May 31st, 2014

Sheesh!  It's been forever and a day since I've been on here.
We've been crazy busy with school, church, work, soccer, and life in general that I haven't even thought about posting.  But now, it's Saturday, the boys are gone for a little while - how 'bout a little review and a few random thoughts?  Don't mind if I do.

It's finally summer and my favorite time of the year!  Ben is out of school; he finished fourth grade and leaves his elementary school for a new intermediate school next year for fifth grade.  Fifth Grade!! Unbelievable. 
As we went through visiting his previous teachers on the last day of school, I snapped pics of him with each of them and gave hugs - I never once thought I'd get teary-eyed, but I did!  He had such wonderful teachers there - I'm going to miss the family atmosphere.  The school he's heading to is muchmuch larger, they'll have sixteen 5th grade classes!  I'm already overwhelmed, I can't imagine how he'll feel.

My 'baby' turned 10 the first of May.  TEN!  We celebrated with a birthday party in the back yard. We called it the "Food Fight Rematch" - called a rematch because 2 years ago I lost my mind and had the first birthday party + food fight.  That party was such a hit with the boys that I thought, heck, why not do it again?!  This time, we invited 10 boys (and they all showed up! eek!).  I made sure to have lots of stuff for the boys to throw - Jell-O, mashed potatoes, flour, whipped cream, cheese puffs and pork n' beans.  We also had lots of silly string and I'd made 25-30 sponge bombs and put them in tubs of water in the yard. Now, when I had the bright idea to make them for the party, I thought the boys would use them sort of like water balloons; they'd throw them at each other, and the water would help wash off some of the yuck.  Uh.  Not so much.  They got downright violent with them!  I made sure to stay far away during the melee, but they had a ball.
I made Ben's birthday cake and if I can figure out how to post a picture, I'll do so.  He wanted a Minecraft cake, so I hit the internet looking for ideas.  I found a wonderful YouTube video and followed it exactly - it was awesome if I say so myself.  He was so excited to show it off to his friends.  Am I a cool mom or what?  :)
After dark, we roasted marshmallows over the fire pit and made s'mores, then went inside for showers and to cool off a bit before bed.  Oh, I didn't mention it was a sleepover?  Yes. Another brilliant idea on my part.  Ha!  Greg had the camper and tent all set up and ready to go earlier in the afternoon, so at bedtime the boys drew straws to decide who got to sleep where.  (the camper has AC and actual beds......the tent?  Doesn't.)  A good friend (and Dad to one of the kids) slept in the tent with half the boys and my sweet husband slept in the camper with the other half.   Not sure how much sleeping went on out there, because I slept in blissful peace and quiet inside ~ that's the advantage of being the only girl!
The zombies started peeling out of their caves at around 7:30am,  ready for breakfast.  We formed a buffet line for them after making approximately 750 pancakes, 245 pieces of bacon and 22 dozen scrambled eggs.  Give or take.
They fueled up and then headed back outside.  They ran, they screamed, they used anything and everything as weapons, they hollered, they ran some more, they went out in the woods and built forts, they explored, and they ran and ran and ran. 
When it was time to leave, we handed them over to their parents tired and filthy, eaten up with bug bites and scratches from running through briars in the woods.  Just the way boys are supposed to look. 
After the dust settled, we pronounced the party a big success and I vowed to never do it again.  :)


We're gearing up for vacation in a couple of weeks - I think we're all more than ready for a little R&R.   We'll be spending a week in Orlando with a few hundred thousand of our closest friends.  Can't wait.  :)   Then later on in June, Ben and I will be headed to the beach with Mom, Toni and the boys. That's always a fun trip when my sister and I get together.  Silliness abounds. 


Ahh.  Summertime.  I'm actually sitting on the back porch right now ~ ceiling fan is on, feet propped up on the table.  Greg and Ben came back earlier, now the hubs has started demolishing the deck and I'm supposed to be supervising. 
Guess I'd better go make sure everything is up to snuff.  

Have a wonderful summer!




 

Dread.

 The definition of dread, according to Mr. Know-it-all Google:

      Verb - Anticipate with great apprehension or fear.

 

 

Oh, it's not something that I've thought about every waking moment, or even all that frequently - but when it would pop into my head, dread would be the perfect word choice. 

 

The question I've dreaded for 8 years has finally been asked.

 

We were driving home from somewhere last weekend, and for whatever reason, we were in two cars - little man rode with his Dad, while I drove alone.   As we gathered our things from the cars to go in the house, Greg pulled me to the side and told me that Ben had asked who his Birthparents were.  My first thoughts were:  Ooh, thank goodness he asked his Daddy and not me!  And, oh dear Lord, what brought this on??  Why now?  What do we say??

We huddled in the garage for a minute, deciding finally that:  if he asked, he's ready to know.

(nobody asked me if I was ready!)

 

We've had the adoption conversation before - he knows he's adopted, we use the word adoption freely - but he's never asked about Birthparents.  My baby is somewhat naive about the whole birds and the bees thing; he hasn't been around many pregnant women, so the whole idea of where babies come from is waaaaay off his radar.  Thank goodness.  So, for him to ask - out of the blue - about Birthparents?  (we found out that he'd watched an episode of Wizards of Waverly Place featuring an adopted character, who referred to their Birthparents....go figure.) 

 

So, we put all our things away and called a Family Meeting.  Ben hopped into my lap, happy-go-lucky, while I felt my stomach start to digest itself.  My sweet husband took the reins and brought the subject up again. {Because of privacy, I'm not going to go into specifics  - the folks that read this blog (most of you, anyway) know us and our family story personally, so specifics aren't necessary.}  

 

After a few minutes, with all his questions answered, the subject was closed and he was satisfied.  That, which I'd dreaded for so long, was much easier than I could have dreamed. 

I know this won't be the end of the questioning, but I think the groundwork has been laid nicely. 

Now, I'll have to find something else to dread.....
 

 

 

yo quiero taco mio!!

 

Every afternoon, on our way home from school I typically ask Ben a few things - how his day went, whadja' eat for lunch, any problems at school, etc.   Tuesday afternoon was no different as we drove the short distance home....lunch consisted of pb&j, his day went 'fine', and no, there were no problems.  Then:

me: Want anything special for supper?
him:   Can we have tacos?
me:  Sure!  I have taco stuff! 
him:  Can we have tacos tonight and spaghetti tomorrow night? 
me:  Sure,  no problem!

We get home, argue over homework for way too long, and then I piddle around a little til it's time for me to start supper.  Fast forward 30-45 minutes or so, the Daddy walks in the door from work.  Ben comes in from the living room - where he's been glued to the tv - to greet his Daddy.  As he's walking around the bar into the kitchen, he asks me if the tacos are ready. 

Crickets.

Tacos?!

Ah!  Oh no!  Giggle!

I made spaghetti!!! 

Somehow, when I opened the pantry door to get out the taco kit, I must have had spaghetti on the brain and pulled that out instead!  It nevereverever even occurred to me as I was up to my elbows in noodles and sauce that I was making the wrong meal! 
All was forgiven, though, as long as I promised we could have tacos tomorrow night - Wednesday.

Now, normally we try to eat Wednesday night supper at church - it's always good, it's cheap, and easy on the Mama - but yesterday the meal they had planned was something that I knew Ben would not eat, so I intended to go home and make the promised tacos.  Wednesday afternoon riding home from school same routine - same answers too, now that I think about it......anyway......

We get home a little later than I had intended when I made the plan/promise to make tacos for him, so I asked him would it be ok if we skip the tacos (again!) and maybe have some hot dogs?  He laughed and said, sure.  (why yes, I'm catering to a 7 year old.....what?)  So, hot dogs it was! 

And another promise for tacos 'tomorrow night'. 

This morning I was reminded of my taco promise.   My baby wants tacos!! 




Just got a call from the Daddy.  Looks like we're gonna have to skip the tacos again tonight.....







Who wants to break the news to the little man?

Love is.....

• changing the oil in my car...
• taking the garbage out that I leave sitting by the door - 8 steps away from the garbage can...
• sweeping up packing peanuts in the middle of the night because you said you'd clean up the mess...
• buying Valentine's cards for me from you and our little man...
• building a fire because "I'm cold" is something you hear repeatedly - AND we can roast marshmallows...then, making the perfect marshmallow for yourself...
• going to work every day for our family...
• our little family...
• taking care of things...
• never giving up on me...
• sentimental...
• thoughtful...
• sweet...
• funny...
• sometimes stressed-out...
• never forgotten...
• always calling on the way home from work...
• insisting on date nights...
• a wonderful Daddy to our son...
• comfortable...
• for always...

Love is: You....and so much more.

Happy Valentine's Day to my sweetie.  I love you.

football

This snippet of conversation heard Saturday morning between Nana and Ben, on our way to Ben's Very First Ever(!) football game.  Topic?  Obviously: the upcoming game.   

Nana asked Ben, "Did you know your Daddy was a football player?" 

Ben:  "But I thought he was an Engineer!"

:)

You did WHAT??

Sitting on the couch Thursday night, long after the kiddo had gone to bed (and I presumed was fast asleep) I had a visitor.  He came walking into the living room in his underwear, crawled up on the couch with me, and said, "I can't sleep.  Can I sit with you?"  
Absolutely, baby.

So, after a few seconds of shuffling pillows, fleece blanket, Mom-parts and little boy-long-legs around - we're all comfy and snuggled in front of the tv.  I'd been watching something on the Food Network, enjoying the thoughts that, hey! I could totally do that - if I had all the time in the world, a chef's kitchen, unlimited resources and someone to clean up after me!!  (and a son that wouldn't turn his nose up at real food)
Well, I guess the show we were watching was bought and paid-for by Outback Steakhouse, because every commercial break included one from there.  We discussed how yummy the steak and shrimp looked, then decided that we would talk Daddy into taking us there for supper Friday night.  More snuggles n' cuddles and then it was back to bed for the little man. 
Fast-forward to Friday afternoon.   I had to make a mad dash to town before we went to out to eat,  so I picked Ben up after school and off we went.   We're about to get out of the car at the pharmacy when he informs me he'd had an 'accident' at school.  Now, this is something we've been dealing with for a looonnng time.  I think we have it licked, then it happens again.  I just don't understand it at all.  Well, this day, I may have over-reacted.  A little.  Ahem.

I couldn't believe it.  We'd (meaning: he'd) done so well over the summer - a few accidents here and there, but for the most part, clean as a whistle.  I've heard boys are at times tough to potty-train, but, geesh!  He's 6 now!  Potty-training has been over for years!   I've come to the conclusion that he tries to ignore the urge.  Ignore.Ignore.Ignore.  Oops!  Can't ignore anymore.  Then, to top it off, when he can't ignore it anymore and he has an accident, he doesn't bother to tell anyone.  Not that it's much of a secret anyway! 
So, I was Angry Mommy.   As we got out of the car and walked into the pharmacy, I threatened him to within an inch of his life with the ever popular: ifyouevensteponetoeawayfrommesohelpmeI'mgonna.......!!  
We made our purchases and back out the door we went.  

In the car on the way to meet Daddy, he was Mr. Chatterbox in the backseat.  I still fumed in the front seat.   Terse, one-word answers from me, interspersed with a few Ican'tbelieveyoudiditagain! and whatonearthwereyouthinking? spoken through clenched teeth...it doesn't take a rocket scientist...he knew I was NOT HAPPY.  

Even though it was against my better judgment, we still went to Outback for supper.  Remember up there where I mentioned the snuggles n' cuddles and talking about Outback for supper?  Yeah.  Well, that warm fuzzy feeling somehow evaporated, leaving behind an angry, not-nice person.  Me.  Mom of the Year.

I pulled into a parking spot, put the car in park and start to gather my things to get out, when I hear from the backseat:  (you'll have to imagine the heartbreaking, shaky, I'm-about-to-bawl voice) 
"Mom?  Even though I stinkied in my pants, can you at least look on the bright side?" 

The bright side?!  And what is that? 

"We're still a family and I still love you."

Maybe it was the August heat in Georgia.  Maybe it was the little manipulator with blue eyes.  Certainly, though, I melted.  Right there in the Outback Steakhouse parking lot: a big puddle of Angry Mom.  I leaned over and looked into those big blue eyes, welling with tears, and said "I know, baby.  No matter what, we're always gonna be a family and I'll always, always love you." 
Big hugs and kisses ensued.  All was right with our world.  

Bring on the steak and shrimp!!

*forgot to say that when we picked up the Daddy, HE was the one to take the stinky boy into the restroom at the office, strip him down and clean up the 'accident'....I might have drown him....just sayin'.

rednecks-r-us

Sitting here at the kitchen table, enjoying my coffee for breakfast,  while I wait for the tv antenna (antennae?) installers - who were supposed to be here at 8 am...drums fingers on the table....

Just got buzzed by a visiting hummingbird!  I'd noticed them this weekend, out front - going back and forth to the (empty) feeders.  But this morning, he/she came right up to the kitchen window and peeked inside!  Methinks he's trying to tell me something.  Wonder what it could be? 


Had a really nice weekend, thanks for asking!  Friday night, the little man and his Daddy camped out in the back yard.  Yeah, they really roughed it out there in the wilderness.....DH had to have his fan and  they slept on a queen-sized inflatable mattress. 
Me?  I wasn't invited.  Boys only. 

Saturday morning, we had breakfast and then had to hurry over to the soccer field for little man's last soccer game of the season.  So much fun watching the kids run and run and run.  I'm jealous of all that energy!  All in all, I think soccer was a good experience for Ben - he really seemed to enjoy the game and certainly enjoyed all the running.  It's been so sweet to watch him out on the field - he kept a perpetual smile on his face, and would cheer his friends when they'd make a goal.  Then, to see him run with his hands in the air, cheering after he'd made a goal was just priceless. 

(oh, the installers just got here - it's 8:58 am)     (grr)

A few errands then back home for the day.  Around lunchtime, we were overtaken by the sleepies while sitting on the back porch listening to the birds and enjoying the breeze.  Being the rednecks that we are, we pulled the inflatable mattress (from the aforementioned tent) onto the back porch,  and that's where my napping buddy and me had our Saturday afternoon nap.

Saturday night, I had a date with my hubby while little man had a date with his girlfriend(s)
B, C and of course, Nonny.  We are so thankful to that wonderful family for welcoming little man (and us!) into their family.  They overlook the fact that he's a wild child and laugh at his antics just like real grandparents/aunts would!  :)

Sunday morning:  church, then lunch.  I got to take another nap - not on the porch this time, though - and no napping buddy.  I had to force myself, but I did it!
After supper, we had a really nice thundershower come through the area.  There's few things we like more, so we went outside to enjoy it.  Little man kept trying to stick his hand/head out to get them wet, so I told him just take your clothes off and then you can stand under the run-off from the roof.   He looked at me like, really?  I said sure, go ahead.  (redneck, yes)
So he did.  Crazy kid.  It was cold!   After he'd been playing in it for a little while, I asked him if he wanted to 'take a shower', when he said yes, I went in to get his shampoo/body wash.  So, to cap off the weekend, my little Harris County-redneck-son took a 'shower' on the back porch - in the rain.   Are we classy or what?  He said he was going to tell his Kindergarten teacher today that he'd taken a shower in the rain.   Great. 
Nice to meet ya, we're the Clampetts.

So, thats a recap of our weekend.  How'd you show your redneck roots this weekend?

honesty lessons, bedtime talks and memories

Last night, after the ordeal which is 'getting ready for bedtime', was over; we three snuggled in Ben's bed quietly talking. We'd had a tough moment or two earlier due to an unfortunate choice one little boy decided to make: to bald-face lie to his Daddy. He thought he'd be able to get away with something by lying. Not a good choice at all.
So, we're snuggled and talking afterward when I ask Ben if he would like for me to come eat lunch with him tomorrow at school. He said, " yes" then, "Daddy, can you come too?"

Well, because Daddy has been out of town for a couple of days, he's a little backed-up at work; so, even though he would love to, he explained he wouldn't be able to come. But, maybe next week he would. Now, a little background here. A few months ago, when Ben was in the summer program at his preK, one of the field trips that his class took was to the Georgia
Aquarium. (I thought I'd written about it, but I looked back over my old posts and couldn't find it - so, you'll just have to go along with me here)

I really, really, really wanted to be able to go with him, but I told him there was no way I could because I was scheduled to work that day. With the absolutely fabulous way things have been at work, I figured there was no way I'd be able to get off on such late notice. Oh, and my thoughts that maybe I would just call out sick so I could go didn't really fit in with the 'raising an honest child" plan that we're working on; so, off to work I go. I just quietly fumed and felt sorry for myself. As I tend to do.
Well, I moped about at work, making sure that everybody saw just how miserable I was - yeah, I was a joy to behold. Finally, after telling my story to a couple of my friends and getting the sympathy I so badly wanted; one of them told me to get up off my butt and go ask if I could leave - explaining why I wanted to so badly.

Hm. Well. Ok, so I did. I came clean. I explained all the above and y'know what? I got to go! I called his teacher and asked if it was too late to go, and nope, they were just about to board the bus. So, I gathered my stuff and walked out to go meet my baby at the Aquarium. I'd told his teacher not to tell Ben I was coming, as I wanted to surprise him. And I did. And he was absolutely thrilled. And so was I.

Now, back to the story at hand. So, he'd asked his Daddy if he could come to eat too, remember? Ok, so we're back on track. Well, when Daddy explained that he couldn't - Ben said, 'you could just tell your friends at work that you want to come - like Mommy did when we went to the Aquarium'.

He remembered! He remembered that I'd told him how I'd asked if I could leave and they let me! My heart. Oh, my heart. The little things that make such a big impression.....I'm so thankful I was able to go that day and it meant so much to him.

So, now, I'm going to get up off my butt and get cleaned up - I have a lunch date with my little boy. Because it's the little things that mean so much.

Hey, batta batta........!

And how was your weekend? Mine? Fantastically great, thanks for asking!
We woke up this morning to a bright, beautiful, sunshiney day - just a little chilly when wind would blow - but perfect for the first t-ball game of our little mans life.

Had a wonderful breakfast cooked up by the sweetest hubby in the world; eaten a little too leisurely, I guess, because we had to rush like whirling dervishes to get to the field by 10:15. The team came together on the field and got the final piece of their uniforms - new caps with their names/number embroidered on the back. Now, they're officially a team. And boy are they cute.

We weren't able to have practice last Saturday because of all the rain we had in the area, so the guys really have had only had one practice - at which, part of the time was taken up with pictures and just trying to herd 9 little boys into one small area - heck, some didn't even know how to put their glove on or throw a ball, much less the intricacies of playing the game. But, there's a schedule to keep, so off we go to the field.

Scrappers (yea!) v. Mudcats (boo)

The Scrappers got to bat first. Um, lemme pause a sec here. The coach said prior to the game that the players would bat in order of their jersey number. Ok, no problem there. Hmm...
Little man is number 8. One kid out today due to illness so that leaves our little guy batting last. All the other players got to hit and then run the bases - unless they were tagged out. Last batter up in the inning is our little hero. He hits (great job, btw!) and runs to first.......inning over. He never got to run past first base!!! Grr....not fair.
Mommy was not happy.

Mudcats at bat next. If I say so myself, our little guys did a much better job than they did. Got two real outs the first two at bats for the mighty Mudcats. But who's counting? I did notice a meltdown in the (not so) mighty Mudcats dugout that lasted through the bottom of the inning. One little guy obviously did not want to be there. Hey, there's no crying in baseball!
Sorry. Had to.

Mudcats did pretty well hitting, but inning over. Scrappers out in the field had done an outstanding job. I noticed our little hero plodding back to the dugout with his head down, shoulders slumped almost to the ground, hands just dangling loosely: the picture of the downtrodden. Assistant coach, aka Daddy, stopped him just as he came to the door of the dugout and said something to him. Not sure what it was, but it didn't sit well with our guy. Now, we've got ourselves a meltdown in the Scrappers dugout. Clean up on aisle ten. Off I go to the dugout to see what was going on.

Seems the problem lies in the fact that he didn't get to get to the ball. The coach had placed the players out on the field and would move them from time to time to let them get a little experience everywhere, but the ones in the outfield never really got a chance to do much - the balls weren't gonna make it to the outfield when they couldn't even hit it past (or to) the pitchers mound. So, he was understandably upset. I talked to him and let him know that everybody would get a chance to get the ball, he just needed to wait his turn. Meanwhile, back at the game, the Scrappers were up at bat. #6, #7...and hey, bud! it's your turn at bat! Tears are wiped and off he goes to bat. Swing!! Whaack! Ruuuuuuuunnnnnn, Bennnnnn! Off he goes to first. High-five with the first base coach, aka Daddy - again. Then: inning over. GRRRRRRRRR.....

Scrappers take the field. One or two batters later for the Mudcats and then little man gets his chance to head to the pitchers mound. He was thrilled! His whole demeanor changed. You could see his face shining with the smile that took over his face. And he.was.ready. I'm tellin' ya.

Batter up! Sa-wiiiinnng! Smack! GEEEEETTTTTT IT, Beeeeennnnnn!!! Woooo Hoooo! He stopped that ball like a pro!!!!!! Now, what to do with it? So, with shouts from the coaches all around, he starts to chase that little Mudcat around the field. I've never laughed so much. He tagged him somewhere between first and second base after a very circuitous route.

No sign of the dejected little baseball player would be seen in the park the rest of the game. Just giv'em a chance to get to the ball and he's happy.
And so is his mommy.

---Had special visitors to the park today to watch the first game of the season: our little hero had his Nanny and Pop in the stands. They got a much coveted thumbs up from the field when he took the pitchers mound.
Thanks for making the trip, N and P!

Happy Birthday

History: this weekend was sweetest hubby's birthday; next week is mine.

Got a text from little man's teacher at school today. Seems he'd been telling his buddies about our recent/upcoming birthdays.

Text:

"Ben told his friends that his daddy is 45 and his mommy is 23".

Yeah, thaaaat's my BOY!!

Sharing with Daddy

Went to eat at a local restaurant after church last Sunday with my two favorite guys. After eating yeast rolls hot out of the oven with (way too much) butter; we continued to see just how fast we could get our arteries to slam shut by ordering roast beef sandwiches loaded with melted swiss cheese, tiny thin-crispy onion rings with a 'tangy' Cajun horseradish sauce - all on toasted ciabatta bread, with - of course - au jus. Ahh.
I felt the best thing to round out this infarct-arousing lunch for me would be fries. The sweetest hubby thought an order of onion rings would do the trick.
(I guess onion rings on the sandwich wouldn't be enough....)

Little man's lunch wasn't much better. He got mini-corndogs and cheetos. At least the cheetos were baked. I'm not that bad of a mom.

The sweetest hubby had to share his onion rings with the little man. After trying to bite through one particularly tough onion ring, little man pulled the whole onion out of his mouth and handed it to his daddy - keeping the other, yummy part.....

"Here, Daddy. You can have the onion. I'll eat the ring".

Never knew what to call the coating on an onion ring till now.

hello? hello?

Just got in from the hospital about, oh, I guess 45 mins to an hour ago. Empty house. No note, no message. No sign of my guys. So, I place a call to the sweetest hubby's phone, but no answer. Hmm. Leave message, then wait for a response. Patiently.
Time passes.

Tried again to reach my guys. No answer.

One last time. Phone rings the obligatory 4-5 times, then straight to phone mail. Ugh. Hate phone mail. Since the first message I left hasn't been responded to, I hang up. The phone rings in my hand before I can even put it down.

me: hello?

him: hey, mommy. (do you know how much I LOVE being called mommy?!)

me: hey, baby! what are you doing, sweetie?

him: daddy's phone was ringing. is it charged now?

me: where's daddy? did you hear the phone ringing?
(I was a little confused. I had ended the call, or so I thought, so I wasn't even sure how he had gotten through.....)
did you call mommy?

him: i pushed the green button.

me: (still confused, but whatever.....) you answered daddy's phone?
how did you know what button to push?

him: yes. i pushed the green button.
i don't know.

A few seconds later, I hear the sweetest hubby's voice with an incredulous tone asking the little man what he's doing with his phone.

him: (matter-of-factly) talkin' to mommy.

Sweetest hubby figured it all out. Little man heard the phone ringing but before he could get to it, I'd hung up. But he didn't know that, so he pushed the green button to talk and that made the phone dial the last number received - mine!

Power rangers are human too.

Yeah, so I'm a little behind in my Halloween story.....whatevah.

This is (was) little man's first time trick-or-treating; before moving to the 'big city' we lived a little ways out of town, up a long-dark driveway in the woods. No one wanted to walk up that driveway for a treat, I'm tellin' ya. So, we never actually went out trick-or-treating, either. We didn't live in a subdivision, and the nearest neighbors had an even longer dark driveway, so we would celebrate at the church fall festival.
Everybody was happy.

Fast forward to Halloween 2008. We have moved to the Halloween Capital of the South. Our subdivision has the award for the most enthusiastic halloweeny spirit. Oh my goodness, these people go all out. It was exactly a year ago that we were shopping around for a new place to live and as such, we'd made several 'covert' missions up here to get the feel of the area, see what was available, etc. One trip was to this subdivision.

It was probably the week or so before the big day and I couldn't believe what I saw. Almost every house was decorated....not just a pumpkin here, a pumpkin there.....but decorated to the nines! I've never seen anything like it.
I told the sweetest hubby that I couldn't wait to see what they do for Christmas! (oh, btw. Found out that evidently Christmas doesn't awaken the enthusiastic decorating bug that halloween does here in the burbs o' hotlanta.)

Anywho....back to the story. Oh wait. Hold on... one more thing about this peachy city.
Atlanta has a traffic problem. Seriously. You didn't know?
Well, picture this. Add the pressure of half a million people (heck, I don't know, seemed like a good round number.....I just live here.) wanting to get home 'early' for their little gouls, and you got yerself a hot mess. Just wanted to throw that one in there for your pleasure.
You're welcome.

So, we get home and have maybe 15 minutes to get ready before we have to go to the obligatory pre-trick-or-treat party at the end of the cul-de-sac. Complete with pizza and costumes. BYOB, of course. But that's another post for another time.........

SH and me notice a little bit of an 'attitude' coming from the little-man-who-would-be-the-red-power-ranger. Not a problem yet, just the first inkling that there might be a wee problem ahead.
Since I've posted before about these 'Feelings of Not Belonging' nonsense; I'm not going to go into that too much here. But as for me, I was pretty much ready to leave after finishing my piece of pizza. Little man had eaten half a piece of pizza and two brownies and was having a great time. He doesn't let something like not knowing anybody very well stop him from enjoying himself. He just jumps right in and joins the fun. Man, I wish I could do that. When does self-consciousness take over??? Somewhere around teenage years, I imagine.

Cue the big kid dressed as a ghost/zombie. I saw little man running through the cul-de-sac where we were. The big kid was behind him, chasing him; LM had a smile on his face, so I thought nothing of it. Then, on the next go around, LM wasn't laughing anymore - the laughing face was a little frantic now. Hubby stepped out of the edge of the crowd; Ben saw him and ran to him crying. He was scared.
Little man isn't one to just cry at the drop of a hat, he's really a pretty tough little guy, but like I said earlier, he wasn't his usual cheerful self. Got him all straightened up and his daddy took him over to where the other kids were and they talked to the ghost/zombie. He apologized, saying he had no idea that Ben was scared, they were just playing and that he never meant to scare him. Zombie offered his hand. Shake. Problem solved.

Next meltdown came when a little ghoul and a red power ranger ran smack into each other at a full gallop, resulting in both of them landing hard on the concrete. Tried the old, "aw, shake it off, buddy" but that didn't work. Had to hold my little ranger while he cried big, big tears and the whole gathering ogled the whiny new kid on the block. Ok, so maybe they didn't ogle. Maybe they didn't even notice. This is my story, I can say what I want. They ogled.

Last meltdown of the evening came when we were headed home to get ready for the highlight of the evening: trick-or-treating!!! Woo hoo! Ah. Not so much.

Walking home LM announced that he didn't want to go trick-or-treating. I can't even begin to relate the entire conversation - just sufice it to say that you can't rationalize with a 4-year old power ranger. In the house now and the tears are flowing freely. Daddy sends LM to his room and tells him when he's finished crying, he can come down and they'd go out to get some candy.

Just a few minutes pass. The tears are still there, but he's stopped crying. He's ready to go!
So, out the door they go; First Time Trick-or-Treating! He practices by turning around, ringing our doorbell and shouting, "Trick-or-Treat!!!!!!" with a big smile on his face.

I'm left to hand out candy here at home. Between trips to the door, I spy the days report sheet from LM's preschool teacher. So, I pick it up to read about my little guys day:

• Ate all his lunch. That's good.
• Painted pumpkins and decorated them to look like bats. That's original!

What's that?

• Nap time.

Hmmm. Well, usually it says how long he slept...um...nope, not today.
What's that, no nap today?

• Halloween party. Instead!??!!?

Well, I guess that answers that. Even power rangers need a nap. Especially 4 year old power rangers.



Now, for the rest of the story.......
Daddy and LM come home after hitting around 12 houses, maybe. Little man is pooped! The costume comes off and he sits down with me in the comfy chair to snuggle a little. With his little head resting on my shoulder, he asked me if I'd take his socks off for him. I say, sure sweetie. Socks off now, I look down to kiss his forehead and he's out like a light. Two seconds flat. Couldn't have been any more than that.
Power rangers sure are cute when they fall asleep snuggled up next to their mommy.

Bedtime meltdown

Bed time. Last night. Little man cuddled up next to me whilst I tried to read him a story. He wanted the story, but he didn't really want to sit still or be quiet while I read the story. But, I tried. Till I gave up.

He sees the pennant bearing his name up on his bedroom wall. Benjamin.
He says, "That's not my name".
Well, true, we rarely ever call him by his full name; it's always been just Ben.
(or buddy, or little man, or puppy, or sweetie, or stinkyface…etc.)
I thought that he might be a little confused about what it said - he's only 4 and as such, doesn't read. Yet.
So, I read it to him, spelling out each of the letters for him and telling him when I finished that Benjamin is his name - his full name. Little did I know that a meltdown was imminent. Just out of the blue.

He looked right into my eyes and said that he's, "no good at anyfing."
Big, big blue eyes filled with tears and all the heartbreak a little boy could have, came spilling out.

"I can't do anyfing, and I can't write my letters, and I don't know anyfing."

Then:

"I'm mean."

What?! Um, I'm stumped already trying to understand where all the - I can't do anything stuff - came from, and then he says he's mean?? Understand that he is absolutely NOT mean (*) and his abilities with his letters and writing are exactly where they should be for a 4 year old. So, I asked him who told you that you were mean? He said, "Armond." Ok. Well, one question answered. I'm thinking then that tomorrow I'll just have to go (hunt down this little twerp Armond, and who names their kid Armond, anyway??? and show him what mean is.....) have a little talk with little man's teacher and see what might be behind my baby's bed time meltdown.

*case in point: Just last night, we went over to the local playground to let little man burn off some energy. While there, he made friends with a much smaller and very cute little girl while on the slide. Little girl lost her flip flops as she was coming down the slide, so my sweet, sweet little boy knelt down, picked them up and waited for her. When she made it to the bottom, he put them on for her. Isn't that the sweetest?!? Is that the heart of a mean child? I think not! Case closed.

Brought sweetest hubby into the conversation at some point; we both gave little man mucho, mucho assurances that he was, indeed, the sweetest boy on the planet, and he could do anyfing, (that word is driving my spell-checker absolutely crazy, btw) and that he was very smart and we were very, very proud of him. Meltdown contained.

This morning, spoke with teacher for just a few minutes and relayed the story. Her opinion of his abilities mirrors ours; she says he's doing great and that of course he needs to work on his writing. Um, the whole class does! She rolled her eyes at the comment from the twerp. She did say that her "helper" in the classroom does have a problem with tact from time to time, and if she perhaps had said anything to him, she'd address that. She also had a plan to talk to little man one on one today to see what he told her. So, we'll see what the day brings.

Oh, and twerp, you don't know mean. Yet.

my sweet hubby

I've got the sweetest hubby in the world.

Don't believe me? Alrighty. Here's a few examples just from today:
*He got up this morning and made special pancakes for the little mans breakfast (because the little guy asked for them) then sat down to eat a cold bowl of Special K for himself.
*He helped me balance the checkbook....(numbers + me = trouble).
*He changed out the deadbolts on the doors so we don't have to use a key to open them - which, if you think about it, could be pretty dangerous - unless you wanted to keep the key in the lock at all times.....which we don't.
*He cleaned the bathrooms upstairs and down.
*He ate the supper I cooked. ('nuf said)

He did all this and more - and he's sick - or getting sick. Think he's either fighting allergies or has the beginnings of a cold or something. But, he still took care of us and never complained.

Ain't he sumpthin?