Burrow House

thirteen

Today, I became the mother of a teenager.  And I'm a wreck.  I'll never make it through the day without crying in front of him, which I MUST NOT do.

I am enormously proud of the man that he is becoming.  He amazes me every day.  (Well, most days. Not the days that he is pounding his sister.  Those days, not so much.)  But a man, he is rapidly becoming, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I really can't put it into words.  So I'm going to steal them from Tracy Chapman.  She says it WAY better than I can.

Sweet and high at the break of dawn. 

A simple tune that you can hum along to.

I remember there was a time when I used to sing for you.

I used to sing for you.

Knew all the words to the popular songs.

With the radio on full volume.

I remember there was a time when I used to sing for you.

I used to sing for you.

Forget the chorus.

You're the bridge, the words, and music to every day I've lived.

There's nothing I wouldn't give for one more time when I could sing for you.

Soft and low when the evening comes.

Holding you sleeping in my arms.

I remember there was a time when I used to sing for you.

I used to sing for you.

(give-away winner will be announced Monday afternoon.  WOO HOO!)

reality check

The following is a conversation with my youngest after I had scolded her for getting out of the bed to go to the bathroom for the 10th time.  She got out of bed AGAIN to come ask me this...

E:  Mommy, are you happy?

Me:  Yes, I'm happy.

E:  Do you love me?

Me:  Yes, I love you.

E:  So you were just pretending to be mean to me?

Me:  Okay, you can fall asleep in my bed.

Once again, I am dumbfounded by the complexity of a 3 year old mind.  And outwitted.

it's so empty without you

I think we're working on a theme here.  Our little goldfish met it's demise.  After the chaos that ensued upon the realization, I discreetly gave it the ol' flusheroo.

L:  Mom, where did the dead fish go?

Me: I buried it.

L: Where?

Me: (think fast, think fast) Um, I buried it the the ocean of everlasting life. (Hey! I was under SERIOUS pressure!)

L:  MOOOooM!  Now all the big fish are going to get it, and it will REALLY be over.

Didn't see that one coming.  Once again, I am left pondering.

cicada requiem

This is a Cicada sarcophagus...um I mean bug house.  It's been sitting on my counter for 3 days.  The barking has long since subsided.  I'm thinking it's time to have the wake, because honestly, it's freaking me out.

There was a conversation about the box today:

E:  Mommy I need to borrow the box for a minute.

Me: No, no, the bug is sleeping.

E: No it's not.  It's dead.

Hmmm...you'd think I'd learn.

i couldn't resist

Sound asleep. under the pillows. on the chair. in the kitchen.  No, he doesn't read my blog.

what 3 looks like

First, I have to say WOW!  I'm a bit taken aback at all the notecard love I've gotten!  Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your wonderful words!  I thought the cards were rather clever, but I had no idea how many other people would.  So I started an Etsy Shop.  Wouldn't my husband be shocked if I actually contributed to the house account, rather than only depleting it? HA!

Today is a special day around here.  My baby is three, so I guess that means she's not a baby anymore. And she potty trained this week.  YIPPEE FOR BIG GIRLS!

I forget just how big she is.  The girls and I were walking down the street yesterday, and there was a flat-as-a-pancake-almost-mummified squirrel on the sidewalk. L says "Look!  Look! It's a flat squirrel!" Hoping to avoid questions, I try to hurry them along. "Move along girls, nothing to see here."  We're almost past, when E says, "Yeah! And it's DEAD!"

That's 3 for you!

lumps and bumps

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBqZQ-5gqVA&NR=1

(still not sure what the heck I'm doing since Typepad changed formats!) Anyway, if it works, this is a link to a youtube video my boy and some buds made yesterday. There was a High School Graduation party going on and he MAY have been showing off (just a tad) for the big girls. 

Shortly after, I get a call that he bumped his head on the rim. Blood everywhere, but just a tiny cut. J asks the Dr. questions...did he black out, how long did it bleed... He's fine, see you later.

 I show up to pick him up at the pre-arranged time, and he is SO annoyed with me. Absolutely did not want to leave. But by the time we got home he admitted he had a headache. We had to threaten bodily harm just for him to let us look at it. Yep. Still bleeding under the bandage. 

Of course, J and I were planning to sneak off to the movies after our boy got home. But now, I'm pushing for an immediate care center. To which my husband just gave me "the look." So, he's searching the house for dermabond. Nowhere to be found. We have sutures (yes, we keep sutures in the house) but nothing to numb the cut with. 

So off they go to J's office at 7:30 on a Sunday night. I think it might be worthy to note that HE IS ON THE DAMN PHONE!!! When is NOT a good time to talk? 

45 minutes later, by baby boy is home with a stitch in his head, and J and I are out the door for the movies.

things I learned today

I went on a field trip today with my boy's class.  There were 100 twelve year olds.  Here are a few nuggets I gleaned...

1. They drink as much soda as they can possibly hold when their parents aren't around.  I'm talking gas-can sized cups.  

2. It has to come back out. A lot.

3. They are perpetually hungry, yet are too busy gabbing to eat.

4. I heard the F bomb dropped a couple of times when they didn't know I could hear them.  Umm, I wonder where they would have heard that word?

5. They text each other incessantly, even when they are sitting two rows apart on the bus.

6. Bodily functions are funny.  As long as it's someone ELSE's bodily function.  Because NO ONE can EVER find out that THEY poo, or have bogeys.

7. Some of the boys can wear their shorts down so low that their underwear is almost entirely exposed, butt crack and all, but it's a DISASTER if anyone sees their knees. Go figure.  For the record, if I ever caught Raike with a sag going, he would quickly find that his britches had been staple-gunned into their proper position. (yes your honor, I heard her say that)

8. For the moment, they are still darling little children in big children's bodies.  I know that's subject to change any moment, but I'll take what I can get.

9. I am EXHAUSTED.  100 twelve year olds are utterly and completely exhausting.

(ok, side bar, Raike is on the phone in the next room talking to a girl, and here is a snippet of the conversation..."I don't like organic barbecue potato chips, or peanut butter fudge because I ate about a pound of it and I got sick.  And lima beans made me sick one time too."  You just can't make that stuff up.)

To end on a happy note, here is what I pulled out of the garden today...

cutting the cord

There comes a time when you have to accept that your children WILL grow up. They will begin a life that is not centered around you. They will gain life experiences that you did not govern. And make no mistake, it will be bittersweet.

The confusion is WHEN will this happen. What age? How will I know? My answer is, you'll just know. Just like when you go into labor. You JUST KNOW. Toe-curling pain, fear, "I'M NOT READY YET!" Yep. That about sums it up.

See, I think I'm there. And I'm not really sure I'm ready for it. My boy is 12, and is taking THREE trips this summer. Without us. Who is going to tell him to brush his teeth? He'll be chaperoned, but do they do that? And tell him to make eye contact when he speaks to adults? Who is he going to talk to at night when he's puzzling out the days events? Who's going to keep him from getting flattened on a London street because he looked the wrong way at the crosswalk? DAMN, why do they drive on the wrong side of the road!?! Ahhhh!!!!! Okay, deep breath.

Maybe my fear is that he won't need me as much anymore. But, haven't I been raising him to NOT need me someday? Haven't we done a good job as parents because he is so wonderfully self-reliant, and confident enough to take these things on without his Mama and Papa to fall back on?

Maybe the crux of it is that I need him. Besides the fact that I will miss him like HELL, who is going to fix the computer when it acts up? Who is going to set up the DVD player? Raike takes care of all that. How am I going to just pop out to run errands if he isn't here to watch the girls and take care of things? And just when did I become so dependent on HIM?

I remind myself of the philosophy of free range kids. I'm not quite THERE, but I'm on the right street.

And it dawns on me. It's time. No use fighting it. Ride the contraction, or it will crush you down like a twisting piece of metal. In the end, a beautiful new chapter is about to begin.

there was an old lady who...

L: Mommy my tummy is hurting a bit.

Me: Really? What does it feel like?

L: It's feeling "hurty." Kind of like I swallowed a fly.

Hmmm. A fly.

And she had another one yesterday.

Daddies don't count...

Syd, our big, beautiful, sweet, perfect in almost every way, Golden Retriever has a few "issues." We are sure that he was abused before he came to us, and that he has the doggie version of post traumatic stress disorder. Our kids know this, and there is usually no problem.

Except for yesterday. They were playing rowdy together on the big red chair in the kitchen when L got up on the back of the chair. And she fell on him. Hard. You could almost hear him scream "fire in the hole" as he chomped on her elbow. He couldn't get out from under her, and she couldn't get off of him.

She was pretty heartbroken, and a little bit bruised. Not funny, right?

As J was examining her arm, she says, "I want to see a doctor!"