Adopt a Monster

My three year old has become a champion Thrower-of-Tantrums. Today I think he officially entered the professional league with his top-notch performance in the mall, followed by his boisterous refusal to keep his seat belt on in the car, and the consequent screaming the whole 30 minutes home (I finally got him to stay in his seat belt by tying the clasp closed with the strings of his winter hat --he really liked that). He polished his performance off by insisting on staying in the car when we got home then screeching and howling when I agreed to it. I felt like returning to the pet shop where his tantrum began and asking if they had a large cage ("About this size," I would say, pointing at my boy-animal). I wouldn't mind adopting my monster out for a few days or even a week.

 I'm sorry if that sounds awful, but the way my blood boils is similarily awful.

Around the Burg

It snowed last night here in the Burg.  Now at 2 in the afternoon, there are still some white reminders in the back yard, so I thought I'd make this an opportunity to write one more wintery spotlight of my village.

Introducing:

It says "most likely" because I didn't do my research for this post (sorry), but let me tell you:
This hill is lonnnnnnnnnng.  It's also steep.  It also appears from the top that you will dump right into Cayuga Lake at the bottom, but this is not the case.

Rice Hill is owned by the NY State Parks system.  Like the picture says, it is a sledding hill.  There is a lodge at the top, a look-out tower, and an outdoor skating pond (which you may or may not need to shovel off  yourself).  All of this coupled with great adventure and (just a little) danger you can have for FREE!  Located on Rice Road in Trumansburg and open all winter long, this activity is worth trying once.  And one time down Rice Hill is usually sufficient because the walk back up it is physically exhausting (in fact, as a little girl, my mom used to drop my brother and me off at the top and drive to the bottom to pick us up --I recommend this strategy to the young or feeble).

My Heroes

Sign of Spring

The clouds parted early Friday morning.  A rare thing.  I took note.  Beautiful, warm, gleaming sunshine!  Not many things make my children so giddy.  And for good reason --perhaps they take after their anti-gray-sky mother.  My heart skips a few beats when I am greeted by a cloudless morning sky.

Such gleaming sunshine coaxed me to finish my preparations of the bike mobile without delay.  It just took trading my overly worn seat for my dad's slightly worn seat.  Thankfully, our bikes are almost identical and so are the specialized seats, because I unsuccessfully looked all over the internet the night before for one that would fit my bike.  (Next errand to Ithaca: the shop where we bought those bikes so many years ago)

I made an agreement with my three year old.  If he could emerge from the other side of nap time whine-free, then I would take him to the playground.  Now mind you, I was itching to get on my bicycle, but we had been struggling with whining kind of tantrums all week and that is not something to recompense.  Miraculously, nap time came and passed without much incident.  Instead of his usual groggy, bear-like, post-nap self, he came bounding out of his room, bright eyed, smiley faced, and twenty minutes early with the gleeful announcement that playground time had arrived.  Indeed it had.

And this is where I learned a few lessons which my 43 months of mothering should have sufficiently schooled me in previous to Friday's incidents.  The lessons were:

Pack more than one diaper, for goodness sake!

How about some extra clothes?

Merely suggesting the use of a potty is not enough (duh).

I think I will remember these three lessons for the rest of my life.  Experience is an impressive teacher.

Eventually He'll Understand

A part of agency is suffering (or relishing in) the consequences of our own actions. 

As a family, we kneel each morning before going our separate ways, to recognize before our Maker the things we are grateful for and the need we feel for His protection and guidance.  

Nolan said the prayer this morning.


"...and help Dada to stay safely at work.  And help Mama not put me in my room when I'm bad...."

 Ha!

thanks to the weather

Observations:
1. The last of the snow melted today.
2. We played on "motorcycles" for hours yesterday afternoon and this morning.
3. I started to clean and reassemble the bike mobile.
4. The air is warm enough for a good, long, asthma-free run.
5.  Nolan stood at the edge of the still-frozen pond and asked me to fetch his swim suit.
6.  My kitchen window is feeding me a heavy dose of sunshine (I haven't seen any yet this year).

Conclusions:
1.  I think Spring is here.
2.  Hallelujah!  (Don't I shout hallelujah at the close of every Winter?  Doesn't every person shout hallelujah at this time of year?)
3. I feel my sanity slowly returning.
4. Life is good.
5. My children would repeat the same sentiment.

tolerant cat=happy child

This boy loves his kitty.  

He doesn't even mind that she rolls in her litter box.  

And I love to see him smile, so I guess I'll try to look beyond her disgusting habits.

Agenda for this weekend:  

Find someone to cuddle

Gerret found his.

Soap Box of My Mind (indication that I might be crazy)

As a lady who spends most of her time at home with small children, I have ample opportunity to ---how do they say ---mull things over.  Not that I don't talk to my children, but even after all of the activities, all of the books read, all of the directions and redirections given, all of the laughing and joking, and all of the (many, many) questions answered, I am still left with plenty of time in between --plenty of time to imperceptibly talk to myself.  In those moments, when I have retreated to the recess of my own wandering mind, infallibly, I find myself standing on a soap box.  And I preach to a congregation of little ladies who all look and think just like me.  Quite convenient, really, because they all cheer for the clone on the box and agree with her every argument.  Quite inconvenient, on the other hand, because without opposition or at least intelligent conversation, the lady on the soap box remains set in her own thinking, rarely supposing that there could exist differing opinions.

One More Thing

Dear New Cat,

One more thing.

This sort of activity is only wise if you're trying to stay on my naughty list.

I'm not laughing.

Yours Truly,

          the Big L

Season of Red

Dad likes basketball.

Even when his family (majority girls) is not so enthusiastic, 

Dad is an enthusiast.

Even when it means going alone or finding an enthusiastic friend to join him,

Dad attends the games.

Dad roots for the home team, even though the home team is definitely not the Orangemen or even the Longhorns.  He roots for them, even though the home team is Red and until recently has recorded a mediocre, even Ivy-league-ish, performance. (There are no scholarships in Ivy League athletics, so Red takes what they can get.)

In November, we looked forward to our 3rd Winter in New York, which would also be our 3rd Big Red basketball season.  After experiencing 2 years of my dad's enthusiasm for these games, PTB and I discussed the upcoming season.  Then we bought tickets ....season tickets for one person, not two.  Our deal was to alternate -staying home with crazy boys/going to Cornell with crazy fans (as well as Dad, but he really isn't a crazy fan.  When he is really excited, I think he inaudibly whispers his reactions.)

And so we alternated -all season long. 

(Except for the two times we bought an extra ticket and went on a basketball date, also the last game when Dad bought tickets for our whole family and we embarked on the adventure of taking two crazy boys to their first ball game.)

Time spent with Dad and his enthusiastic friend, Mr. Olson

Arena full of red

Traditions of rivalry, almost anti-sportsmanship, displayed loudly

The energy of Newman Nation during Harvard's visit

Media Time Outs every 30 seconds

7 foot Foote, the center, dwarfing all the (otherwise enormous) players

The ache in my back after sitting on those benches

Some close, nail biting games, some not so close

Big Red once again overcoming their Ivy Leagueness and really dominating

It was a memorable season.

Thanks Dad, thanks Mr. Olson, thanks PTB!  I had lots of fun.