First Day

The tears weren’t because Tate didn’t want to go to school for the first time;

they were because we dragged him away from the car door to take a picture, delaying the start to his first day.

There were no tears after we left the house.  Rush and Tate were both so excited about school and I;m positive they were both ready for a change of routine.  Hurray for a new school year!

Rush’s BFF Barrett is in his class again and was already playing with trains when we arrived, so I don’t think Rush even said good-bye to me.

And then, for the first time that I can remember since before Tate was born, I had five solid hours of free time.  I recognize the value of that, because who gets five hours to themselves?  Retirees, maybe?  It’s amazing how much you can get done, especially when there is no one following behind you undoing your work. 

Almost Back

They boys have been practicing for naptime at school- they’re ready.

What’s the buzz, tell me what’s a-happening

We’ve reached a tipping point.  Tate and Rush are old enough and Trent is still Trent, so we’re officially a house that’s 75% male and everything smells like a boys’ cabin at camp.  It’s the smell of gym clothes that have baked in a car all day and people who need to focus on aiming when they go to the bathroom.  We had an extended Target trip this morning where I spent our life savings on ‘sport’ laundry detergent, bleach related cleaning products, and make-up to drag myself from the filth.  I kind of get the feeling that my Christmas list will be perfume and Scentsy refills. 

It’s just about time for a change of seasons, because I’m running out of conversation topics.  The boys and I brief Trent on the days activities during dinner –pool, grocery store, watching The AristoCats- so after they boys go to bed I’m more or less spent for discussion ideas.  The other night we were just staring at each other and finally it was, so, want to talk politics?

So I finally saw Casablanca for the first time last week. Anyone else want to talk about it as if it wasn’t already acknowledged as one of the greatest movies of all time and old enough that everyone else saw it years ago, possibly back in the 40’s? I want to talk about it. I watched it with my parents last week and while they were appalled that I had never seen it, after they movie they weren’t interested in discussing it at all.

The Olympics left me with a little fantasizing about Rush and Tate winning gold medals.  I mean, one day that picture might be shown during a montage before the 200m butterfly.  I’m pretty positive that I don’t have a pushy sport parent persona hidden inside me, but maybe my kids will have Olympic dreams on their own.  If so, I hope the 2032 summer games will be somewhere awesome.

Chicago

Trent recently went to Chicago for work and was able to arrive a day early to take in the town.  He had great intentions of posting his own experiences, but he has also been waking up at 4:45 AM to hit the gym before work, so…I’m posting for him.

Willis Tower, the tallest building in the U.S.

deep dish pizza

and Wrigley Field for a Cubs game

Maybe next time we can all go?  That pizza looks tasty.

Grandparents for Us Regular Folk

Unlike celebrity spokeswomen for at home hair dye (Sarah Jessica Parker is dyeing her own hair in her bathroom?) or overly smart or wealthy political candidates (Wait, we need an educated president!  Don’t downplay it!), Martha Stewart never pretends to be like a regular person.  She likes to give even her biggest fans little reminders that while we can read her magazines and attempt her crafts, she’s functioning on a different level.  She doesn’t even pretend that she doesn’t have an army of staff helping her either, talking about calling ahead when travelling to one of her homes to have the staff start baking so she can arrive to warm, fresh cookies.   Actual caption under a photo of her granddaughter's bedroom in this month’s Martha Stewart Living:

“The Arctic-themed mural in the nursery was a gift from Martha, who created it with the help of crafts editor Hosanna Houser and her team.  Made from caribou hides (which Martha brought back from our trip to Arctic Canada) and felt, the mural was designed with the room’s ice-blue color palette in mind.”

Back in the real world, the boys recently spent some time with their grandparents too, sans-caribou hides.

Trent’s family came over recently to celebrate Trent’s dad’s birthday with a big Saturday morning breakfast.  It was one of those birthdays that deserved a bonus pancake rendition of Happy Birthday in addition to a regular cake.  We spent the rest of the morning at the pool, where the boys played with their aunts and Trent tried to reteach me to do a flip turn.  Flip turns are in the same category as jump roping, meaning that just because you could do it in your youth, it doesn’t mean your body will have any recollection of that.  It’s going to take more practice and water up my nose to perfect it. 

A few days later I went to visit my parents.  The day we arrived the boys were playing in the pantry, and they suddenly got very quiet.  When my mom when to check on them, she found that they had located a can of Pringles and polished off half of it.   

When Rush woke up throwing up at 3 AM, I blamed the Pringles, but only until we all joined him.  I don’t know that my parents were all that happy about catching a stomach bug, but I’ve never been happier to be sick in my life.  If I’m going to be miserable and taking care of children, there’s no place I would rather be than with my parents, who could help me.  Being home by myself throwing up with Rush and Tate (who thankfully stayed well) or with my mom?  I don’t even need to answer that.

After everyone had progressed past saltines and Sprite, we took a quick trip to the beach. After a rainy Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, Sunday turned into the most beautiful day of the summer.  The seaweed was gone, so hopefully we can fit in one more beautiful summer beach weekend before fall. 

I’ll take pancakes with store bought syrup and saltines and Sprite over ice-blue murals any day.  Although would it be pushing it to call ahead to the grandparents for fresh baked cookies on arrival…?

Do Not Go Gently

I’ve watched a lot –a lot a lot- of the Olympics this year, so I’ve seen a lot of the “the future of awesome” xfinity commercials during the Olympics.  One of my favorite parts to be annoyed by is the one which features a clip of a couple sitting in the back of a truck on the beach, backs to the surf, watching a movie.  The future of being an idiot.  What is wrong with you if you want to watch a movie on the beach?  Is there any bigger natural bombardment to your senses than being at the beach?  I’m realizing more and more that the reason I resist technology (and I’ve said this before) is because I’m afraid no one is thinking these thing through.  Is it really is a good idea, gain vs. loss?

My first ever job was at a local movie rental chain called the Video Center, later to become the Blockbuster where I worked over Christmas break during college.  My summer between high school and college was spent restocking VHS tapes, asking for membership cards, and meeting people at the door with their movies.  I would leave at midnight with a movie and Kate, who worked at Marble Slab, would sometimes bring a pint of cinnamon ice cream and we would watch together.  I can still name most of the new releases from the summer of 1999. 

Although I didn’t get to know him until college, I technically first met Trent at the Video Center.  When we were dating and newly married, we –like so many other people in America- spent countless hours wandering the perimeter of Blockbuster after dinner, looking for a movie to watch.  After our rehearsal dinner, my bridesmaids and I stopped in to rent Can't Buy Me Love so I could stay up late watching an 80’s high school romantic comedy and eating potato chips, then not fit into my wedding dress the next day, splitting the zipper and having to ditch the petticoat and be sewn into the dress.

So yeah, I’m sad about the slow death of the video rental store.  I’ve been mourning it for awhile.  Until today, I hadn’t been in a Blockbuster in years.  They were fumbling so much in the early days of Netflix popularity and paying $10 for two non-new release movies shortly after Rush was born was the point where I realized it was over for me.  We became Redbox people, not really renting enough movies monthly to support a Netflix account, but occasionally mooching Netfilx instant off our friends. 

But Rush saw a few commercials for The Lorax while watching the Olympics and can’t stop talking about wanting to watch it, so we went to Blockbuster this afternoon to look for a copy.  His movie was all checked out, so we spent some time looking through the kids and family movies before he picked out something else.  I can’t stress this enough- deciding to watch a movie on demand is not the same.

I understand that I have an emotional attachment to the video store, that’s why I typed out my whole song and dance of a history with renting movies.  But really, try it.  Go to a Blockbuster with another person that you like and/or love, and walk around selecting a movie together.  It’s sad to realize that we have lost a social and emotional connection in exchange for the convenience of not having to leave home to pick out a movie, or (and I stole this from an article I read in TIME a few years ago) being “passive, inert consumers” when we purchase something to watch on our computers.  Sometimes I like being a passive, inert consumer, like seeing a book mentioned on a Tom Brokaw bit during the Olympics, remembering that I wanted to read it, and immediately find a copy for a few dollars on Amazon.  But today, oh how I realized how much I missed the video store.

So I decided that I’m going back to Blockbuster and I’ll go until they go out of business.  It was too much fun talking to Rush and looking at movies. We’ll all eventually be streaming movies, but I’m going to enjoy the video rental store for as long as I can. 

No Rules in August

At some point in my life if I had seen two small boys running and running and running in Old Navy, I would have thought, ugh, control your kids.  But today, in August, I just kept pretending to look through the kids clothes.   That was the best space they’ve had in a long time to really run.  If you don’t want kids running around, why are you selling Nerf footballs in a clothing store?

The summer has been great, fun, wonderful, but it’s August and we’ve peaked.  It’s way too hot to play outside and there is no substitute for running out energy.

Make Love, Not War

Something about falling asleep on the couch near the end of the Olympic Opening Ceremonies as people from the US, the UK, Germany, Iraq, Afghanistan, India, Jamaica, South Africa, Norway, North AND South Korea, China, Mexico, et al were all crowded together peacefully and excitedly, and waking up to the news reporting on Sarah Palin tweeting a picture of herself eating Chick-Fil-A made something inside of me snap.  If I talk about it, I find myself using the exact same words and voice that I use when I catch the boys going through my nightstand or bathroom drawers:  Stop.Stop.Stop it.Stop it.Put it down.Don’t touch it.Stop.Stop.Walk away.Leave it alone.Walk away.  It’s the voice I use when I catch small children meddling in something personal that they have no business messing with.  Geeze.  Everybody mind your own business.  Take the log out of your own eye, and haters, stop hating.

Here’s my own business- taking two kids to the grocery store.  We’re headed there again this afternoon.

A few weeks ago, Tate decided he was DONE with any kind of cup with a lid.  He’ll steal a cup from a baby, but flat out refuses if he has a kid’s cup and anyone else has a grown-up cup.  He likes to keep up.  We’re at that in-between stage where he is advancing and learning very useful life skills, but we just need a little more time to fine tune it.  He loves to take his cup to the sink or counter when he’s done with it, but the height of the counter means that sometimes the cup doesn’t quite make it and comes splashing down on his head, and everywhere else.  I’m so close to crying over spilled milk, both for myself and the chain of events that begins with crawling on the floor with a dish cloth and ends with sour smells and more laundry, and for those poor cows.  But how can I deny this little man, wanting to be so involved with life?

A story in pictures, as I walked upstairs during naptime-

We finally had to make a new rule called Don’t Play With My Games Unless I Say You Can.  Trivial Pursuit 90’s Edition, with its cappuccino and alternative rocker shaped playing pieces, is just soooo tempting.

Actual conversation from the library yesterday-

Rush (holding a giant book out in front of him):  I’m God from church.
Me:  You’re not ‘God from church.’
Rush:  I’m God from church.
Me:  You’re the priest?  The deacon?  Carrying the gospel?
Rush:  Yeah!

So he was playing deacon, carrying the gospel to the people.  Rush has been asking me lately if God is at church.  Yes, and God’s in our house, too.  He’s everywhere.  Why doesn’t he have a body?  Well, he did have a body, that’s what we’re talking about when we talk about Jesus.  From there it turns into a complicated bedtime story.  Like good manners, if we live it, I’m thinking it’s all going to make sense for these kids eventually.