Friday: an end to another week.

Rob and the boys in 2007

This week, Friday ends Father’s Day week. Many shows focused on Dads, including CBS Sunday Morning. During an interview with Bill Gates, Bill said, ‘I aspire to be like my Dad.’ Based on Bill’s comment, I believe it is common boys want to be like their Dads, and girls want to be like their Moms. Makes sense.

Well, I am so very glad I had boys. Moreover, I am so very glad I married a good man. I think I am a good Mom, and I believe I have some admirable qualities. Still, I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, because my boys are more likely to aspire to be like their Dad than they are to aspire to be like me, their Mom. That’s not to say I don’t have to worry about my actions or the example I set before my kids.

The more I think about it, my boys (assuming they are heterosexual, of course) will probably look for girlfriends that have qualities mirroring me. Hmmm . . . interesting. Oh, and the fact that I will one day Рpossibly Рbe a mother-in-law?! Mwahahaha . . . Oh the power!  She better do her best to make me like her.

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Fireflies. Yes, this past week, my boys and I went hunting for fireflies. With the agreement the fireflies would be let go the next day, I told the boys they could keep the fireflies in their room for the night. (Safely contained in a cup with a lid, of course.)

The next morning, the boys woke up and sat around with their fireflies. At some point in the morning, Charlie went to get his milk out of the fridge. While we were eating breakfast, Joe went to the fridge to get his milk. “Why is this in here?” He asked, as he pulled Charlie’s cup of fireflies out off the fridge.

“Charlie!” I yelled, fearing the fireflies met a cold demise. “Why did you put your fireflies in the fridge?” Apparently, when he went to get his milk, he had too many things in his hands; so, he put down the fireflies (in the fridge) in exchange for his milk. I opened the lid and I noticed that most of the fireflies were not moving, though one large firefly was moving slightly.

Because the container had been in the fridge for at least an hour, I was not optimistic; still, in an attempt to ‘defrost’ and save the fireflies, I took the cup o’flies outside and placed it in the sun. Happily, within 30 minutes, the fireflies were active again. And, later that day, the boys let the fireflies go – all still alive and flying.

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Joe and his pet slug

This week, as I drove through various subdivisions, I noticed several kids outside selling various things from their driveway. I saw kids selling water and lemonade, and I saw a group of kids having a mini-garage sale. I remember lemonade stands from my childhood. Seems a rite of passage, trying to make a little change by selling something from your driveway.

As for me, I’ve always been a strange kid. And, my attempt with a sales stand was a pretty good indication of how strange I was as a kid. What did I try to sell? Worms. Yeah, um, I didn’t make any money that day. Hmm . . . I wonder where Joe gets is fondness for worms and bugs? Perhaps he’ll have a bug stand in our driveway one day. May he have better luck with sales than I did.

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Charlie went to the doctor for his 4yr check-up, this week. The poor kid had to have five shots. Five. Before he received the shots, he was asking everyone he saw, “Are you going to give me a shot today?” And, because he was asking the wrong person, the person could answer honestly, “No.” However, when the last nurse left us in the patient room, Charlie became increasingly nervous. “Why are we sitting here still?” He asks. And, then I broke the news to him.

The crying started as soon as he received the sad news. And, he was still whimpering when the nurse walked in the room. My heart ached for him. I remember my childhood shots. I remember starting the tears as soon as I saw the doctor press the button for his assistant. All he had to do was press. the. button. WAAAAAAAH!!!!!

During the shots, I held his hands and tried my best to reassure him he was going to be OK. Seeing and hearing Charlie cry and scream broke my heart. Like selling things from your driveway, seems getting shots is another type of rite of passage. I believe in the immunization practice, and I believe I am doing what is best for our boys. Still. Shots suck, and watching your children get shots sucks more than getting a shot.

Thankfully, the boys won’t get shots again (baring any unforeseen incidents and accidents) until their 11th birthday. Coincidentally, Joe asked me this morning, “Mommy. Will the shots hurt as much or less when I am 11?” Poor kid. His next shot is in 6yrs, and he is already concerned. (He takes after his Mom.)

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While driving to the Optician’s office to pick up Joe’s new lenses for his glasses, we stopped at a red light. Apparently, Joe was admiring the trees along the side of the road.

“Mommy!” He exclaimed. “Guess what I just saw?”

“What?” I asked.

“A caterpillar.”

“You were able to see a caterpillar in those trees?” I asked, wondering how he could see something so small from across the way.

“Well,” he began. “I have eaten alot of carrots this week. Can I have more tonight?”

]::[

Five for Friday

Fireflies. Joe loves fireflies. Last night, he came in from outside with a jar containing an inch worm and a slug. He quickly placed the jar on a table by the living room window. “This is a good place for the bugs to stay tonight.” He said. “They can watch the fireflies from here.”

Earlier this week, Suzann mentioned her back pasture is filled with fireflies at night, which tweaked Joe’s interest immediately. With Suzann’s permission, we agreed to take Joe and Charlie back to her house around 9:15 PM.

No fireflies caught yet, but fun is being had!

That night, Joe watched the clock, anticipating 9pm. A thunderstorm started brewing around 6pm, and Joe became nervous about the firefly expedition. His focus switched from the weather radar to the clock and then back to the weather radar. Fortunately, the rain and thunder lessened by the time we were to head to Suzann’s house. Having rained, Suzann’s pasture didn’t light up like a Christmas tree, as we had hoped. Still, Joe and Charlie had fun chasing the fireflies, but they were surprised how hard it was to catch the fireflies in the dark.

I think the anticipation of going to Suzann’s late at night was more fun than the actual experience. Still, it’s the little things. Much like when the boys ask me to honk twice when I drive away from Suzann’s house (like today). As I honked, I looked back at the house, and I saw both Joe and Charlie jumping up and down with excitement. Little moments like anticipating, watching and catching fireflies and hearing your Mom or Dad honk the horn are some of life’s biggest (and best) memories.

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My theory: More often than not, someone takes on the negative emotion not being shown by someone else in the group.

Example: Rob and I are going to a party. We are running late. Very late. 30 minutes late. Typically, I would be the one getting frustrated with our tardiness. However, if Rob were to become frustrated, I wouldn’t take on that negative emotion, frustration.

The above is just an example, but the following is real life. And yes, my theory applies to animals, too.

The Three Musketeers: Sydney, Wilbur and Cherokee

Tonight we are experiencing serious thunderstorms with frequent lightening. Our two dogs, Wilbur and Cherokee, are visibly nervous. Wilbur is pacing the house, clearly uneasy with the frequent lightening and loud thunder.

Now, back up to previous storms when we had three dogs. During severe storms with frequent lightening and thunder, our dog Sydney, would become very nervous, pacing the house and looking for shelter. And Wilbur and Cherokee? They would rest, calm, cool and collected.

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This week I went through a bunch of drawings and creations the boys generated these past 4 years. I did this project in my bedroom, where I could set up my laptop, keeping tabs on my paid gig. When the sorting and purging task was completed, I continued my work day in my room.

I love my room. In fact, my bedroom is my favorite room in the house. I’m not sure why I haven’t worked in my room prior to today. And, if I needed another reason to like my job, I am grateful that my job has mobile flexibility. Have laptop and wireless access: Can travel. Nice.

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Did you read my post about laundry and lists? Yes, well, as I stated lists are not a guarantee that tasks will be tackled, and I was reminded of that very fact this week.

I buy birthday cards at the end of every month for the coming month. This month is the month one of my sisters celebrates her birthday. The card I bought her is hilarious. In fact, the card is so funny, I bought two. It was hard for me to wait to send it to my sister, because I couldn’t wait to hear if she found it funny.

The first part of the month, we traveled to Texas. I thought I put all the birthday cards in the mail before we left town, including the one for my sister. So, this week, on my sister’s birthday, I checked in to see if she had received the card. She hadn’t. I assured her it was hilarious, and she said she would let me know when she got it. We checked in daily.

One evening, I pulled out the card drawer to get out the card for one of my nephews. I notice the card I bought my sister. At first, I thought nothing of it, because I bought more than one. Then I realized – two cards were in the drawer. Hmm… did I buy three? The next afternoon, my sister emailed me, “Still haven’t gotten the card.” That’s when I knew. I never mailed her the card. No worries. It is in the mail as I type. *sigh*

My sister may not find the card as funny as I found it, especially after the days of build up. However, she had a good laugh at the fact that the card, she was anticipating the most, had yet to be mailed. Stupid lists.

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I am putting together a scrapbook of sorts (via Shutterfly) for our day care provider, Suzann. I will give it to her on Joe’s last day at her house. As I go through all the photographs of Joe and Suzann, I am becoming increasingly sad about his ‘graduation’.

I found a picture Joe painted back in October 2008, while at Suzann’s house. He was three years old at the time. Suzann made a note on the picture, letting me know what Joe was thinking about at the time: “Does God know babies cry?” I am sure God does know babies cry, and I am certain God knows I will cry on Joe’s last day at Suzann’s house.

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