Tiny Picasso?

Kyle's pretty into the drawing thing lately, which is so unlike him. He's never been one to color or draw. I chalk it up to being a boy, but I know that's not true. It's just not his thing. So it makes me happy when I see him trying something new. The problem is, his drawings rarely portray anything new. They all look like this:

Once in awhile, the size of the house (yes, that lump is a house) will vary, or we (yes, that's our family) might be accompanied by a wee little fourth person. But most of the time, what you see is what you get. We like to spend time outside, can you tell?

Better Luck This Time

Some of my favorite childhood memories involve the holidays. In fact, most of them do. It doesn't matter what the holiday, only that it was a holiday. A special day. A day just a little out of the ordinary. We didn't have huge, elaborate celebrations, but my mom always made them special. Paper decorations for Halloween. A new Easter outfit. A little gift on Valentine's Day.

So I suppose that's why I felt like such a complete failure when I forgot Valentine's Day. Okay, I didn't actually forget that it existed - I simply forgot to celebrate when the day came. We bought valentine's for Kyle's friends, but forgot to deliver them. I had a little present for Kyle, but forgot to give it to him. I had visions of heart pancakes for breakfast, but we had Cheerios instead. Lame.

It was after that complete bummer of a holiday that I decided I'd better whip myself into shape. After all, who wants a mom who doesn't celebrate? Holidays are a big deal to kids. It was time to step up.

And I'm happy to report that St. Patrick's Day has gone much better. We've read stories. We decorated shamrocks and hung them in the windows. In fact, I might have prepared a little too well, because Kyle came into our room this morning at 5 a.m. and happily announced, "It's St. Patrick's Day!" Christmas didn't even get that kind of reception at our house.

But we've made the the most of it. We went on a treasure hunt for gold coins. We dressed in green and ate yummy green food. We made sugar cookies and delivered them to Kevin's office (during which Kyle walked through and gave everybody not wearing green a little pinch).

Like I said, it's not much, but even the smallest traditions excite kids. And it's safe to say that Kyle had a ball. Now, on to Easter! Too bad it's in less than a week...

Luck

While on a walk the other day, we were playing the game "I'm thinking of a number..." and the others had to guess the number.

Kyle loves games like this, and thought he had the hang of it.

"I'm thinking of a number..." he began.

"Between twelve and thirteen," he finished.

Kevin and I started to laugh.

"Twelve?" I asked.

Nope.

"Thirteen?" Kevin guessed.

"You got it! Good job, Dad!" praised Kyle.

Even with a 50/50 chance, I still get it wrong. Go figure.

While the mom's away...

...the boys will play.

Lest you think that I had all of the fun this past weekend, let me set the story straight. My boys managed to have a little fun of their own. They went bowling and grabbed a bite to eat. They shopped yard sales and managed to pick up a Playstation 2 and some games for a killer deal. They had a movie night and ate treats.

And while I don't have photographic proof of any of this (dad's just don't think like that), Kevin did remember to capture this significant event:


This is poor, deprived "city-boy" Kyle's first-ever ride on a horse. And did he like it? I think the verdict's still out. But I imagine the final opinion will go something like this:

"I'm glad I did it. I think it was fun. But I doubt I'll be doing it again for quite some time."

A New Tradition

I just experienced my first weekend away - a "Girls Weekend," if you will. And let me tell you, I'm campaigning now to make it a yearly tradition.

Sarah and I met down in Phoenix in honor of an old roommate's wedding. And it was lovely. Abbey and Adam are wonderful, the temple was lovely, and the celebrations were fabulous. It was so much fun.

But the best part? Renewing a friendship. Not that it's ever waned, but years of marriage, children, and long distances lead to rare visits. But this weekend proved that nothing's changed.

We stayed up until all hours of the night eating ice cream and chatting, and then we got to sleep in. We got to do what we wanted, whenever we wanted, however we wanted. Which meant we shopped, shopped, shopped! The husbands and kids would've never survived. But we loved every minute of it.

But the best part of all? I missed Kevin & Kyle like crazy and couldn't wait to get home. Now mind you, it didn't hamper any of my weekend fun, but I couldn't wait to see them and get back to routine. It's the best of both worlds, if you ask me.

So here's to many more girls weekend in the years to come!

To send or not to send

To Kindergarten, that is.

Anyone who knows me well, knows the seriousness I place on this issue. In fact, I’ve probably talked your ear off about it over and over again. I’ve honestly debated the issue since Kyle was a wee little fetus in my belly. I knew he was going to be an August baby and would always be the youngest in his class.

I decided right then and there that I would probably hold him back a year and have him start Kindergarten when he was six. Just think of all the benefits: maturity, size, abilities. Plus, we’d never have to argue over dating and driving during the high school years. He’d always be the oldest.

I held firm to my decision in the Great Kindergarten Debate until approximately 6 months ago - until we moved here. And suddenly the decision became more complicated. After all, we live in the middle of nowhere. There’s only one preschool and it’s pretty tough to get in to. AND it costs a couple of grand per year. If I kept my guy home from school for another year, he just might go crazy.

The deadline here is in December. Meaning, he’s not going to be the youngest. I know that won’t always be case because we’ll move, but who wants their 6-year-old kindergartener going to school with 4-year-olds?

There isn’t quite the abundance of friends here that we’re used to, and all of his friends will be going to school next year. Meaning, no playdates if we decide to keep him home. And with a new little one in the house, mom’s energy and creativity just might not be up to par.

Plus, he’s ready. He knows his letters, his numbers. He can add. He’s learning to read. And he’s pretty darn tall for his age. He yearns for more friends, a more social and challenging environment.

And so it appears that my decision has been reversed. I think my little guy will be headed off to Kindergarten next year. And while I look forward to seeing him learn and thrive, and I look forward to volunteering in the school, I’ve already started having minor panic attacks.

I panic over the fact that Kevin and I will no longer have complete control. He’s going to learn naughty things from naughty kids. I panic that I can’t be there to protect him. He’s going to experience the hurt, pain, and frustration that comes with kids and school. I panic that my little guy is growing up and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I never thought I’d be this kind of mom. I thought I’d be relieved when my kids headed out the door to school and I had the day to myself. But I can guarantee you, come August 20^th, I’ll be bawling my eyes out.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Our family's 4-month separation last summer seems like a distant memory. Until last night, that is.

I'm headed down to a wedding in Phoenix this weekend, and I'll be leaving Kevin and Kyle at home for a "Boys Weekend." I thought Kyle would be overjoyed. So imagine my surprise when he didn't take too kindly to the news.

"But I don't want you to leave! I want us to stay home and be a family!"

I couldn't quite figure out what he was upset about - after all, he's not exactly attached to me. Never has been. He's always been a daddy's boy.

We talked for a few minutes about how I was flying on the airplane and I'd return in just a few days. That lead to discussions of how he wanted to fly on the airplane, too. Thinking I'd make his day, I told him that in just two weeks, he and I would get to fly to Virginia on the airplane. There was silence in the backseat and I figured that he was pacified.

Wrong.

All of a sudden, I hear a shrieking cry from the backseat. I look back to find my little guy bawling, with both hands covering his face.

"But I don't want to be separated!!!"

What? What do you mean? In between cries and gulps of air, he explained:

"Well, daddy's not coming with us. And I don't want to be separated. I want us to be together and be a family!"

"Remember last summer when Daddy was at training and I was so, so sad? Well, that's what I'm thinking about and I don't want to be separated!"

Oh, I get it. We comforted, held his hand, and soon he was fast asleep, all worries forgotten (it was 3 hours after bedtime, probably the main reason for the freak-out).

After I thought about it, I realized that this will be the first time we've been separated again since last summer. I also realized that it affected Kyle far more than I previously thought. Who knew.

Camping...the right way.

We went camping this weekend.

And when I say, "the right way," I mean that not only were the mountains lush and green...

But the beach was right down the street. That's what happens when you go camping in Malibu.

We put the kids on dish duty, and they didn't seem to mind a bit.

However, Kyle wasn't feeling so hot, so he spent a large majority of the time like this.

Boredom

This is Kyle's favorite new pastime. Whenever he's bored, or I've neglected him for the computer, he sits in the hall and throws the ball off the wall. Over and over and over again.

I remember my brother, Paul, doing this. Funny how it just seems to be an inherit boy thing.