My Little Helper

Ryker's almost two, and that places him firmly in the Uber-Helper stage. He wants to help with everything.

He wants to carry his own lunch bag into daycare. Some days he carries Jack's too. He looks like a pigeon-toed, beer-bellied, drunk construction worker shuffling onto the job site.

Yesterday he helped me shop at the Mall of America. He picked out his new shoes for Beth's wedding, and Jack's new shoes for the trip. He carried the package of my new Spanx around Bloomingdale's for me. (Those of you that haven't heard of Spanx are either men or teeny tiny women. Those of you that HAVE heard of them should wish me luck breathing.) Finally, he helped me pick out a bra. He helped by sitting in his stroller in the dressing room staring at me in awe as I undressed in pseudo-public, nodding slightly as I tried them on, then laughing hysterically at the pair that was obviously too big. (Note to self: Teach Ryk the dos and don'ts of shopping with women.)

Today he helped me fold the children's laundry. He sat on his tiny chair in front of me, grabbing pieces of clothing out of the basket, shaking them out, then handing them to me and saying who they belonged to. In his estimation almost everything was "Joshun's" although any blankets were his, and the 3T pajama pants apparently were mine.

I'll rent him out to the highest bidder.

Things I Hope They Don't Say At School

I hope Jack doesn't say the things Chuck teaches him. Like that Momma pees her pants when she exercises. I do NOT. Or that the Barking Spiders were the ones that farted.

I also hope that Ryker doesn't call me a baboon to his teachers. He mistakes the word "balloon" for "baboon," and to further complicate things he calls ME a balloon. I don't know what he's talking about, but it ends up coming out as "Momma a baboon."

And please let Jack not pick up on the lyrics he hears in the car. It's bad enough that I've got him saying "Rockin' like it's my job" and "a million plus with binoculars." And someone at school taught him to say "I like to move it, move it."

And in general, I hope they don't pick up on Chuck and my favorite jokes - the perennial one liners "your MOM does ...(repeat whatever the other person just said)" and "that's what she said."

When do parents learn to censor better?

Economic Recovery

Jackson's been asking a lot of questions about our upcoming trip to California for Beth's wedding. Every day I have to give him the countdown. He said last night that he wished it was tomorrow because he wants to see Beth and Nik NOW. So sweet.

Tonight he was asking me about the food on the plane. I said that they would probably give us pretzels. He said that he wasn't sure he liked pretzels anymore, I told him that he would be pretty hungry then, and he said that maybe he WOULD eat them. Then he asked if that was ALL they would give us. Now, keep in mind that I've flown ONCE in the last 3 years. So I said that I wasn't sure, but I didn't think they gave us much. I went on to explain that they used to give full meals but that I didn't think they did that anymore, and of course he asked why. He's a smart little guy, but I didn't really feel like explaining the economic downturn. Instead I just said that in the world right now, people aren't spending as much money to fly, and so the airlines don't have much money to spend on food. I thought that would be confusing enough to quiet him down.

I should have known better. He thought about it for awhile and then said that he wanted to give the money we save up to the airlines.

Pickle Jar

We decided to have a big jar that we'd throw change into and then donate. As I was explaining this to Jack, I said we could make a sign for the jar. I asked what he would want to write on the sign.

His answer?

"This pickle jar used to have pickles in it but we cleaned it out and now we're putting money in it for people who don't have any money."

Spring Performance

I am a proud stage-mom. Tonight was the Spring Performance at the kids' school. And they were AWESOME. It was ridiculously cute. I think there were a few parents who weren't smiling, and I think they must hate kittens and puppies and flowers and sunshine, and their hearts must be made of stone. ME? My face hurt from grinning so big for so long.

Jack officially "graduated" preschool - cap and diploma and all. Then the big kids sang and danced and did songs in other languages and the ABCs in sign language. It was impressive. Then the toddlers came in and "danced," or more accurately, "stood and stared at the massive crowd while the teachers danced."

Below are a few pictures and videos. You can go ahead and tell me that my kids are the cutest things in the whole world. I won't deny it.

Hatchling

So I might be hatching a baby robin in my bathroom. And yes, this is one of my bad parenting ideas.

Neighbor Nicki's relative (sister-in-law?) found it on her driveway and Nicki said we needed to heat it up because it was too cold. And we wheeled around to find the heating pad, only it's at MY house because I'm borrowing it for my poor aching back. So I was quickly deputized Saver of the Bird.

I went home and tucked it into a nook in the heating pad - turned on low. Chuck came home and I off-handedly told him that I was hatching a baby bird in our bathroom. He told me I was going to cook it, so I ran in and turned it off and untucked it. And I SWEAR that thing moved when I touched it. I SWEAR it did.

What the heck am I going to do if that thing hatches? Will it call for me? How do you feed a baby bird? The only thing I've ever seen is a mommy bird regurgitating into the baby bird's mouth. No. No no. Crap. I'm going to put it into a basket and leave it on Nicki's doorstep.

Conference for a 2 Year Old

Awhile back we were told that we would have Parent Teacher Conferences at the kids' new school. I cracked up at the thought of a conference for a 4 year old. That seems like something for school-aged children.

Well, if the thought of doing one for a 4 year old was funny, then the thought of having one for a 2 year old was flat out HILARIOUS.

Here's the run down:

• He's able to repeat the numbers 1-10 and all of the letters of the alphabet, if someone says them first. He's also learning to say the names of the other kids.
  
• He's generally a good boy.
• He is resisting naps and diaper changes, and yelling "no" a lot.
• She wishes her "sweet Ryker would come back." (After I audibly gasped and then beat the crap out of her, she took it back.)
• He loves the other children. Sometimes he "loves the other children too hard." Apparently he tries to go hug them but ends up tackling and laying on top of them.

So there we go. I can only hope these bullets are different at his high school conferences.

Nuns

Jack announced on the way home that a nun came to his school. I asked why and he said "to tell us about being a nun."

Nice obvious answer.

"Did she explain why she was a nun?"

"Yeah, because she doesn't have a husband or kids. Or a daddy or a husband...And she came in normal clothes but next time she'll come in her outfit."

"Oh, why didn't she wear that today?"

"Because it was raining."

Gain

Ryker is in the Repeat Phase. Anyone reading this with a child under the age of 5 remembers this phase. The rest of you have consolidated these months into a blur of two books, three songs, and one game that you were forced to repeat over and over and over again.

"Gain" is his new favorite word, as in "again."

Tonight he wanted to do rounds of the Itsy Bitsy Spider. I sang it while he did the hand motions. Then Chuck came in and helped out. "Gain Daddy, Momma. Gain." Clapping.

To calm him down and get him to sleep I thought I'd sing You Are My Sunshine (a family favorite). He popped right back up, staring at me and grinning. I got to the end of the first "You are my sunshine" and he chimes in "SHINE!" At the end he clapped. "Gain Momma. Gain. Yay! Gain."

"Again what?"

"Yeah."

"What should we do again?"

"Yeah. Gain....Shine."

Conversations with Ryker

Ryker is quite the Chatty Cathy now. He's learning new words every day, as I've mentioned.

Tonight I was rocking with him before bed. It is one of my very favorite parts of the day. Normally we just rock in the dark and he cuddles into me. Tonight he had different plans. He couldn't stop talking. I stayed quiet, partially to not encourage him and partially because I loved listening.

Here was his monologue, followed by a rough translation.

"Momma Daddy Jashun. Jashun Ohm. Baboon. Momma Daddy Jashun. Baboon. Ohm. Doddy. Shishy."

Translation:

"Momma Daddy Jackson. Jackson Home. Balloon. Momma Daddy Jackson. Balloon. Home. Doggy. Kitty (or maybe Fishy but I'm guessing he was talking about our kitty)."

I have no idea what this monologue was supposed to mean. Then he sat up, looking at me, and did the hand motions to the Itsy Bitsy Spider, saying gibberish that sounded NOTHING like the song. But he was pleased with himself.

I love this age!

Mother's Day

This was my Mother's Day card from Jackson this year. He's four and a half and it's the first year he really did the whole thing by himself. Picture 1 is the front, 2 is the inside. He explained that it's a hill, with two flowers and a worm (that's the floating multicolored thing), and me on the top dribbling a basketball. Couldn't have been sweeter.

This Mother's Day was especially awesome because I got some quiet time. Most of the Mother's Days I've had I've either been nursing or pregnant, so this seemed especially mild.

It was also special because Jack understands the concept, and is capable of remembering it for more than 2 minutes straight. He didn't argue when I said I didn't want to get him something because it was Mother's Day and I wanted to sit there doing nothing. He just accepted that, bless his little heart. So I got to lay in the backyard, sun shining and a light breeze blowing. My lilacs smelled awesome.

Several times throughout the day Jack told me Happy Mother's Day, without prompt. That's the best. Something just goes through his little head that reminds him to say things like that. And Ryk did his part - deciding that today was the perfect day to say "home" for the first time.

Fear Mongering?

We learned last night that a Level 2 offender lives two doors up and across the street from us. Neighbor Chuck (father of Chuckie and Samantha) heard the news from a police officer who happens to also be our neighbor. I dig some checking and confirmed it.

As Chuck was telling Nicki and me last night all the other kids were outside except CJ. He's the oldest of the Hayes kids, 8 years old and bright and mature. He listened intently, waited for Chuck to leave, then started asking what that meant. So Nicki and I kinda told him. But we both struggled a bit to explain it in his terms.

(Nicki: "It means he likes kids like I like your Dad, or like you like...."
CJ: "Chocolate.")

He understood it eventually and we got yet another chance to give the Stranger Speech that we both have perfected.

But here's the rub. No pun intended.

What is the right balance between explaining how careful they need to be and completely freaking them out? I struggle with this a lot. I don't want to unnecessarily introduce fears to them that aren't there. With me as their parent, there's a possibility they will grow to know anxiety as I have. I don't want to perpetuate that, especially at such an early age. And I don't want them to hide in fear every time someone that they don't know ends up a party we're at, or walking through the grocery store.

But they have to know that we're serious, that there are serious consequences to not being safe and careful and alert. I can't take the chance that Jack, in all his sweetness and naivety, would go with a stranger.

So what do you do? How do you strike the balance?

Fix

You know what Spring does to me? Makes me want to play soccer. I haven't played soccer since college. I was banned after my freshman season because of concussions. I did play intramural my junior or senior year, but that was the last time. And I miss it! There is nothing like a warm spring day, with freshly mowed grass, to get me jonesing for it.

Basketball was always my first sport, but I miss soccer more. I think it's because you can always find a hoop and take shots, but I played goalie in soccer and that's hard to simulate by yourself. Chuck doesn't play soccer, and the kids are wee.

Many of my family would read this and say that I'm not supposed to play soccer, but I think that the period of time you are more susceptible to repeat-concussions HAS to be time-limited, right? RIGHT???

Dance Party Videos

Two versions of the Banjostrand Dance Parties: