Me: "Joshua! Lets go! You're the only one not ready to get in the car!"
Joshua: "I can't find socks!"
Me: "Get some out of my drawer!"
Ok. Admittedly it's totally ridiculous to send my son to my sock drawer to borrow some, but somehow Joshua's socks are frequently missing. Well. The truth is that he changes his socks often throughout the day- whenever they get dirty or wet or when he just takes them off because he felt like it. He won't put the same pair back on. And I have yet to purchase the right volume to accommodate socks that need to be in the drawer and socks that are in the laundry and socks that are missing.
Back to trying to get out the door:
Five years go by (maybe 35 seconds... but any mother knows what it feels like when you are TRYING TO GET OUT THE DOOR and you have a lagger).
Me: "JOSHUA! LETS GO!"
Joshua: "I can't get the sock on!"
Me: "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. Get down here and I'll help my super genius 7 1/2 year old figure out how to get a sock on. For pete's sake Joshua this screwing around is not helping us get out the door!"
Joshua sits down in front of me. Puts his foot up. I try to put the sock on. It doesn't go on. What. The. Hell. My 7 1/2 year old just out grew my socks. Me. My socks. A full grown adult's socks. He can't wear my socks. I don't have a back up plan for my failure to do the load of whites anymore. And worse... he's 7 and a HALF. And he can't fit into my 33-year-old grown up sized socks.
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joshua. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
This was Joshua's first Christmas. I never think of Christmas without thinking of this picture and how HAPPY he was to get this gift- it was a toy piano. I don't know how he could even be happy or understand- he was 9 months old! He also fell asleep mid-morning thanks to the exhaustion of opening 9,000 gifts that always seem to get bestowed on a baby's first Christmas.
-Joshua
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Mama Moment
When Joshua was a little guy learning to talk, he said "Go Green!" (for Michigan State) before he said mama. His awkwardly giant self made everyone remark that we certainly seemed to have an athlete ready to dominate.
And then we got past the cute toddler stage and moved in to the part where we'd want him to do one thing and he'd be doing another. Like refusing to get dirty. Wearing short sleeves at all times to avoid his cuffs getting wet when he washed his hands. Openly noting that boys are dumb because they wrestle around and that seems like a dumb way to play. And then add in there that Joshua continues to grow at ridiculous intervals elevating his clumsiness as he gets use to the 7 inches that just got added to his arms and legs. OH, and did I mention he's ambidextrous and it just makes him THAT much more awkward?
But this year he wanted to play baseball. And he stuck it out- never asked to quit once. We are still in the no-score-keeping phases of little league at this point but he is aware that if they are depending on him for the game winning run, that he better feign a disaster on the way to the plate because his left handed swinging pitches his ball up the first base line about 9 times out of 10 and then its left to him to out run a first baseman that has to pick up a ball 7 inches away and tag the bag. Did I mention he never asked to quit? Even despite the seemingly ridiculous frequency of his naturally awkward left sided swing motoring up first base.
Fast forwarded to soccer season. Where there were 7 kids on the team. 5 had played baseball together. The coach was even a baseball carryover. WOO HOO! We get to skip the I-don't-know-anyone phase that can paralyze Joshua for the first weeks of something new.
I wasn't prepared for watching these kids actually 'play' instead of just following the ball around. They pushed. They would run at full speed and something would happen and there would be a pile of them on the ground. They were covered in mud and rain and dirt and sweat. And my kid was one of them. MY KID.
And while Joshua played hard- something seemed to stop short when he was standing in front of the goalie with the ball and an open shot. He just would fold and should have just picked the ball up and handed it to the goalie to save some effort. And then as the season rolled on he would get close but would make a tap on the ball with less effort than when he kicks his dirty socks into the laundry pile. His caution, his desire for perfection, his intuitive nature that wants to know the absolute outcome before executing an action... makes it tough to be a soccer superstar.
But guess what.
It's the last game of the season. And Joshua SHOOTS! And the goalie grabs it.
But guess what.
Joshua SHOOTS AGAIN! And the ball dawdles in front of the goal line and the goalie grabs it.
But guess what.
As I was standing on the sideline with my friend who randomly and graciously showed up with her son to watch Joshua's game, and with a line of dad's in front of me who had helped Joshua learn to throw and catch and bat through baseball and learn to accept dirt and pushing and figure out how to not be so left footed through soccer (I didn't know there was such a thing- but there is!), Joshua shot again.
And it went in.
All those families erupted. They all knew it was Joshua's first goal. Ever. It was at least the fifth goal of the game so the other team had to be wondering what in the hell everyone was going crazy about. But our side knew. This pack of parents that I didn't even really realize were supporting my boy as much as they were... they knew.
Joshua came over and hugged his mama (I hope to God I wasn't as far on the field as my brain is remembering!). And his daddy picked him up and held him. And his teammates came to give him congratulations. And he made his way over to the coaches/dads and they all patted him on the back and gave fives and... it was all cheesier than a Disney movie but OH MY GOSH it was the best mama moment I've had that I can think of.
He shot. And it went in. IT WENT IN! And then he hugged me. His mama.
And then we got past the cute toddler stage and moved in to the part where we'd want him to do one thing and he'd be doing another. Like refusing to get dirty. Wearing short sleeves at all times to avoid his cuffs getting wet when he washed his hands. Openly noting that boys are dumb because they wrestle around and that seems like a dumb way to play. And then add in there that Joshua continues to grow at ridiculous intervals elevating his clumsiness as he gets use to the 7 inches that just got added to his arms and legs. OH, and did I mention he's ambidextrous and it just makes him THAT much more awkward?
But this year he wanted to play baseball. And he stuck it out- never asked to quit once. We are still in the no-score-keeping phases of little league at this point but he is aware that if they are depending on him for the game winning run, that he better feign a disaster on the way to the plate because his left handed swinging pitches his ball up the first base line about 9 times out of 10 and then its left to him to out run a first baseman that has to pick up a ball 7 inches away and tag the bag. Did I mention he never asked to quit? Even despite the seemingly ridiculous frequency of his naturally awkward left sided swing motoring up first base.
Fast forwarded to soccer season. Where there were 7 kids on the team. 5 had played baseball together. The coach was even a baseball carryover. WOO HOO! We get to skip the I-don't-know-anyone phase that can paralyze Joshua for the first weeks of something new.
I wasn't prepared for watching these kids actually 'play' instead of just following the ball around. They pushed. They would run at full speed and something would happen and there would be a pile of them on the ground. They were covered in mud and rain and dirt and sweat. And my kid was one of them. MY KID.
And while Joshua played hard- something seemed to stop short when he was standing in front of the goalie with the ball and an open shot. He just would fold and should have just picked the ball up and handed it to the goalie to save some effort. And then as the season rolled on he would get close but would make a tap on the ball with less effort than when he kicks his dirty socks into the laundry pile. His caution, his desire for perfection, his intuitive nature that wants to know the absolute outcome before executing an action... makes it tough to be a soccer superstar.
But guess what.
It's the last game of the season. And Joshua SHOOTS! And the goalie grabs it.
But guess what.
Joshua SHOOTS AGAIN! And the ball dawdles in front of the goal line and the goalie grabs it.
But guess what.
As I was standing on the sideline with my friend who randomly and graciously showed up with her son to watch Joshua's game, and with a line of dad's in front of me who had helped Joshua learn to throw and catch and bat through baseball and learn to accept dirt and pushing and figure out how to not be so left footed through soccer (I didn't know there was such a thing- but there is!), Joshua shot again.
And it went in.
All those families erupted. They all knew it was Joshua's first goal. Ever. It was at least the fifth goal of the game so the other team had to be wondering what in the hell everyone was going crazy about. But our side knew. This pack of parents that I didn't even really realize were supporting my boy as much as they were... they knew.
Joshua came over and hugged his mama (I hope to God I wasn't as far on the field as my brain is remembering!). And his daddy picked him up and held him. And his teammates came to give him congratulations. And he made his way over to the coaches/dads and they all patted him on the back and gave fives and... it was all cheesier than a Disney movie but OH MY GOSH it was the best mama moment I've had that I can think of.
He shot. And it went in. IT WENT IN! And then he hugged me. His mama.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Summer Time in 1980 Something
Joshua asked me the other day what I did during the summer when I was little. Mostly he was complaining about the lack of things to do for a 7-year-old boy with three rooms in his house dedicated to toys, plus an entire garage bay of more toys plus a park next door, literacy skills of a 5th grader that he could apply to a library of books and not to mention a stack of video games if all other forms of creativity fail.
But I get it. It's August and this summer thing is winding down. On occasion it can be hard to even remember it's summer because... just as Jill curses the steaming heat that seems to be plaguing everywhere but the tippy top of the Pacific northwest, I'm cursing the fact that I need a fleece coat in August. It MIGHT get out of the 60's today. Seriously.
Joshua's plight for summer fun is nothing new but it made me think- what did I do all summer long? I didn't have a nanny, baby-sitter or anything but helpful neighbors to yell at us to get out of the middle of the street. My dad was at work and my mom worked nights so she was sleeping most of the day. We did have some rules- no playing in the 10 inch deep kiddie pool while my mother was sleeping. That was a major violation. Don't hit each other. I admit non-compliance.
Joshua wasn't wanting to hear what I couldn't do so I dug deep into my head to try to recall what you did in the 1980's for fun when summer got boring:
But I get it. It's August and this summer thing is winding down. On occasion it can be hard to even remember it's summer because... just as Jill curses the steaming heat that seems to be plaguing everywhere but the tippy top of the Pacific northwest, I'm cursing the fact that I need a fleece coat in August. It MIGHT get out of the 60's today. Seriously.
Joshua's plight for summer fun is nothing new but it made me think- what did I do all summer long? I didn't have a nanny, baby-sitter or anything but helpful neighbors to yell at us to get out of the middle of the street. My dad was at work and my mom worked nights so she was sleeping most of the day. We did have some rules- no playing in the 10 inch deep kiddie pool while my mother was sleeping. That was a major violation. Don't hit each other. I admit non-compliance.
Joshua wasn't wanting to hear what I couldn't do so I dug deep into my head to try to recall what you did in the 1980's for fun when summer got boring:
- Go on vacation with some other kid's family (did this with Jill's family MULTIPLE times. Jill being an only child was pure genius in my friend selection process).
- Play in the back yard sand box that is really a large square of cinderblocks outlining dirt with sand on top of it until you dig all the way to the tree roots of the big fat oak tree. (Joshua seemed puzzled... didn't sandboxes only come in the shape of a green plastic turtle with 2 inches of sand?)
- See what you could freeze in the freezer and make a popsicle out of. Dish soap doesn't freeze well in case anyone was wondering.
- Ride your bike where you aren't suppose to so that you can see where the end of your street is (another confusing topic for a little boy living in a closed end cul de sac).
- Dig for change in every nook and cranny so that you can feign going on a bike ride but you really high tail it to the Dairy Queen and kindly ask for one small, Lemon Lime, Mister Misty float. It helps to not spill any green sludge on your shirt if you are trying to be covert about your mission.
Joshua wasn't impressed as I couldn't come up with a thing that he found any more fun to do than staring at the wall. I also talked at length about laying in the sunshine with your best friend, sunblock free and getting deep summery tans while talking about dirty words (didn't say that part but I remembered it), playing around in giant boxes thanks to whomever purchased an appliance recently, walking around in homemade matching sleeveless shirts and shorts pretending you are sisters with your best pal... these were all true activities when there was no cable being piped in every socket of a house or cell phones to send secret messages or SPF97000 strength sunblock.
After our chat, Joshua went outside with his light sabre and Jedi hood and spent a few hours conquering the cul de sac.
-Sheryl
Sunday, July 18, 2010
The Summer That Joshua Became a Boy
One time Jill called Joshua a Forty-five year old man in a 7-year-old body. He think about stuff I will never even dream up by the time I'm 45. And he has a temperament as far from being a little boy as possible. Well he use to. This seems to be the summer that Joshua has become... a boy.
P.S. Jill isn't dead by the way. She finally emailed with some weird claim about technology failure after some bad storms.
He plays in the dirt. I mean he sometimes would before... but I have a picture where he just got done playing in some mud in his bathing suit. Except he is completely sans clothing, still covered in mud, and hosing off his BATHING SUIT. That's what he was worried about. Dirt on his clothes. Because he sometimes reads this blog, I won't post the pic.
He also is playing sports. Well trying... he is blessed with his mother's coordination and being a few years behind kids that started sooner and then growing several inches recently. But he is playing wildly with other little boys, scraping his knees and coming home covered in pond yuck. He argues with his little brother instead of telling me the psychology behind why he thinks Noah is behaving the way he is.
The one part of summer that has always been a tried and true event for my little man-boy is Day Out with Thomas. Serious. Thomas the Train was the first genuine toy Joshua played with. Before that he would mostly just play in the sink with water and bowls and spoons and funnels and collanders. That's all he wanted to do. And he would do it for hours.
But then came trains.When Joshua was 2, I saw him laying on the floor with a Thomas engine someone had given him and he had some blocks lined up behind it. After I took a picture of proof that my son COULD play with toys, I packed us all up to go get more engines at Target. Immediately. He wanted to play!
And then when we found out a REAL Thomas would come into town... HOLY COW. We were all over it at Greenfield Village in Dearborn, MI. And when we moved to Washington- HOLY COW. Thomas comes here too at the Northwest Railway Museum in Snoqualmie, WA. The summer Jill was visiting was actually Thomas weekend. She came on the ride- and held Noah who was monsterously beside himself with the crowd. I had forgotten how anti-crowd he was at that stage in his life. Oops.
But this year... Joshua was 7 and Noah was 4, ages that are dangerously on the bubble of not loving things that have always been loved. We got out of the car when we pulled into Snoqualmie with a parking spot so prime the train station and the lines and the crowd were all within sight as soon as we pulled in. The boys jumped out of the car with their train engineer hats on and we started walk-run-skip-walking over to the station when Joshua not only slowed up, but he handed me his hat and asked me to put it in my purse.
He spent the rest of the Day Out with Thomas feeling a little out of place and notably sad that Thomas isn't what he use to be. Noah was happy- but Noah loves this stuff. It could have been a Hello Kitty conference and the kid would have been ecstatic.
Joshua pulled his hat on for a quick picture with Thomas and his brother- and as a mom I'm grateful. But how very sad that my little man boy has officially entered the big boy world where Thomas the Train is a has-been.
It stinks that they grow up.
-Sheryl
P.S. Jill isn't dead by the way. She finally emailed with some weird claim about technology failure after some bad storms.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Fads are Crap
I heard the line 'fads are crap' several (at least a million) times as I was growing up... because my parents said it 500,000 times and Jill's said it the other half. That's some of the uh... err... benefits of growing up with only a fence line between you. You get to hear everything twice. At least.
But I am actually a tiny bit thankful that practicality and budget and common sense often erroded any efforts I might have wanted to make towards some idiotic silliness of the 80's and early 90's while my parents were still responsible for what I looked and acted like. I wasn't exactly somebody that wanted all the latest and greatest things either- and even to this day- I'm just someone who wants to stay above the wire of wearing anything ridiculous/boring/hideously outdated and below the wire of wearing anything somebody will compliment you on for being bold or creative or whatever adjective they want to apply.
Joshua's trend endeavors have been minimal. From the age of 3 until he entered a private school with a dress code, wore mis-matched socks. I don't mean brown and black either- I mean Christmas with Halloween and blue stripes paired up with a dinosaur dotted sock. At first it was a little cute and then mortifying and then really, really practical.
It got mortifying when I found out that his socks had garnered the attention of his fellow pre-schoolers and now multiple kids were refusing to match their socks. But it was seriously practical to not have to match socks when doing laundry. And losing one of a pair was never a big deal!
The beloved sock collection... that I was permitted to dispose of under the terms of capturing it in a photo Joshua could keep forever...
I realize a 7-year-old is way different than the teenie tweeny set and the worst is likely well on its way to me. Noah already has some diva status- repeatedly changing his clothes in a day and rejecting selections I've brought home and taking 7 hours to find clothes in the morning. In fact, that is my morning discipline plan when he won't get a move on- "If you don't get out of bed and get going mister, I'll PICK YOUR CLOTHES".
I have to say I was a bit annoyed when Joshua asked for some plaid shorts this summer instead of his standard khaki cargos. Noah the diva already had a stack of plaid shorts but coming from Joshua... this was weird. And when I said I would look the next time I was at Target, I got a funny look and a request for Old Navy. I only exhaled hard once and then faked my smile. I wasn't as aggravated with his slight and even minimal and even reasonable demands as I was with the fact he's just getting too old too fast.
-Sheryl
But I am actually a tiny bit thankful that practicality and budget and common sense often erroded any efforts I might have wanted to make towards some idiotic silliness of the 80's and early 90's while my parents were still responsible for what I looked and acted like. I wasn't exactly somebody that wanted all the latest and greatest things either- and even to this day- I'm just someone who wants to stay above the wire of wearing anything ridiculous/boring/hideously outdated and below the wire of wearing anything somebody will compliment you on for being bold or creative or whatever adjective they want to apply.
Joshua's trend endeavors have been minimal. From the age of 3 until he entered a private school with a dress code, wore mis-matched socks. I don't mean brown and black either- I mean Christmas with Halloween and blue stripes paired up with a dinosaur dotted sock. At first it was a little cute and then mortifying and then really, really practical.
It got mortifying when I found out that his socks had garnered the attention of his fellow pre-schoolers and now multiple kids were refusing to match their socks. But it was seriously practical to not have to match socks when doing laundry. And losing one of a pair was never a big deal!
The beloved sock collection... that I was permitted to dispose of under the terms of capturing it in a photo Joshua could keep forever...
I realize a 7-year-old is way different than the teenie tweeny set and the worst is likely well on its way to me. Noah already has some diva status- repeatedly changing his clothes in a day and rejecting selections I've brought home and taking 7 hours to find clothes in the morning. In fact, that is my morning discipline plan when he won't get a move on- "If you don't get out of bed and get going mister, I'll PICK YOUR CLOTHES".
I have to say I was a bit annoyed when Joshua asked for some plaid shorts this summer instead of his standard khaki cargos. Noah the diva already had a stack of plaid shorts but coming from Joshua... this was weird. And when I said I would look the next time I was at Target, I got a funny look and a request for Old Navy. I only exhaled hard once and then faked my smile. I wasn't as aggravated with his slight and even minimal and even reasonable demands as I was with the fact he's just getting too old too fast.
-Sheryl
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