Sunday, May 10, 2009

Mother's Day! I sleep til 8:30 while the boys play. When they come in to see if I am up, Sailor is dressed head to toe in dark clothing and his face is covered in a ski mask, a hat and dark glasses. “Who is that?!” I am almost as surprised as I sound. “It’s ME!” he rips everything off so I can see his beautiful face.

Mac bounds in with gifts ‘hound his back. He gives me 2 poems he wrote in school (one in which I am beautiful, the other in which I am described as not liking to cook and having stinky feet). He also gives me a heart with a little French saying comparing me to a cotton ball; and a darling pen drawing of a house, and a library card to the library he and Sailor spent all day setting up in his room yesterday. Sailor planted a seed in his preschool class on Friday: "If I tell you today will you forget?!" I assured him I would. "It's a FLOWER!" He was so proud! So far it is just a cup of dirt with MOME written on the bottom. "Is that the way you spell Mommy?"
"It's one way that makes sense, sure."
"Well then that can be our family's way of spelling it!" He also gives me some of his treasures from his room: his 2 Judo medals, his Starbucks snow globe and a lip gloss.

I make – and for a rare treat actually eat – breakfast. We clean the playroom to make room for the idea of a guinea pig (Mac is actually getting one for his birthday on the 21st, but he is unaware and thinks that the guinea pig discussion remains just that, a discussion), I bake a key lime pie for tonight’s dessert, sweep the kitchen, bathe the kids … Mac takes me out to lunch at Potbelly where we find great entertainment watching a cabbie change a tire (Sailor is there but asleep in the stroller). We exchange some books at Borders and Mac pleases me by not really fussing when I won’t let him choose either the $6.99 StarWars sticker book or the $13 one. I get a Starbucks and Mac asks if he can get something too. I remind him that he has had a sandwich AND ice cream and he relents, grabbing for his water bottle. We meet his new freckle faced French girlfriend, Lena, and her single mom at the playground, which is nice.

My dad is not up to going out for brunch this morning so for dinner we order in Thai food. After the Thai and the pie I am downright FAT with a food baby!

My mom gets a lot of well-deserved gifts and my sister gives me a book and I give her one too ("Weren't you just reading this last week?" she asks me. Indeed I was but see no difference in giving her a used book that someone else had read over giving her a used book that I have read!). My mom says, "Should I have given you something?" I don't reply, of course, but my sister says yes, she should have. I don't think there is much value in "holidays" such as Mother's Day.


And after reading them some Shakespeare for Kids (Much Ado About Nothing) my boys go right to bed at 8:30, allowing me to get some writing work done that I have promised a friend I would be able to complete by tomorrow morning.

“It just feels like a reg-lee-er day,” Sailor told me on the way back from the playground this evening. Indeed. At least no one kicked sand in my face this year…

Tuesday, May 12, 2009 – Is That What Makes a Good Mom?

Mac’s French girl friend, Lena, is coming for dinner and so Mac suggests I make a French meal: French cheese omelet, ratatouille, and French bread. I look up recipes. Sailor and I shop at two different stores. We scrape, chop, sautee, mix. Only our little guest and I like the ratatouille salad, an uncooked version of the original, the remains of which I will sautee and throw over pasta for diner tomorrow night. Over the phone I relay this meal plan to the little girl’s mother. “You are such a good mom!” she exclaims. Is that what makes a good mom? Ratatouille? Making a special meal for my son’s friend at his creative request? Letting my kids try new foods? Is that it?

Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Mac will turn 8 in a week and a day. I have been driving around for the past month or so with a rabbit cage in the trunk of my car. Mac will be getting a guinea pig for his birthday. There has been lengthy discussion over names for the guinea pig, which Mac wants but does know when or if he is getting. Sailor and I have dropped off Mac and we are walking to Starbucks. He steps in a puddle. “Mommy, my foot is wet.” I will check when we reach our destination and find that there is a crack in the little green froggy boot. He is the 3rd to wear these boots, they are quite worn out, but I will call the company to find out their policy anyway.

As we walk I talk to him about this guinea pig. Or try to anyway. I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise! Until finally my exuberant little chatterbox (“I can’t believe we are getting a pet! I’ve never had a pet in my whole life!”) stops talking, turns to me and says, “You were saying?”

We discuss names again and he hits on the funniest combo for 2 guinea pigs ever: named for what Sailor thinks he hears at the opening sequence of the 1970s Laverne & Shirley reruns… Shemille and Shemanzel. You know, “Shlemiel, Shlemazel…” I am laughing so hard at his cuteness. “We have to get Mac to think it’s funny too,” he says.


Thursday, May 14, 2009

Sailor is scootering through the house. The leash on a stuffed Snoopy is tied to the handle bar of the scooter and Snoopy is dragiging along behind the scooter. “I see you're taking your pup for a walk,” I say.
“Yes, but he’s a little lazy!”
Indeed the white Snoopy is cleaning my floors.
“He’s boneless,” Sailor continues.


Friday, May 15, 2009
It’s been two weeks since my dad’s semi-emergency surgery. Life has been not quite the same while he recovers. But I did leave Sailor with him on Wednesday afternoon for a couple of hours. A mutually beneficial situation – Sailor was too tired to carry on with me the rest of the afternoon and GrandDad needed a little visit to help him thru a bad day. We are all tired tho. The weather has been nice tho it’s raining heavily now. We have been up by 6:30a.m. consistently for several weeks. It is nice not to be rushed in the morning. We have spent some of our extra time doing workbook pages, from which I am finding out that Mac’s math skills are lacking. I am worried about what they are teaching him in school – or not teaching him as the case may be. His teacher has given over to a student teacher who seems to be sweet but also seems to be a total dingbat.

2:00pm Sailor wants to make cookies. I think we have time. He strips down to his underwear and stars gathering ingredients. Cookies are ready by the time we have to leave to get Mac. I offer Sailor one but hes tummy is overwhelmed from licking the beater and two spoons.

He scooters to school in all his glorious cuteness: Ripped jeans, a pirate raincoat and his beautiful face.

At school he scooters around the playground, which is quickly becoming a swamp. Proof that you can have fun in the rain!

Mac has a gift for me, from his classmate Chleo’s birthday. It a beaded necklace, which he claims is strung on deer hide. “Chleo is an Indian,” he tells me, “that’s why she is tall.” Chleo is a blonde whose father is from England. I love how generous and thoughtful Mac is toward me. He is a peach. A really good boy.

Back at home Sailor strips again and dons my jean jacket, a pair of my pants and a belt, “I’m you, Mom!”

It’s Friday night movie time and I am tired. I could or even should go to bed, but I want to be with my boys on the couch. In a week Mac will be 8 years old. They are not so little anymore, my little boys. But they are sweet and cute and smart and funny and all mine.

As I work on posting the last 4 months of blog here I am laughing myself double. "What's so funny?" Mac asks. I have already read them a few of hteir best quotes. "Did we say something else historical?"