Think of the movie A Streetcar Named Desire - you know the part I am going to reference - "STELLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Brando was raw - heart wrenching . . . . think about It's A Wonderful Life when Jimmy Stewart wants his life back. Again, emotional. Bambi - do I even need to say more for that? E.T. - again, need I say more? (Well, I wish I knew about it but mom was sobbing so hard I missed the last few minutes). When the Grinch hears the Whos singing - or when Cindy Loo takes his hand . . . . .Or my personal favorite gut wrenching scene - when Kermit has to tell his friends that they are going to lose The Muppet Theatre in A Muppet Christmas Carol. It gets me every time! (a bit much?)
You get my point - there are moments in life that can really get to us and make us feel - REALLY feel - raw emotions. Well, at the tender age of eight, Andrew had his very own gut wrenching and total raw emotion moment yesterday. We were on our way to Seabreeze and, quite frankly, I don't know how he recovered from it to continue on and have a fun day. I honestly thought I was going to have to pull over so he could compose himself - or at least give him a magic mommy kiss.
I am not sure I can bear to retell the story without tearing up as well. It was tough to see my baby go through something so difficult at such a young age . . . . . . but I will try.
Here is the conversation:
Andrew: OH man!!! WHYYYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE????????? *groan/wince/whimper*
Me: What? Are you OK?? What is wrong?
Andrew: WHHYYYY MEEEEE!!!
Me: DUDE!! What is wrong?
Andrew: Why is it always me that things happen to? How come whenever we enter into a different town/city/state I ALWAYS itch????!????!!???!?!?!?!? WHY?
*crickets*
Me: Seriously?
Andrew: Yes!!! Seriously!! Watch - when we get into Irondequoit, I will itch . . . . .
Andrew: SEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As he is "proving" his point, he lightly itches his arm. Oh the horror!! The injustice!! The madness!!
And the conversation ended with me rolling my eyes.
Seriously folks, I can't make this stuff up.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
What happens when I dare wash the towels
The boys were playing outside the other day and eventually went over to our neighbor's house. They were having fun - and were able to con a popsicle out of the other mom. (SUCKER!!!!)
They finally came home and promptly went into our room to watch something recorded. No big deal - they were outside all day and were going to have a boys' night with Rich while I went out with friends. A little rest isn't a bad idea. Oh - this is when I told the pictures of them in the laundry baskets watching TV - yes, using our pillows. **shudder** It wasn't until I went into our room did I notice that they were beyond dirty. I am pretty sure that coalminers are cleaner than they were. NASTY!!! Timmy was especially dirty so I asked him to at least change his shirt before going out with Rich. But first . . . . the bubbles out front needed to be cleaned up. You might think you know where this is going, but you would only be partially right.
So Timmy goes out, cleans up, and comes back in. I would like to stop and savor the moment - he actually went outside and cleaned up without asking why, stomping a foot, whining, or just plain screaming "Why do I ALWAYS have to clean up? You must HATE me!!!" . . . . . I wrote it down on the calendar.
Ok, back to the story . . . . . . as he came in I noticed his shirt was soaked. Yup, he spilled bubbles ALL down the front of his shirt. *sigh* THAT load of laundry will be . . . . . sudsy. Can you say extra rinse cycle? (or two - or five) As he went upstairs to change, I reminded him that he needed to wash his nasty snot & dirt streaked face. (a lovely thought - you are welcome)
When he came back down his face was . . . . . . very slightly "cleaner". Then it dawned on me - their towels were all in the washing machine (notice dad - TWO words). Hmmmmmm, so this is the conversation that followed:
Me: Did you wash your face?
Tim: *sigh* Yes.
Me: Really?
Tim: Uh, yeah. (rolling his eyes)
Me: With what?
Tim: Ummm, a towel?
Me: Ummm, nope. They are in the laundry and I didn't hear the closet open! ((total lie))
Tim: **double sigh** I used my shirt.
Me: The one with the bubbles on it that was already dirty?
Tim: No!!! My new one! (like I was the dumbest person to ever walk the planet)
Me: *sigh* You are telling me you put on a clean shirt and then used it to wash your nasty face?
Tim: Yup! (running away laughing)
I give up.
They finally came home and promptly went into our room to watch something recorded. No big deal - they were outside all day and were going to have a boys' night with Rich while I went out with friends. A little rest isn't a bad idea. Oh - this is when I told the pictures of them in the laundry baskets watching TV - yes, using our pillows. **shudder** It wasn't until I went into our room did I notice that they were beyond dirty. I am pretty sure that coalminers are cleaner than they were. NASTY!!! Timmy was especially dirty so I asked him to at least change his shirt before going out with Rich. But first . . . . the bubbles out front needed to be cleaned up. You might think you know where this is going, but you would only be partially right.
So Timmy goes out, cleans up, and comes back in. I would like to stop and savor the moment - he actually went outside and cleaned up without asking why, stomping a foot, whining, or just plain screaming "Why do I ALWAYS have to clean up? You must HATE me!!!" . . . . . I wrote it down on the calendar.
Ok, back to the story . . . . . . as he came in I noticed his shirt was soaked. Yup, he spilled bubbles ALL down the front of his shirt. *sigh* THAT load of laundry will be . . . . . sudsy. Can you say extra rinse cycle? (or two - or five) As he went upstairs to change, I reminded him that he needed to wash his nasty snot & dirt streaked face. (a lovely thought - you are welcome)
When he came back down his face was . . . . . . very slightly "cleaner". Then it dawned on me - their towels were all in the washing machine (notice dad - TWO words). Hmmmmmm, so this is the conversation that followed:
Me: Did you wash your face?
Tim: *sigh* Yes.
Me: Really?
Tim: Uh, yeah. (rolling his eyes)
Me: With what?
Tim: Ummm, a towel?
Me: Ummm, nope. They are in the laundry and I didn't hear the closet open! ((total lie))
Tim: **double sigh** I used my shirt.
Me: The one with the bubbles on it that was already dirty?
Tim: No!!! My new one! (like I was the dumbest person to ever walk the planet)
Me: *sigh* You are telling me you put on a clean shirt and then used it to wash your nasty face?
Tim: Yup! (running away laughing)
I give up.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Happy Birthday, Andrew!!
I was going to start out his blog with something sweet - something loving - for my first born. Then he answered the phone this way - "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!". Thankfully it was just my mom and not someone important!
Last night as I was driving him to birthday party (Happy Birthday, Jay!!!), Andrew reminded me that he gets breakfast in bed on his birthday. Huh? Since when? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah!!!! Since I get breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day, they figured they should get breakfast in bed on their birthday! Oh yeah – and they heard that Princess Sofia got breakfast in bed on her birthday. Thanks, Chris and Jennifer! Anyway, somehow it turned into breakfast in mom and dad’s bed so he could watch TV and lounge like a king. Originally, he was going to graciously allow Timmy to join him for breakfast. As long as Timmy sat on the floor. Wasn’t that nice of Andrew? Well, once it was changed to MY bed, I allowed Timmy to join Andrew on the bed - as long as they both had cookie trays under their breakfast plates. (Hey – I like my new quilt!) To thank me for letting him join Andrew, Tim asked where his half birthday present is. I told him he just had it – breakfast in my bed.
If you had asked me last year if he would ever be eight years old, I would have laughed. Last year was all about pushing buttons and testing limits. It was all about seeing just how far he could get with annoying his brother (and therefore us) and still live another day. Last year was all about seeing how independent he could be without buying his own house and moving out.
Wait . . . . . . that is this year, too.
And those are the reasons I love Andrew. He has ALWAYS been independent - almost to a fault. He is caring and a cuddlebug. He watches out for people that might have a harder time at things and he makes sure that they are OK. (well, except his brother – then he beats him into the ground) He finds the good in everyone and will always remember it – even if that person doesn’t deserve the second or fifth chance. He is loyal – to a fault. He is sensitive and tough at the same time. He has one of the best senses of humor I have seen - he can make me laugh with one look. He mastered sarcasm by age three. He is logical and thinks about all possible outcomes before doing something - even if it is all in his head 2.3 seconds before he does anything - and even if he KNOWS the possible outcome would mean time in his room. He is careful and cautious. He is good at anything he tries - even if it means he has to overcome his cautious nature. He is also a perfectionist – and stubborn. You would think that a cautious, stubborn perfectionist would be a terrible mix. For Andrew, it works. It makes him want to do well and try even harder at things he KNOWS he can do but might be nervous to try. He is smart, funny, stubborn, caring, sweet, funny, stubborn, adorable, stubborn . . . . .
He is Rich. He looks like Rich, walks like Rich, smiles like Rich . . . . . and I love that. I married Rich for a reason – and to have a child that is the spitting image of him makes my heart happy. I can’t wait to see Andrew grow even more and become the amazing man, husband, and father that Rich is.
Happy Birthday, Andrew!!! I love you!!!!!!
Last night as I was driving him to birthday party (Happy Birthday, Jay!!!), Andrew reminded me that he gets breakfast in bed on his birthday. Huh? Since when? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah!!!! Since I get breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day, they figured they should get breakfast in bed on their birthday! Oh yeah – and they heard that Princess Sofia got breakfast in bed on her birthday. Thanks, Chris and Jennifer! Anyway, somehow it turned into breakfast in mom and dad’s bed so he could watch TV and lounge like a king. Originally, he was going to graciously allow Timmy to join him for breakfast. As long as Timmy sat on the floor. Wasn’t that nice of Andrew? Well, once it was changed to MY bed, I allowed Timmy to join Andrew on the bed - as long as they both had cookie trays under their breakfast plates. (Hey – I like my new quilt!) To thank me for letting him join Andrew, Tim asked where his half birthday present is. I told him he just had it – breakfast in my bed.
If you had asked me last year if he would ever be eight years old, I would have laughed. Last year was all about pushing buttons and testing limits. It was all about seeing just how far he could get with annoying his brother (and therefore us) and still live another day. Last year was all about seeing how independent he could be without buying his own house and moving out.
Wait . . . . . . that is this year, too.
And those are the reasons I love Andrew. He has ALWAYS been independent - almost to a fault. He is caring and a cuddlebug. He watches out for people that might have a harder time at things and he makes sure that they are OK. (well, except his brother – then he beats him into the ground) He finds the good in everyone and will always remember it – even if that person doesn’t deserve the second or fifth chance. He is loyal – to a fault. He is sensitive and tough at the same time. He has one of the best senses of humor I have seen - he can make me laugh with one look. He mastered sarcasm by age three. He is logical and thinks about all possible outcomes before doing something - even if it is all in his head 2.3 seconds before he does anything - and even if he KNOWS the possible outcome would mean time in his room. He is careful and cautious. He is good at anything he tries - even if it means he has to overcome his cautious nature. He is also a perfectionist – and stubborn. You would think that a cautious, stubborn perfectionist would be a terrible mix. For Andrew, it works. It makes him want to do well and try even harder at things he KNOWS he can do but might be nervous to try. He is smart, funny, stubborn, caring, sweet, funny, stubborn, adorable, stubborn . . . . .
He is Rich. He looks like Rich, walks like Rich, smiles like Rich . . . . . and I love that. I married Rich for a reason – and to have a child that is the spitting image of him makes my heart happy. I can’t wait to see Andrew grow even more and become the amazing man, husband, and father that Rich is.
Happy Birthday, Andrew!!! I love you!!!!!!
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| King Andrew |
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