I lost it yesterday

I lost it yesterday.

Standing next to my youngest in a crowded line, I lost the last of my calm.

It was barely there, anyway. In fact, I think my calm has been fading away quickly for some time now. I'm more aggitated than I've ever been. My temper is on a short fuse and it keeps getting lit. I blow, and blow - silently willing the flame to extinguish. You're not that woman, Rachelle. You are a loving mom. You enjoy having fun with your kids. He's just a kid, let him be. Who cares if that child-free one over there is scowling? I doubt they remember being a kid, or being a parent to a kid. You don't want to be free if it means missing one moment of each of your blessings' growing up. And away. Independent. Seeking outsiders for amusement. Instead of you.

I lost my calm. As he bounced and jiggled and gyrated. Hummed a tune in his head while pursing his lips in a smooch and furrowing his brows in concentration. Getting right jiggy with it (except these kids don't do jiggy, they don't even understand the reference). "Let me see," he exclaimed while simultaneously cracking his head on the hot bowl of soup in my hand in mid jump, sending scalding droplets out onto my bare arm and, luckily, only onto the tips of his curly hair. I snapped. "I can't pick you up!" I hollered it - too loud to be dignified and, coupled with the yank I gave his arm, too cold to be motherly.

I felt the heat of a flush rise on my neck. Eyes cast down, I refused to look at anyone who might be nearby. The piercing eyes they darted toward me burned worse than the soup that hit my arms (even though I didn't see them).

Blow, breathe, blow harder. Extinguish.

He rubbed his head, smarting from the good clunk it'd received. He allowed himself to be led away from the line. I tugged him to a vantage point so he could see the grill. And I held back tears. Of frustration. Of apology. Of regret.

I lost my calm.

Yesterday

According to Ya, everything that has ever happened happened yesterday.
And so, I'll adopt his timeline because it feels right right now.

Yesterday, I met a boy.
Yesterday, I had a crush.
Yesterday, I fell in love.
Yesterday, we shared our dreams.
Yesterday, he promised forever.
Yesterday, I said goodbye.
Yesterday, he let me go.
Yesterday, life moved on.
Yesterday, we went our separate ways.
Yesterday, he searched for me.
Yesterday, I was found.
Yesterday, he kissed me sweet.
Yesterday, he claimed my kids.
Yesterday, I welcomed home his.
Yesterday, he vowed his love.
Yesterday, I discovered my heart's home.
Yesterday, I found my soulmate.
Yesterday, he asked my Daddy - - and then, he asked my kids.
Yesterday, he said, "will you?"
Yesterday, I said "yes."

And tomorrow? We say "I do."

[five days until Mrs. is me.]

He said it...

Ya is three. Three, I say. He is all boy. He is smart. He is witty. He is full of character. He is profound.

Ya:"Mom, can I pretend I'm a doctor? How do you feel?
Mom: "My tummy hurts."
Ya:"Just drink medicine. Medicine and water."

***
Ya: "If I don't drink no medicine, then I won't be feeling no better. Mom, please."

***
Ya: "Can you make me food?"
Me: "The kitchen is closed."
Ya: "There is no kitchen door."

***
Ya, while watching my NY GIANTS beat the 49rs in football: "What color is redskins?"
Me:"red and yellow. They're not playing. That's Rob's team, 49rs. We like giants. Say, ' go giants."
Ya:"I like the star. Can I have them?"
Me: "traitor."

***
During a discussion about why he cannot eat my left over English muffin sandwich:
Me: "You eat breakfast at School."
Ya: did you see me eat? No. I didn't eat nothing."

***
Ya: "Mom are you ever going to get downstairs and get me food."
||ten seconds later||
"Are you going to get yourself downstairs? Cause I'm hungry. I ate a muffin. I ate fruit. Potatoes. Potatoe salad and..."
Me: "Why are you hungry?"
Ya: "Because I never ate a lot of stuff at my school. I ate a muffin, I ate fruit, I ate corn. And nothing else. Told you that. That's why I'm still hungry. Are you just going to get yourselves downstairs now?"

Mama's school boy

An interesting diddy heard 'round the homestead:

"This little piggy went to Marques, Marques...
this little piggy went to his home...
Wee wee wee all the way!
This piggy went to a car - spaceship...
boom boom vroom."

The Story of Adam and Eve, by Ya:
"My school says: God says not to go in the garden. You can't pick anything out of the tree.
I'm talking about the fruit berries.
The girl go down the street, then go back in the house and then she went in God's room...
and then, surprise!
She walked down the street. And then...
she picked one right out the tree and eat it.
She sound like a pig.
Then he picked one right out of the tree.
And then they're in trouble.
He told them not to pick out the tree.
Them got in trouble.
So, the end.
So, that's the story."

moments later, some further clarity:
"The snake was trying to talk to her.
It said 'Ssss. Sssss. Sssss. You can pick out the tree. That's nice.'"

and to further explain:
"God made him [Adam] in dirt."

** As recorded verbatim from our afternoon conversations.

At 3, he's got the photographer's eye

He's hardly able to see through the small Cannon viewfinder, but give him access to my camera, and he's a photographing paparrazo with dynamic style and abundant energy.

Now that his hands can easily hold the camera (weighted by the battery extention attachment), it took a 30 second "Here's the button you push," to render Ya an expert marksman of the photographic sort.

Granted, some of his images are abstract swirls of color, but a larger majority were crisp, clear captures of the world as he sees it.

And though he sometimes captures a bit more of some subjects than intended - as evidenced by the shot of the "cool little dog" which is more of the undressing owner - he knows what to preserve in an image. In fairness, I should add that the dog he wanted to photograph was quickly snatched up by the partially jacketed woman on the right because she feared little man with camera would stomp the tiny pooch. The dog in the picture was already being carried by a woman wearing pretty nifty high heel boots that certainly didn't look suited for a walk through the trails, but that she was booking it at high speed in.

His pastoral photos are probably my favorite.

However, I see amazing natural talent in his framing of portraits. You see, he gets the idea of capturing details that many photographers I see documenting their surroundings can easily miss.

And Chi had fun working as his "model" even though sometimes he saw something more appealing just above her carefully positioned body.

He's only three. Three since the end of August. And already, he's found a natural talent for preserving memories. I wonder what he'll develop (pun intended) in future photo excursions.

A teacher, maybe, as he would not relinquish the camera to Chi without giving her a quick how to take a picture lesson. Less than 20 minutes 'in the biz' and he's giving classes!

Ya's images are essentially straight out of the camera, but have been slightly cropped in the quad collections because of the size restrictions of my template. The photos of him "at work" were taken with my Droid Incredible and have been sharpened in PhotoShop.

Shared with Communal Global. How do you spend your days in your part of the world?

Building a strong man

It would seem that I have children with military spirits summoned from our ancestors.

No playground, no curb, no empty pasture can be passed up for some good ol'fashioned hard core physical training.

Mommy is raising one heck of a strong little man. And when he's big big bigger, he's going to be a force not to be reckoned with. (Why does that expression seem to not make sense? Hmmm.)

It's a bit of deja vu for me. Afterall, Chi used to engage in her own P.T. regiment whenever we went to the park. She's even featured in a scrapbook layout that appeared in the now-extinct Creative Memories Lasting Moments magazine. Memories.

Hard hat area: CAT man cometh

{aka a review of Toy State's CAT Take-A-Part Machines}

I jumped at the opportunity to bring home Toy State's Wheel Loader construction vehicle for little man to try out. And when it arrived with a construction hat, Ya exclaimed, "DUMP TRUCK!" and tried to tear the toy out of the box.

[I had flashbacks to a very uncomfortable trip to a store where Ya proceeded to pull toys into the cart and rip open packaging of things I had no desire or means to purchase.]

The CAT Take-A-Part from Toy State's preschool line of toys is simply cool. A battery operated "power drill" whired for hours as Ya first tightened screws on wheels, then loosened screws on the cab, the dump bed and the blade (uh, that's the thing-amajig that shovels and holds stuff).

Almost every part of the toy is detachable. The oversized bolts were easy to handle and the drill - once he mastered the tighten and loosen buttons - was perfect for his three year old dexterity. I especially liked the large pieces that are clearly meant for little handlers to fit together with minimal frustration. We had to be careful not to tighten any of the screws by hand when Ya was trying to drill, but found it necessary when he was ready to play with the truck.

Chi watched with quite a bit of envy as her baby brother repaired and destroyed his truck with the drill. This was not something he was ready to share. Not a chance. Because once he was finished playing hard hat handy man, it was time to be "dump truck" driver extraordinare.

You see, Ya has decided that he is meant to be a construction worker. (Of course anyone asking him would believe he wants to drive a dump truck, but that's because every construction vehicle is a dump truck right now.)

He scopes out construction sites from his car seat. Stuck in traffic? No complaints from little man so long as there are active highway improvement projects. Then, he strains to look out the windows at the bustle of activity - big trucks picking up, pushing, pounding; bright hard hats bobbing to and fro; and huge cranes towering overhead with various things held precariously by wires that sway in the wind.

The CAT Take-A-Part Machine retails for $15. Batteries aren't included (it takes two 'AA' for the drill), so make sure you stock up before bringing it home. Although, we've had the drill running often for the last week or so, and it shows no sign of losing power.

To date, Chi still has not been permitted to play with the coveted machine. Ya keeps it under watchful eye. If he disappears, the subtle whir of the drill makes him an easy find.

The Take-A-Part machine models include a CAT Dump Truck, CAT Wheel Loader, and CAT Skid Steer. I'm thinking that I may have to pick up one of the other machines just to restore peace in the house. Chi is suffering from some serious envy.

{Sweet} Fireman for Texture Tuesday

Ya has been pretty consistent with his dreams of becoming a construction worker. I'm told every boy fantasizes about working the big machines - pushing dirt and building mighty structures. Whenever Ya sees a "dump truck" (any construction vehicle - from cement truck to bulldozer), he starts talking. When he gets bigger (the magic age, he says, is five), he'll be big enough to drive a dump truck.

But last month, Ya's daycare class took a field trip to the volunteer fire department. I know from past attempt at getting my son into the engines that he's afraid of them. Afraid and yet, fascinated. He knows firemen put out fires. They help people. And like the EMT ambulances, when they sound their alarms and turn on the flashing lights, someone is saved. He thinks they're superheroes. (I tend to agree.) And, since Ya's always had a particular fondness for super power possessing people, he's decided that he too should consider a career as a fireman.

Right now; not when he's big, big, big, bigger! He already has the boots. And certainly, as good as they are for keeping one's feet dry in puddles, they must be perfect for fighting dangers.

At the local dollar store, Ya saw a yellow fireman's hat. He would not leave the store without it. I'm a sucker, I know. He got it. (And Chi got some fake eyelashes for no good purpose other than fairness). Add to his ensemble the rain boots and a "fire motorcycle" shirt, and Ya was ready. He was convinced we'd get to trade in Mommy's car for a loaner engine.

"I'm a fireman," he said. "That means they have to give me a car."
[caption id="attachment_2338" align="aligncenter" width="533" caption="this week's Sweet Shot :-)"][/caption]
They didn't. But, Ya says, "Mommy, look at my eyes. I'm not even a fireman. I'm a Yadon." You see, fireman have a look. It's kind of odd. Ya demonstrated.

We did try again on commandeering the engine. Well, actually... we walked near a station house and stared longingly at the shiny trucks in their garage. Ya stood in his hat and boots gazing with longing at the stationary vehicles and I think he willed them into action. An ambulance and a truck revved to life, turned on full siren and lights and raced off to answer a call. A few minutes later, a truck returned. One of the men noticed Ya standing on the hill across the street and waved. His colleague also waved. And as they turned the corner, the driver honked at Ya and saluted the little fireman. Ya was so shocked at the notice that he froze. Then, when certain the truck was in its space in the garage, he smirked and his eyes twinkled.

"I'm a fireman, Mommy."



About the edit: KK has done it again! This week's texture was a trio of Ugg Love - - and that does not mean ugly. I love that there is a sort of aged richness to the edges of this texture, with a smidgen of teal added for pizazz. I used the full original color texture with Soft Light at 100 percent, removing it from the face and hands. I wanted a little more of a dreamlike appearance to the photo, so I added Archives (multiply, 100 percent).

Addendum:
Dear dollar store,

We love you! I know of few (if any) places where I can get quality 'whatevers' for a buck. I don't need to be paid to endorse you... I save whenever I pass through.

The really awesome assortment of costume pieces is wonderful. We especially enjoyed playing with the medieval armor. And that clown wear? Well, I think we might be back to pick it up. I'm thinking mama banana might just be a hybrid clown-hobo this season.

So tell your purchasing crew that this mama thinks they're awesome. Keep it up. We really do love you.

Oh baby, you're not

Dear Ya,

The night before you were born, I was restless. I lay in bed uncomfortably feeling your fierce fight for freedom. My mind raced with thoughts of our first official meeting - what you'd look like, how you'd sound, how you'd feel when finally in my arms. I prayed for a safe delivery and a quick homecoming - - that we'd swiftly be reunited with your sister who prayed devotedly for your healthy arrival. It was an endless night of anticipation.

These last few days I've thought a lot about that baby I birthed. You: with the stunning long lashes, the wide mouth, the huge and deeply soulful eyes. You: who changed my life just when I thought I'd figured it all out. You: who made friends into family. You: who has enriched our understanding of love and devotion. You.



Your ceaseless energy astounds me. Your powerful grasp of language impresses me. Your uncanny ability to adopt and adapt phrases, gestures, and emotions into your own repertoire amazes me. Your tenacious focus and determination - your strength to persevere - inspires me. Your wisdom of character humbles me.
Has it really been three years? Am I really so lucky you're mine?

There are days when you open your eyes and say "Good morning." You wave goodbye and insist on blowing a kiss before leaving the room, even if only a for a moment. You wait for me to return the kiss. You smile broadly, bright eyes shining, when I do. Why are you so wonderful?

You've been telling everyone your birthday is "coming up." You practiced blowing out the candles with my birthday cake. You sing "Happy birthday to me" at random intervals (when you're not singing "Look At Me Now," "OMG," or "Hot & Cold," that is).

If you could read, you'd probably correct something I've written here beginning "Well, actually..." as you are prone to do these days. And then you'd articulate your thoughts on the subject with such clarity that I'm left dumbfounded at your genius.

Did I mention you have a thing for "dump trucks"? Well, actually, they are construction vehicles, but you've decided they all eventually dump something. You said just the other day that you wanted to be bigger so you could drive a dump truck. I bet you'll actually do it, too. You'll hop on your motorcycle and race off to some construction site and spend your day building.

Oh, your future is so promising. The possibilities are bountiful - you need only believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.

I can't wait to see who you become in this next year and all those to come. Happy Birthday, Ya!

Love,

Mommy "Buh-shell"

Things you've said recently:
"Mommy, I can't wait to make a party for my birthday..."
At McD's: "If I don't get a toy, then that means I'm not sitting down."
No idea where this came from: "That frog stuck his tongue right in my nose. He doesn't even know how to get it out."
Me:"hurry up or I'll leave your tail here." You:"Mommy. I DON'T have a tail. I have a booty and a peanut."
Me in reference to a slow vehicle:"Ugggh. Speed it up. He's crawling down the road." You:"He's not. He's in a car."
You grew a huge knot on your noggin. Origin unknown, but your tale was this: an airplane that didn't know how to fly crashed into your head.
At bedtime: "It's not sleeping time." You turn on the light. Chant: "I'm never even going to sleep. Never never never never never never never..."
No matter the answer, any question you ask receives the reply you want to hear rather than what I said... Always in your favor, of course. And when Chi doesn't believe you? You tell your sister: "See, I told you you should listen to her more careful."
When you are tired: "Mom, get in the covers or else...If you don't come in this bed.... MOM!!! Now! Now!"
2yr23mo wisdom upon seeing my boo boo (a scratch): "I told you not to go outside, the bugs will bite. It's too late for you, see?"

Favorites:
Restaurant: El Paso
Store: ChooChoo store (Wegman's)
Favorite Food: Strawberries - - you can eat 2lbs in a single sitting. Tummy ache!
Favorite Vehicle: motorcycle
Favorite Song: was "Oh My Gosh" by Usher, but you're always singing "she wax it all off, Mr. Miyagi" from "Look At Me Now" (so appropriate, I know)
Slightly Obsessive Enjoyment: blowing out candles