Tomorrow is "D" day

Z got his first homework assignment. He was not too thrilled at first...actually got mad that he might actually have to do schoolwork at home. Oh this does not bode well for his future academic life. He was way too concerned with how much play time he will lose with Olivia and Pete if he had to do homework. But then again, anything that subtracts time from his "friends who might as well be my kids" ticks him off.

This assignment is huge (to a 5-year-old). You see, this year each student in the class will become a "letter expert." They will have one letter that they are responsible for teaching the rest of the class about. The letter "D" has it's pros and cons for Z and they happen to be the same. CON-The letter is nowhere in his name; he knows all the letters in his name. PRO-The letter is nowhere in his name; he gets ticked at having to identify, look at, listen to letters not in his name.

So tomorrow, we have to send him to school with a small ziploc bag full of things that begin with the letter D. So far we have a dime, dirt, , dog (picture lol) and a diamond ring (fake of course) but I don't know how we are going to put in the only D word Z could come up with by himself--dinosaur--probably too big for the zippie. (UPDATE: I found a flashcard with a dino on it!)

PS...I know it's a crappy photo, but I had to take it last minute with my phone and the glare in the bag was yuck!

Full Contact

Since Z was three, he's been telling us he wants to play football. Maybe it's because David and I are pretty die-hard college football fans and it's on TV every Saturday in the fall. Regardless, there wasn't a league that he could play in until he turned 5. I'm not sure if it was on his actual birthday but somewhere around that date, he said now that he was 5, he could play football. Then came the hard part of telling him he still had to wait...until fall! So he continued gymnastics and we added in t-ball to see if he liked that. The only part of T-ball he liked was running...the rest of the time, he'd s

it or stand around digging in the dirt with his cleats or glove. So yeah, he really didn't like t-ball.

I started reading about Lexington Youth Football League - full contact football for ages 5 through 11 all indoor, climate-controlled, etc. Z's age group is 5/6 and there are four teams. The evaluations for the fall were the weekend I was in Nashville for MOPS convention, so David got to take him. They did a lot of agility drills and timed sprints. He did really well and got some of the best times. All the boys went home and the coaches had a "draft." The coaches made phone calls and the boys came back that afternoon to get their pads and practice jerseys and to find out what team they were on. I knew they had the Raiders, Falcons, Steelers and Cowboys. In my heart, I wanted the Cowboys for Z....the only reason being that we cheer for the Cowboys (well David does so reluctantly) Dallas Cowboys, OSU Cowboys....it would just make it easier haha. But we never specified what team we wanted; we just let it all play out. And what do you know...I was sitting in a lecture at MOPS and got a text from David with a picture of Z in his COWBOYS helmet!!! From what I understand, once they get on a team, they follow that team through the three age divisions...even better! Sorry David, there were teams called the Chiefs, and even if there had been; they are not God's team hehehehehe :) Love you!

The first couple practices last week were fun to watch. The boys ran a alot which made Z super happy. We were all a little anxious to see how they'd react when they had to practice in full gear Saturday. It was a monumental task getting him ready....There is a lot of STUFF involved in football sheesh. First we had to boil the mouthguard and fit it to Z's mouth...then attach the chin strap to the helmet. Then put on compression pants and shirt, then pads and jersey, shoes and socks, oh and that helmet. Ugh, that thing quickly became his nemesis. He complained it was tight, but I told him to just get out there and play--that he'd get used to it! The second water break, he came out and immediately started crying and saying his head hurt..."get back out there" we told him. In the process, one of his teammates (who are mostly either taller or bigger than him and mostly 6 going on 7) called him a baby. He kept it on for

the entire 90 minutes...then when it came off, his poor ears were so red. Yes, it was too tight. Coach took him back and put on thinner ear pads and I think that fixed the problem. I felt bad for sending him back out there and not addressing the problem right then, but honestly, I couldn't tell if he was just being a whiner and needed to get used to it. Now we know.

He says he loves it...and Friday when I picked him up from school, he was sitting in the gravel playing with...you guessed it....a football. So maybe we've found his ball sport. I think he'll always love gymnastics, but he needed a ball sport too :) Speaking of gymnastics, he starts the Thoroughbred class this week at Legacy. He's excited that he's been invited to be a part of a more challenging class. We'll have a pretty busy Thursday schedule though, with gymnastics at 4 to 5:30 and football from 5:30 to 7:15. I'm tired just thinking about it!

RIP Spiderman

Well, I was just saying the other day how amazed I was that we'd managed to keep Z's birthday hermit crabs alive for nearly 6 months. I knew spiderman was probably molting as he had buried himself completely under the crabbie swimming pool a few weeks ago. I don't know why I felt the need to intervene, but I went digging for him. Surely he'd been under too long, right?

Well I found him and pulled him up and then I shrieked when all his legs came flying out in a heap. Okay, calm down...he wasn't dead. He had molted, but he hadn't eaten all this old exoskeleton. So for a bit I was relieved, but still worried that my intervention would lead to his demise. I put him on top of all his bits and reburied him a tad. The next morning, we noticed he was naked...completely shell free and taking a bath...then I watched him climb back into his shell...all was well, right?

WRONGO

Crabbie was dead by evening :( At least I'm 99 percent sure he was dead. I should never have started the googling. It made me second guess our little backyard burial ceremony. Was he just post-molt paralyzed? He did have a slight odor before we put him 6 inches under, but was it just a molting odor? OH crap, I wasn't sure...so after I got home from choir practice at 9:30, I told David that we had to dig him up and see. I know David thought I was crazy; he probably always thinks I am! But he agreed to help me exhume Spiderman. First the flashlight was not working, so we went out in the backyard with a garden spade and our cell phones for light. We found him...realized I'd buried him shell opening up and it was full of dirt. But hey, they bury themselves all the time and they come up fine, right? I couldn't see in the dark so I brought him back inside. The cats were suddenly VERY curious in what was going on and about tackled me to get to him. That should've been my first clue...stronger odor. But no, I had to start plucking the dirt out of his shell....but then thousands and I mean THOUSANDS of microscopic bugs started to march out of his shell onto the paper towels I'd laid out. OH yes, he was SO DEAD. So we reburied him and hopefully got those paper towels out of the house before any of those mystery bugs got on anything.

Such drama. I felt so bad about "killing" Spiderman, I decided to let Z go to the pet store the next morning and get a new one. We got there before they opened and were the first ones in the door. I am almost ashamed to admit I let him get THREE new ones. The pet store lady assured me they did not need to stay isolated from our surviving crab at home...that they would just naturally get along well....hmmm, I think she was wrong, but I digress.

So, not even five minutes down the road and they all had names--Dottie, Cowboy and Star. We got them home and at first Superman could not have cared less...but by last night, he was in full on wrestling match with Cowboy. I guess they worked it out...by this morning, Cowboy had on a new shell and was sleeping on top of Superman.

I was fine...until I wasn't...now I am...I think

We've been preparing for this day for ohhhh about 5 and a half years I suppose. I think when you're in the throes of diapers, bottles and sleepless nights, you can't see very far past that moment. Then come the milestones -- eating real food, crawling, walking, talking...tantrums. I'd like to say I've forgotten the tantrums, but nope, I haven't; they were really THAT bad.

Z started Montessori preschool when he was 3...and I thought that was a huge day. Now I can't really fathom where the past two years have gone. Right into the history books folks, because today...my baby, whom I brought home weighing in at a massive 5 lbs and 13 oz. went to kindergarten. We were well-prepared, or so I thought. David took him to his open house since I was Nashville with a few girlfriends for the MOPS convention. He met his teachers, saw where he'd sit, met some classmates, put away school supplies and toured the school.

His teacher is Mrs. Anna "Banana" Brannen. She's wonderful and I feel very happy that she's his teacher. We struggled so much with public vs. private school and when we finally decided to go to Jessamine Early Learning Village, I felt at peace. At registration, the form asked if we had a teacher preference. I didn't know any of them so I just began praying (at Rene Matthews suggestion) that God would put Zachary with the teacher who was just right for him. So it's a little easier to pray that prayer than to actually believe and trust that it would be heard...especially when you find out your child's soon to be teacher is also soon-to-be having a baby. I doubted for a few seconds...but then remembered yes, I had prayed for his teacher and God knows what he's doing and he cares about even these little things. I was able to go meet Mrs. Brannen yesterday (she allowed me to come while she was prepping her classroom because as a mother she understands that it was important for me to meet my kid's teacher...ahh love her already). When we walked into the room, she had Chris Tomlin blasting and Z immediately told her that's the music his mommy sings at church. We had a great talk and I even told her about my summer prayers and I think that meant a lot to her. I truly am at peace about her being his teacher, even though she'll be gone for 8 weeks...sigh. I think she's got a great plan for her absence...so we'll see how it goes. TRUST.

SO back to the title of the blog...I was fine when I got up this morning, even laughed when Z came running out of his room naked asking where his clothes were so he could go to kindergarten. He was so excited to get there and experience it all. I finished packing his lunch and breakfast and then we took some pictures on the porch...which irked him because it delayed us getting to the school.

We got there and he was perturbed that we had to wait outside...kept asking me every minute when he could go to his room. Finally, they let us in and he just about ran down the hall. I was fine at that moment; I felt good that he was so ready to be there. He was a little nervous, but most of it was excitement. I hugged him and started to leave the room, when there it happened...another mother opened the dam and started bawling. CRAP...I was fine...so I hurried out of the room hiding my swelling eyes from my exited 48-pounder.

I headed to drop off the inhaler at the nurses station...I was fine--until I wasn't. She told me I didn't have the right form for her to be able to administer the medicine. So all of the sudden thoughts of Z having a major asthma attack (though he has never had one) flooded my imagination and if you know me, that was the start of panic. I saw him gasping for air, begging for his inhaler and the nurse standing there saying she wished she could give him the medicine that would allow him to breathe and even though she has the prescription, she can't give it to him. Okay, okay, I was letting it go way too far and that's when I couldn't control it and my own dam burst. I'm still waiting on the dr. to fax his signature by the way, but school ends in 1 hour and 37 minutes so hopefully we're in the clear, but what if it happened on the bus...okay, I'm okay now...out of panic mode, sort of...I think.

Rock-a-bye and goodnight...well sort of

I remember my sweet friend Lisa Bailey as one of the best mentor moms our MOPS groups has ever had. She was full of wonderful advice that first year of my mothering life and she still is as I've entered my sixth year of parenthood. One thing she said fully sticks in my memory and I bring it out often. We always talk about the first time our child smiled, laughed, crawled, pulled up, walked, talked, rode a bike...and the list infinitely goes on. But Lisa reminded me to think of the lasts as well.

I think we get so busy in our lives that all the sudden we look at them and think...when was the last time I got up him 5 times during the night? Or when was the last time he held my hand walking somewhere other than a forced hold in the parking lot or busy mall? Those "last" milestones just sort of morph into the fog of time....or do they? They don't have to, if we are consciously aware of things and try to cherish the fleeting moments. I've not written down as much as I should, but that's one way we can remember things.

A couple nights ago we spent the evening with good friends. Enjoyed great food, even better company and then I sat and watched and laughed as Z jumped, wrestled and laughed loudly as four teenagers included Z in their fun and games. They were careful with him, but he was ready to rumble and kept forcing them down on the trampoline, sitting on them, rough housing and throwing the football...oh and that infectious laughter, I just soaked up. When we got home, he was exhausted. A good thing many would say...but for Z it means his attitude quickly deteriorates into an "I hate everything" mantra and his behavior travels downhill at the speed of light. That's no exaggeration; promise!

Right in the the midst of this, I called him into our room to try to reset him so he could go to sleep without having to "cry it out." I was sitting in the rocking chair that I used to spend hours in when he was a baby (even though we did spend more time bouncing on an exercise ball since that calmed him more then) I told him his attitude and behavior were unacceptable and he needed to apologize straight away. His daggers quickly softened and he tipped his head slightly down and very quietly said he was sorry for being bad. I reached out to hug him and he put his arms around my neck and then as if the mood were just too serious for him, he lifted his feet off the ground to hang from my neck and started giggling. I scooped him up, all nearly 4-feet of him. I had his head in the bend of my left arm and the rest of him slung across my body with his knees resting on the opposite arm of the rocking chair.

He was wiggling and trying not to be comfortable. So I started whispering to him, telling him about when I used to rock him as a baby, sing to him, stroke his face, then sit for a long time wondering if he was asleep enough to lay down (lifting his arm up and seeing if it dropped like a lead weight or if it still had some pull to it was a good test). His eyes fluttered and he pretended to be falling asleep as I rocked. Then out of nowhere, he jumped off my lap and stood sleepily in front me giggling. I pouted and said oh don't you want me to rock you to sleep tonight? He said yes and we both laughed. So I did; I rocked him to sleep...stroked his face, held him tight, did the arm test...didn't keep rocking nearly as long as I used to because well...he's a bit heavier now at 48 pounds! The whole time I was thinking "will this be the last time we do this?" If so I have to remember it. I need to remember it.

Love is such a strange thing sometimes. When it feels the best, the next second it breaks you and hurts you to love that much. I was so grateful for the moment and yes, that's all it was - a moment.

As I got up and navigated getting his long body through the door frames and into bed, I was surprised he stayed asleep. I put him down super gentle, or so I thought ugh. As soon as his head touched the pillow, his eyes popped open. I had a brief time travel moment in the mind of his babyhood and screamed silently, but at this age he can actually talk instead of cry and he started babbling all sorts of nonsensical stuff. I knew he was sleep talking, confusional arousal, whatever. But then he completely woke up and started talking about a flap of skin on his toe that I MUST clip off immediately or he would not be able to sleep. He was frantic. We got that taken care of and he curled up on his side and asked me to turn on his series of night lights that have become part of his sleep routine....1. Rainbow in my Room 2. alien glow light 3. dinosaur glow light that changes colors 4. slow-moving disco ball type light with colors 5. Twilight Turtle blue stars only, please 6. Thank goodness Moon in My Room needs batteries right now. Add the classical music and we're ready to sleep. OH MY GOODNESS, there is no way that all that mess would help me fall asleep, but for him it's like nyquil so whatevs right?

Oh and I can't believe the thought of selling that rocking chair because it didn't match our bedroom furniture anymore ever, ever, ever entered my head. I will never sell that precious thing!

Love/Hate the Toms

Yesterday Z tried on a pair of Toms at the mall...said he loved them, they fit good, etc. I was pretty sure the girl working there wasn't fitting him properly since she never even made him put his foot down to feel his toe. Anyway, I made him walk around...he said I love these shoes, can we get them? SURE! I love the way Toms gives a pair of shoes to a child who needs shoes for every pair they sell.

So we walked out with a black pair and some no-show socks...since I've been told they get extremely stinky if you wear them barefoot. Z wanted to wear his new shoes to church, so I handed him the socks....and the protest began. The shoes were pretty snug with the sock on and he did not hesitate to gritch and moan about it. I said fine...put them back in the box; I'm taking them back. He screamed NO! It was one of the classic arguments we have...he doesn't want to wear/eat/do something but when you suggest the opposite action, he gets way out of line and doesn't want to wear/eat/do that either and then you're stuck there in limbo land.

To shorten the already too-long story, there was a lot of yelling, seat kicking, screaming and tears over those blasted shoes...David called them bloody shoes and Z yelled through sobs, insisting the shoes didn't have any blood on them. At one point, he hugged them and told me they were NOT getting returned. Oh my goodness, it was a no-win for all of us. I told him if he didn't chill out, we were going straight home...and yes, that's what we ended up doing. The screaming got louder as we passed the church and didn't stop. I told him as soon as we got home, he was to go to his room and I would bring him his supper there and that his day was now over.

Who knew Tom's could evoke such emotion...and make a kid scream that he was no longer your kid, no longer your friend and that you are the meanest mommy ever and that he is never going to talk to you again? Of course, right after he said he wasn't going to talk to me anymore....he kept talking....

The White House

It's been a big week of ups and downs in Montessori land. Tuesday started out pretty crappy when Z got pink slipped for sticking his tongue out and trying to hit a few of the new kids at school. I took him home, sat him down, read him the note and then asked him why he did those things...went a little something like this:

Z: I don't know

Me: Well then you need to think about it and give me a reason because you don't just do that stuff for no reason.

Z: Well, umm those new kids were bothering me.

Me: How were they bothering you?

Z: they were hitting me..and they were bonking me on the head like this (he started hitting his own head) and poking me like this (he started poking his own eyes) and they were spanking my bottom like this (yes, he spanked himself)

Me: Oh okay, and who were the kids doing that to you?

Z: I don't remember

Me: Well even if the kids are doing that, it doesn't mean you hit back or stick our your tongue...did you tell your teacher about all this abuse?

Z: YES

Me: Okay, well mommy and daddy have to write a response and sign this note so I'm going to write down exactly what you told me. Can you give me some kids names to write down so they'll know who was bothering you

Z: no

Me: Why

Z: cuz (hanging head) no one was doing that to me

Me: Okay go to your room, there will be no playing with friends tonight and now no TV because you lied to mommy

Z: screaming, crying, stomping ...but going to his room

In about 5 minutes he told me he was ready...ready for what, I said. Ready to tell the truth, he said. So in doing so, he thought that would remove his consequences...BEEP....wrong answer :) More screaming/crying...but in the end, he found plenty to do without friends and TV.

Fast forward to Wednesday at pick up time....teacher tells me how amazingly smart Z is...how she thinks he could be the president someday (I wouldn't wish that on any kid). So on the way home I told him that the president lives in the White House.

Z: I know that

Me: So if you live in the White House, can I live there too?

Z: Sure, but you have to dress up really pretty every day to live in the White House.

Conversation flowed to other things but then after we'd been home awhile I asked him if I was dressed nice enough to be at the White House....

Z: well, yes, but there's no orange allowed in the White House!

Me: WHAT? NO ORANGE...but WHY?

Z: because it's too pretty for the White House, but black is okay to wear there.

So there you have it folks...OSU is too good for the White House (at least that's my interpretation of the conversation :))

This morning when he woke up, first thing he said as he was stretching and yawning "Mommy, I don't think I want to live in the White House." I told him that's just fine but asked him why he changed his mind. He said "because I don't like white." Hmm okay, fine with me. He then said he needed to live in Texas or Oklahoma and would I live there with him...ummm DUH!