Which Mama do you want, Walter?

Walter used to say the word "Daddy". For about a week. Then, he went back to just saying "Mama", and uses it for both parents. I think he's figured out that it doesn't matter whether he talks or not, we all jump to attention when he points at something and grunts - so why bother with knowing 2 words when 1 gets you what you want. So, when looking for Daddy, he just calls out "Mama".

The other day, he came toodling over toward us crying "Mama, Mama", and I squatted down and put my arms out. He never even looked at me, just walked right by, still crying out "Mama," and went straight to Kevin. Apparently, I wasn't the Mama he was looking for.

Tidbits

Tonight Henry started to get fussy about the cup I chose for his milk, as he would prefer a different one. I informed him that all the others are dirty and washing as we speak, in the dishwasher. I told him that by law I am required to wash dishes, and that if I don't, a policeman will come talk to me, and (this part I acted out, but I'll put into words for you, the reader), shake his finger at me and say, "Mama, you have to wash those milk sippie cups, and if you don't, I'll give you a ticket!"
Henry, having now witnessed both parents pulled over within one week's time, responds to this.
He was very tired as he replied to me, "I'll tell that policeman to leave my Mama alone, and say knock it off, Squirt."

Tidbits

Lately, Henry has figured out how to get over our kid fence that separates the downstairs play area from the rest of the house, and he gets very elaborate with various different "boosting" implements. Tonight, however, those boosting pieces weren't around due to the fact that the area had been cleaned and things put away, so as he struggled to get over, he stopped midway - one leg on either side of the gate - and said, "I'm not going to hurt my penis."

Statements such as these put me quickly on alert as I understand that they are usually late in the game, and I realized that probably, he was nearing the point of hurting his penis, and I jumped to attention to offer assistance. But, for a moment I wasn't entirely certain I knew how to take that statement. Was he reassuring me? As if to say, "Not to worry Mom, I'm okay, nothing getting damaged here. Look - no hands!" Or, was this more of a passive aggressive way of suggesting I help out as any moron could tell his penis was in peril?

Hard to know for sure, I guess. Except that Henry is shockingly accomodating and sweet, it's unlikely that it was the latter.

_______________
Henry had been picking on Walter a bit today. Henry hadn't taken a nap, and things were slightly on the edge. I, therefore, was picking on Henry. I was putting books away (for the millionith time ever) in Hen's room, when I heard the crying. I turned to see Walter laying face down in the hallway, with Henry directly behind him. I hadn't seen what had just happened, but I could see Henry was touching him.
"Henry," I call, "Don't touch your brother." I've said this a crazy number of times today.
Walter comes to me for hugging, Henry bails.
He reappears minutes later (for those of you without kids, minutes is a really long time).
He enters the room and says, "I didn't do anything."
Yeah, good start.
I look at Hen, "What happened in the hallway?"
He says, "Walter fell by himself, and I didn't push him when I smacked him."
I could barely keep a straight face.
"You smacked him?"
"No, I patted him," he starts, and continues on into some lengthy explanation that likely included monsters in a forest. Then he stops and says to me, "you don't believe me, do you?"
"No," I smile at him, "no, Henry, I don't."


_________________
The other day I got up around 5:30 am. As I was getting out of the shower, Henry walked in and said, "Mama, please put your "pajamins" back on and come sleep with me. I can't sleep with someone who is taking a bath."


____________
In bed the other night, Henry and I laid head to head after reading stories. The light was out and he had his hand wound up in my hair.
"I'm pulling my hair," he said.
"You're pulling my hair," I corrected him.
"Oh, oh, sorry, sorry, I didn't know what I was doing." He replies.

Scofflaws as Role Models

Posted by Kevin......

Stace thanked me for not giving her grief about being pulled over for speeding while taking Henry to school. I told her I would focus on the fact she was on her way to do a really nice thing for Henry's school. She had volunteered to chaperon a field trip (see stories below).

So as I sat on the side of Jefferson Rd. with a squad car parked behind me, it's lights a blaze, I though, "I CAN NOT tell Stace about this.

Jefferson Rd. was being paved. Actually, the FRONT LAWNS along Jefferson Rd. were being paved too. Jefferson was being significantly widened.

I had hoped for a name change too, since there are no fewer than four streets with the 4th president's name on all the corners.

You see, Jefferson Rd. is off of Jefferson Pkwy.

DO NOT confuse this with E. Jefferson Pkwy which is not physically connected with Jefferson Pkwy in any way. There are about half a dozen cornfields in between them.

Then there is Jefferson Dr.......which will take you to Jefferson Ln.

http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&q=northfield+mn&gs_upl=1093l5478l0l7554l12l12l2l4l6l0l281l1342l0.2.4l6l0&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=0x87f653c36e566ca1:0x7acc799d75f938af,Northfield,+MN&gl=us&ei=yIt5ToDtE8eBgAeevMGqAQ&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CBAQ8gEwAA

So now the officer is at my window and he asks me if I saw the ROAD CLOSED TO THROUGH TRAFFIC sign back on the corner of Jefferson and Jefferson. I told him I made a left from Jefferson onto Jefferson and was preoccupied by the other cars at the four way stop.

I said I followed a couple of cars down Jefferson and didn't realize I could not go through there.

I did NOT point out that he and I were, in fact, sitting at the far corner of Jefferson and therefore Jefferson was clearly OPEN to traffic that wanted to go THROUGH to the next available non-Jefferson road surface.

Did I mention that both boys are in the back of the car at this time. And Henry, God love him, is yelling, "Oh man, NOT AGAIN. AGAIN? NOT AGAIN!"

The officer was very nice and lectured me about how killing road workers would be traumatizing for all involved and I sincerely thank him for letting me off with a stern warning and I would never do anything wrong again.

Walter

Tidbits

Tonight, while Henry and I lay in his bed after stories, I reminded him that tomorrow is a school day. He sighed audibly.
"How many times do I gotta go to school?" He asked exasperated. (He just started 6 months ago.) I'm thinking at least until you can speak proper English. But I say,
"A lot."
I inquire about whether he likes it and he informs me that most of the time he does, and that _____ pushes him. Kevin and I know of this child, and we keep our eye on him when we are at the school. One day I'm gonna knock his block clean off. Although I say this knowing that depending upon the day, Henry and he are friends. I ask Hen if he tells the teacher when _____ picks on him.
"Sometimes." He says, as if he's already figured it out that it's not the teachers that are going to make it better.
"Henry," I say, "Tell the teachers when he pushes you, and then you tell _____ that you won't play with him if he's mean to you."
"Okay," Henry says. We've talked about this before.
"And Henry," I say petting his head, "you make sure that you tell me when he picks on you."
"Okay."
Because I'm gonna knock his little %$#@! block off.

---------
Yesterday I set the computer up for Henry to watch some show, and once it was on he patted me on the shoulder and said, "Okay, you can go now."
Oh, uh, okay...

Posted by Kevin.....

This is a re-post of my original blog entry from 9-11-01:



September 11th, 2001

"Beautiful! It's a perfect day for flying."

My courier had just asked me how my flight was. The sky was clear and cool, and my early morning cargo flight to Fargo, ND went smoothly. It was almost 8:00am CDT as I walked through the lobby at Valley Aviation, flashing a quick smile followed by a "G'mornin'" to the young lady at the front desk. I shivered in the cool air as I walked to my car. I was preoccupied about my biggest problem in life at the moment. "Should I sleep ALL day, or should I get up and go to the movies? Maybe I will shop for some fall clothes."

I heard the news of the attack on the car radio while driving to my apartment. The station made it sound like it was a small plane, and that it may be an accident. They had no more information.

"I really should buy a nice coat for this fall." I thought to myself.

As I pulled into my parking spot, they said a second plane hit the other tower. I figured they were mistaken. Perhaps the plane clipped both towers. Besides, it must be really foggy in New York for someone to make a mistake like that.

I went inside and turned on the TV. They were showing the replay of the second plane. I cannot tell you the utter feeling of shock and disbelief I felt as I watched a replay of the second plane hitting the building. "That's an airliner!" I said out loud to myself. I recognized it as either a 737 or 767. It still made no sense to me. I could not think of any reason why two commercial airliners would hit the buildings. I whispered "Oh my God" over and over for about a minute, still standing in the middle of the room, still unable to understand what had just happened. Then they said it must have been deliberate.

I was floored. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the TV.

A few minutes later, the picture on the TV suddenly changed to show a low skyline with old, white buildings. There was smoke in the distance. Peter Jennings was still talking about New York, but I said out loud, "That looks like D.C.!" "Um....we are looking at Washington D.C. now." said Jennings. My first thought was that it was the White House. The view on the screen was looking over the roof of what I recognized as a building near to the White House. I knew the White House did not sit on The Mall in D.C., and this view showed no monuments. Please God, no more, I thought to myself.

When they said it was the Pentagon, this was the first moment when I felt unsafe myself. Here before me was some kind of insane, violent, chaos occurring in several locations, and it appeared to be an ongoing thing. What was next? Philadelphia? Los Angeles? Minneapolis? I sat there, motionless, watching for an hour. Suddenly one of the towers collapsed.

Peter Jennings went silent in mid sentence. The camera angle change to show the billowing smoke. People were running. But they were blocks from the buildings. I knew what that meant, and my first thought was that the victims just went from hundreds to thousands. Next, I realized that there would always be that one tower standing by itself as a reminder of what happened.

But then the second tower collapsed. I felt that this was as bad as it could ever get. I just saw thousands of people leave this world.

I did as most Americans did and watched the coverage all day and into the night. My flight to Saint Paul was grounded. F-16s took off from Fargo Airport, roaring over the city on their way to the East Coast.

I volunteered to drive my cargo the four hours to Minneapolis on Tuesday night since there was no one else available to drive the truck. I returned to Fargo early Wednesday and was told by my company I was on standby to fly blood and medical supplies to Minneapolis, where it would be jetted to NYC. But I was not needed.

The "ground stop" for all commercial planes was lifted on Thursday, and I resumed my normal schedule. Fargo Airport Authority told me to make sure I knew the person who brought me my cargo that night. The flight back to Saint Paul was quiet. When I got home, it was then that I realized I had not slept more than a few hours in two days.

Clea Part 2

We took Clea in to the vet today. When we arrived, they took us into a softly lit room with a plaid throw over the examining table and a rug on the floor. It was very nice. While we waited for the vet to come in to give her the sedation, she walked around the room - doing just what she wanted to do. The vet and the tech entered, chatted with us briefly, sedated Clea, and left us alone again, with the plan to return in approximately 10 minutes to give her an overdose.

It didn't take 5 minutes before Clea was relaxed, on the rug, right in a ray of sunlight. It was the first time in years, maybe ever, that I was allowed to touch her belly without fear of losing a finger. She lay there, seemingly quite comfortable, relaxed. Kevin pointed out that in fact, that might have been the only time in her entire life she was perfectly at ease. I let her lay there until the vet came in.

They laid her down on the table, shaved a little spot off of a back leg, and injected her, and as far as I could tell, she was perfectly content. It was rather uneventful overall, we just pet her and pet her, telling her what a sweet girl she was.

I kept telling Kevin that it was silly to cry this much for a cat that I wasn't that close to, makes me wonder if I should ever get another cat that is affectionate. It's sad to say goodbye and to be a part of the dying process, but on the other hand, I wouldn't do it any other way. It turned out to be sort of a sad and exhausting day, but I'm so glad that I was able to give to her a good life, a comfortable living space, and a gentle farewell.

Clea

So, Clea is our 18 year old cat, and I just scheduled to take her in to the vet to be put to sleep. To be honest, I feel bittersweet about it. She has been a sweet companion in that she is nice, occasionally she lets me pet her , and she does her very best to coexist with the rest of us in the most unobtrusive way possible. But as cats go, she's sort of boring. The beginning of her life wasn't boring, so maybe this is what she wanted and needed - to live out the rest of her years in peace - anyway, I like to think this.

Clea was found in a plastic bag on the campus of Kent State University. It was winter, and she was somewhat frostbit. It made perfect sense that she was a total bitch to me when we met (as I would have been too if someone threw me out in the middle of winter without a fighting chance), as she would rear up on her hind legs, hiss, and bat at me with her razor sharp claws. I didn't like her, but felt that she deserved a better life, and thought I was the one obligated to give it to her. So, I did.

She put up with my princess cat Jessica, who always wanted to be the only cat, and always thought that she was - then got to live a long and less harrowing life long after Jessica. She and Emma were best buds, and she and Bella got along tolerably well for 2 cats who weren't really interested in anything beyond themselves and just wanted to be left alone - for the most part.

I can count on one hand how many times she sat on my lap. Always held there, never willingly, never fully comfortable, and with all claws out - just in case. She purrs and rubs up against me when she wants to, will be pet happily when she's in the mood, but never fully trusted anyone since being bagged. I guess I can't blame her for that. She has been a sweet and loving cat once she decided that I could be trusted to the point that she would trust any human, but I guess opted to always stay on her own feet and avoid laps. She just felt more comfortable and in control that way. Again, makes sense to me.

I always liked the cats that needed - no, correction, no cat needs a person - wanted me. I liked the cats that I could cuddle with, snuggle down with, hold and kiss their cheeks and stick my head in their bellies --- but I would walk away seriously bloodied if I did that with Clea. Plus, I don't have time for all that now with the boys and all. So, over the past years, my life with cats, along with my passion for cats, has really changed. I still love them, but there are other, more pressing priorities at this time. Clea has been a good cat for this time in my life. I am exactly the kind of owner she needed - although maybe I could've been more attentive to her water and food bowls, and litter pan. But otherwise, she didn't care if she was priority, just that she wasn't in a bag. (This is kind of a funny and positive perspective to consider in life: it's all good since I'm not in, or going in, a bag.)

I'm sorry to see her go in that we're used to one another, and I've shared the last 18 years of my life with her. That's a lot of history together, I guess. It seems like we ought to be a lot closer, but on the other hand, we've made enormous strides together during that time, and stayed together without any conflict. I know of marriages that didn't do that well. I think poor Bella will be bored out of her mind without Clea - maybe we'll get her a puppy. No, I'm just kidding.

Epilogue to My Morning

Well, this morning has been less eventful than yesterday's. I called my insurance company who immediately emailed me proof of insurance, and checked on the amount of my ticket, which is $120. Less than I expected.

I want to post an update on my bus ride yesterday. I struggled with Henry going to his teacher, it was the strangest feeling for me - and difficult to explain. I was so sure in my knowledge that Henry was coming to see me that when he turned, without hesitation (because this was his intention all the while) it was as if my brainwaves got interrupted. There seemed to be this sense of total confusion and yet I had no thoughts at all, just this weird blankness, if that makes any sense.

I thought about getting his attention, and I'm really glad that I chose not to because I think it was a moment of growth and observation for me. This is probably the way it is when I'm not here, and while initially I was awestruck that he wouldn't come directly to Mom for comfort, I am really pleased that he gets it from someone when I'm not around, that he found someone to give it to him, and also seeks it out so readily. While sometimes I feel the edges of a panic attack coming on as I think about it, I am glad that Henry is a strong, self sufficient, and independent kid - and that, gasp, he doesn't always need me.

I had to do a lot of work on that bus yesterday (yesterday morning was a lot more draining on me than I ever imagined!), but I felt much better in the end. I was proud that I didn't try to control or intervene, and instead just watched things unfold. (Okay, I did finally ask Miss Jamie if he was ok, but it turned out he was just falling asleep.) I don't stop and observe enough. Had I stepped in (where I realize now I wasn't needed), I might have changed the scenario and what would that prove? One thought I have about that is that I might have guilted Henry into doing something that he hadn't planned on doing. Or maybe not, maybe it's not that big of a deal, but neither was what happened naturally.

What was really cool about it too was that later, Hen occasionally peeked at me from over the seat and smiled, reminding me that I hadn't been forgotten. He also sat on my lap on the way home. But it would've been okay if he hadn't.

My Morning

Well, here's a story that I am a little embarrassed about, but what is blogging for if not to post the good, the bad, and the ugly? It's the story of my morning.

All was well - but hurried - this morning, as I fed the boys and got Henry ready for school. Today would be a special day as it is the last of the summer and Henry's school would be going to an indoor playground, and I would be one of the chaperones. We hustled and of course, left the house late. I would not deny myself a coffee (which in my defense, I needed badly, and all who would be with me today would want me to have), so we zoomed over to the local coffeehouse, zoomed in, zoomed out, and alas, as you may now be guessing, began to zoom to school.

Yes, of course, I was safe. But, I tend to drive a bit speedily (with the emphasis on "speed"). Although, this might be a good time for me to add that the speed limits really are a bit low. I was heading out of town toward the school (on a 4 lane road) when all of a sudden I see the lights of a police car flip on - he was in the far lane going in the opposite direction and I totally missed him as he was hidden by cars on all sides!! BUMMER. But that isn't what I said. Instead I let out an expletive. Then another one realizing that I'd just sworn in front of Henry. And then, wanting to be a good influence, I told him not to repeat Mama.

So, within seconds the cop makes a u-turn (which strikes me as somewhat excessive really – it’s not like I was driving erratically while shooting at cars behind me). I stop. I am late, now later than before. He comes to the window, all the while Henry reminds me that the bus is going to leave the school and suggests that we go. I’m in total agreement, but think better of fleeing the police. I encourage Henry to let me do the talking, and say a silent prayer that he doesn’t take this opportunity to repeat the words I shouted a minute before.

The police yabbers something at me, then informs me that I was driving 47 in a 30 mph zone. Now, to be perfectly fair, I deserve every ticket I get (for all the times I zip right along without being pulled over) – I don’t dispute this – but everyone drives 47 in this zone, and they’re all going slowly now simply because they can see this poor schmuck of a woman being ticketed. I know this maneuver, I've engaged in it plenty of times myself.

“Yes,” I report. “I was speeding. I am so sorry.” What else can I say? I apologize primarily to appeal to the authority. I am not above this, and I do it whenever I can. It usually bodes well for me.

“Where are you going?” He asks.
Typically, I hate this question. Today I don’t care.

“We’re late, we need to catch a bus to go to an indoor playground.”

I feel ridiculous. “Sorry, Officer, this is an emergency, our bus is waiting for us so that we can go play!”

“Do you have proof of insurance?”

(This is where the story gets particularly embarrassing for me…)

My brain explodes in expletives. I have never, ever driven without proof of insurance and yet at that time I am convinced that for certain I will not find proof of insurance. I am pretty sure that he’s not going to care that I would never, ever drive uninsured and that at the beginning of every month the payment is deducted from my bank account. Yep, he’s definitely not going to care. He suggests I look for it as he goes to his patrol car with my driver’s license.

Expletive, expletive, expletive !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (All in my head - popping like fireworks.) Nope, not only can I not find proof of insurance, but the last proof that I have in the car expired in 2009. WHAT??? This simply cannot be. How is this possible? My mind goes to all the times Henry “drives the car” and rifles through my things. EXPLETIVE!

I envision having to go to the police station. I have no clue what happens to those who don’t have proof of insurance, but I figure it can’t be good. (I think this is probably a good time to point out that the reason I don’t know this is because I have always had proof of insurance in the past.) I don’t think I can appeal myself out of this one. I feel terrible for Henry.

The police person returns and I stupidly hand him what I do have which are my car tab receipts and one proof of insurance card that expired in 2009. I really want to vanish into thin air.

There is no question that the gods are smiling upon me as he hands me my ticket, informing me of my court date (if I opt not to pay – AS IF!), tells me that he cut me a break by writing that I was only going 40 instead of 47, then asks me if he can have the expired proof of insurance card to check on my current status. He asks me if I need it. Well – clearly I did need it, but I sort of laugh thinking, no, what I need is a current card… I tell him he can have it. Then, I do something I think is reprehensible, really, as I say,

“Do I have to wait while you do that?” -Because, you might recall, I am in a hurry… (Of course, I ask this thinking to myself, he probably wonders if I’m going to peel out of here now.) He says no.

I am SO lucky. (Course, I still don’t know yet how much my ticket is.)

Then, we’re on the bus. We didn’t miss it. I am about 4 seats back from my little boy who is on his very first bus ride, sitting three in a seat with his buddies. I watch him, feeling a little sad, a little disappointed in myself, and extremely grateful. We’re driving – it’s a bit of a long ride – when all of a sudden I see Henny stand up and start walking down the aisle. My Mama instincts spring to attention and I get ready to enclose my child in my arms and cuddle him on my lap (which I think I really need right now) when he abruptly turns to Miss Jamie, his teacher, who picks him up and puts him on her lap, where he sits for the duration of the trip.

Oh. Okay.

I look away and think about what I’ve done.