Monthly Archives: January 2012

I love the excitement in his eyes . . .

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I love that snowfall still thrills my son. I love that he jumps up and down at the prospect of playing in the snow and especially that he excuses mommy for having become such a wimp and hating the snow.

Jonathan loves to sled down a snowy hill and he especially loves it when he can do it with his Dad or his grandfather. Unlike his dad and I, Jonathan’s Grandfather, my dad, will go up and down that hill almost as many times as Jonathan wants.

Dad turned 68 this month and didn’t seem as keen as going up and down that hill as he once did and even attempted to tire the kid out by making sure the sled went further down the hill, which meant Jonathan would have to walk further. No task seemed too daunting for the “Energizer Bunny” though.No matter how far he had to walk he’d get to the top of the hill and say “Again!”

His one ride with mommy resulted in a near disaster as we missed clipping the flag pole by a mere two inches and I ended up having my camera buried in snow. Before we almost hit the pole I honestly heard the clink in my head and imagined we would both be bleeding within seconds. I have no idea how we missed that pole, but I joked with my aunt later that God probably rolled his eyes at my silly screaming and kicked the sled to one side while rolling his eyes and saying, “Good, grief…get a grip on yourself, child.”

I’ll admit that I was more worried about the camera than the state of Jonathan and I when it was all over since Jonathan was laughing and I still had all my limbs. That wild ride was my last and I made my poor father come out and finish the sled rides.

Jonathan didn’t seem to mind at all.

Of course, my dad might have minded the last couple of trips since my kid announced after that first ride, when he got hit in the face with flying snow, “I’m sitting in the back now!”

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Worrying about our electric bill…at the age of five

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Jonathan did not want to go to bed at all. It was 12:30 and he still didn’t want to go to bed but was half out of it with exhaustion. He just kept talking and talking and talking. I had left the light on downstairs and realized it as we discussed that I was not going to read him a book before bed because of how late it was.

“Man! This is the worst night ever!” he started to whine, almost in tears. “No book. I didn’t get to finish my show. …”

“Well, at least our house didn’t burn down. We still have a house, right?” I said, trying to show him the good parts of the day.

“But you left the light on downstairs!” he said, whining even more now .

“So…do you think that means that the house will burn down?” I asked, trying to follow his reasoning.

“No,” he said nearly whimpering “but I don’t know what our electric bill is going to be like noooowww!”

He was asleep less than five minutes later, but I had to, of course, turn the light off before he would fall asleep. I had this feeling he might have nightmares about opening the electric bill a month from now.

I’m very certain this child channels his father in many, many ways.

I’m a stay-at-home-mom and a housewife. . .

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That is a sort-of confession for me…the title.

I seem to have trouble admitting it, embracing it and living it.

Way back this is what I wanted — to be at home all day with my little boy.

Now I am and I don’t seem to be coming to grips with it very well.

I’m totally slacking off.

I’m dreading housework.

In fact, there are days I don’t even do any housework.

It’s sad really. I can’t seem to admit that I have to be an adult and that THIS is my job. No,  not THIS, as in my blog, THIS as in my house and my son and the need to clean my house and entertain the kid and engage him and … you know…all that crap. (The crap part is a joke and yes I feel the need to clarify. Who knows who might pop in on my blog and attack me.)

So I’m practicing some new positive thinking for each morning, including waking up and saying to myself “This is your job. This is your job.” I’m trying to tell myself if I was at any other job I couldn’t sleep in until 11 a.m. and then start work so I can’t do it here either.

Yes, I’m still hoping to keep up the photography and financially I’m going to have to get that going or a part time job, but while I’m waiting for all that to work out, I have to step up and be the best stay-at-home-mom and housewife I can be.

Pray for my husband. Seriously.

Poor man.

I’m sure I’m going to fail at this more than once, but I’m going to try to get better. At least try…and he may  have to drag me by my hair into the laundry room a time or two to remind me (though I doubt he really will).

And trust me, if he does, I will so write about it here so you can experience it all with me.

He still likes hanging with his mama

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Jonathan and I went to the playground a couple of weeks ago, on a rare warm day in January.

Other parents  had the same idea and there were a few other children there. When we first arrived though, there was only one other little girl about Jonathan’s size and her baby brother with their parents. The girl spotted Jonathan and sprinted across the playground to greet him.

He jumped back and she said, “Oh! Did I scare you?”

It was the cutest thing coming out of the mouth of someone so young.

Then she grabbed his hand and they were off, running across the playground and hiding in the nooks and crannies of the wooden structure.

Only ten minutes had passed when he found me and said, “Come play with me.”

“Why? you have someone your age to play with,” I said, knowing how much he craves the attention of children his age after being at home with mommy most of the time.

“I just want to play with you,” he said and did everything he could after that to avoid the little girl and the other children on the playground.

He even went as far one point as to hide in a corner of one of the structures and ask me to hide with him. I couldn’t fit in the spot but I stood near him. Still, the little girl found him and squeezed into the spot with him, a large smile spreading across her face.

She was just thrilled with him and I thought he would be thrilled with her attention, but apparently he is not yet ready for the attention of the opposite sex. And actually? I’m OK with that.

And I’m OK with the fact he wants to play with me and only me because I know one day he won’t want a thing to do with me.

 

 

Yoga and the boy who meditated for less than 30 seconds

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We (my dad, mom and son) visited a cousin of mine last week at her home, which doubles as her Yoga studio.

She wanted some photographs of her studio and her to promote her business.

Jonathan seemed to forget we were there for business and saw the studio space as a new and interesting playground.

He ran from one side to the other side of the studio and slammed into Yoga pillows and fell onto the hard wood floor and I swore I was going to have to go to the ER with him.

When my cousin was ready to do a few poses, Jonathan showed her what he’d been doing for awhile now — a pose from The Mr. Men Show.

She decided she would meditate with him for a bit too, which resulted in a hilarious moment of them checking on each other at one point to see who was peeking at whom.

While Jonathan’s meditating pose is quite cute, it’s rare that my child ever sits still longer than a few seconds during the day — unless he is enthralled in a cartoon or letting me read a book to him.

 

I don’t necessarily promote meditation, in the Eastern sense of the word, instead encouraging him to focus on meditating on God’s word or simply using the time to focus on the quiet.

I hope he can find those moments of peace and enjoy them, at least when he gets older because moments of peace and quiet do not come often to him at this age, unless he is asleep.

Sweet Shot Day Part of Sweet Shot Tuesday with My Three Boybarians.