Orange Star

You got me a beautiful flowering plant for Mother's Day, that looks very much like this picture. It's sitting in front of a big window that gets lots of light and every time I look at it, I think about how much thought went into picking it out for me. You are one thoughtful little dude and you knew just what I would want.

Apple Tree

You have been doing a lot of drawing of your own recently. On Monday, you and X sat outside on our doorstep and drew pictures of Ben 10; including some never before seen creative aliens of your own. Last night, you felt like drawing a tree for me to take to work. It had flowers, grass, dirt, sky, sun and two floating hearts and it is the sweetest tree I've ever seen.

In school news, you've been coming home with a lot of "extra" homework, aka: work you don't complete at school. So when I asked the air why your teacher is not communicating any issues to me, you came clean because you are one honest little dude. You told me you talk to much. I, of course, did the motherly thing and gave you a speech about it, but I'm secretly glad that you are comfortable enough to talk too much.

Red Flower

You came upstairs yesterday and handed me a beautiful red flower; and as I gushed, you told me it was from your friend, Xavier.

Your friends are OK in my book.

Lazy Mom

You totally called me out on this one:

"Mommy, were you tired so you just drew me something quick?"

Yep. You are 100% correct.

Zoo Day!

I am so happy I took the time to chaperon your field trip; I did end up getting you in my group of three wild beasts boys. I absolutely loved walking you into class, watching you start a typical day and standing up with my hand on my heart to say the Pledge of Allegiance. Yep, it's been a while since I've done The Pledge! But guess what? That's like riding a bike. I could pick out the morning kids from the non-morning kids (I am one of the latter) by the way Mrs. S did role call. "Good morning, J!" she would say. And J (our example student in this case) would reply "Good morning!"; but the kids who scoff at mornings would merely grumble something that sounded like "meh" and Mrs. S would have to do a double take. You are a total morning person and tend to pop out of bed with a smile on your face, a laugh in your heart and a bounce in your step. You are like a little ray of sunshine.

The zoo was at it's best. Most of the premium animals were out and about, unlike previous trips that left me feeling like I wasted a lot of money (and this trip was free!). The two other boys were not really your friends because apparently, they are a little bit evil (your words). I thought it interesting that Mrs. S would put them with me, perhaps believing that since I already turned out one really well-behaved small person, I might be better equipped to handle two more not so well-behaved small people.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The first hour and a half was great and fantastic with three well-behaved little boys; but then we had lunch and that should have concluded the field trip. The additional hour and a half resulted in a lot of stern motherly type statements to the two other boys regarding hitting each other with water bottles and staying with the group; which eventually turned into a stern motherly warning to you because you just couldn't help yourself with all that fun misbehavior going on!

We eventually met up with a couple of other groups and the mom's in those groups were so at ease and TOTALLY not worried about losing their charges; so I thought, man, I must look like such an amateur; because me? I kept a hawk-eye on those boys who were not you (I trust you to stay near). I just assumed they were professional chaperons or mothers of more than one.

It was a lot of fun though, and I very much enjoyed riding the bus with you and getting to know the other kids and their (mostly) mothers (there was, one dad?). Since I plan on keeping you in this school for the duration of elementary, it is important that I get to know our surroundings and now I can't wait for the next chaperoned field trip!

Ladybug

It's been nothing short of amazing to watch you soak up knowledge this year. Last night, you brought home a book and some homework papers to complete. One of the papers contained ten or so math problems. I went off to do something for maybe two minutes, and when I came back, you had completed the math worksheet and had moved on to the next task. All but two were right, and when I pointed them out, you said "Oh, I thought that was ADDITION!" and corrected it immediately. You read the book like it was nothing new, and it contained words like "could" and "would"; stuff that's not all that easy to learn if you are used to phonics. Even your drawings, once consisting of little more than a few lines, now look like funky chickens:

You are learning about ladybug's in school right now and actually have some in your classroom. When I asked if you had held any, you told me no and you have absolutely no intention of doing so.

Wheelies and the DS

It was a three day weekend and as per usual, Tuesday was here before I was ready; so I hurriedly scribbled something for you. You love these fly by the seat of my pants pictures because they always represent something very current, even if the artistry is lacking. You've learned how to "pop a wheelie" due to the influence of the older neighborhood kids and as much as I want to cringe, hold you close and tell you to never ever do that again, I won't. Boys will be boys, even when their mother's tend toward the frilly and their father's are hairstylists. That could explain your recent infatuation with football too, which I think is totally cool!

The teacher sent home a note today informing the parental units that you are to have your very first spelling test next week. The words she will be testing you on are as follows:

flat

last

blast

van

tan

bat

ask

fat

man

plan

I tested you tonight and you got them all right. I am so very impressed! It's hard to believe that in six short months you have come so far; you absorb knowledge like Kevin Levin absorbs metal. It only takes one time to explain that the 'wh' sound is 'w' and you get it. It's amazing watching you grow and mature. It's bittersweet for sure, but more sweet than bitter.

A Mother Knows

You asked me to make you a drawing that you could color, so there you are. I won't deny that it was EASIER, but it felt like I was cheating.

You got your first report card today, and you know, not to toot my own horn or anything, but apparently you don't need to have a degree in early childhood education to understand your child's strengths. I don't know how many times I've mentioned that you are doing well in reading and writing, but even better (as in, ADVANCED) in math concepts. Today, my educated guesses were validated. Not that I needed it, but it was still nice to see that truly am tuned into your education:

Why yes, those 3's mean you are excelling, my dear. They mean that you are probably a little bit bored with what you are learning in class (as evidenced by the lack of new information you are bringing home) because you already know it. I'm trying not to be one of those parents who brags about your accomplishments, but I am so flipping proud of you kid that I simply can't help it.

(And don't worry, I don't think brain surgeons really need to be concerned about excelling at geometry.)

P.S.S. Geometry sucks.

Rudolph's First Flight

This marks the end of your first semester at school and my, have you grown. My timid little boy has blossomed into an assertive child who makes friends with the neighborhood kids even if they might think you're a little young for their crowd (most are 8 or 9 and one, who is particularly awesome to you, is a SIXTH GRADER). You don't know it, but I saw you follow those boys the other day and demand that they acknowledge you. I observe a lot more than you realize, it's a parents job, and when you ask if I really have eyes in the back of my head, the answer is no, but I might as well have them.

Academically, I don't know what to say except WOW! You can actually write clearly now, and you are sounding out things to write in the cutest way. Your teacher asked what you did on Thanksgiving and your response was "we eetid"; so I know you are grasping the sounds of words (if not the grammar). I don't envy you, I can now see why the English language is one of the hardest to learn. Just look at the word "learn"; it's amazing that any of us every learn to read and write at all. The only words in that last sentence that made any sense, sound wise, is "at" and "and".

No longer am I "mommy" or even "mom". I am now, simply: M-O-M. "M-O-M, can you help me? M-O-M, can I have some lunch?" etc...

You definitely get math and numbers and it may be a little early to say this, but I think you are already fitting into the stereotypical ideal that boys do better in math. Not only do you grasp it easily, but you like it. You are constantly performing addition and subtraction in your head, telling time and counting. You love to quote prices for me. For instance: "MOMMY! That's two dollars and thirty-nine cents!", or, when looking at a can of beans "OH MY GOSH MOMMY, that can of beans is NINETY-NINE dollars!" (99 cents)

You know by now that I tend to beat myself up over the fact that I taught you very little before kindergarten started, but I do want to point out that I at least taught you silly bulls (syllables) before you learned it in school! I was really pleased with myself the day you came home and told me that your teacher taught you syllables and you were all "yeah, I know this already, my MOMMY taught me". I don't think that's what you actually said, but that's what you said in my head.

You are adjusting well to your new school. You even have a "job" that you perform with your new best friend. The two of you are tasked with carrying the lunch bucket - which I assume means the bucket that contains your classmates lunch boxes, sacks, etc... It's a little bit of responsibility and you love it. It means you break away from the class to walk to and from your classroom unsupervised and freedom like that is bliss to a six year old.

So when you came home on Wednesday and announced that you had "quit your job", I was taken aback. Apparently, you and your fellow bucket carrier were laughing on your way back from the lunch room and the other Kindergarten teacher came out and told you to be quiet. You get really b-u-t hurt (that's how you spell it) over stuff like that, so you quit your job.

I seized the opportunity to teach you a life lesson right then and there and I told you that everybody has bad days at work and if I "quit" every time I had a bad day, well, we wouldn't be living as pretty as we live now.

The next day you told me you decided to keep your job.

It's nice to know you sometimes wear your listening ears outside of school too ;)

Home

We are between here and there and everywhere and you are still going to your old school while we try to adjust to our new surroundings that aren't so far from our old surroundings, just...different. And not different in a bad way, actually different in a very good way, in a way where I have to pinch myself from time to time that we have had the good fortune (knock on wood) to have been able to make the change from life long apartment dwellers to house renters; which, as you know, is not actually owning a house, but that's OK because we still live in a neighborhood where children leave their bikes in our driveway and the sound of skates and skateboards bounce off the walls through open windows on any given Saturday. A place where we aren't bound by the rules of apartment homes, we can wash our car in the driveway and hook up the speakers and watch Transformers at ridiculous volumes because there are no terms in our lease that say we can't. In fact, signing the lease felt more like a handshake than a sterile business transaction. It is a place that the owner lived in and loved and it brings a warmth to the space that wraps around my shoulders and pulls me in. I haven't slept as well as I've been sleeping in this new place in a very, very long time and the same goes for you. I put you to bed at night, you roll to your side and that's how I find you when I kiss your cheek in the morning before I go to work; all snuggled up with 10,000 animals surrounding you, your arms around your favorites: Beary and Monkey. I've asked a lot of you, I've asked for a lot of changes with this move, and you, my boy, my son-shine, have accepted these changes with only whimpers of objection.

But we're still transient and even though I'm sleeping oh-so-well, I'm exhausted and probably will be for a while as I adjust to the new routine. So basically, what I'm trying to say is that my meager drawings will have to do, because the part of my brain that allows me to focus has gone on hiatus for a while.

Family

Really, none of the characters in this picture look anything like us, but you immediately knew what it was. I would like to mention that you have much longer legs, but your big brown peepers are pretty spot on. I call them heartbreakin' eyes; or alternately, Get Out of Trouble for Free eyes.

Also, you aren't picking your butt. You are supposed to have your hand on your hips.

Dude!

Oh my dear. This picture almost didn't get done. In fact, not much in the way of productivity is getting done this week, including your homework and your turkey lurkey feather, both due tomorrow. I realize I am not setting a great example by oh, I dunno, choosing to get settled into our new place while trying to get the old place in tip top shape so that the apartment complex doesn't charge me an arm and a leg for dirty drip pans; but it is what it is. You love homework, you'll get it done and we got your feather got halfway done last night (it could really pass for all the way done if need be - there's something to be said for winging it).

I asked you to look at the picture before school, not at lunch, because it is so lame and I didn't want your little fan club to laugh. Turns out, you thought it was "soooo cool" and it looks like Astro Boy. Not what I was going for (I'm not sure what I was going for), but I'm ever so pleased that you like my 30 second scribble because dude, I just don't have the energy for much more.

Improv

So. Tired. Can't. Move.

I ran out of time at the end of the day and my eyes were closing, so I just scribbled something and called it good.

Or maybe I call it improv.

I like improv.

I am not a poet

I'm feeling rather waxy, in the poetical sense this week, but I am not a poet, so you get a string of words from your mom that may or may not have life lessons in them. I am not old, but I have a lot of experiences, and I think that qualifies me for some sort of wisdom.

We move a lot. A LOT. You know this, and I am painfully aware of it. I don't like switching up your routine, or forcing the "new kid" role on you, but it has been a necessary part of your life; not because we are running from anything, but because such is the life of an apartment dweller. When I gave our 60-day notice to the office, Asika the office lady lamented because we had lived there for "so long". We have lived there for two years and in two different units. Apartments are for transient people. People on the go. People who crave change and abhor stability.

That was me ten years ago, that is not me now.

This move should feel no different than any other. I shouldn't feel like such a big change is on the horizon. I'm welcoming it, anticipating it, but it's also making me anxious.

See, I'm taking a leap of faith here. I'm taking the chance that we'll be better off in two years than we are now, so that when grandma moves out, we can stay in that little townhouse that someone else owns, without another forbearance on my student loans. I am trying not to feel like I'm making a stupid move, because it is NOT a stupid move at all, I am just an overly cautious person. It is in my nature to imagine the worst, but this is me, imagining the best.

And I'm knocking on wood more than once a day.

I'm learning, slowly, that success doesn't come from caution, that risks must be taken to move forward. Change doesn't come easy and it doesn't come with a price tag. Perhaps a recession is the wrong time to adopt such optimism; but I'm motivated and I need to take advantage of it. Choosing the wrong time to lose weight is how I dropped it; so I'm hoping this will be no different.

And there you go, kiddo; a life lesson all wrapped up in a moving box and tied nicely with a bow. I love you.

Love,

Your cautiously (knock on wood!) optimistic Mom

The Guitar

You have a guitar that Papa (my dad) gave you for Christmas a few years ago. It's a bona fide real (kid sized) electric guitar, plucked from Papa's very own music shop just for you. It had an amplifier, past tense, but it never quite worked and I never quite complained about that.

Papa taught himself to play violin, have I ever told you that? I'm sure I have, I repeat my stories a lot, so you say. He wasn't much older than I am now when he learned and it wasn't long after that your talented papa, who was already pretty darn crafty at making birds out of wood, was manufacturing his own violins. And they worked! The violin we have, the one that sits in its case with broken strings and a neglected bow, was born from Papa's hands. I think that's pretty impressive.

Unfortunately, I did not inherit Papa's penchant for all things musical. He can play the guitar, the violin and who knows what else, but I could never get past the squealing deer part of learning. It hurts my ears too much to try.

I pulled that dusty electric guitar from your room this weekend as I was packing and sat it next to some boxes. Later that day, I picked it up and plucked loosely at the strings. It wasn't much and I wasn't trying to make music, but you were impressed.

Mommy! You play the guitar really good! Do it some more!

I thought you were just being the sweetheart you are, not having the heart to tell me I was hurting your ears.

It wasn't until later, when you enthusiastically told your father: "Daddy, guess what?! Mommy can play the guitar really good!" that I realized you truly believe with all of your heart, that your mom, me, yours truly, can play the guitar.

I could say something here, like it's time to have your hearing checked, but I won't. Instead, I'm going to revel in this sweetness, this knowledge that you think I can do something that requires a moderate amount of talent without even trying.

And maybe we'll start picking up that guitar a little more often.

Happy Halloween

The conclusion of Eight/six Little Ghouls doesn't really have a conclusion like I had intended, but at least I got them all (plus one!) in one room, right?

What a week. I'm not going to beat it into the ground, but I think I mentioned previously that I'm a little dazed and confused right now. You love your school, I (surprisingly) love your school. We are moving. Only five miles. Do I keep you at your current school for the rest of the year? I would consider it, if it weren't for the fact that they get out so early and that is cost prohibitive. Grandma has a job now and can't pick you up, so in the interim, I am coming in an hour early to work so I can leave early and pick you up from school, but that can't be a long-term solution. Thankfully, I have a job that allows me to work very early and leave very early, but these hours are a little too early and if you were to stay at this school, I would have to put you in after school care. I would rather save the money for Christmas, wouldn't you? Your new school gets out almost an entire hour later than your current one and melds with my working hours better. Plus, it's closer and it is part of the community we are moving into. I know in the long run, moving you now is the better decision, it's just hard to see the long run when you're in the short-run.

I know you'll adapt, but I want you to know I understand that you will miss your current school and the friends you have made. I know what it's like to be the new kid, because I did it no less than ten times during my childhood, so I truly do get your apprehension. I also want to say that I'm incredibly proud of you, because you are starting to "psyche" yourself up for it. You know it's coming, you aren't fighting it, just accepting it. Maybe you truly understand that I have your best interests at heart, or maybe it's just that you are getting really excited about having stairs in our house.

Love,

Mom

Eight or Six?

Eight Little Ghouls got shortened to six because I just plumb ran out of steam. The impending move, the change of schedule, it's got me all a little pleasantly off kilter. I drew this picture a couple of weeks ago and decided not to use it because I thought it was a little bit creepy, but you saw it the other day and pleaded with me to put it in your lunch. I saw creepy; you saw funny.

I have so enjoyed picking you up from school this week! But I'm sorry I forgot to send a pumpkin or an apple, or whatever the heck it was I was supposed to send with you at some point this week that is not in the future. Or maybe it was last week? I'm walking around in a daze and I'd really appreciate it if your teachers would send home "please bring" notes in bright bold letters, or maybe a neon sign I can nail into the wall.

Love,

Your dazed and confused mom.

Ghoul Five and Six

The fifth little ghoul

brought a winged bat

and the sixth little ghoul

brought a striped hat

These two look a little monochromatic, huh?

We spent a few hours yesterday finding a new bed for you (for your new room!) and purchasing the brand new Ben 10 Wii game you wanted to buy with your allowance, so by the time we got home, played some Wii and watched the first hour of So You Think You Can Dance, it was your bedtime and also mine. Since I am temporarily going into work verrrry early so that I can pick you up from school in the afternoons, I have a strict bedtime, too.

Basically, I ran out of time and need to plan better.

You have moved on from the basic sounds of the alphabet and have been working on the 'ee' sound this week. You pick this stuff up fast, you little sponge, you. I am so impressed with the way you soak up everything around you. You even soak up the stuff I teach you, which believe you me, is a feat in itself. You used to despise it when I tried to teach you something, but now you listen intently and that makes me feel very important.

(P.S. I have no idea why this picture uploaded sideways. Blogger glitch.)

Ghouls Three and Four

Little ghoul three

brought a chocolate covered scream

and little ghoul number four

came with a creepy cheer team

You were absolutely fascinated by the ghost because you can't believe I didn't color it in.

But, it looks like you colored it white, Mommy! How did you do that?

Let me tell you a secret: I absolutely adore it when I can befuddle you. I love it when I can wow you with something I've done, because you don't always look up to me like you do your daddy (daddy, can do ANYTHING). I'm cool with that, I really am, but I take a little selfish pride in moments like these because Daddy can't do that. (You've already figured out that I am not perfect, so I'm sure this little revelation won't surprise you ;))

You were so amazed, in fact, that you wanted to try it for yourself; so try it for yourself you did and boy were you proud of it. Me too.

Unfortunately, this picture had a date with the spin-cycle (still working on that whole "check the pockets" thing), but hey, that's what the digital backup for, right?

Eight Little Ghouls

Eight Little Ghouls

Who love Halloween

Threw the best party

That you've ever seen

The first little ghoul

brought apples to try

the second little ghoul

brought peanut butter pie

You were indifferent toward Friday's picture, even though it was totally (accidentally) perfect for that day, because you came home from your field trip (where you learned that you love big yellow vehicles with no seat belts - oh, I already said that?) with a small pumpkin. I admit, I was a little hurt by your ambivalence toward my boring picture and didn't even attempt to hide it; to which you sighed and said, "Mommy, do I have to like them all?". Umm, yes; because I PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THEM. Oh, I'm supposed to act like an adult? Then no, no you do not have to like them all.


*sniff*


When you got a sneak peak of today's picture and told me as much, I said that I was going to draw you something else because you don't like the from-mom's-imagination pictures (Yes, I was pouting. Mom's sometimes pout); you got upset and said you really like the monster. So, it's onward with this weeks plan...to create a Halloween story for you. Of course, I had pictured something much better than this in my head, but at least I tried and I copied absolutely NOTHING from somewhere else.


But I'm running out of ghoul ideas already, so forgive me if I use the witch and vampire more than once, k?


In other news: Your dad ate a barbecued scorpion this weekend. I said that I was glad I don't kiss him any more and you made me promise I would never follow his lead. No worries there, kiddo; I won't even try escargot.