Is this guy. Love him. He just doesn’t get enough credit here on Dogwood Girl. But he runs the show. Really.
Archive for the ‘Home’ Category
My Best Friend
Monday, October 19th, 2009Tiller’s Birthday Party
Tuesday, October 6th, 2009We had Tiller’s fourth birthday party on Sunday. The weather looked iffy, but it turned out just great. A little overcast but not hot and the mosquitoes weren’t too bad. Tiller wanted to do the costume party again this year, so that was fun, and makes for fun pictures, too. And of course, I love the Halloween stuff, so it is an excuse to buy more Halloween decorations.
Tiller wanted to be a Princess. Again. Rollie decided to be Spiderman. Again. Part of me wishes she would want to be something like a Doctor, or an Archaeologist, but when i see how into it she gets, with the crowns and the wand and the jewelry, and the ridiculous red Christmas socks with pink sneakers, I just give in to it. As a parent, I have to always remind myself that she needs to find her own interests and that anything that encourages her wild imagination is a good thing, even if it’s a damn Disney Princess. As long as she doesn’t start any Damsel-in-Distress crap, we’re all good.
All in all a good time.
A Picture Says a Thousand Words
Thursday, September 24th, 2009And this one pretty much sums up the kind of day I had. . . .
I Think It Smells Like You
Thursday, September 17th, 2009Tiller to me, just now, nose wrinkled:
“Mama, I smell something bad.”
“What is it baby?”
“I think it smells like you.”
Nobody’s getting a big head around this place. . . .
Livin’ on the Edge
Monday, September 14th, 2009Todd and I sometimes get crazy when the kids are away.
Nicest Thing Anyone’s Said to Me in Ages . . .
Thursday, September 10th, 2009Tiller just said to me, “Mama, you sure do make great paper airplanes.”
I just love the low-tech paper airplanes. You fold a couple for each kid (making sure to reinforce with some Scotch tape, or else you will spend all afternoon refolding them) and then send them off to decorate them with crayons and markers. Then it’s off to the backyard for flights, while I sit inside sneezing me head off.
They totally get into it! Added plus: Tiller is flying hers in her ballet tutu. Rollie just improvised decorating his by taping a Hot Wheels car to the top of it.
Fuckin’ awesome.
Then Rollie said, “You do make the best paper airplanes, you and Daddy.”
WHAT?!
I feel that there will be a bit of an airshow out back this weekend. The Dogwood Girl fleet WILL dominate.
Obama Speech Review, by Rollie
Thursday, September 10th, 2009After all that school speech hubbub, Rollie came home from school and didn’t say a thing about it. I didn’t ask, because I knew Todd would want to hear what he had to say about it, too, and you don’t ask a six-year-old what happened at school that day more than once and expect to live. You would die a slow, eye-rolling, sighing death, petulant death.
So, I held off until we sat down to dinner. (Yes, despite my being less-than-traditional in many ways, we do try to sit down to dinner together. Sometimes it happens.)
Me: “Rollie, did you do anything interesting at school today?”
Rollie: “No.”
Me: “You didn’t get to hear a big speech or anything like that?”
Rollie: “Yeah.”
Me: “Can you elaborate?”
[Rollie rolls his eyes.]
Me: “Who did the speech?”
Rollie: “Barack Obama. He was on TV, but he was really at a school in Arlington, Va.”
Me: [thinking to myself, “well, he must have been paying attention enough to get the President’s locale. . . “] “So, what did you think of the speech?”
Rollie shrugged and gave it a thumbs down.
Me: “Why didn’t you like it?”
Rollie: “It was boring, boring, boring.”
All further attempts at discussing the speech with Rollie were met with adamant resistance.
I am thinking that maybe jason B. was right. The kids didn’t get it at this age. They were bored.
That being said, I think that there must have been some discussion of educational goals at school, because later that night, I overheard this discussion between Rollie and Tiller:
Rollie: “Tiller are you going to college?”
Tiller: “No! I don’t want to go to college! I want to stay here with mama and Daddy!”
While this is disappointing in some respects, I would probably be okay with this. As long as I can make her wear footie PJs and silky nighties with strawberries all over them, and cuddle on the couch, forever and ever.
Taking Off the Training Wheels
Tuesday, September 8th, 2009In all the school speech hubbub of yesterday, I didn’t get around to posting what I really wanted to post: My baby boy learned to ride his bike without training wheels yesterday.
My mom told me that I started wanting to learn to ride my bike at age four. She said all the older kids were riding theirs, and I wanted to also. I don’t remember that, but I do remember riding my brown, orange, and yellow (it was the 70s!) Roadmaster down a short sloped driveway at a neighbor’s house, my dad holding the hard yellow seat behind me. I remember skinned knees, and no helmet. I remember exhilaration.
I tried teaching Rollie this spring. I took him over to a parking lot nearby, and it was a disaster. No one got hurt, but I was nervous, he was wobbly and frustrated, and it was hot as Hades. We did not last long on the asphalt, and we gave up.
So, Rollie had a play date at a friend’s house earlier this year and the little girl could ride with no training wheels. Rollie was interested again. We have no flat area to learn to ride bikes in our yard, so we have to take the bike somewhere else to teach him to ride. We have been, shall we say, less than proactive about doing so.
Rollie started asking us more often to teach him, but something always came up. Then yesterday, Todd told us all to pack up and we headed over to the local park. We took Tiller’s little bike, too. We strapped them both in their helmets. Rollie even wore his knee and elbow pads (overkill, as it turned out). Todd got Rollie on the bike, and we showed him how to set up the right pedal (he is right-handed), so that he could stand on his left foot while using his right foot to step on the high right pedal, thereby giving himself a sort of initial boost of speed. We told him that he had to pedal fast to keep going. We told him that he needed to put his feet down when he came to a stop, that he needed to remember to steer.
I sat on a curb and bit my fingernails.
Todd went to the opposite end of the parking lot with him, and then slowly they started. Todd held onto the back of the seat, just as my own father had thirty-plus years ago. I wondered if my Mom could even watch me learning. I watched as my firstborn sped up, and wobbled, and freaked out and put his feet down on the pavement. I heard Todd say, “Slow down, Buddy. I can’t keep up with you.”
I watched as they tried again. Rollie took off, and started a little faster, and he was wobbly, and the look on his face was one of pure terror, mirroring my own I am sure, and suddenly, i realized Todd was not holding him anymore, just running right back and to the left, arms creating a waiting safety net around Rollie’s sides, but not touching him. I heard Todd speaking to him, “You’re doing it all on your own, buddy. You’re doing it.”
Tiller rode in circles, training wheels flashing in the sun. Todd and Rollie got ready again at the end of the parking lot. Tiller straightened out and pumped her legs as fast as they would go, sparks almost coming off the training wheels, her bike leaning precariously to her side. Rollie started off from a low incline, picked up speed, then started pedaling furiously as he quickly moved away from Todd. Rollie was moving of his own energy. Todd was left in the dust, looking panicky. I was in a panic of my own, my heart in my throat. I yelled, “You’re doing it, Buddy! you’re doing it!” Tiller’s bike rattled and she toppled over, a slow motion, non-life-threatening wobble. Meanwhile, Rollie came to a shaky stop, feet dragging on the pavement, and I was completely torn. Tiller’s training wheel came right off the bike and rolled in a large circle, slowed, came to a stop, and fell over.
We all looked at each other in amazement.
Rollie had ridden a bike by himself, and was all pride and bluster. Tiller had ridden the wheels right off her bike.
It was a good day. I only wish I had gotten video of the baby that once came out of my vagina now riding a bike around on his own bottom and two legs, laughing and getting mad because we wanted him to slow down. It just happened so fast.
Tiller Tonight
Thursday, August 27th, 2009“Mama? See that shadow over there? By my CD player? It looks like Darth Vader.”
Geez. Way to creep me out, Tills. Wait till I am under my covers before you say stuff like that.
Six Years of You
Thursday, August 27th, 20099:00 a.m. Six years ago today, i was pretty much being ripped apart by a bowling ball. A bowling ball that was not numbed by any amount of drugs for a couple hours. Rollie, you were that bowling ball. And you were worth every second of the worst pain of my entire life.
By the time you came out, my pain was being managed and I was tired and so very happy to see you. I still grieve for those hours that you were not in my arms, but they had to make sure you were okay, and you being okay was most important. Six years going by makes it clear that all of those details and all of the guilt I poured over myself at the time was for nothing. You turned out perfectly and completely and totally YOU. And you are wonderful.
I really feel like this was the year that you became a true boy, no longer a baby, or a toddler, or a preschooler. You started Kindergarten this year! You rode the bus for the first time! I was so terrified, sending my baby boy off with some person i have never met before. And that night, when i kissed you goodnight, you whispered “I want to ride the bus forever. I never want you to pick me up at school again!” You loved the bus. You still do.
You have learned so many wonderful things this year. You already learned to read way back when you were four, but now you are reading longer and longer books. Sometimes the words that you read amaze me. You sound them out just perfectly, and even use them in the correct context sometimes. I will never forget the night that I walked into your room and you were reading the Tales of Beedle the Bard. At five! I wasn’t sure whether to worry that it was too graphic for you, or swell with pride that you could read a real short story book, with few pictures! You are like a sponge with the reading and you retain so much. It amazes me. At school, you are ahead of the game – They are teaching letters, letter sounds, colors, shapes, and the like, and you can already read. I worry that you won’t be challenged enough, but when I see that you are still sensitive, and still on the same emotional level with the other kids in your class, I know we made the right decision. Plus, so far, you are not struggling with your homework very much, and that is a relief to me.
Yes, you have homework. We never had homework when I was in kindergarten, but a lot seems to have changed for parents and kids since then. I hope that your Daddy and I are making good decisions for you, but sometimes it is scary for us. We want so badly to give you all of the tools you need to be a happy and well-adjusted kid. You also started taking French this year, and you have an hour of it a day. i am hoping that you and I can have some secret French conversations around the dinner table. You are already coming home every day with new French vocabulary words. There are still things to learn, though: You still can’t tie your shoes and you get very frustrated when we try to teach you. And your dad and I have been pretty bad about helping you learn to ride a bike. We need to get on that.
You have really turned into an active, energetic little boy. You learned to swim a little last year, but this year, I can sit out of the water and watch you, and you do just great. You put your head down in the water and you can jump off the side and swim back by yourself and swim the entire length of the pool! You dive for rockets, and you were so fun to watch at the pool this year, because you played with the other kids so well. This was also the first year that I could put a lifejacket on you and let you swim in the lake while I sat on the dock. You and Tiller swam for hours in the lake last time I was there. It was a joy to watch you swimming and playing the same exact games that Aunt Lisa and I used to play right there, too. You took your first ride with me on the Jetski this year – I think you were a little freaked out by it, but I am sure you will grow out of that soon and be scaring me with your fearlessness. I know I was terrified riding around on that thing with such precious cargo, but I want you to learn to have fun, and be cautious, but not fearful. I try to teach you that by example, but sometimes Mamas get scared, too.
You played soccer last Fall and this spring and loved it. You are pretty good and we call you “The Cheetah” because you are so fast. Your team was called “The Dream Team Tigers” which we have really gotten a lot of laughs about. This year, you are playing soccer and t-ball (Go, RiverCats!) and I am really enjoying you learn to catch and throw and learn the rules of the game. Just last night, you made your first base hit and you played pitcher and got an out at first. I was beaming. The best part of all, though, is sitting in the bleachers in that moment when light and dark are just about even, then the lights on the field flutter on, and you and your team-mates are running around the bases, playing pickle and laughing (giggling, really) and I just see the joy on your face, and the fact that you are happy, and comfortable with who you are.
I know that won’t last forever – that kids are mean, and you have to watch movies about bullying at school for a reason. I know that there will cliques and hurt feelings, mean things said, and unrequited crushes. I just hope that you will have a foundation given to you by your Dad and me that leaves you with a sense that you are a wonderful person, and that you have self-worth. I hope that you always have the strength to know who you are, to be your own person, and to do the right thing, even under difficult circumstances.
10:00 a.m. I was still at Northside waiting for you to join us. The room was unlit and I was hurting, but it was getting better. Daddy and Aunt Lisa were there. The rest is a blur of visiting grandparents and MASH re-runs, until you came out and changed my world forever, at about 5:30, I think.
At about 5:30 today, we should be getting ready to head down to Turner Field. Your birthday party is Saturday morning at the pool, but we have kind of started a tradition of taking you to a Braves game on your birthday. Last year, Daddy and I surprised you with it, but this year, all four of us are going. Even Tiller. We haven’t told you yet, but I can’t wait to see your face when we do. It will be Tiller’s first baseball game, and I’m sure she will love it, but you will be the star tonight. I can’t wait to see you eating peanuts and hot dogs, and yeah, we might even get you a coke. It is your birthday, after all.
I love you, little buddy. More than you will ever know, at least until you maybe have a child of your own. And then you will ache with it, and swell with it, and wrestle with it. I hope that I am there for you when the time comes, because I am so proud of you and I know how proud I will be then.
Love,
Your Mama
Are you an aunt, uncle or Grandma or Papaw, who can’t get enough of baby pictures of Rollie? Here’s a set of some of my favorites.