Score

22 September 2007 by

Alex has done countless things over the last four years that have made me smile from ear to ear.

But tonight? While watching Alabama and Georgia play football? When Alex hopped off of the couch and started screaming “GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!” at the top of his lungs as a running back took off for the end zone?

Oh, internets.

I’m telling you: if there had been some Hershey’s chocolate syrup in this house, I would have poured it all over the little man and then eaten him up with a spoon.

Because the amount of joy I felt in that moment? From the realization that MY CHILD, HE LIKES TO WATCH THE FOOTBALL? And not only that, but HE IS STARTING TO YELL AT THE TELEVISION WITH ME?

It was just a tender, precious time.

And really, the fact that he was cheering for the wrong team was completely inconsequential.

Filed Under: Oh Howard

I Will Not Blame You If You Pity Me

6 September 2007 by

For two whole hours last night I was all by myself. The boys went to church for their respective Wednesday night activities, but since choir doesn’t start for me until next week, I stayed home.

Oh sweet freedom, I adore you.

My first order of alone-time business was to call my sister. After we were sufficiently caught up on the events of the last couple of days, I called my friend Laura, who was kind enough not to laugh when I admitted that trying to keep up with what Alex needs for preschool everyday stresses me out just a little bit. I mean, I do pretty well when he only has to take a snack and some juice, but when I have to start rounding up Things That Are Yellow or A Small Green Toy, I get a little twitchy.

And yet somehow I made it through college.

Yesterday was especially nerve-wracking because Alex brought home the Letter Bucket. He was so excited about this special privilege that I’m fairly confident the people six cars behind us heard him yell “MAMA! I HAVE THE LETTER BUCKET!” when I picked him up from school.

But I have to tell you: the sight of said bucket made me hyperventilate just a little bit because, HELLO, have you ever tried to fill up a large bucket with objects that start with the “aaaaah” sound?

I promise you that it’s more difficult than anything I did in graduate school.

In fact, yesterday afternoon I actually tried to convince Alex that a plastic rhinoceros was a plastic antelope, because THEN WE COULD PUT IT IN THE LETTER BUCKET, YOU SEE.

But he would have nothing to do with my attempts to alter the animal kingdom, nor did he buy my argument that perhaps we were looking at the elusive and somewhat rare antenoceros, which, oddly enough, seems to thrive only in the wicker basket habitat of our playroom.

(By the way, in a moment of utter “aaaaah” desperation I tried to put a container of Accent Flavor Enhancer in the Letter Bucket.)

(D convinced me that it might not be a wise idea to send some sort of MSG-laden seasoning to Alex’s school.)

(I still contend that a heaping teaspoon of salty Accent goodness might be just the thing to liven up the four year-olds’ mid-morning snacks.)

Anyway, right as I was about to hang up from my conversation with Laura, I took a look at Alex’s class calendar for this week, and I realized that he needed something from our yard to take to school today. Once I came to grips with the fact that THE LETTER BUCKET, IT IS NOT THE ONLY ASSIGNMENT, I spent the next several seconds wondering if we’re even remotely cut out for this whole pre-kindergarten thing.

Maybe Alex could just live off the land or something.

But my wave of parental inadequacy passed, so I went outside and found a stickish / shrubbish / greenish / limbish item for him to share with his classmates. Once I walked back in the house and crammed the nature-y thing into Alex’s bookbag, I sat down on the sofa and prepared to savor my remaining hour and fifteen minutes of solitude.

Here is a brief list of the activities I contemplated:

1) writing a blog post
2) conducting some extensive, scholarly research for our next podcast
3) reading a book
4) singing a moving rendition of “On My Own” from Les Miserables
5) staring at my roots and wishing they were more blonde

Numbers four and five were especially appealing.

But instead, I chose the following:

1) watching High School Musical 2 for the third or fifty-second time
2) rewinding the basketball dance part – AGAIN AND AGAIN

I have no valid defense for my actions.

I can only tell you that, for whatever reason, High School Musical 2 proved to be a source of great comfort to me. I needed to decompress, to unwind, to relax, and somehow watching young Zac Efron emote teenage angst with great, intentional fervor – well, it was a balm for my aaaaah-ravaged soul.

I was just so grateful.

Or aaaaah-ppreciative, as it were.

Filed Under: Oh Howard, Rambling

I Shoot, I Score!

26 August 2007 by

I’m going to take a couple of days off from the blog so that I can devote my full attention to coughing up a lung and then hopefully jump on the road to chest cold recovery. Since a lot of you are fairly new to my little neck of the bloggy woods, I’ve set some stuff in the archives to auto-post.

Here is one of my klassiest posts ever.

The words “quiet dignity” come to mind.

While Alex seems to have mastered the, um, liquid aspect of potty training, the, um, other aspect is proving a bit more challenging. And of course by “challenging” I mean “I could pull out every single increasingly gray hair in my head from frustration.”

As I nearly did yesterday afternoon.

And since A. generally gets terribly upset when he has an accident – resulting in your basic teeth-gnashing and garden-variety wailing – I usually have to calm him down a bit before I can inspect the, well, severity of the accident “site,” as it were.

Which I will not be describing in detail. Because I care about you.

So after yesterday’s sobbing subsided, I told A. to stand right. where. he. was. I was fearful that if he started to walk, the contents would, er, dislodge, and I’d have an entirely different kind of mess on my hands (not to mention my floors). I managed to move A. over to a towel I’d spread out while I gently – gently! – pulled off his underwear.

Underwear safely removed, I gently – gently! – made my way toward the bathroom. To, you know, dispose of some stuff. I was cradling those underoos like I was carrying fine china on a silver tray, and I can say in all honesty that I’ve never been so intent on not touching “china” in my life.

But it probably won’t surprise you, given my long history of grace and poise, that I tripped about two feet away the commode.

It never ceases to amaze me that, in times of duress, seconds seem to stretch on for hours, and the human brain can process several – lo, many – pieces of information in a very short span of time.

My brain, as it turned out, honed in on three critical facts:

1) Oh sweet lordy, I tripped.
2) Oh sweet lordy, I’m carrying poo.
3) Oh sweet lordy, WHAT IF I DROP IT? WHAT IF I DROP THE POO?

And in a moment that would certainly be featured on SportsCenter if cameras had been in place and if I hadn’t been juggling, you know, DOO-DOO, I recovered in such a way that I in fact propelled the substance in question straight into the commode.

Like a lay-up. Or something.

You would probably feel really sorry for me if I told you that the flushing sounded like wild applause, so I won’t tell you that part. But I think you would’ve clapped if you had seen my mad skillz in action.

By the way, as I was “taking it to the hoop,” the underwear never left my hands and protected me from the poo like a shield, which probably had something to do with the fact that Batman’s picture was all over them. Poo-repelling is one of Batman’s lesser-known powers, apparently.

And thus concludes Episode #3,293 of Things I Never Experienced Before Motherhood.

The joy, it would seem, is unending.

This post was originally published on August 18, 2006.

Filed Under: Family Fun, Oh Howard

When A Pronoun Antecedent Makes A World Of Difference

21 August 2007 by

Alex’s teacher this year is Mrs. Cook, only I should probably confess right now that Mrs. Cook is not her real name. And of course this is where the relational side of me wants to say, “Hey, y’all. Her name is actually Mrs. So-And-So. She teaches at Such-And-Such School – do you know her?”

But I realize that might be a bit foolish and somewhat counterproductive in terms of protecting the boy’s privacy. Plus, the whole creating-an-alias-for-the-teacher thing is kind of fun. In fact, it makes me feel a little bit like Sidney Bristow. Except without the hot pink wig and the killer kah-rah-tay kicks.

And, you know, the rock-solid abs.

Mrs. Cook is an absolutely wonderful teacher, so much so that other parents whose children have been in her class get TEARS IN THEIR EYES when they talk about her. Even more remarkable is what someone told me the other day: Mrs. Cook has been teaching for over twenty-five years and has never raised her voice in the classroom.

We should probably pause at this juncture to give the Lord a holy handclap of praise for His goodness in providing an authority figure who just might have a calming influence on our child. Because, quite frankly, his daddy and I have proven to be of no use at all when it comes to convincing Alex to dial down his level of enthusiasm over, say, NOODLES.

Anyway.

Last night Alex and I were saying prayers before his bedtime, and all of the sudden he sat straight up and said, “Mama! Oh, Mama! I have a GOOD WORD for us, Mama!”

Thinking that he’d learned a new word at school, I patted his leg and said, “Okay, baby – and I want you to tell me ALL about it just as soon as we finish praying.”

I started to pray again, and after about five seconds the little man piped up again, only louder: “BUT MAMA! I HAVE A GOOD WORD TO SHARE!”

Something about the way he said it let me know that he wasn’t talking about vocabulary words, so I said, “All right, then – tell me your good word.”

And he bowed his head again, clasped his little hands together, and in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard, he said, “Do not be afraid, for I am with you.”

Oh, internets.

My heart, it was full.

And I could pretend like I didn’t cry but that would be a lie.

After we finished with prayers and goodnight kisses, I walked to the den to let D know that Alex wanted to tell him goodnight, too. As D started down the hall, I choked back the sobs and said, “Be sure to ask him about his good word.”

A few minutes later D came out of Alex’s room, and as I continued to wipe the tears from my eyes I said, “So – did he tell you his good word?”

“He did,” D answered. “And I think I have a little perspective to add to that.”

“What is it?” I asked, thinking that our sweet boy had probably recited even more of that particular verse for his daddy.

D said, “Well, he said the verse, and I told him how proud I was, and then I asked him WHO is with him.”

“Uh-huh. What did he say?”

“He said, ‘MRS. COOK is with me, Daddy!'”

So.

Alex may still be just a smidge foggy in terms of his theology.

We’ll try to work on that.

But in the meantime, y’all can be encouraged to know that you don’t have to be afraid because Mrs. Cook is with you always.

And she’ll stay calm regardless.

And she’ll teach you stuff, too.

Filed Under: Chatty McTalky, Oh Howard
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