Water Sports

A few weeks ago we visited my parents in Reno. I grew up going to the lake and waterskiing, kneeboarding, wakeboarding, and tubing. Since it was summer time and the weather was nice, we spent a couple of days out at Pyramid Lake. It was wonderful. It had been 9 years since I've skied and boarded. It didn't take long to remember how much I enjoyed it. I also realized that my post-traumatic stress disorder blocked out some not so pleasant experiences.

For some reason, my dad had a knack for making me bleed at the lake. I remember the time when me and a buddy were on a ski bob (basically a two seat banana boat). My dad, unable to control himself, decided to give us a ride we wouldn't forget. He swerved the boat from side to side causing us to slide and bounce out of control. It felt like we were riding an angry bull. We were both bucked off and I fell into the ski rope which cut me on the side of the neck, the chin, and underneath my bottom lip. When I surfaced, I immediately saw all the blood in the water. Had there been sharks, I would have been eaten. I still have a scar.

Or another time, my dad, once again unable to contain himself, had my little sister and I on the tube. Again serving from side to side, we started to sling-shot across the water, the tube barely skimming the surface until it hit a small wave and pitched us like rag dolls. While we were tumbling and skipping across the water, my little sister's foot caught me on the side of the face and her toenail cut me down the side of my nose. Once again, when I surfaced there was blood in the water.

Surprisingly, this trip did not have any blood spilled from me. However, I did jump down out of boat, landed on a rock, and fractured my heel. But no blood.

We all had a great time. I also couldn't help but post a picture of my hot wife and adorable son.

Easy Things

I know you’re never supposed to compare children. It’s like the most often repeated phrase in the “What to Ex.pect” books. But I’m constantly seeing other kids do this or that and I can’t help but think, “I wish Buddy was that easy.” If you hadn’t yet noticed, I adore Buddy. He’s the great joy of my life. I love him just the way he is, but he just isn’t all that easy.

I hate to be a complainer, so I decided to compile a list of ways he does make life especially easy for us:

1. He slept eight hours at night at six weeks and all the way through the night at nine weeks. Now, why he can’t sleep through the night now is a big mystery, but for a good few years he was an incredible sleeper. (Anybody about there know why an almost 4-year old would not sleep well all of a sudden?)
2. He’s great about riding in the car. He never in all of his life has complained about long car rides. He sat happily and content the entire ride to Nevada a couple of weeks ago. (I’ll blog about that one of these days). And when we drove to Utah and got caught in a scary snow storm at Christmas time, he actually cried when we FINALLY arrived… at 2:00 in the morning… a mere 16.5 hours after we left our home… because he didn’t want to get out of the car. Gotta love a kid who loves road trips because I was ready to shoot myself.
3. He isn’t shy and never had separation anxiety. He loves people. He has a lot of talents, but his best gift is his ability to be-friend everybody. I wish I were more like that.
4. He’ll eat anything. And I mean anything. We went out to lunch this week and he was over-the-moon excited when he realized we were eating at a seafood restaurant. In fact, he not only downed most of the food on his plate, but he also ate the lemon (including the rind) that you’re supposed to squirt on the fish.
5. He loves vegetables. I’ve never heard of a toddler that’ll choose vegetables over anything else. But he will. A couple weeks ago we were shopping at the grocery store and I was picking out some fresh vegetables. Buddy saw the broccoli and begged me to buy some. He said, “If I’m a good boy while we’re shopping, can I have some broccoli when we get home?” Of course I was OK with that, but I just think that’s so strange that he’d want raw broccoli for a snack. Then the other night we had peas and sloppy joes for dinner. Buddy said, “If I eat all my dinner, can I have some more peas?” He did indeed eat all his dinner, so I gave him some more. He ate all those then he begged for some more, so I actually had to cook more because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. And don't get me started about how many cooked carrots he consumed tonight.
6. He’s easy on the eyes. He just about makes me crazy most days. He’ll be in the middle of a WWIII-style temper tantrum or arguing match and I’ll be on the verge of a meltdown myself. Then I look at him and think, “Thank goodness he’s so adorable.” Seriously, if he wasn’t so cute…

Drama

We certainly write a lot about Jr. He is the source of endless entertainment for M and I. Lately, he seems to be getting more dramatic. He's started to use the phrase "never" and sometimes "never ever." Here are a couple of examples.

A few weeks ago, we decided to go to the Washington County Fair. We were taking back roads and unfortunately, we started to get lost. This was extremely concerning to Jr, who was listening intently to our conversation on where to go. Finally, he said in desparation, "We'll never get to the fair!"

Another time we were at a fast food joint (this was previous to watching "Supersize Me." (oh who am I kidding, we still eat fast food)). We were waiting for our food and it was taking a long time. Jr was hungry and was listening to us complain about the wait. Finally, he'd had enough and marched up to the counter and exclaimed, "We'll never get our food!"

Needless to say, it is really funny to hear him be all dramatic. I've now incorporated the phrase into my own vocabulary and use it every chance I get. "I'll never finish this post!"

Baa, Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Wool?

Buddy was born with a full head of dark hair, and unlike most babies, he never really lost any of his hair -- though his hair changed from dark to red and now it's light blond. We didn't have a digital camera when he was an infant, but here's the first digital photo we have of him. This is Buddy at eleven months with a full head of crazy hair. By this age, he had at least two haircuts.
Buddy got his first hair cut at eight months, though it certainly should have been cut a lot sooner than that. Everyone pestered me to cut it sooner because it was completely out of control, but I just couldn't bring myself to pay $25 for someone to cut my newborn's hair. And I had no idea how to cut a baby's hair, especially since he couldn't even sit up yet. Plus, he was a baby for crying out loud. So right before he was sealed to us, G and I gave him a trim. Since then he's had too many hair cuts to count. When he was one and too out of control to sit still, I paid a kid haircutter to do it, but $25 is a lot of money. I had a friend do it once and I'll publicly admit, that was the only time I ever thought he looked ugly. I'm almost embarrassed to post this on the Internet for fear of ridicule. (14 months)

We then bought some clippers from Co.stco and started doing it ourself for awhile. (16 months)

But he's capable of sitting still now, especially if he's eating a sucker, so we get him sheared at a regular barber now. She does an amazing job, we don't have to worry about the cleanup, and the price is right too.

We've been really, really busy lately and haven't had a spare minute, so it's been a whole two months since we last got his hair cut. I took before and after pictures, just to show how crazy his hair gets if it's not sheared regularly. In fact, the barber removed so much hair, I estimated we'd be able to make approximately three sweaters from the wool. Or at least fill "three bags full." This is only two months time:

I think I might have given him a complex, though because the morning I took him in he told me, "I'm not a sheep. I just look like one."

It's About Time for an Update and a Tribute to Good Friends

It's been a very long time since G or I updated. We have lots to blog about, but we've just been completely swamped. On a scale of one to ten, our stress levels have been hovering around a 15. We're still alive and life is good, even if a bit overwhelming lately... Here's a brief update:

1. We spent a fabulous week in Reno visiting G's parents. We went to the lake two different days. Maybe I can get G to tell more about that and how he's still got his waterskiing and wakeboarding skills, despite a 9-year break from water sports. Buddy had fun playing with his cousins and we ate some very yummy food, including In-n-Out Burger twice, and the best casino buffet EVER. If you ever visit Reno, please eat at the Atlantis buffet. Delicious! We always go and every time I think they'll soon be changing their "children under four eat for free" policy. Buddy is a big eater and every time we go, I expect them to see how much food he consumes and change that policy. So far, so good.

2. The day before we left for Reno, I got pulled over for going 43 mph in a 35 zone. I was heading to the gym to work out. (See my last post) As the police officer was approaching the car, Buddy asked, "Is the police officer going to put you in jail for making a poor choice?" No kidding, I had about five seconds to convince Buddy not to speak A WORD while the police officer talked to me. The problem was, he has never gone five seconds in his entire life without speaking. I told him I'd spank him if he said ANYTHING. How's that for good parenting? Luckily, he kept quiet, but after the fact, I realized that my threats could have back fired. What would have happened if he told the officer, "My mom said she'd spank me if I told you that she was making poor choices and needed to go to jail." Wouldn't that traumatize the poor boy if I did get hauled off to jail... Anyway, Buddy was quiet and I got let off with just a warning. However, wouldn't you know, when I picked Buddy up after working out, he was playing dress up. He was wearing a police officer costume. Seriously.

3. I have amazing friends. As I mentioned above, life has been crazy and we've been making all sorts of big decisions. The other night two dear friends planned a fabulous evening for for me to relax. The husbands were planning to watch movies and I was supposed to go to Nicki’s house with Buddy to do something with the wives. They told me that someone would watch Buddy (and all the kids) because they had a surprise for me. I arrived and they told me they had arranged for me to go get a massage at a new place in town. First of all, the massage was amazing! I love getting them… The staff was waiting for me and since it was so late (9:00 pm), I was the only client there. They all knew about the surprise and were so excited to hear what the occasion was. I just told them a little about my week and mostly kept saying, the occasion is... I have amazing friends! When I got back to Nicki's house around 10:00, all the kids were sound asleep and Shauna and Nicki had gotten a HUGE eclair and had it all ready to eat, plus they had sour patch kids for me and a couple other of my favorite treats too. We sat around and talked, watched the finale of "So You Think You Can Dance" (by the way, what am I going to do now that it's over? Go Sabra!!!!), and talked some more. Finally at 1:00 AM, we felt like we should probably break up the party, since our husbands had to go to work the next day. Words cannot express how nice it was… No kids, no phone, no husbands, no messy house, no stress. What a nice feeling to have friends who care and that are willing to just talk with me and listen and be excited and hopeful right along with me. It's been a few days and I still haven't come down from my high. I don't know if the massage and treats did more for my spirits, or if it was simply the generosity of my dear friends that has made such a dramatic change in my mood. Thanks again!!!!

Poor Choices

We make a lot of poor choices in our house. And when I say "we," I mean... Buddy.

One day a couple years ago Buddy was did something I objected to and I said, "Well, that was a poor choice!" I was trying to be a good parent and not criticize him, just his bad behavior. I also wanted him to realize he needed to control his own actions, and it was his choice how he behaved. Well, that little catch phrase stuck. It seems like every other thing out of my mouth, or every other thing that goes through my head is, "That was a poor a choice." But I'm not the only one. Buddy is awfully quick to point out poor choices, both mine and his.

He is constantly saying things like:

"I know you said I could have some blueberries, but my behavior has been bad."

While holding up his index finger, "My superhero stuff is in time out. If I make one more poor choice, it'll be in time out for a long time, right?"

"If I make a poor choice, I won't get to play with my pirate toys, right?"

"Do you remember when you forgot to bring my apples to church? That was a poor choice."

He obviously is aware of what is unacceptable behavior and what the consequences might be, but why on earth can't he JUST BEHAVE? That's a conversation for another post, though.

Tonight at dinner we had a lengthy discussion about what types of poor choices warrant being hauled off to jail. We saw a bunch of police officers the other night at the county fair. They brought a police car, a police dog that apparently was trained to kill (YIKES!), and they had some officers applying temporary tattoos to the kids' arms. All of these things interested Buddy, of course. SO, I told him that police officers take kids to jail if they make a lot of poor choices.

Oops... that was a poor choice. Because now he's really concerned he's going to jail. I already told him a few days ago that I was just kidding about that and they never take kids to jail. Still, he can't get that horrible thing I said out of his mind. Whenever I give him an answer that doesn't satisfy, he brings it up and over and over again until he gets an answer that does. Like his questions about breastfeeding and tampons. But those stories can wait until another post too.

So, tonight he brought the whole jail thing up again. "Do they take mommies to jail if they make poor choices?" I quickly tried to think of an age-appropriate answer for him, so I said, "No not usually."

He said, "They put things on a mommy's hands and put her in a police car on TV." OK, we never watch TV when he's awake (For reasons like this. Plus, you can't hear a darn thing when he's around because he talks so much. I love you, Tivo), so I have no idea where he saw that. So I said, "When mommies make very, very poor choices, they go to jail. If a mommy makes a little poor choice, then she just says 'sorry' and tries to be nice."

I continued, "Some mommies aren't nice to their kids. Good mommies love their kids, make their kids clean up their toys, and try to help their kids make good choices. So that's why police officers don't put any kids in jail and hardly ever put mommies in jail. Mommies are supposed to take care of their kids and if their kids make poor choices, the mommy is in charge, not the police officer. Mommies put kids in time out, not jail."

Then he said, "My mommy is a good mommy."

Ah, yes! I can not express how relieved I was that he said that. Hopefully the lesson about jail AND why mommies put kids in time out sticks.