Archive for the ‘parenting’ Category

The Best and The Brightest – Green

Wednesday, February 29th, 2012

 Green.  Find your shade – whether kelly, mint, or olive.

How To Wear Green

 

 

1.  Silk Dress

2.  Drop Earrings

3.  Cargo Pants

4.  Tennis Shoes

5.  Shirt

6.  Maxi Dress

7.  Nail Polish

8.  Nail Polish

9.  Sunglasses

10.  Eyeshadow

11.  Sweater

12.  Chandelier Earrings

13.  Shorts

14.  Clutch

Valentine’s Day Debacle 2012 Averted

Monday, February 13th, 2012

After the Valentine’s Day Debacle of 2011, I decided to skip the store bought cards for Reichen and Latham’s preschool party this year in favor of something special.

Tah-Dah!

Are you impressed?  Don’t be.  These personalized Valentine’s are super simple to make and I love the visual illusion the card creates.

Happy crafting!

Pin It

I Don’t Know Whose Kids These Are, But They’re Not Mine.

Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012

I don’t know who these kids are in the following photos, but they’re not mine.  I mean, they kind of look like mine, but they’re not.  I’m sure of it.

Here’s the deal – just before our good friends, Josh and Jenny, from Solar Photography started snapping these shots, Reichen nicked his thumb.

And it started bleeding.

A little, teeny, weeny, itty, bitty, bit.

But from the way our 5 year old was carrying on, and on, and on, and on, and on, you would have thought that kid cut his carotid.

“WAH!!! I CAN’T GET ON THE CAROUSEL,” Reichen screamed into my ear while clutching my neck.

“Yes you can, baby!  It’ll be so much fun!  Josh and Jenny are going to take pictures of us on there!  You’ll LOVE it,” I tried telling him in my best 1992 senior of the high school cheerleading squad voice.

“WAH!!! NO, IT WON’T BE FUN! MY THUMB HURTS!  IT’S BLEEDING,” he carried on while crying crocodile tears that are making his face all red and splotchy.

“Your thumb isn’t even bleeding, baby,” I cooed while rubbing his back.

“WAH!!! YES IT IS!!!  I NEED A BAND-AID,” he cried.

And with that, I loaded all my 3 boys on the teacups thinking there is NO WAY Josh is going to get a good shot.

And then we hopped on the horses.

“WAH,” Reichen wined, “I WANT TO SIT ON THE DRAGON!!!”

“WAH,” Latham cried, “I WANT TO SIT ON THE DOLPHIN!!!”

“Listen guys,” David told them, “those animals are not together.  We all need to sit together on the carousel, so Josh can take a picture of us as a family.  After Josh is done, you can ride on whatever animal you want.”

“WAH!!! NOOOOO DADDY,” the boys both bellowed.

And again, I think there is no way Josh is going to be able to get a good shot.

Then, we were off to the outdoor ice skating rink.  David and I have never taken the boys ice skating before, but we thought it might make for cute pictures.

That is, until we buckled the boys into their skates.

‘OH NO!  THIS IS NOT A GREAT IDEA,” Latham started screaming.

“OH NO! THIS IS NOT A GREAT IDEA!  OH NO! THIS IS NOT A GREAT IDEA!  OH NO! THIS IS NOT A GREAT IDEA!”  It was a bit of a Rain Man moment for our nervous 3 year old.  He wanted nothing to do with ice skating.  Nothing.

Everyone around us was giggling including our friend and photographer Jenny.

“I know it’s not funny,” she said while trying to stifle a giggle, “but it is.”

I agreed.  I would totally be cracking up too, if we weren’t trying to take pictures.

And, once again, I think there is no way Josh and Jenny are going to get a good shot.

I don’t know how they did it, but they did.  Josh and Jenny of Solar Photography are amazing.  And these are just a few of the shots they sent us.  I seriously have 80 amazing pictures to choose from.  I’m not sure how they captured all these incredible moments, but I’m so glad they did.

But even though there’s picture proof, I’m still not sure the kids in those photos are mine.  I mean, they kind of look like them, but there’s no way that’s them – not on that day.

No. Way.

Happy 5th Birthday, Reichen!

Thursday, November 17th, 2011

Today you are five and I can barely believe it

Where has the time gone – it just happened so quick.

 

So to celebrate, this weekend we had a really big party

We invited all your friends and you thought it was gnarly.

We met everyone at  Monkey Bizness, a really fun place

You jumped in all the bouncy houses with a smile on your face.

 

Liam, Hayden, and Dayton were all there

And Lexy, Abby, and Kendall with the golden hair.

 

Dylan, Lydia, and Noah came to your party too

And Caleb, and Claire said ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.

 

A Transformer theme you wanted with colors blue and red

“Optimus and Bumblebee would make me happy,” you said.

 transformer birthday cake

Nina made your cake and a small one for Latham, too

And you both blew out the candles – it was so exciting for you.

 

You opened all your presents and got lots of fun toys

Transformers, cars, and a rocket – all perfect for boys.

 opening presents

You had such a fun day and so did your dad and me

Happy Birthday Reichen, we are as proud as could be.

 

HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY, REICHEN!

Happy Halloween!

Monday, October 31st, 2011

optimus prime bumblebee

I – I – I Worry

Wednesday, October 19th, 2011

My – My – My son stutters.

An – An – And it scares me.

He – He – He isn’t aware of it.

Y – Y – Yet.

Bu – Bu – But when he is.

I – I – I  worry.

Will – Will –  Will it change him.

Will – Will – Will he be afraid to talk.

Will – Will – Will  kids make fun of him.

I – I – I worry.

He – He –  He’s been stuttering about a year.

May – May – Maybe more.

Bu – Bu – But until now, they –

 The – The – The specialists, called it disfluency.

“He – He – He’ll grow out of it,” they said.

He – He – He hasn’t.

The – The – The specialists now call it –

St – St – Stuttering.

It – It – It always happens at the beginning of a sentence.

Never in the – the – the middle.

An – An – And – most times –

He – He – He can say his words.

Bu – Bu – Bu – But other times –

He – He – He – He – He – He – He – He – He – He . . .

{Can’t.}

I – I – I worry.

An – An – And I wish it were me who stuttered.

Not – Not – Not him.

Not – Not – Not him.

Not – Not – Not him.

Lullaby

Friday, October 7th, 2011

“Lullaby”

By The Dixie Chicks

They didn’t have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you’re asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there’ll be so much to do
So tonight I’ll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

As you wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you’re miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up
Is forever enough
Cause I’m never, never giving you up

The Boy Who Plays Soccer

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

“I’m a soccer player now,” I hear you tell your new friend
“You want to come to my game? I play every weekend.”

Red and blue are your colors and you’re on a team of eight
You’re really good at defense and you’re dribbling is just great.

Daddy is your coach and you think that’s super special
He runs drills with all the kids and hollers at you to hustle.

“Only 4 year olds play soccer,” at least that’s what you say
And that, you tell Latham, is the reason he can’t play.

So your brother does his own thing while we all cheer you on
And when you score an awesome goal, we go crazy on the lawn.

You love getting super sweaty and running really fast
You think your friends are funny and playing soccer is a blast.

But when when the game is over is my most favorite part
Because that’s when we go home and all your soccer stories can start.

First Day of Preschool

Monday, September 12th, 2011

It’s your first day of preschool, my sweet little boy

And with your backpack strapped on, you smile with such joy.

‘I can’t wait to meet my new friends,’ you say grinning at  me

I nod and give you a high five to show you that I agree. 

We take a few pictures of your brother and you

Reichen is starting pre-K – which is a BIG deal, too.

As you walk down the hall – I can tell you’re a bit nervous

So I fuss with your backpack so we can have a little caucus.

‘Are you going to leave me,’ you ask in a small, tiny whisper

I rub your back and say, ‘Yes, but I’ll be here right after.’

It appears you believe me and so you walk off head high

You meet your new teacher and my heart swells with pride.

And then you say ‘Hi. My name is Latham,’ to a brand new classmate

I just know, my 3 year old son, this school year is going to be great!

You’re a Stay-At-Home Mom – That’s Your Job.

Monday, August 22nd, 2011

I knew she disagreed with me, but I didn’t realize how much until she singsonged through clinched teeth, “You’re a stay-at-home mom – that’s your job.”

“It’s my job,” I said as calmly as I could, “to clean the blinds because I stay at home?”

It was a fun conversation, at first.  She, a really good friend of mine who shall remain nameless, was saying which household chores she despises, “The kitchen tile is the worst,” she said.  “It’s impossible to clean all those little divots.”

“I hate cleaning the blinds,” I told her when it was my turn.  “I’m seriously considering hiring someone once a month to dust them for me.”

And then, she said it.  The line. 

My blood started to boil.  I mean, anyone who knows me will tell you it’s not like I live in a dirty house.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I’m kind of a neat freak.  I’m always picking up, scrubbing, folding, cleaning, cooking, and dusting.  I’m sort of obsessive about it. 

But when it comes to blinds,  I. Don’t. Want. To. Clean. Them. 

So, I don’t.  Much.

Here’s the thing:  I’m ‘home’ all day, every day with my boys who are 4 and 3 years old.  And by ‘home,’ I mean we’re never home. 

Ever. 

We have play dates, and lunch dates, and Kindermusik.  We go to museums, parks, and the bouncy house at the mall.  We ride bikes, play soccer, and jump on the neighbor’s trampoline.  We go swimming, run, and feed the ducks.  We dance, sing, and laugh at funny sounds.  I mean, there are days when we leave the house at 9:00am and don’t return until 6:00pm because we’re so busy. 

And that’s how we like it.

I then cook dinner, give the boys a bath, brush their teeth, read them a book, and tuck them in for the night.  Then, it’s 8:30pm.  And that’s when the house chores, for me, begin.

I’m not telling you stay-at-home moms or working moms anything you don’t know.  Our lives as mothers are busy.  Really busy.

But here’s what I believe is my ‘job’ as a stay-at-home mom:  to raise healthy, happy, and well mannered little boys.  And while I’m ‘home’ all day, every day, I choose to spend my time playing, exploring, and learning with my boys because I know, in a flash, they’ll be engulfed by school, sports, and friends.

Here and now is my time with my boys. 

I don’t believe it’s my ‘job’ to clean the blinds.  And if I want to hire someone to dust them, I will. 

The Boy Who Draws Stick Figures

Monday, August 15th, 2011

You’re quite the little artist, my sweet boy of four

But stick figures are your favorite – it’s them you adore.

Quite carefully you sit and take your time drawing

After the nose, eyes and hair, comes the smile that’s calming.

‘It needs arms,’ you deduce after scrutinizing your work

You add them along with fingers – on the details, you don’t shirk.

Legs and toes you add swiftly and then print your name ‘Reichen’

You admire your artwork and say, ‘There’s not another one like him.’

To that, we agree and then snap your sweet picture

So we can remember the day, you drew the most awesome stick figure.

A Party for Latham

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

It was a party for monsters you said that you wanted

So we invited a few friends and got it all started.

 

There were balloons and streamers and signs of all sorts

And a pinata filled with candy swinging on the back porch.

 

Nina made you a monster cake with his arms in the air

And after blowing out the candles we cut him up to share.

 

I made your friends masks and you thought they were great

You asked if you could wear one – you just couldn’t wait.

 

It was such a fun party, my birthday boy of 3

Thank you so much for celebrating it with me!

 

A Song For Baby’s Brother

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011

The slides were wet when we went to the park to play.  And they hate wet slides.

“Mommy,” my two boys beg, “can you wipe them off?”

I sigh.  They must be the only boys in the world who hate to get wet, I think.  Luckily, I packed a picnic.  And with it, paper towels.  A lot of them.

“There you go,”  I say after swiping the equipment dry.  “They’re safe.”

I watch as they scream and scamper off to swirl down the slides.  It’s so easy to make them happy.  And I love that.

I pop on my sunglasses and watch through the lenses as they laugh, and play, and run, and sway.

My mom is in town.  She watches them too from behind her camera.  She’s capturing memories for her return home.  She doesn’t get to see us as much as she likes.  But she’s here now.  And we’re soaking her up.

She grabs their hands and runs with them as they take her on their next adventure.  They need rocks they say.  Lots of rocks. 

My mom and I watch from the picnic bench as they grab handful, after handful, after handful of rocks.  The pebbles, they inform us in their broken and perfect toddler talk, have a purpose.

“Mommy,” Reichen whispers. “I’m making a cake for Baby’s brother.”

‘Baby’ is my four-year-old’s stuffed lambie he’s slept with every night since he was born.    ‘Baby’s brother’ is the name given to his new stuffed lambie from the Easter Bunny.

“Wait here,” he instructs us.  “I’ll be right back.”

He returns with a sick and places it carefully in the middle of his pile of pebbles.

“This,” he whispers, “is Baby’s brother’s candle.”

He stops.  And thinks.  And asks, “Can we sing Happy Birthday to Baby’s brother?”

And so we do.  All four of us.  And I laugh.

It’s so easy to make me happy.  And I love that.

“Oh Well, She Wasn’t Going to be Your Friend Anyway.”

Monday, April 18th, 2011

“Look mommy,” my 4-year-old says while pointing to a girl with a red bow in her hair, “that’s Mary!”

I’m not exactly sure who Reichen is referring to at first.  I mean, standing in the long line at the mall to see the Easter Bunny the weekend before the holy holiday happens isn’t exactly the best idea I’ve ever had.

“Oh,” I say after finally realizing why he recognizes the little blond beauty, “it’s Mary from preschool.”

And according to Ms. Jill, Reichen’s preschool teacher, Reichen loves Mary.  But so does Simon, Reichen’s classmate and best buddy.  Both boys want to marry her, Ms. Jill says.  But sadly, Mary has told them she’s simply not ready to wed. 

“Hi Mary,” Reichen says softly while waving.

“Hi Reichen,” Mary replies while waving back.

The sweet scene reminded me of my little brother when he was about Reichen’s age.  Every day at school, my brother walked around holding the hand of a blond little girl name Cherice and every now and then, I’d also see him sneak a quick kiss.  My brother may have only been 4 or 5 years old, but the kid had game.  And it appears, my son is following in his Uncle’s footsteps.

“Mommy, can I please talk to the the Easter Bunny with Mary,” Reichen pleads while clasping his hands and hopping up and down.

“I don’t know,” I say.  “We’ll have to ask Mary’s mom.”

Before I even say it, I know the answer.  Mary’s mom and I are not friends.  And I don’t know why.  Every day, I drop Reichen off at preschool and every day, I say a happy ‘Hello!’ to Mary’s mom.  And every day, she never replies.  Ever.

“Hi there,” I say to Mary’s mom.

She looks at me like I have a booger hanging from my nose.

“I’m Reichen’s mom, Tasha,” I trudge on,  “This is Reichen.  Mary and Reichen are in preschool together.”

And here’s the best part,  Mary’s mom didn’t say one word to me.  Not.  One.  Word.  She just turned around, finished writing her check for the Easter Bunny pictures, packed up her kids, and left.  David couldn’t believe it.

“Seriously?  Did that just happen,” he said.

“I TOLD YOU,” I whisper shouted, “I TOLD YOU SHE NEVER TALKS TO ME.  EVER.”

And I had.  I’ve told my husband a million times about Mary’s mom – the one who never says hello.

 “Well,” he replied, “I thought you were exaggerating, but I guess you weren’t.”

We put our conversation on pause so the boys could take their picture with the Easter Bunny, but David quickly pressed play again when we reached the mall play area.

“I can’t believe that woman,” he said.  “I mean, who does she think she is?”

“I don’t know,” I reply.  “I mean, I’ve never done anything but say hello to the woman.”

And our conversation carried on for another couple minutes before I realized little Mary was in the play area, too.  I didn’t see her mom, but I was sure Mary’s dad must be near by and I had no idea what he looked like.

“Oh my gosh,” I stop David.  “Where is Mary’s dad?  Do you think he heard us talking?”

“No,” David replies.  “I’m pretty sure Mary’s Dad is that dude over there.  There’s no way he can hear us from here.”

And as if on cue, Mary calls out to the guy standing right next to us, “Daddy, look at me!”

Seriously.  Mary’s dad heard our entire conversation.

“Oh well,” a good friend of mine said after I later repeated the sordid story to her, “she wasn’t going to be your friend anyway.”

“Good point,” I replied.

And now, I thought, at least I know why.

Praying For Peace

Tuesday, March 22nd, 2011

It’s unimaginable.

What happened to them.

Our friends.

They took two daughters to a  party.

A birthday party.

And only one daughter.

Came home.

They were playing upstairs.

All the children.

And somehow.

Their four year old girl.

Fell.

Out.

A.

Window.

A third story window.

It was an accident.

A horrible.

Unthinkable.

Inconceivable.

Accident.

And I pray.

They find.

Peace.