JustJessie

I Can't Get This One Straight

Before I explain the title of this post, I should warn you that in my family, all roads lead to poopy jokes.  That said, I'll continue. 

When my niece was five years old, my mom and I picked her up after school everyday.  One day when we were in a small bookstore, she felt the urge.  If you've ever dealt with a five year old who needs to go, you'll know they don't care where they are or who's around.  They have to go.  So, this bookstore had a tiny bathroom with ply-wood walls in the middle of the store.  She was in there for a while, making all kinds of noises which could be heard by all in the store.  I asked if she was okay, and she grunted, "I... can't... get... this one... STRAIGHT!"  I about died laughing.  It's been a standing joke in our house ever since.  When we have a problem getting something to come out right, we quote my niece.

Now, for the reason behind the poopy story.  I can't get this painting straight.  I've been working on it for days.  I've redone Grayson's face three times, and I'm happy with most of it now.  I've only done Grant's face twice, and it still needs something.  I'm going to stare it down for a couple more days and see if I can figure out where it's wrong.  I thought it was only fair to share the main reason you haven't been hearing from me this week.  I've been a woman obsessed.  Be kind in your criticisms, and I'll eventually share the finished piece!

Democracy in Progress

I took both boys with me to vote yesterday in our primary election.  They were so excited to go.  Even though the lure for them was going into the tiny curtained cubicle and voting in secret, then getting a sticker to wear on their shirt afterward, I am really glad they went.  It opened up all kinds of dialog with Grayson about voting, and how proud we should be to get to take part in choosing our leaders.  It also lead to an impromptu history lesson about the ideas of freedom America was founded on.  It was great, because he was truly interested.  He wanted to know about the candidate choices, and what they all believed in.  Of course I gave him the kid-friendly version, and he ended up with a different candidate choice than Mom and Dad. 

These high quality photos *wink-wink* were taken inside the voting cubicle.  Grayson was extolling his candidate choice at the top of his lungs and Grant was jumping around and shaking the whole row of voting booths.  I won't lie, it was a little embarrassing, but fun at the same time.  We exited to smiles from fellow voters and dirty looks from the old ladies running the room.  Truth be told, the dirty looks had more to do with the elephant on that voting slip than the noise level of my kids!  Oh well, it's a free country!

~A quick update~  One week later, and Grayson is still obsessed with voting and elections.  He asked if I can let him vote for his birthday.  I told him it was illegal, so he asked for a "pretend voting set" with a booth and ballot and electronic counting machine.  He thinks it's ridiculous that children shouldn't be allowed to vote.  After all, "We know as much as grown-ups about stuff."  I'll have to see what I can rig up for him on election day.

Marriage counseling a`la Grayson

Me: Ooh, look.  Rob Thomas.  Momma thinks he's cute.

Grayson:  *looking at me in bewilderment*  No, you already have a husband.  You think Daddy's cute. 

Me:  Of course I do.  I love Daddy, but I can still think people are cute.

Grayson:  No.  If you think he's cute, you might decide you want HIM to be your husband, and then Daddy won't have a wife, and me and Grant won't have a mommy.  Humph! *crosses arms and sticks out lip*

I think we may need to explain to our son the meaning of "commitment"!

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Grant:  My hawngry.

Me:  Ok.  FInish your breakfast.

Grant:  My wont... ummm... maybe chockit?  *flashes winning smile*

Me:  You can finish your breakfast.

Grant:  Umm... nope.  How 'bout maybe... canny cames (candy canes)?  *bats eyelashes*

Me:  Breakfast.

Grant:  My know!  My know!  Emmy ems?!  *hands clasped, big grin*

silence

Grant:  *head hung, shoulders drooping*  My eat brektust.

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and YOU were so worried

Seriously, I don't know what you were all so worried about!  I knew Grayson would do great at kindergarten, but I won't say "I told you so."

Okay, so I'm lying.  I was a nervous wreck all day long yesterday.  I had butterflies in my stomach and sweaty palms and my nails are now jagged little nubs.  You see, I was an extreme homebody at his age.  I hated leaving home to go to school everyday, and I usually got a stomach ache from nerves.  As most mom's do from time to time, I was projecting my fears onto Grayson.  Luckily he inherited his dad's naturally outgoing personality and charisma that make meeting new people a breeze for him.  As a friend put it yesterday, "He's totally going to own that place."

They were right.  Here are a few quick things that made his day great.  First of all, his teacher is a super-friendly, energetic lady.  She made him feel right at home.  Secondly, his assigned seat is across the table from a very pretty blue-eyed blond.  According to Grayson, they played house at free time and first she made him be the dad and then she made him be the brother.  He wasn't exactly heartbroken.  Then, thirdly, he stopped playing with her and played spies (his favorite thing to pretend right now) with four other boys who were as into it as he was.  They were pretending all sorts of fancy gadgets and secret passwords.  One boy even told Grayson his secret password!  Fourth, at one point they had to partner up to sing a song, and people were fighting for the chance to be his partner. 

I don't think he could have possibly had a better day!  From just one day of playing with kids his age, I can see how much he's been missing.  His entire demeanor was different yesterday.  He was calmer, kinder, and a better listener.  I am SO glad we made this decision.  Thanks for all your kind words yesterday, they meant a lot.

My little wise guy

Grayson has always been mature for his age.  His verbal skills are ridiculous, mostly because of his first child/grandchild status in the family.  Every one of us, parents and grandparents alike worked with him all the time on learning new words, enunciation, correct pronunciation, the whole nine yards.  I've always been very proud of him for these things.  Lately, though, I'm thinking that a less expressive child might not be such a bad thing. 

For instance, Wednesday morning, he and I did our Turbojam video together.  That video kicked my booty, and there was Grayson having a ball and not sweating a drop.  He didn't rub it in my face as he is sometimes wont to do.  The next day, however, I woke up ridiculously sore, particularly my weak tummy and back muscles.  As I was grumbling about having to get up and do something at my dad's house, Grayson pipes up, "Uh, maybe we've been eating a little more junk food lately than we realized, huh Mommy?"

And here's another one.  Because Grant is a daredevil and a rascal, I don't take my shower in the morning until he takes his nap.  Sometimes this means I'm hanging out with bedhead and mascara smears for the better part of the morning.  Yesterday, Grayson was kinda staring at me, and I asked him what was up.  He said, "You're just so beautiful, Mommy.  I mean, with your hair fixed better and a little make-up on, you'd look just great."  As he fingered my nappy hair with his head cocked to the side.

Yeah, I'm thinking a less talkative child might have done wonders for my self-esteem.

Lessons in Cool

Yesterday the boys and I had an errand to run in the town where Daddy works, so he asked us to come eat lunch with him and meet his new co-workers.  So as usual, I laid clothes out for both boys to wear: matching white polos and seersucker shorts.  They both look sooo adorable in those outfits, and people always compliment them a lot when they wear them.  But guess what?  Apparently they aren't exactly cool.

When Grayson went to his bed and saw his clothes, I heard, "Aww, MOM!  I wanted to look COOL.  Like a regular, everyday COOL GUY.  Not some matchy-matchy like the baby brother GOOFY guy!"  Umm... ouch.  Of course I let him pick out some other clothes and wear them, but I had to wonder, where did this sudden disdain for the matching outfits come from?  Since Grant was born I have had matching outfits for them, not for every day of course, but a couple each season.  And never any sissy-looking outfits either.  If I felt a dire need to dress the baby in a sailor suit or something, I would just get Grayson a button-down of the same material to wear with his khakis.  And I never heard a complaint either. 

Alas, my boy is growing up it seems.  If being in control of his clothes is important to him right now, I'll back off and let him control it.  It's hard, though.  If I had a crystal ball, I would see days and days of superhero shirts and soccer shorts in my future.  Oooohh the agony!  Maybe somehow I'll survive, and maybe, just maybe, Grayson will still let me dress him ocassionally.  Maybe.

A badly taken picture of my cool guy in the offending outfit.

Anything for love

"I would do anything for you, Mommy!" Grayson said as he looked up at me with his big puppy eyes.  I looked back down at him, snuggled up in my arms and said, "Really?  Would you climb the highest mountain for me?"

"Well, that would be really hard.  I would climb the plastic rock wall at the park, though."

"Oh, that's a big wall!  Would you swim the widest ocean for me?"

"You know, that would make my arms really tired.  But I made your coffee this morning with Daddy."

"I know, and it was the best coffee in the whole world."

Brother trauma

"I almost killed my brother!"

Grayson came tearing around the corner at Nana & Poppy's house today, sobbing, with Nana right behind him carrying Grant who was red in the face, screaming, blood all over his mouth.  My. heart. stopped.  I am an eternal optimist in all things except bloody accidents.  I just knew he had lost all his front teeth.  There were images of cleaning baby dentures every night for the next six years bouncing around in my head, bumping into the images of kids calling him names at school when he showed them that his teeth came out. 

After cleaning much dirt and blood out of his mouth, I was SO relieved to find that the teeth were not loose, nor was there a gaping hole in his top lip, nor half his tongue missing.  Just one very upset, very dirty 20 month old, and an equally upset five year old who thought he almost accidentally committed murder.  Grant barely has a fat lip to show for all the drama, and Grayson only has a bad case of the can't-help-its from crying so hard and being so sleepy.

Aside from that ten minutes, though, we actually had a great day.  Nana & Poppy kept the boys all day while I went to the home improvement store and then painted windows and doors in the kitchen.  They got to play in some big ol' boxes Poppy had rigged up to be a spaceship & they got to play in the dirt, which is always fun for some reason.  (Grant- "Whoa! Dut!" when he saw the flowerpot full of dark mushy stuff just waiting for his little paws to dig in.)

Before they even went this morning, the boys were surfing in our den.  Gray watched some cartoon this morning with people surfing on it & then he spread a blanket on the floor, found a piece of wood, & started surfing ("DUDE!  THIS IS AWESOME!  I DIDN'T KNOW I WOULD BE THIS GOOD!")

Sweaty sweetie

My sweet, sweet Grayson.  He wants so badly to be all masculine and rough and tumble like his friends, but inside him is this beautiful soul that just won't let him be that way all the time.  He is testing the waters of rough-housing and masculine aggression, and he definitely likes that stuff, don't get me wrong! 

He had his cousins over to play after school today, and they spent the short time they were together acting like testosterone crazed lunatics.  They formed a rock band in the playroom (lots of loud drumming and VERY loud singing.  you couldn't even hear the guitar.), played football outside, & spoke at full volume for the duration.  Grayson was so happy doing that while they were here, and I am so glad he has them to be crazy with.

But you know what I love more?  I love that within minutes of their departure he was picking flowers for me to wear in my hair.  He wanted to sit in my lap while we played with sidewalk chalk with Grant.  And that photo at the top?  He set the whole thing up himself.  He picked the flowers, arranged them just right, and then sat his sweaty little self down in the middle of them and asked me to snap the picture.  I want that sweetness to stay forever.  My biggest fear as he grows up is that one day he will lose it.  One day I might turn around and he will be a man, too tough to be sweet to mama, or too masculine to enjoy the simple beauty of life.

But I know he has a good example in his daddy of a man who is balanced in all these things.  He has a model who is both sensitive and strong, manly and beautiful.  It is possible to rear a well balanced man in this crazy world.  I just hope I'm doing it right!

Coping Grayson style

When Grayson woke up he was pretty upset, as you can imagine.  He just really has no experience with death, so even though these were just ducks, it was pretty heartbreaking for the little guy.  I held him as he cried, and then distracted him with his favorite morning cartoon.  He would forget for a while and then remember and cry some more.

Well, later as I was excercising in the den, he came in with a plastic egg in his hand and said, "Mommy, look!  The momma duck laid this egg right in my hand!  I've been keeping it warm and I think it's about to hatch!"  Well, out came a baby chick made of pompoms he got at church last Easter.  He wrapped it in his favorite blanket, and carried it around all morning.  As he would walk past me I would hear snippets like, "It's okay, little fella.  I know your brothers all died, but I won't let anything happen to you.  You're safe with me."  Amazingly, this got him completely over it.  Maybe by transferring his grief to the chick he was able to let it go.  (I realize how dramatic this sounds, but Drama is Grayson's middle name). 

It totally amazed me the way he chose to deal with this little tragedy in his life.  His creative spirit surprises me everyday.