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?

Melancholy

Feeling a little melancholy this morning, maybe it's the season?  The leaves are changing, it's getting cooler outside - Fall is here.  Soon, Thanksgiving and then all too quickly Christmas will be here and gone.  Another year, passed.



Where has time gone?  Maybe it's because my days and weeks are spent the same - I treasure the quiet of my days off work, with time to myself to spend as I wish.  My work days are made better because I get to see my friends, not because of any great feeling of accomplishment anymore.  When did that change?  Am I making a difference there?  Occasional glimpses of a higher purpose appear, but they're few and far between. 

I got to spend some time with Mama last week when she and Dan-man came to stay with us while Greg was gone on his annual fishing trip.  I don't know how good my company was, but I really enjoyed her visit.  (Thanks, Mama for taking care of me!) You always amaze me with how you never complain about doing something for one of us.  Well, maybe you do, but I never hear it.  I know very few people who would make an apple pie at 10:30 at night just because.  If the grand kids want pizza, and then want something else, and then something else...you're on it.  And the #1 rule: 'Grandma overrules the Mama' stands well and true.

My memories of my childhood are fleeting - I don't remember many day to day events, and as I get older, even things that I thought I'd always remember at the time, are gone.  That makes me sad. 
I allow things to come and go, moments that I think to myself, "I need to go write that down" only to be distracted by something - the moment passes, along with the memory.  

I want time to stop sometimes - or at least slow down for goodness sakes!  Maybe it's me?  Maybe I need to savor each moment as it comes a little more.  Allowing the moment to sink in a little deeper, grow roots...so that when I want to re-visit that time, I'll be able to remember. 





photo credit: Shari Weinsheimer

A day or three in the life of a boy

This n' that.  Bits n' pieces.  Here n' there over the past few days.



Thursday:
Little man piped up from the back seat to tell us that he'd volunteered to be on the Student Council at school. (2nd grade student council??) He said that when his teacher asked for volunteers,  he and two other boys stepped forward. He said if he wasn't chosen as a representative, he might still get to be the alternate when the rep wasn't there. 
So proud he wants to help!   Now, my question is, what kind of decisions will second graders be making? I can just see it now......Recess! Candy! No school on Mondays! Hamburgers every day!   :)

*update:  found out last night that Ben was not chosen to be on the SC.  They had three volunteers but only two positions, so somebody had to be the losing candidate.  Broke my heart when he told me that he didn't get enough votes.   He did tell me: "I voted for myself, is that ok?"     :)
Maybe next time, sweetie.  



Sunday morning:
A friend from church passed on a little tidbit of information to me from Children's Church.  During the lesson, the leader asked the kids what their feelings were when they saw a homeless person.  Obviously, each child gave a different answer - feel sorry for them, or wonder why they're homeless, etc.  Ben's answer?  He said he thinks, "maybe they could come and live with me".





Sunday night/Monday morning:
At bedtime last night, I asked Ben what he'd rather do in the morning:  ride the bus or be a 'car rider' to school.  (On Mondays & Fridays he has a choice because I don't work on those days.  FYI - there's a BIG difference in the time he - and I - have to get up depending on which mode of transportation he chooses.)  His answer last night was to ride the bus.  Joy.  Not the answer I'd hoped to hear.....that meant we'd have to be up by 6am. 
Goodnight kisses given, I head off to the kitchen to get the coffee pot ready for my bleary-eyed-morning-self.  Then it was off to bed for me.
Fast forward to this morning.  Awakened by the alarm, I stumble my bleary-eyed-self into the kitchen to the coffee pot.  Pour myself a cup, take a few sips (ok, half a cup) to clear the cobwebs, then head in to wake the child. 
Let me just pause here to ask, is there anything sweeter in this whole wide world than a sleeping child?  Even this wild, loud monkey boy that smells like a billy goat most of the time is a vision of angelic peace when he sleeps.   Ok, picking up where we left off....
I crawl into bed with my sweet sleepy child,  say his name and tell him it's time to get up.  He stretches and then doesn't move again.  Has he gone back to sleep?   I remind him that if he wants to go back to sleep and just let me take him to school, that he could sleep for another hour - but if he planned to ride the bus, he needed to get up now.  
My sweet baby then turned to me and asked me if I wanted to go back to sleep.  When I told him no baby, I'm ok - he said he'd go ahead and get up too. 
We headed to the living room couch where he joined me for an early morning snuggle.  40 minutes later, we were still there as the schoolbus stopped out in front of the house. 
We ignored it. 

I love that stinky, wild, billy-goat-smelling, monkey boy.

bad dreams

Alarm clock read 7:00am.   Little man was already awake, but not out of bed yet.  Kisses and good morning hugs given, then he told me he'd had a bad dream.  When I questioned him about it, he told me that there were three 'bad guys' in the garage and he couldn't get away from them.  Their crime?   They "had written on Daddy's truck with a crayon".
  
He was very brave though, he said he'd kicked them in the face and then closed the garage door. 
When we told Daddy about the dream, he and Ben went out in the garage just to make sure they were gone for good.  Nope, no sign of them! Guess they knew not to mess with my little man anymore!

9/11

Earlier tonight just before little man's bedtime, as we were watching the beginning moments of a show remembering 9/11, the footage showed one of the poor souls who fell or leapt from one of the towers.  I quickly put my hand over Ben's eyes and ushered him out of the living room to his bedroom - all the while listening to: "What was it, Mom?", "What was that falling?"
I told him that there are some bad things in life that I feel like I have to protect him from, and at this point, I didn't think it was something he should see.  He's 7, I'm....um, not....and I have a hard time watching it and wrapping my brain around the horror - how is his little mind going to process something so terrible?  

My baby is still my baby - at least for another day.

First Day of School!!!

Today is the day.  I have your clothes all ready.  I've packed up your backpack with your bright, shiny new school supplies.  I'll pull the camera out in a few minutes so I'll be sure to have it for the required First Day of School Pictures.  After breakfast, we'll get ready and I'll take you to school. 

I'm going to walk with you down the long hallway and insist that you put your hand in mine.  When we get to the door of your new classroom,  I'm going to kneel down (not nearly as far as last year, you're getting so big) give you a big hug and a kiss...if you let me.  Be prepared:  I know I'll try to sneak in another hug before you escape.   Then, I'll tell you to have a great first day of school. And remind you to be good for your new teacher.  And I'll miss you!  Another hug?  Maybe. 

You'll go in to your new adventure.  I'll smile and turn away, but my heart will still be there.   My baby is in the second grade.  

Seven

Dear Ben,

You, my little man, are now seven years old.  Seven.  S-e-v-e-n!!  Oh dear. 

To top that off - in just a few short days, you will be finished with first grade!  Now wait just a dang minute.  There's no way you're already seven and finishing first grade?!  How is this possible?  

Your feet are almost as big as mine.  I know: I tried on your flip flops. 

You're getting taller by the minute!  All of your jeans have obviously been stolen and replaced with another child's much shorter jeans (who also have the propensity to rip the left and only the left knee....amazing coincidence, yes?)

You're getting stronger and faster every day.  We wrestle on the couch and I have to remind you that I'm a girl, and we're more gentle with girls!  Then you whack me on the head.

You have your own crazy sense of humor.  You kill me with your booty-shaking dance moves.  Everything is better loud and fast.   And loud. 

You're hungry ALL THE TIME.   My ears bleed from hearing, "Mama, can I have a snack?", or after supper: "I'm still hungry".  

You have amazed and astounded me with your mad baseball skillz this season.  To see the difference over such a short period of time - what a change!  All in stride for you though. (I love watching you play!!)

You're open and honest.  A true friend and social butterfly: you've never met a stranger.

Your laugh is still as infectious as ever.  Your energy is non-stop.  (And loud.)
You meet life head-on, and wide-open, bubba!  Your sweetness is over-powering.  You grow more beautiful each and every day.  You still allow me to hold you and snuggle from time to time;  these are among the minutes I treasure.  

You are and always will be a very special little boy.  You were my gift from heaven,  I am blessed beyond measure to be your Mom.   Happy Birthday, my sweet baby boy!

me:  "I love you."
you: "I love you more."
me: "I love you most."

With all my love,

Mom