. "What would you like them to sing?"

"Eye Of The Tiger," Sam answered wistfully.

Language Boom

Matilda is realllly starting to talk a lot. She still signs please, more, and eat and says thank you every four minutes. Two days ago Eric and Sam were playing with the turtles and Sam held one up.

"Is this a good guy or a bad guy?" he asked.

Matilda, who was watching over the back of the couch, was the one who answered. "Good guy," she said confidently.

She hasn't told me to go in a long time, which is lovely. She's simply telling me no, which is terrible.

Yesterday she said all done. Two nights ago she listed our family, which was both surprising and darling. I was in her room with her and she heard Sam and Eric yelling in the living room.

"Dada," she said.

"Yep," I answered.

"Zim," she continued.

I laughed. "Sam? Yes."

"Mama," she said.

"That's me," I said.

"Tidda," she concluded.

It was so cute! I can't wait to hear what she's going to say today.

Minding Our Manners

If I were forced to choose one trait more important than any other for my kids to have, it would be being exceedingly polite. There are very few character flaws that aren't at least softened by kind manners and gracious behavior. Eric and I use good manners 99% of the time so it seems to come easily to my kids. It's just habit. Somehow, though, both of them ended up getting things backward.

Back when Sam refused to talk for several years one of the few words he used was 'please.' He said it when he asked for something and he said it when something was given to him. I remember the Christmas before he turned two. As he opened his presents, each time the gift was revealed he'd cry, "Oh! Please!" He didn't say 'thank you' for one thing but I allowed it.

My children are opposite in every way. Matilda will only say 'thank you.' Whether she's reaching up to the snack cupboard or asking to get up on the couch, she asks over and over, "Tang too. Tang too? Tang too? Tang too?" I'd estimate that I say 'you're welcome' about 50,000 times a day.

Either way, I'm proud of their (oddly reversed) good manners.