Leap Year

This has been a bunk Leap Year Day…

I didn’t do anything extraordinary to mark it and I feel like I should have. Jack and I met Robby for lunch (coney island hotdogs/grilled cheese if you’re interested) and stopped off at the printer’s to drop off some info… we played trains and blocks and Lucky Ducks… but nothing too off from an ordinary day.

I feel like we should have done some leaping.

Bathroom Graffitti

People write on my bathroom walls. Friends, family– they all leave their mark and we love it.

Last spring the little watercloset on the first floor was our big project. Robby ripped out the carpet (ick) and tiled the floor while my Momma rewallpapered the walls from the chair rail up. And that left the bottom of the walls to me– I covered them in chalk board paint (4 coats worth) and repainted the trim and fixtures… and Voila! The most fun bathroom in town.

We’ve had different themes that people contribute to– Five Places I Want to Visit That I’ve Never Been Before, Three Favorite Television Shows of All Time… My friend Scott used to have a running series of lists that we’d inflict on our old writer’s group. Now the lists are on my bathroom walls.

Today the walls still read of a New Year and Good Intentions: In 2008 I will…

Use the Potty- Jack
Improve more in ballet- Maddie
Write a book- Wally
Like Um not say Like um… Keegan & JoJo
Do the autoharp solo on Wildwood Flower- Terri
Make my room beautiful- Keegan
Run a 5K or maybe a 10 K- Susan
Laugh often, Love better- Trish
Go to Ireland- Us

May we all manage to live up to our chalk intentions.

Let it Faux Snow

I really love winter– the snow particularly… but Jack and I haven’t been out in it as much as I imagined. Turns out, when you are only waist high it doesn’t take that much snow or time before you are soaked all the way through.

But Jack loves the snow. When we’re out in it he loves to scoop snow and throw it in my general direction. It makes him hysterical. On the days that we don’t go out he’s taken to having imaginary snow fights with me. We elaborately pantomime making snow balls that we then “throw” at each other. It doesn’t take much to entertain us.

My Momma came up with the best solution, however. Tonight she sat with Jack while Robby and I went to a meeting at church. He greeted us at the door with a handful of cotton ball snow balls. We were pelted then returned the favor. It was a hoot. I’ve added cotton balls to my shopping list. (Neither Robby nor I wear make up so why the blazes would I keep large quantities of cotton balls in my house?)

Momma’s cotton balls, by the way, are cotton candy pink. It’s a faux snow ball fight as Dr. Seuss and Hello Kitty would have it.

We’ll add it to our “toy” angels on the living room floor repertoire. (Spend a day with a three year old, Mr. Potato Head’s many parts, a half dozen Matchbox cars, Thomas and his 87 friends, a dominos set, blocks, and assorted little toys and you’ll understand what I mean.)

Pre-School Shopping

We’re in the middle of one of the big Parenting Milestones around here. Apparently, March isn’t just Women’s History Month but also the month of open registrations for our area pre-schools.

Jack will be 4 years old in the autumn. We aren’t able to really grasp that yet. It seems completely impossible that our tiny baby will have the wherewithall to shoulder a little backpack and make a friend over a coloring sheet.

Robby and I have been visiting pre-schools on Robby’s lunch hour. We’ve hit three so far– popping in and standing awkwardly tall and out of place while we try to stay out of the way. All three have been nice places. We can imagine Jack at each of them. The differences are somewhat subtle for the most part and have more to do with tuition fees and locations then philosophy or pedagogy. So far all have had friendly teachers, bright colored materials, “large motor” rooms, tiny chairs…

It’s overwhelming. And it’s strange to make a decision for September in February. Jack’s been with us long enough for us to know that six months is a long time– he’ll be a different little boy with more skills and words. When he was born choosing a preschool seemed a thousand years away. And now, already, it’s looming over us.

We’re getting good advice from our family and coworkers and my stack of Mommy magazines… Our friend Melle has given us one of the best tips– “Look, what it comes down to is this– find a teacher that will love Jack and go with your gut. The rest of it doesn’t matter.”

I met Melle, by the way, in preschool. In the end I hope that Jack, too, might find a life-long friend so early on.

Meet George Jetson

Well we’ve done it. We’ve entered the 21st century and ended our relationship with dial-up. Now we’re all lickity split fast and zippy.

And it’s a little like living your entire life on a quiet, little street and then being dropped off by the side of a turnpike.

There is an annoyance factor, too, on having to change our email address. I’ve prided myself on not being one of those annoying people that switch email accounts every other day. We’ve held on to our’s for over a decade.

Part of our technological advancement includes a new laptop (her name is Phyllis, she’s a redhaired spitfire) and strange, blinky boxes that connect our TiVos to each other and eventually to the desktop. Oh. And we’re wireless. Robby’s taking great pleasure in that– he stands behind the laptop and waves his hands and says gleefully, “Look! No wires!”

I’ll try to blog more often.

When I’m not hanging ten on some waves in the surf…

Inch by inch

We ate lunch with my sister, Jack’s AunT, today and she commented on how much he’s changed lately. His sentences are longer and more complex… For instance, he excitedly told her, “I bounce on the trampoline today!” A week ago that same thought would have more likely come out as “I go bounce today!”

He’s taller, too. Sometime in those cold weeks of January he sprouted up so that his legs are longer, his face a little thinner, his body a little bit more coordinated. On the trampoline at gymnastics today he was able to do his “Out! In! Out!”s with some degree of success. You try doing jumping jacks with your bottom half on a tramp… it’s not so easy.

He sits at the table like we do now– albeit a lot shorter– but without the safety net of a booster seat or high chair. He doesn’t like a sippy cup at the table– he’d prefer a small glass. He’ll wipe his hands and face with his napkin if reminded. And last night we three played a game of Lucky Ducks (highly reccommend it by the way) that proved he can take turns and “get” the concept of each of us having a different color to play for.

His newest little joke to play on us is to hide. His understanding of hiding is a bit off– he’ll yell, “I’m hiding!” so that we know he is… and really, his great joy is in knowing we are looking for him. He “hides” out in the open, by the way.

He’s not quite ready for a suit and tie– he’s still a baby in many ways even beyond his refusal to use the potty. He’s perfectly three. This morning he and I snuggled up in “Mommy’s bed” (I’m not exactly sure where he thinks Robby sleeps…) and I noticed that he fits differently against my body than he used to. What takes the sting out of his babyhood evaporating is the earnest little way in which he’ll say, “Oh! I luf you Mommy!” and that I like the little boy he’s becoming.

I’ll raise you two Jacks

Jack Frost is a pig.

He’s far past the point of politely nipping at our noses and moved into treating us like an all night buffet after a bulimic purge.

We’ve been inside all day– mostly on the couch because it’s off the drafty floor and we can nest into a pile of blankets and cushions. We’re both sweatered and wool socked. (Dressing Jack this morning, he turned to me and protested, “No Mommy! I no want play in the snow!” and I had to explain that his little fleece lined pants were okay for inside, too.)

We ate toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch (well, I did anyway) and snuggled under the blankets for naptime without complaint.

Maybe we’ll pull the blankets over our heads till that greedy Jack Frost moves on East.

How do you want your change?

Where I work there’s an anxious air about the place. Our boss is retiring in a few weeks and while it is a fact we’ve known for a few months it’s different now that it’s becoming a reality.

Change is coming. Big changes. Some, I’m sure will be wonderful– exactly what is needed and appropriate… some of it will be terrifying but still good– the kind that makes us grow and stretch and realize goals we are perhaps afraid to dream… and some will be mistakes– errors in judgement that we see immediately or only with hindsight but wrong moves. And all change is a little disconcerting. Even the good changes are an adjustment.

So we’re in limbo where I work. Waiting for the Search Committee to end their search and name a successor. After this limbo and the brief relief of knowing at least a name for the Unknown we’ll enter that weird phase of meeting and greeting. The new boss will have to assess each of us and what we do and more changes because it is inevitable that some people will leave (on their own or not) and others will arrive to fill shoes or show off new ones…

We’ll mourn aspects of the boss that is leaving now– we’ll miss parts of her personality or manner of doing things and other things about her that we perhaps now take for granted. We’re all comfortable now and when we’re uncomfortable we’ll miss this routine or that expectation. We’ll mourn the unit we are now, too, because a new boss will shift old office politics. There will be new Golden Boys and new pets and alliances will shape-shift so that each individual feels as though they are still needed and wanted and useful. We won’t be, in a matter of weeks, who we are now.

Recently, one of the newer hires admitted that she is anxious sometimes about her abilities and that her confidence is sometimes shakey. A coworker and I assured her that really, our little work world is a good one to be in– for the most part we won’t ever let any single individual fail in that the product they produce is too important to the big picture. She has, we told her, several ears to bend or shoulders to lean on should she falter or feel inept. Of course, she may not believe us– she hasn’t weathered there as we have or managed to navigate the many little dramas and triumphs.

We’ll see what happens. And hope for the best outcomes.

Mentholated and random thoughts

A bad cold knocked us all out here for a couple of weeks. Rattling coughs, raspy voices, phlegmy throats, aching bones…. the whole gamut.

Now that we’re back among the living, a few random observations.

1. Sledding is entirely underrated. It should be mandatory. Too many adults spend too little time enjoying the delightful thrills of sliding down a hill. We took Jack “sliding” (his term) this weekend at a little hill nearby. It was the perfect sized hill for a first sledding outing– enough of a dip to really get you going but not so steep or long to frighten or send you spilling into the snow. He loved it. Robby’s favorite moment was hearing a tiny little “Wheeeee!” as Jack and I went down the first time.

2. Also underrated is eating in when you didn’t have to cook… Momma made us supper on Saturday– all we had to do was pop it in the oven for 30 minutes and voila! a delicious, hot meal on our comfy couch in our slippers and pajammas.

3. The Waltons are aging nicely. At least the Seasons With John Boy Still At Home. Jack and I are big fans– we TiVo them and then curl up at naptime and calm down to whatever drama is happening to our favorite Virginians.

4. Train tables rock. Jacky got one for Christmas because we’d noticed that he played differently with trains when he could put them up off the floor. He’s too little to manipulate them easily on the ground– he ends up with a knee knocking a piece of track loose. The table has really made a difference. Well worth every (on sale!) penny.

5. Annoying songs are less annoying when sung by a wobblely little three year old (assuming that you love and adore the little three year old). Jack’s switched off from Jingle Bells and Joy to the World for his bouncy rendition of “Keep on the Sunny Side.” He’s inspired by the Brad Paisley version on the June Carter Cash Tribute album (Anchored in Love) and while it IS a bit grating to have “Sunny Side” on repeat for the entire time we are in the car… well… his sincerity is kind of almost nearly payment for it all.

That’s it. My brain is still dull from all the Nyquil and Vick’s Vapor Rub… and the 14 times “Sunny Side” played on the way down to visit our Granny yesterday.