Afternoon fun

Isn't that what you call six stitches?

Christmas 2010

We had a tired, exhausted, over-indulged great Christmas! The kids--of course--loved the presents and the family. Grant loved all his gifts from da Bedford family, and he loved his bigger-than-self electronic light saber, his new nerf gun and video game unit. He also received 6 different dragons (and a dragon movie); do you see a theme? Grace was most happy with a pack of sweet tarts and a cheap zhu zhu hamster she found in her stocking. Though, I did find her this morning filling up Grant's new nerf clips with foam bullets while wearing her new princess shoes. That's a lethal combination.

Now, if I could just get the room to stop spinning.

Making Santa Progress

Last year...


This year...

Christmas Card Rejects

The pictures... not the kids.

Polar Express

The tickets were pricey. That's the story I'm stickin' to it... because why else would we risk life and limb to sit on a crowded train with other sugared-up, pajama-wearing toddlers to ride to the North Pole?

The outing was more than we bargained for, mainly because of bad weather, but we still have some great memories. And Grant really thinks he went to the North Pole. Does anyone want to tell my gold ticket holding son that it was a cornfield outside of Connersville?

Marriage

On the way home this evening, Erin informed me that she would like to paint our downstairs bathroom. Tonight.

The thought of taking up a sudden painting project is bad enough. But the reality of this particular project is that the task is to touch up some damage done to one of the walls in our bathroom. This particular wall now has three large locations that require some sort of picture to cover damage incurred while I previously tried to repair a smaller issue. As it turns out, I'm only slightly better with a putty knife and spackle than I am at performing open heart surgery. In other words, I might be able to mash some stuff in there and stop the bleeding, but in the end, the patient is in real trouble.

The latest injury to our drywall occurred when one of our children decided that to climb up on their step stool to use the sink, they should leverage the towel rack like it was a zip line. Since this occurred somewhere around three months ago, I guess Erin decided that tonight was the night to correct the situation.

What really had me in disbelief was the fact that that she knew that the paint for this project was stored in our minibarn. She informed me of her decision to work on the bathroom at around 6pm, by which point it was turning dark, was around 35 degrees, and there was a hard rain falling. Really? You want to go into the minibarn and look for paint, you say? That seems reasonable.

I also knew that the paint is at the back of the barn, behind all of the hose reels and lawn equipment, neatly stored for the winter. Of course, you can't tell that it's neatly stored because it now has all of the various boxes and tubs for our Christmas decorations strewn across the minibarn as though they were involved in some sort of armed assault. Apparently this task was undertaken in the cover of darkness as well, based on the current state of the minibarn.

As you can tell by my candor, this whole "discussion" (which ended with Grant questioning how he would ever learn to pee standing up without a father present) lasted for a good hour. By the end of the hour, I was soaking wet, angry, and fully aware of the fact that we had disposed of the paint for this particular bathroom. Which led to another marital gauntlet -- more picture hanging.

If you ever come to our house, please do not look at anything hanging on our walls. If there are two pictures side by side, one is most assuredly a quarter inch higher than the other. And if you dare lift the picture off the wall, you will surely see at least one other hole, often still featuring a nail and a little bit of my pride.

Of course, Erin claims that she's "over" the fact that I cannot hang a picture accurately. She has never looked me in the eye and told me this though, as she's always looking over my shoulder at whatever slightly cockeyed print is behind me. But I'm fine with it. It's a foolish woman who thinks that she's found the perfect man, and it's a foolish man who expects a woman to plan ahead enough to look through the minibarn for paint when it's at least 40 degrees, dry, and still light out. Neither of us can have everything.

Our little reader...

Grant has started reading! And, we couldn't be more excited. Bret and I both love to read, and so the thought of Grant entering the reading world is dreamy. He's working on all his three letter words right now, and he's a pro. I have to send a shout out to my cousin Kathy, who used to teach Kindergarten. She sent me her stash of videos when she left teaching (to stay home with two of her own smarty-pants kids), and there in her mega stash was the video that started all of this for Grant. If your preschooler likes TV and does not yet own the Leap Frog Letter Factory, go buy it now. Grant learned his letter sounds about 8 months ago, and we've been working on sounding out words for a month or so now, but this last week, something clicked.

Tomorrow: off to the library to get him some of his own reading books!

Arranged Marriage

The statistics on the success of arranged marriages are staggering. Many people will tell you that the success has to do with cultural or religious or familial expectations, but I think there is something greater at play. I know someone who will be part of a parent-bartered marriage. Now, it's not like his spouse has been picked from birth. Rather, several families are on the "short" list, and when the time comes, two families (of the boy and the girl) will meet to talk about the possibilities. If, for the boy, there is no "love connection," he is under no obligation (same for the girl).

And, here's the deal. I think there's something to this idea because: I know my kids. I really know them. Grant, for example, is going to need someone who is receptive to his constant touchiness. He likes to hug, to snuggle, to rub cheeks. He does it with me and with his sister, and we have to work hard to make sure he doesn't do it with every girl in his preschool class. He's a lover. And, he's really swayed by his emotions, so he needs a girl who, while willing to snuggle through some scary movie, holds on to her thinking cap. And, he likes to talk. I know a lot of preschoolers like to talk and to ask questions. But, it's really important to Grant--he values greatly when someone really listens to him. And very importantly, she can't be a flirt. Remotely. Grant is the most jealous kid (see previous note about being ruled by emotions) I have ever met. He cries when it someone else's birthday. He cries when someone else kicks a soccer goal. Just today, he started to whimper when the kid in the Target ad had on the same PJs as Grant. He can marry a beautiful girl, but she can't know she's beautiful. I could keep going about the kind of mate that would best for Grant. And, really, don't even get me started on the kind man Grace will need.

And, so, I don't think it is a bad idea to lead him in the direction of quality women down the road. You might think I am joking (okay, I kind of am... but, only kind of), but I have my own short list of girls who I think would be a good fit for Grant. And if the parents aren't totally crazy, and I could enjoy a glass of wine with them (much less a similar belief about what matters in the world), the deal is even sweeter. It's important for me that my kids choose friends wisely; we're already having that conversation with Grant, and it's exceptionally important that my kids pick a husband or a wife with extreme care.

I know this all sounds a wee bit crazy; you're thinking: he's only four! And you're right. But time is moving quickly, and it's true: Mommy always knows best!

So if you have a daughter who is currently in womb or under the age of 8, we might need to talk. Just make sure you look at some of the above criteria . Serious inquires will be considered.