Wishful Thinking

"I wish for a funny summer," Roman said today at the fountain. It's always money well spent at Bradley Fair...or at least the best return on investment.

That penny is already buying us some laughs on this first day of vacation (for Roman, that is; he finished year one of pre-school yesterday.).

And I'm not just talking about my Gap swimsuit try-on session where the laughing was, of course, to keep from crying. Aside from the usual bikini dismay, I was reminded (again) that it's time to be less self-deprecating in front of my kids. Roman said (again) "Mom, if that's too small you'll look like a sausage."

Also time for him to sit outside of the dressing room. Duh.

Yep, it's been a funny week, with Ben's first practice t-ball game, where his enthusiasm collided with his shaky grasp of the rules; I'd never seen a kid run the bases in the wrong direction...and with such gusto.

So I don't fear any shortage of funny around here this summer, just as soon as we get through Ben's kindergarten graduation next week, marking the official end to my Kindergarten CryFest 2011-2012.

Roman, good call on that wish. Summer LaughFest 2012, here we come.

Here's to Moms

My mom managed a lot in her life: work, school, travel, family, in-laws, health issues and (the biggest adventure) two teenaged girls and all the fun that must have come with being our single parent. It didn't dawn on me then, but she was balancing a lot on her little body. Why didn't I realize it?! Because she never complained.

And now, as my guardian angel for nearly 20 years, she's balanced my nonsensical twists and turns. She's kept me safe and landed me in a great life.

Well done, Mom. I miss you.

So if I can give my kids one great lesson - something I've been thinking a bit about on this Mother's Day - it'll be about balance.

Not this kind of balance, which Roman demonstrated at Ben's soccer game today:

(Jogger balls? Juggle balls? I still don't know if this is an actual move.)

I mean the kind of balance that makes us happy, humble people. You know...
We get, so we give.
We play, so we work.
We spend, so we save.
We eat well, so we exercise.
We make a mess, so we clean.
We have great days, and some not great.

And this one falls into the great category. I'm sharing Mother's Day with my beautiful mother-in-law Eileen and with Anthony, who turns 36 today.

(Behold: Eileen and me not saving as we arrived at the Kansas Star Casino last night.)

So, today, as I celebrate my mom and all the other lovely moms in my lucky life, I propose a toast to good life balance.

See? We drink cheap champagne, so we buy good o.j. Ah, balance.

Happy Mother's Day, friends.

Ride On, Part 2

Wouldn't you know it?! Roman, who looked too little to walk, too little to talk, then too little to have an opinion (all things he does now with particular gusto), today became the smallest looking person ever to ride a bike without training wheels.

Yup, here he is today, cruising the driveway after Anthony removed the shackles:

I'm especially impressed by his his multi-tasking abilities: riding sans training wheels while paying compliments to my footwear ("Mom, I like your shoes") and pointing out dings in our neighbor's truck. Nothing gets by that kid.

Sidelines

Before all of yesterday's action in the Kansas sky, we had some pretty impressive action on the ground.

First, Ben's soccer game was (incredibly) not cancelled, despite hair-tangling winds and looming storm clouds. And thank goodness, because I hate to think we'd have missed his two(!) goals and post-goal celebrations, in which he throws his arms in the air (below), then scans for Anthony on the sidelines and delivers a straight-armed thumbs up.

(Ben's in white, in the middle)

 

Also on the sidelines, Roman showed off his skills which Anthony assures me are, indeed, skills. Funny, but they remind me of my own "all sizzle, no steak" soccer method, which involved a lot of motion, but very little ball handling.

In other ground-based action (still waiting for the storm to hit), back at the house Roman was reading up a surprising storm, his fave: Green Eggs and Ham.

...all leading up to the actual storm, which hit late and fast on Saturday night. The boys were first frightened, then fascinated and then absolutely wiped out. Thankfully we stayed on the sidelines of the storm too, bypassed by tornadoes but doused with rain. Here, we hunker down as spectators to the tornado show, while the boys drift off.

Lowered Expectations

I'm not sure what has Roman feeling melancholy post-nap, but here are three guesses:

1. He accidentally succumbed to sleep during quiet reading time.
2. He picked a book with very few pictures and a lot of small type.
3. He just found out what he should have expected all these years.

(It's What to Expect the Toddler Years)

Case closed on what put him to sleep. But now I have my own mystery to solve: where has that book been all these years?!

Ride On

Ben made three proclamations yesterday, on his sixth birthday:

1. I'm not taking baths anymore, just showers.
2. Dad needs to take the training wheels off my bike.
3. (To Roman) God let me be born first so I'd be taller than you.

I was cool with #1 and terrified of #2. As for #3...well, it remains unaddressed, since I can neither confirm nor deny. I just keep my fingers crossed that they'll both grow taller than me.

So, back to #2. Ben hadn't even attempted a two-wheeler, so I was prepping my shoe-tying persistence pep talk...only replacing bunny ears with speed, gravity and concrete.

But off went the wheels, crossed went our fingers (again) and...would you believe?!

Our little six-year-old boy rode it like a pro! That is, a pro who only turns left, which I believe is a NASCAR driver. 

Here's a live action shot:

And, yes, Ben did eventually run into our neighbor's red truck. Nevertheless, we were amazed, Ben was thrilled and he ended a lengthy, lovely birthday celebration feeling like king of the sidewalk. In fact, I'll keep this short because he's waiting to ride again.

Grand Theft Marbles

Roman came home from pre-school with a pocket full of marbles today. Super cool, glittery marbles, unlike anything we own.

Uh oh.

"Are those ours?" I asked. After all, I have an A-plus grasp of our home's contents; Just ask Anthony, who receives an unwanted refrigerator inventory every time he opens its door.

So, Roman tried to pull one over on me ("Yeah, I got them in the upstairs closet," he said. Uh, is there a gift shop up there I'm not aware of?), but thankfully he's inherited my inability to pull off a whopper.

Oh, and I watch a lot of Law & Order so I'm a pretty skilled interrogator.

Fast forward through my "so very disappointed" speech, his crying and my secret crying, and we returned to pre-school where the wonderful Mrs. Wilson - trying to eat her own lunch - accepted them graciously, told Roman she still loves him, assured me privately that he's not the first marble thief (they are super cool), then sent us away on Spring Break.

So, a D-minus day for parenting, but I do think his punishment - returning to the scene of the crime - worked for now. I mean...does this look like the face of a felon?!

(Yes.)