Ode to 2013 - A Great Year in Review

Well it's been a while since I've been here...I wonder if I remember how to do this...

Life has been crazy these last few months, and finding time to pour out my heart is difficult.  I mean, there's that, and I'm also addicted to Candy Crush.  Seriously.  Addicted.  It's not just blogging, I haven't read a book in months.  I remember really liking books.  Reading them, smelling them, spending the evening with them.  I miss books. 

I thought it was really important to chronicle 2013.  Probably way more important to me than you, but hopefully you'll enjoy the read regardless.  

2013 was a year of new beginnings. My momma got married (!) and my brother and his wife had a beautiful baby girl, their first (of many??) and my first niece.  I know that I'm a tad biased, but folks, I am telling you this is the most beautiful baby girl in the world.  One of the many benefits of being an introvert is the immense joy that I receive living vicariously through others.  No joke.  I couldn't have been any happier in these situations if they had actually happened to me.  

So Q and I downsized from a four bedroom, 3 bathroom house to a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom suite.  I thought I would feel claustrophobic in our new digs, but I actually found that I love the smaller space.  First and foremost, the cleaning takes me roughly 1/4 of the time to clean and secondly, it is just so cozy.  It's also encouraged me to purge and put less emphasis on *things* (and gives me so much more time to play Candy Crush...kidding...sort of...)

I started a new job.  It was such a great opportunity and I was in sooooo far over my head.  But you know what?  I made it through.  I learned that my capacity to learn new things is great, and this gave me so much confidence in myself.  I had a great year and enjoyed every second of it.  Then I got an even better job and had to decide between two awesome job opportunities.  Seriously.  Would you like this completely awesome job that you know you love, or would you like this new one that has the potential to be even more amazing?  How do you make a decision like that without thinking you might be missing out on something no matter which choice you make?

And those were just the physical life changing events.

I know, right?

All that, and some personal growth too?  What?!?!?!?!  Who gets that lucky?? 

2013 was a year of calm for me.  As a natural born anxiety case, this is really saying something.  There was no insane drama.  There was no unnecessary stress.  There was only calm.  

I spent a lot of time alone and came to terms with my introvert qualities.  I never really though of myself as an introvert, but the older I get, the more I enjoy quality time with myself.  Nothing delights me more than an evening alone.  I used to feel guilty about this - like I should be out with *people* doing *things*.  But spending time by myself has given me a deeper insight to me...and there can't be anything wrong with that.  I'd rather be alone than in a room full of people I can't relate to or having nothing in common with.  

I got to spend another year getting to know and getting to teach this wonderful child I'm blessed enough to call my son.  I can think of no greater reward or blessing in my life than my child.  Sometimes it's the smallest thing that gives me the greatest surge of pride, like when I give him something inconsequential and he says, "Thank you".  Nothing sounds better than "Mommy" and "I love you" and "Sweet dreams".  Just recently, over Christmas, Q was super sick with the stomach flu.  Amidst cancelled Christmas plans, I'm running around cleaning up his puke, and washing bedding and clothes, and checking his temperature, and bringing him ginger ale and I think to myself, "I freaking love being a mom".  Seriously, there is no greater gift than being able to take care of my child.  Gah, his whole life is ahead of him and I just know he is destined for great things and I want to give him the best beginning ever.  I just want to have a million kids and give them all the best start ever.  I just don't want to give birth to all these kids and there are sooooooo many kids out there that need someone to give them their best start.  I know that this is what I'm here on earth to do.  I don't want anyone to waste their potential because someone says they can't, or they're not worth it, or they're not wanted.  I want to WANT all those children in our foster care system, and give them love.

Oh....so corny, right?  I wish more people felt that way though.  You know, share the blessings around.  

But, C, what about the boyfriend....there must be one of those, right???

Nope.  Nope, there isn't.  And for the first time in my whole life, I can honestly and certainly say that I am TOTALLY okay with that.  Totally.  It's funny because this is a pretty significant life situation for most people - easily 2/3 of my friends are married or dating.  I mean, what would life be without romantic comedies?  What would Pinterest be without a "One Day" board?  What would Martha Stewart be without "Weddings" magazine?  Our whole society has placed a fair importance on being married, being doubled up, having a better half.  And don't get me wrong, I am so not opposed to it happening to me should that be the case, but I am so content with my life the way it is.  I am okay with me the way I am.  I don't need anyone else to complete me or my life.  I've been able to spend this time with my son.  Watching him grow and learn and be.  We have a really unique bond and connection to each other because it's just the two of us.  I remember falling asleep to the fantasy of finding the perfect man and having the perfect wedding and the perfect marriage.  Or looking at every man I passed, wondering, "Is he the one?"  And there's nothing wrong with having an active imagination, but wishing your life away is more of a waste than playing Candy Crush, in my opinion.  And I see God providing for me in a million other ways that make me so happy to be me. It's kind of like He's saying, "It's not time yet for you to have a husband, but in the meantime, would you like this blessing that will help provide for your needs??"  Uh. Ya.  Totally

I've become so much more spiritual.  And I don't mean yoga and feng shui.  Christians these days get such a bad (somewhat well deserved, though) rap about being these judgmental, self righteous, pious individuals whose belief is something so out there/naive/supernatural that makes them better than anyone else.  I don't want to be that person.  Ever.  I would agree that believing in a God who lovingly created each one of us in his image, then sent his one and only Son to die for our sins (because ugh, we are not perfect and we screw up soooo much) so that we could have eternal life in heaven where the streets are made of gold is pretty crazy.  On an almost a daily basis, I ask myself if I'm sure that's me.  And each time, I cannot find anything else that seems plausible to me.  I'm not stupid.  I've heard the big bang theory.  But at the end of the day, I choose to believe this instead.  Loving, well thought out, bigger plan, grace and mercy sounds so much more wonderful to me than BOOM!!! here we are, this organism reacted with this blob that became that blob and then millions of years later, here I am...a blob.  I try to live life like this:  Before I do anything, I ask myself two things, "How would Jesus react to this situation?" and "Will this right now matter when I'm in heaven?"  And then I try to do likewise.  At the end of the day, an eternity in heaven when I die sounds a whole lot more comforting than just ceasing to exist.

Okay, so what does that mean?  That means that when the Landlord fails to shovel my walk after a (relative to Vancouver) snow storm, I don't rant and rave about how careless and irresponsible he is for a home owner with a paying tenant (because this whole event won't matter when I'm in heaven).  Instead, I get the shovel and shovel my walk and his (because this is what I imagine Jesus would do, and while the snow pile won't matter in heaven, my reaction to it certainly will.)  I try to meet every situation with this formula.  Homeless person on the street asks for money, I go into to coffee shop and buy him a hot coffee and some chili.  He gets a full belly of food, and I know he's not buying booze (which, in my experience, don't really go well on an empty tummy).  

I don't want to judge.  I want to love.  I want my love to be contagious.  I want my love to be inspirational.  I want to be the example of someone who has been saved by grace.  If that makes me silly or naive, well I'm okay with that.  Totally.  At the end of the world, if I'm wrong, I will not regret my choice to live life the way I did.  And in the meantime, no one will (hopefully) be affected negatively by my decision.  And, I know from experience that living this way is so much more fulfilling than drinking myself into a coma or sleeping with another man who tells me, "It's just sex."

* Please note:  This does not mean I will not drop the occasional f bomb while sitting in rush hour traffic.

Phew...see what happens when you don't write for a while??  A novel comes out.

It almost seems like the end to Single Dating Mommy, because that's not what defines me anymore.  Not just the end of the chapter, but the end of this book.  Unfortunately, "Mommy" doesn't really have the same ring to it.  It's a little short for a blog title.  So I might keep the name, but I assure you, the content will not be the same.  

Will you join me in my new journey?  I sure hope so!!

And...here's to 2014!

Excuse Me While I Brag (aka Proud Momma)

I hardly know what to do with myself. 

This morning, Q left bright and early with my brother and his wife on a road trip to see my dad and his wife in Kelowna for the long weekend.  This is huge!  First of all, if this was me when I was 7, I would have had my auntie and uncle turn around 30 minutes into the trip because I was already homesick for my momma.  And Q is much like his momma in this respect.  When his best friend suggests a sleep over, Q always looks at me with horror in his eyes, silently pleading with me to say no, even though Q loves his best friend and their family.  He just loves his momma a tiny bit more.  The idea of going away to summer camp for a week might be any other 7 year old's idea of paradise, but my Q would wonder what he had done so horribly wrong that I would send him away for a whole week. 

In fact, up until last night I thought he was going to bail on the road trip.  I had my contingency plan carefully thought up - with everyone booking hotel rooms and him being the key to the trip, he was going whether he liked it or not.  I was also very cautious not to mention how much I was going to miss him, or how sad I was I couldn't go (I have to work...), or any of my concerns that he was going to back out.  When our wake up call came this morning (my brother knocking on my door, "Rise and shine!! Time for a road-trip!!!!) at 5:45 am, Q bounced out of bed faster than I've seen all school year, that's for sure.  He was the first one in the car, with his seatbelt on...

This is huge.  My baby is growing up.  And while I'm sooooo proud of the person he's becoming, it is hard to watch him find his wings and leave the nest little by little with each year.  He's becoming such a person.  Yesterday, he was playing with the neighbourhood children and I was surprised to see he's becoming such a leader.  He had these kids doing whatever he told them, with a kindness and directness that belies his age.  He had them weed and clean up my garden in a morning.  It was amazing to watch him work.  It's a little annoying that we have little to no privacy anymore because these children are inviting themselves to my backyard every single day to play with Q, but it's amazing to me the magnetism Q is developing.

Q's last day of grade two was this past Thursday.  He made it through the whole year with Mrs. J without having a nervous breakdown!  Hahaha.  Four days before the last day of school, he was still telling me he wasn't feeling well, and shouldn't go to school.  When I called his bluff, he resorted to the whiny, "But I hate school...."  Nevertheless, he made it.  He can read.  He can do math (in his head!!!!!), he's destined for great, great things.  And oh, the character he has built from doing something he hates every single day.   He's now my grade 3'er, which totally blows my mind. 

Here are some pic's of his "Sports Day" which was super nostalgic for me because I remember my sports days when I was his age and it doesn't seem like 25 years ago (GASP!!!)

yellow team kicked every ones butts.  haha

crazy hair day.  i'm still finding that stuff on everything

token action shot

So, I guess it's fair to say I'm a pretty proud momma.  I cannot imagine a more gratifying experience in life than raising up little humans.

Oh, and I totally know what I'm doing tonight without my little Q...Magic Mike, anyone?!?!?!

Bursting at the Seams

Q eat, sleeps, breathes hockey!!! Fine form, young man, fine form!

This morning I was up at 6:30, on a Saturday I think it's fair to point out, getting Q ready for his ball hockey game.  I think it's a cruel, cruel world that makes people wake up so early just to freeze in the bleachers, watching 6-8 year olds running around after a bright orange ball, listening to other parents yell instructions to their kids and obscenities at the coaches.

But here's the thing.  My kid is good!!!  He runs out on to the rink and other mothers cheer him on by name.  He gets in the middle of the action, he is the action.  He scores the goals, he defends his net, he centers the center.  I'm sitting there this morning, with my freezing feet on a wooden bleacher that is too high, so my legs dangle down and too straight, so my back aches...and I am so proud of my kid, I can hardly contain it.  Like so proud, I don't just want to cheer for him extra loud and make a complete fool out of myself (he says he can't hear it anyways), but soooooooo proud, I want to run out there, in the middle of the game, and hug him and kiss him and point to the top of his beautiful head and say:

"This kid, right here....he's my kid and he's incredible.  He's amazing!!  He blows my mind every.single.day and my life is so much richer because he's alive!!!!"

I didn't, because that would probably have embarrassed him maybe...a little.  But I really, really wanted to.  Instead, I sat there, completely calm-ish, as he scored the only goal for his team this morning.  Just as I did last week when, with 21 seconds left in the game, tied at 4, he scored the winning goal!  I'm bursting at the seams with pride for my kid, my offspring, he has my blood coursing through his veins.  It's incredible to me.

It's amazing, this love I have for him.  It's something I can't describe to him, and I don't know if he'll ever know how much I love him.  I tell him all the time, "I love you more than you'll ever know!" He often times will roll his eyes and says, "I do, too."  I'm so proud of the little man he is, and so excited for the future that is in front of him. 

6 Months

That's my limit.

Six months.

Then I'm done.

Done.

Done with the pictures.  Done.

Totally done with all the profiles.  All the dumb profiles that brag about how fabulous they are.

And I'm completely done with all the messages.  All those horrid messages that are meant to entice after two sentences.

It happens the same time, every time.  About six months after the online dating experiement, I decide that I just cannot handle it anymore.  I am sick of being hit on by men who cannot spell, who have not grown up, and who I am not looking for.

POF is like free dating for trailer park folk (no offence intended...) but I absolutely refuse to pay for it.  There is just something wrong with *paying* to meet a member of the opposite sex.  I'm not that desperate.  Yet....

I don't want to go out on anymore first dates with men I've met online and with men who look like nothing like their one, blurry picture.  I don't want to make small talk.  I don't want to get to know any more stranger men.  I mean, I'm a busy woman.  I'm a tired woman.  I like to come home, put my jammie pants on, pull out the chocolate, turn on the t.v. and veg out.  I get a little time to myself when Q is at his dad's.  And I like my *me* time.  I like spending time with myself.  I am thoroughly entertaining to myself.  I make myself laugh.  I'm fricken hilarious!  *Me* time is blogging time, sleeping time, reading time, take a minute out time.  I cherish it. 

The time I have with Q is so, so valuable.  Every day he grows and grows.  His feet are almost the same size as mine (mine are pretty small...)  But one day he will be a teenager and won't want to hang out with me, one day he'll be an adult and live on his own.  I want to drink in the time that I spend with him.  I love him so much, I love his little personality, I love spending time with him.  I'd rather spend time with him doing anything, rather than spending time with a complete stranger who may or may not pay for dinner.

Maybe I'll be ready to jump back into the online dating scene in another year or so, but until then, I'm just gonna chill with my life the way it is right now.  I love my life.  I love my family.  I love my child.  I am so blessed with abundance.  I want for nothing.  I am complete.

Instead of dating, I could:

drink coffee.  quietly.  yum

read. sigh

sleep. mmmmmmmm

Images courtesy of Pinterest

Go Get 'Em, Tiger!!

Grade two has been a hard time for my little Q.  As an only child who is surrounded by adults who love and adore him and dote on him continuously, my son has developed somewhat of a 'fabulous' complex.  Now, I don't think this to be a bad thing, at all.  I think that soon enough, he'll doubt every move and decision he makes...well, if he's anything like me, he will...so if all these loving adults have the chance to build up his confidence now, I'm all for it.  He draws a picture, and we "oohhhh" and "awwwww" at some part of it...it's creativity, its colour scheme, something to make him feel proud of the work he's done.  He cleans his room and I comment on how fast or how thorough or how neat it looks when it's clean, something to teach him how good it feels to work at something and accomplish it well. 

In Kindergarten and Grade one, Q had teachers that were super nice and super encouraging.  They smiled all the time and interacted with the children on a one on one basis.  They were supportive and nurturing and the children learned at tables in a circle instead of at desks.  They were encouraged to play with the other children and structure, while it was there, was kept to a minimum and probably was there just to prevent utter chaos.

Mrs. J is Q's grade two teacher and she is scary.  She's old school.  She's just plain old, really.  I don't know much about her, because our teachers are on strike here in BC and they're working to rule, which doesn't affect anyone but the children as far as I'm concerned.  As part of their work to rule, there have been no parent/teacher interviews and in fact, I've heard from other mothers that teachers refuse to meet with parents at all, because it's considered to be extracurricular.  All I know of Mrs. J is what I see on Fridays when I drop Q off and pick him up, and of course from the mouth of my lil babe himself. 

The walls in the classroom are bare, she opens the door in the morning barely greeting the children and at the end of the day, the children see themselves out.  I don't think I've seen her smile once since September.  Q is terrified of her.  Every morning, he feigns some sort of illness, hoping against hope that I'll believe him finally and he'll get a day off.  And let me tell ya, every morning I just want to say he doesn't have to go to that big mean school with the big mean teacher.  Every morning, I hear, "I HATE school" every morning without fail. 

My heart aches for my poor little boy.  It's my job to protect him.  It's my job to make sure he's happy and well rounded and content.  He's just like his momma, with his nervous tummy and his knack for worrying about absolutely every single little detail about every single day.  That, combined with the fact that he's an introvert and keeps most of his thoughts to himself, I'm an emotional wreck.  He's going to need therapy for sure. 

But guess what....my kid is reading.  And we're not talking words like, 'it', 'and', or 'the'.  No, no, no we're talking big words.  Like real words and real sentences.  It's incredible!!!!!  It's amazing!!!!  It is like something in his brain just clicked and it all makes sense.  Sometimes, words come out of nowhere and I'm all like, "Huh?"  But for the most part, he's sounding words out and he's rocking it.  As far as I'm concerned, he could have very well skipped grade one.  The math skills that he has now (are awesome!!) were already there in Kindergarten and reading, well....that was non-existent. 

I want to be able to explain to Q that yes, he's going through a very difficult time.  Yes, his teacher is a little scary.  Yes, she demands a lot.  And she expects a lot from him.  But holy moly kiddo, you're rising to the challenge.  You're meeting her expectations, you're exceeding them I'm sure on some days.  Look at what you're learning, look at what you've learned.  You're reading!!!!!  Like books and shit!!  It is amazing, this  whole new world has opened up for you. 

But of course, I try to explain this all to Q and he looks at me like I've got three heads.  It doesn't sink in yet.  He just replies with a 'but I HATE school."  So, if I can't tell him so that he understands, I'm gonna tell you instead...

What you're going through right now, it might be hard.  It might be really, really difficult.  You might think that no one understands, and no one cares and that there is no end in sight.  But holy moly kiddo.  Look at you!!!  You're rocking it.  You're getting through it every single day and you're learning more and more about yourself and the world around you with every trial you face, every single day.  And I'm so proud of you.  I'm proud of you for throwing those blankets off every morning and facing the day, because ya...sometimes it's super hard.  But you are amazing.  You might not understand the "why" right now, but if you allow yourself to learn from this hardship, your life will never be the same.  I promise you that.

Now, go get 'em tiger!  Sometimes, it takes a lesson from a 7 year old to remind us what we're made of. 

There IS A Gem At The End

Oh hello there, friend!  

Uh, I don't know...it's just been like super crazy around here.  In the summer, I was so looking forward to back to school.  You know, the whole organization thing and the schedule and the structure.  It was just so appealing to me.  Any free moment during the summer I would relish in because I knew *this* was just around the corner.  And here we are, with the school and the making lunches and the earlier mornings and the soccer practices and the soccer games and the homework and the school forms and the work and well, here we are...

I love the schedule, and the organization that it requires.  I am totally on top of it, honey.  We moms have to be, don't we?  For it to work right, for us not to go insane, for our kids to be happy.  We have to pick the clothes out and make the lunches the night before so we're not running around like a banshee in the morning looking for a damn pair of socks.  Or house keys.  I mean, those things have legs sometimes, I swear it's true.  And it's any one's guess where Q decides to take off his running shoes on any given day.  

Mornings here are fun.  And by fun, I mean totally not fun.  My alarm clock goes off somewhere around 5:30 and then I usually hit snooze 3 times, sometimes more.  I start to eliminate non-essential parts of my morning routine...you know...like showering.  Who needs to shower like every single day?  I don't know, but not me if it means that I get to sleep for nine more minutes.  Then I get ready in the dark (so as to not wake anyone up).  At 6:30, I become Q's alarm clock, and just like his momma...he does not like mornings.  So, I wake him up 3 or 4 times.  I start all nice, "Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey!!!" and "Rise and Shine".  Then I beg, then I bargain, then I pull the sheets off the bed, turn on all the lights and threaten to leave him at home.  Of course we all know that they're idle threats, so the bargaining works way better.  

I won't bore you with the rest of my day, but it includes a lot of sitting in traffic, cursing the bridge I must travel to get to work, it includes a lot of yawning and it includes a whole lot of mail.  I get two nights a week where my little love is at his dad's and Wednesdays just happens to be one of them (hence the blogging!!  Side note:  my computer has been decidedly difficult lately.  It decides to not connect to the Internet, which is vital to blogging, really.  Sometimes, it decides to connect and then I get all excited and then it disconnects for no apparent reason.  Simply put...it's driving me crazy...)  And I went three days (!!) without nail polish on, just because I didn't have time to let it dry.  I know.  It was tragic.

We've had a tough go of grade two.  Poor Q.  He was so happy in a grade 2/3 split class and then one week into school he was moved into a 1/2 split and his little ego took a bit of a beating.  His teacher is...well, mean.  She scares me, for crying out loud.  She doesn't really interact with her kids, there is nothing on the walls.  She might as well be a high school teacher.  Or a warden.  Not a grade 2 teacher, that's for sure.  Q has been begging me to home school him.  So we've decided to give the teacher a chance.  A month long chance.  Maybe she's really scared of all the new kids, wondering if they'll like her.  Maybe she's sad about something else that's going on in her life.  Maybe she's misunderstood.  We're giving her a try.  Both of us...me and Q.  

He's terrified he's going to get into trouble.  He worries about things that most likely will never, ever happen. He's looking for an easy out.  He's got an awesome opportunity to learn this year...not just reading and writing, but there's an opportunity to grow as a person.  I'm really so excited for him, to be truthful.  How many people get this chance so early in life to become a better person?  Of course, I realize it's my job to help him grow and not just hide under a blanket.  Some adults I know still want to just hide under the blankets when something bad happens.  I'm using this as best I can - how happiness is a choice, worrying changes nothing, looking for the best in people, our actions affect those around us.  I don't know if he really understands all that right now, but I really hope that if I say it enough one day he'll just be like, "ohhhhh, I get it...."  If it's my mantra, I want to make sure it becomes his too.  It's the gem I give him, and I pray he recognizes its value when he's a grown man making his own choices.

And now, as promised...the Gem...

So beautiful.  So pure.  So Innocent.  I'm totally embarrassing him with this when he gets married!!

The Constant Gardener

Wasn't that the name of a movie?  The Constant Gardener?  I think it was.  I'd like to be able to name a post, "The Importance of Being Earnest" just one time and just because I like the sound of it.  One day I'll find a way to fit it in.  Anyways, here is my little constant gardener.  It's been so beautiful here in the mornings, he gardened in his housecoat while I enjoyed my morning coffee.

isn't he just the cutest lil thing ever?!?!!

a fluffy white caterpillar. what butterfly will it become?

with super human strength.  it jumped onto this leaf!

Most Valuable Player

Soccer is over for the season.  We finished up a tournament on the weekend, which reminded me how glad I am not to be a hockey mom.  One tournament a year is good for me.  I tried my best to tone down the "Psycho Soccer Mom" and am proud to report there was at least one mom who was way more *crazy* than I.  And of course, I am super proud of my little soccer player, who just happens to also be the MVP for the U7 Super Racing Cobra Hawks.  Yes, they got to pick their own name and yes...us parents got confused all the time, so just sort of mumbled, "Go Super Racing....cahummmsdl hsdkssssssss!"  But I ask you this....Have you ever seen a Cobra Hawk?  I bet not.  But it would be pretty cool.  And really very scary.  Especially if it were racing. 

Q said that as they were handing out the award for MVP, his teammates were whispering, "Q, it's totally going to be you.  I just know, it's gotta be you!"  But you know, he did score 6 goals in the tournament.  The only six goals for his whole team for the whole tournament.  Plus, he was a goalie for one game and he had a shut out.  His dad is super lucky he didn't score 8 goals because then he would have had to buy Q hockey seasons tickets.

But most of all, he "had fun" and that's what counts.  Although, when asked, Q said the most important rule in soccer is to, "keep your head up."  We really can't argue with now, can we? 

Here is my little MVP in action, and *spoiler alert* he doesn't score any goals in the clip...he's the one in the red hood and the sweat pants. 

My Love

I could bore you with stories about how fabulous my son is.  I could brag about what a genius he is.  I could tell you how he was born athletic.

Like today, for instance.  This kid, my kid, he scored two out of the three goals scored in the game.  This was a very, very good thing because they (the soccer people) were evaluating the boys today.  They were evaluating their skills and abilities so they can put them in divisions...you know, the good kids with the good kids, the so-so kids with the so-so kids and the smart-but-not-very-athletic kids with the smart-but-not-very-athletic kids. 

The thing is...they didn't give us any notice.  I go to get the coffees from the car, and I come back and they're wearing these blue pinafores with numbers on them.  If we had a little bit of notice, we could have practiced the tough parts, you know, like the scoring and stuff.  But we didn't know.  We didn't know. 

And this is a lot of pressure.  Not for the kids.  They didn't even know.  It's pressure for us parents.  I don't want them to think Q needs to be placed with the kids who pick their noses and run away from the ball (I was the latter, definitely not the former...) 

To top the whole thing off, they put Q in a pinafore without a number on it.  The coaches said that they had decided the blank one was considered #0.  Sure, give my kid a complex.  The whole game I'm yelling, "GO ZERO!!!!!!" and "WAY TO PASS, ZERO!!!" and "WOW, THAT KID ZERO IS AWESOME!!!!"  The parents were laughing at me, but in their heads, I know they were thinking that I'm the crazy, psycho soccer mom.  While I will admit that I did get a little angry that the little girl who never comes to practice was having an exceptionally successful jaunt today, I am certainly not crazy.  I just want what's best for my child, because let's face it...he is the best.  In my eyes anyways.

His spelling tests, by the way have been perfect.  Perfect!  In fact, he says that they are getting too easy.  Now, granted the words are like "an" and "fan" but I love that he's so eager to be challenged.  You know what I mean?  Reading?  It's almost there, just on the tip of his tongue.  It's so exciting to be a part of his learning experiences.

We just bought Yahtzee because he's getting a little sick of Monopoly (truth be told, I was sick of Monopoly like 6 months ago...)  The game is for ages 8 and up.  Q took about two games to figure it out and now he is a Yahtzee whiz kid.  He's like Rain Man without the Autism.  Not only has he grasped the concept of all the different  combinations, but he's adding the dice in his head.  I stare in amazement at how this little mind works and all its complexity. 

And then for Valentine's Day, my little man and I had a date.  We went to McDonald's and ate Big Mac's and giggled at funny jokes and talked about our day.  And he made me my very own Valentine's card.  He made it two days before and I had to walk around the house with my eyes closed, so I didn't ruin the surprise.  Then he hid it in his bedroom for the big day...



I'm not quite sure who Moy is, but boy is she ever  lucky!!



Sometimes I love him so much my chest actually hurts.  I want to cry with love for him.  It's indescribable the love I feel for him.  I'm the luckiest gal in the world.

Brave, Brave (Baby) Boy

Little bug went to the dentist yesterday because his two front teeth were horridly crooked, and they were not falling out.  His adult teeth were trying to grow in over top of the baby teeth and because the baby teeth were still there, the adult teeth were bulging through his gums.  His poor little gums were all red and swollen and would bleed on occasion.  He kept biting his bottom lip with his horridly crooked baby teeth.

Have I painted an ugly picture?

Good.

Here, is quite possibly the cutest picture ever...



his red ears are not reflecting the red wall...



And, Oh. My. Goodness, to listen to him talk with the toothless lisp is just adorable.  Doesn't it just make you want to give him a great big hug and kiss those adorable cheeks?

He was the bravest little boy.  He sat in the dentist's chair so, so brave.  The dentist asked him if he wanted some "sleepy juice" (which I hope meant general anesthetic...) and Q said, "Nope."  The dentist explained that it would just make his gums go to sleep so he wouldn't feel anything, and again Q said, "Nope."  I think it's important to add that, at this point, I was in a cold sweat and my heart was racing.  When these big pliers came towards his poor little mouth, I told him to close his eyes in my bravest voice...and boom, in no time those two little suckers were gone.

I think the most painful part for me was when the *tooth fairy* came.  Dude looses two teeth in one day, and they're forcibly pulled from his tiny little mouth.  Oh yeah, that's not cheap. 

Spelling Dilemma

When I get a little bogged down by life, I tend to retreat into myself. 

Thus, the silence on my blog.

I really, really, really want to write...but my mind is blank...completely blank.  I get an inkling of an idea and then it is gone.  Never to return. 

Life is becoming just a little less stressful (phew!) so hopefully, the ideas will once again flow and I will bore you all soon with my mindless thoughts and endless beliefs.

But, I do have a quandary...

My son (love him to pieces) is not exactly a genius.  I'm sure it will come soon, and he has wonderful gifts and talents - like organizational skills...man, the kid just blows me away with his ability to put things in their place.  So, getting him to study for his spelling tests every week is kind of like getting him to pull his own teeth (hence we're going to the dentist to get the two front ones pulled on Friday.)  Granted, he's in grade one and so the words are *bag* and *snag* and *tag* and there's usually only 5 or 6 of them, but it's a constant fight. 

The test before last, he got 6 out of 6 and I was so proud.  I congratulated him for working hard towards a goal, and told him how proud Mommy was.  He got this sly little grin and I thought, "This is good.  He's got to experience studying hard and then reap the rewards of all that work."

This last test he also got 6 out of 6 and I was so excited.  We made a huge production about it and we called Daddy to brag about this fabulous accomplishment.  The conversation goes something like this...

"6 out of 6, Daddy!"

"Nope, there were 6 words, not 5."

"That's like 2 dollars, isn't it?"

"Oh, 25 cents a word?"

"So, 6 words at 25 cents each, how much does that make?"

I got really super mad.  Like irate.  Like speechless while your heart rate quickens.  I don't want to pay Q to do well in school.  I don't want money to be his goal.  I want pride in what he does to be his goal. 

What do you think?  Am I over reacting?  Is it okay that Q's dad is paying him to get his spelling words right?  It eliminates the fight, he's eager to do the work, and he learns the words.

But money becomes such a huge deal in every one's lives, I just don't want to it to become his driving force when he's so young.  He's only six.  Why can't we go through the blood, sweat and tears?  Don't you think he'll appreciate it all the more?  Not only that, we can't afford to pay him for every test, quiz and exam for the next 12 years.  He's setting a precedent and this is the guy who has a difficult time following through on anything.

What do YOU think?