I fully agree.

Breckin came home from school yesterday and, as he was opening the door, he turns around and says "Mom.  Boys can marry each other."  I said, yep, they sure can.  Love is love, buddy.  He says "I don't want to do that.  But, it's fine for the ones that do."

Beaming.  Pure, graceful children's wisdom at it's best.  Breckin for President.

He's kind of a big deal....

I was going to write a funny post about how Breckin walked away from the Pacific Science Center's model train festival on a first name basis with three of the operators.  Then I was going to write a nostalgic, sad post about how Breckin was in tears because Steve and Megan are closing Bounce It Up.  And I've been working on telling you all how funny it is that Breckin is known by the bakery ladies at Safeway cause he always stops by for the free cookie and shows them each time he gets to pick a donut.

But the truth is, this is how life is with Breckin.  Every day.  I LOVE taking him to festivals and the store and museums and parties with grown ups cause he kills me.  He chats with everyone about anything and can make witty jokes.  And fart noises.  And he tells grown ups (and probably kids, too) little details about his day or his new toy or his sister like they are already best friends and he's just updating them on his life.  I am torn, as protector of him, by instructing him each time we go into public that people you don't know are strangers.  And sometimes bad guy strangers dress as nice guy strangers to trick people.  And you shouldn't just talk to every grown up and expect them to be as nice as Grandma.  And you don't have to tell people your name or your sister's name or that you live next to Derek.  I remind him of these things daily.  Most of the time it sticks but sometimes he just can't help himself.  The clerk at Walmart looks nice enough to say "I had a spelling test today and I got 100%.  And I played with my ninja legos this morning.  Kai had to use the sword of fire.  My sister Ella farts like a foghorn."  <---This was actually said to the poor teenager who got us as customers.  She had no idea how to respond.

Breckin had no idea we were going to the train festival until we got off the Mercer St exit and he saw a billboard for the 38th Annual Model Train Show.  He knew.  And he remembered almost every detail from the last time we came to this one.  When he was two and a half.  No joke.  But his memory skills are another post.  After getting through the ticket line, the dinosaur exhibit for Ella, and the paper conductor hat station- we found the first train table.  A cool little siding that the kids could push colored buttons to make the engine drop off and pick up coal cars and box cars.  Breckin waited his turn patiently, chatting with the other kids in line about buffers and fireboxes, and when it was his turn, he fell into a natural conversation with the table operator.  I have no idea what they were talking about as I was busy making dinosaur noises at Ella.  But, when he stepped down from the table and said "Bye, Bill.  Thanks for showing me about those magnets" and was answered with "See ya, Breckin.  You sure know a lot about trains", I was not surprised.  It happens.

It was fate that the young man at the coloring table was named Cole- that is, after all, the name of one of the Lego Ninjas- and therefore warranted a lengthy discussion between Cole and Breckin about earth dragons and whether or not the guy Cole got a new katana for Christmas.  He was impressed that Breckin used the word katana.  Mutual goodbyes were exchanged once our train was colored.  And Cole said hello again when Breckin ran by to test out the light bulb bike- you know the one.  I did smile extra wide when we rounded the corner into the main train room and the first table is one I recognize from the train festival in Ravensdale.  An astroturf double loop for kids to test a big Thomas set.  I didn't expect the hunched, partially senile gentleman in the brown grandpa sweater to say "Breckin!  I knew you would show up here!  You're my best customer!"  Even Breckin was surprised.  He turned to me and said "I remember him from last October.  He loves pushing the button for James (as I look over, he's in line for the James button) and he always tells me about his latest train set."  Sure enough, Breckin chats with him while he's taking his turn and after learning his name is Victor, he promptly tells him that the bad guy from GeoTrax is also named Victor and animatedly recaps the Geo story line.  Victor is, once again, impressed and says he hopes to see Breckin next October.

Breckin's nerd name is Steve.  Just go with it.  And watch Despicable Me for reference.  Breckin's favorite place on the planet is Bounce It Up.  During our very first visit, we were lucky enough to have Steve as the employee in charge of walking around making sure everyone is doing ok.  Breckin, sure enough, told him that his nerd name was Steve and was happy as a clam when the real Steve tackled him in the wrestling ring and pelted him with playground balls.  We saw the Bounce It Up van in the parking lot at Safeway about two weeks later, Breckin saw Steve get out of the drivers seat, and yelled "Steve!" at the top of his lungs.  They slapped each other on the back like they've known each other for years and Steve and Megan have been rock stars in our house ever since.  Bounce It Up is closing it's doors this Sunday and Breckin cried when he heard the news.  He has since told Steve not to do it.  And he's serious.  It's out of Steve's hands, of course, but it chokes me up that the bouncy toys are only half the reason why Breckin doesn't want it to close.  He is concerned that he won't get to see Steve.

Breckin is on a first name basis with two Drews.  The first works with Dustin and is on the cool list due to his collection of Nerf items and the dart board at his desk.  Don't ask.  It's a Seattle tech company stemmed from Microsoft and has ping pong in a conference room.  Work Drew and Breckin must say hello to each other every time we stop by to see Daddy at work.  They are pals.

The other Drew works at the Lego store.  He was the employee who helped Breckin pick the best set his $10 from his piggy bank could buy the very first time we went in that store and Breckin asks for him each time we go.  He spent so much time asking Breckin what collections he liked and who his favorite hero from Hero Factory was that I wrote a generous thank you note via their website to his boss because I've been in a lot of toy stores.  Most young employees are there to make enough money to take their girlfriend to the movies and don't give a rip about the kids.  This guy made me proud.  He and Breckin have fantastic conversations and he makes a point to show Breckin the unique piece that each set has and how you can't get this piece in any other set.  Ok, we go to the Lego quite a bit.  We don't always get to buy stuff but we let Breckin put things on his wish list all year long and that satisfies him.  If Drew isn't working that day, it's a short trip.  If his is, it's not.  Drew knows Breckin by name now and knows him well enough that when the skeleton version of Ninjago was getting discontinued and they only had one Dragon Sword of Fire with the sheath backpack left, he held it in the back room until he happened to see Breckin come in next with enough money to buy it.  It had been marked down from $20 to $4 as time passed but Drew held it.  He could have sold it, I'm sure, several times.  He asked me, before mentioning it to Breckin, if we could spend money that day and once he got clearance, he was excited to show Breckin.  Of course we would like it.  We love Drew.  

The ladies at the gym know him and greet him warmly when he comes in.  He is part of the social circle amongst the grown ups in our neighborhood- even if he's having a rough patch with one kid or another.  He used to walk into kindergarten every day, put his hands on the inside of the door frame, and say "Mrs. Blevins, I'm here."  For crying out loud, when I go through the drive through at Starbucks, the lady at the window leans out to see if Breckin's in the back and asks for him by name.  He has shown her every toy in his hand every time we drive through.  I'm sure there are other grown ups who know him, if not by name, by character.  His character might be my favorite thing about him.  What a kid.     

A true friend....

We are going to Yakima this weekend for a family reunion on Dustin's side of things.  Tomorrow night we are having dinner and swimming in our hotel pool with one of Dustin's best friends, Jay.  They have two kids close to our two kids' age so it will (or should, with all intentions) work out well.

Me:  Hey Buddy, you know how we are visiting Yakima this weekend? 
Breckin:  Yeah
Me:  Guess what Daddy's friend's name is?  (Fully knowing this will peak his interest as it is the same name as one of his favorite Lego Ninjagos and may boost the coolness of the new people).
Breckin:  Peter Pan?
Me:  Nope, Jay.

Breckin:  Ooooo, Jay, huh?  Does he have a blue dragon?
Me:  No, I don't think so but you can always ask him.
Breckin:  Is he a ninja?
Me:  Not that I know of but if he was he may not be able to tell us.  It might be top secret.
Breckin:  Does he like ninjas?
Me:  I'm not sure.
Breckin:  Does Daddy know if he likes ninjas?  Does Daddy know if Jay is the real ninja?
Me:  (and it's hard to answer, with a straight face, a very serious child when he asks questions like these...)  I don't think Daddy would know.  He's never mentioned it.  But you could ask him?
Breckin:  What kind of a friend doesn't know if their best friend likes ninjas?

Me:  Good question, dude.  Sounds like you'll have to have a talk with Daddy tonight.
Yikes.  Someone's gettin grilled when they get home from work.... 

I've got 99 posts....

And here's one more.

Before I forget, here's stuff Breckin says.

We do frequent Goodwill or consignment store trips and I used to ask Breckin straight up if he wanted to donate anything.  He'd get a freaked out look in his eyes and panic all over the place and mentally snatch his toys out of sight for fear of losing them to dusty shelves.  Of course his answer was NO and sometimes it was accompanied by tears, loud voice shouting, or grabbing the nearest stuffed animal and hugging it.  That kid has never met a toy he doesn't like and he treasures every single one he has.  What he doesn't know is that I load a few handfuls in the bottom of the "clothing" boxes- just things he hasn't played with or have been stashed in the closet for over a year and never mentioned.  Only after I make the swoop through do I ask him if there's anything he's ready to part with.  There never is.

I've learned the hard way to preface the Goodwill trips with "Don't freak out or get upset, but I'm going to Goodwill and if there's anything you'd like to share with other kids, put it in this box."  For a while, he was ready and willing to donate Tiki's toys and, more recently, Ella's.  We have a little talk about only giving away your own stuff (ironic, I know, since I give his stuff away all the time).  Well, this time the tables turned.

He says, in his most earnest voice, at breakfast the other day:  "Mommy, don't get upset.  Don't cry.  I just wanted to ask you if you were ready to get rid of your teapot collection today because I notice you don't get them out and play with them anymore."  He's right.  He just doesn't understand parental hoarding and the beauty of nice things displayed in a home.  Or something.  I told him that I liked having them and would love to have a tea party whenever he was ready.  That stopped him momentarily but we may be having a super fancy tea party with Optimus Prime, a lego man, Breckin, Ella, and his favorite stuffed reindeer.  Fun.



Also- Daddy was sorting through his Christmas presents and muttering "garage, garage, not garage, garage, not garage" as to where his things would end up.  No, they aren't already being shuffled off to the wooden grave of junk- he got mostly tools and tool paraphenalia. 
Breckin says "Was Daddy talking about garage stuff again?" 
Me:  "Yep.  He's figuring out where his presents go." 
Breckin:  "Yeah.  That's how he rolls."


And, Ella says Ho Ho Ho, ham, eeyore, mama, bapa, mmmm, hot, hat, and the crowd favorite  HI! 
Just wish I could record them and show you.... 

MIssion Accomplished!

If you've ever been in love for a long time, you get it.  At some point you get comfortable and, for lack of a better word, lazy.  You take each other for granted.  You know you'll spend some time together but it isn't always as quality as it used to be.  You still love the person and think about them often and deep in your heart of hearts never want them to leave your life.  But you get lazy.  You stop hanging out 24/7, conversation is predictable, and you just kinda get in a rut.  Then something happens that brings back those memories of the early days and you get kinda fluttery and want to smooch them on the cheek and tell them you love them all over again. 

No, it's not about marriage love.  It's about Your Girlfriends Who Have Known You The Longest love.  October has always been a hard month for us- it's when one of us gets at another's throat, sometimes feelings get hurt, and we get kinda strained.  Maybe it's the recent lack of sunshine.  Maybe it's why we had a depression in the 30's- maybe those ladies got strained with their girlfriends and stressed out their working husbands and everything fell apart.  There was no particular incident this October but it wasn't our best month of the year.... it was.  Bleh.  And then I got Mo's name in our annual name drawing for Christmas presents and I knew she needed a little reminder. 

I saw her playing with my kids one day and let me tell you what.  She can play with my kids like no one's business.  Sorry, Mo, get your kleenex.  They listen to her.  They respect her like a teacher, love her like an auntie, and wipe her kisses off like an old granny.  She needed to know that her girlfriends all still love her and cherish her cause I don't think she really knew how much we do.  She keeps us together when we can't do it ourselves.  SO, I had them write letters to tell her what she means to them. 

It worked.  She cried the minute she opened the cover.  And those that were present did, too.  We all worked together to orchestrate an outpouring of love for someone who gets taken for granted.  We are severely missing two members of our BachelorWatching, SexInTheCityViewing, WineTasting, CrazyDancing group of girls.  They decided that home was best and moved back across the state but we kept a small piece of them and will not let them forget to return voicemails for longer than a week.  They had letters, too.  Ha ha, Mo.  We made you cry! 

I felt kinda bad cause she's had a headache all day and crying only brought it back.  And, it was late at night on the most beautiful farm in Gig Harbor in front of a fire place and we were exhausted from building elaborate gingerbread houses.  The kids were sleeping- well, Ella was up and down cause she's a bed diva and can't handle a portacrib.  The day was amazing.  I haven't had a day like that in a long time and it was much needed.  Start with a warm, friendly 30th birthday for someone we NEVER get to celebrate cause her birthday is on December 24th AND SHE'S Jewish.  Man, that food was good, Debs.  Throw in some mid-day Christmas shopping in the madness of Target.  End with a tortellini soup that would knock your socks off and horrible children's Christmas movies starring talking dogs and getting frosting everywhere while trying in vain to make lovely cookie houses.  I'm telling you- the day was what my soul needed. 

And celebrating Mo was the cherry on top.  It made my heart feel good to throw verbal confetti all over her.  Mission Accomplished.  Now, wipe your face and go tell your girlfriends that you love them. Merry Christmas.

Things We've Heard

Oh, Breckin.  Your one liners kill us.  Here's the latest.

Daddy and Breckin were playing the alphabet game while waiting patiently for Ella and I to be done eating dinner.  None of us leave the table until everyone is done eating- unless Breckin is picking out a dessert.  It was Daddy's turn and he had the letter Q.

Daddy:  Hmmm.  Q.  That's a tough one.  Oh, I know.  Quality food (and points to our dinner plates- Breckin's was wiped clean).
Breckin:  Ooooo.  Good one.  That's not really true.



A lot of people ask Breckin if he has a girlfriend at school.  I do it, too, but I kinda wish it would stop cause I think he feels like he has to say yes.  He used to be smitten with a little girl in preschool- two, actually- and it's so early in the year, it's impossible for him to know anyone well enough to be drawn to them.  Plus, he's FIVE.  But, anyway....

Me:  Breckin, do you like any of the girls in your class? 
Breckin:   Oh, yes.  I have a girlfriend.  Her name is Ella- just like my sister.
Me:  Oh, that's nice.  Do you guys play together?
Breckin:  Not really
Me:  Do you sit by each other?
Breckin:  No.  She usually sits far away on the rug.
Me:  Do you go to work stations together?
Breckin:  No.  She doesn't play trains or legos and the time I tried to go to listening center, she told me to go back to trains.
Me:  So, how is she your girlfriend?  What does she do to be your girlfriend?
Breckin:  Oh, she doesn't know yet.  I tried to say hi every year (he's still caught up on the day/week/year differential.  they all substitute for each other) but she never says hi back or talks to me.
Me:  Got it.




Breckin:  Mommy.  Wanna play tool bench?
Me:  Sure.  What tool do I get?
Breckin:  The suggestable jaw wrench.
Me:  I think that's an adjustable jaw wrench.
Breckin:  Right.  Suggestable. 
Now you say what I wrote outloud.  It's totally a suggestable jaw wrench. 

Just like toysker (turquoise), trundeval (I don't even know what this is, really, but it's any large bridge with railings on the side), festibal (festival), fief (theif), and brefixt (breakfast).   

Ask and you shall receive.

Don't specify, and you get what you get.  Case in point:
I wrote on Facebook the other day about how I didn't have any stories or quotes or happenings for the blog.  Either stuff was happening but I didn't feel like it was newsworthy or nothing was really going on here and my entire family and I were comatose for 8 days.  Probably the former but you never know.  Sure enough, last night, Breckin busted out with one of his many charms.  Using inappropriate words.

The Doofenschmirtz back story is that we were supposed to have a playdate with some neighbor kids (Kellen and Mikah), they wanted to play outside, Breckin did not, had a meltdown, went inside, all kids followed him.  Playdate commences in our house.  All is well.  Kellen and Mikah are asked if they'd like to stay for dinner (even though we are having cheeseburgers and- SIT DOWN FOR THIS ONE- 1) they haven't really ever had cheeseburgers and 2)  DO NOT like them after trying them)  I digress.  Ok, so, here's where small child inappropriateness occurs. 

Well, sort of.  The rest of the Doofenschmirtz back story is this.  Tiki LOVES- like makes it her daily hobby- to step or lay or sit down right in front of your next step.  And, while she was previously sleeping 10 nanoseconds ago and your leg is already in mid-stride and somehow she appears out of thin air to lie back down right where your foot was going to go.  Now and then, Dustin says "Crap, Tiki.  Move it."  But, she's big and doofy and kinda does whatever she pleases and makes a big scene of being asked to move nap spots. 

So, anyway, Breckin is getting utensils. Gets up from his chair.  Tiki appears out of thin air to stand right between him and the utensil drawer.  And, my mini-Dustin says "Crap."  Not loudly.  Not for show.  But with the tone, body language, and annoyance that only comes with someone who's worked behind a desk for 10 years and has to pay insurance bills and mow the lawn instead of golf.  And, what do I do with all of my well-versed parenting skills?  Bust up laughing.  Almost spit out my root beer.  Laugh out loud and with no restraint.  Cause the vision of a small child saying a simple word like crap with the understanding of his father is down right hilarious. 

Then, Dustin says "did he just say crack?"  Oh no.  So I laugh harder at the sight of my baby saying CRAP.  So, Breckin says it again cause he thinks it's funny that I'm laughing.  Dustin laughs.  CRAP again.  Dustin, in mid snort, says "You really shouldn't laugh.  Get serious."  Uh huh.  Kellen and Mikah don't know whether to laugh cause we're laughing or stay serious cause saying crap when you're 5 isn't really ok.  They are the only ones holding it together.  Dustin hides behind the kitchen counter until he is done laughing.  I pretend to look for stuff in the pantry until I'm done.  And, since we have resumed our parental status upon returning to the table, dinner carries on. 

But, damn it's funny to hear your kid say crap.  And mean it like a man. 

Stuff we say

Breckin:  Mommy, what's your favorite store?
Me:  Um, I think it's Nordstrom Rack or Joann's.
Breckin:  What's your store that's really the most not your favorite?

Man, least favorite would have been so much easier.

Me:  (knowing this is going to get a reaction AND it's darn near true)  Toys R Us.  Toys are so boring.  I would never go there again.
Breckin:  long pause  giving me a very serious look that I'm sure he learned from me   Mommy, if you ever say that again, I'm going to knock you in the middle of next week.




After coming home from a park trip, Breckin was beyond his limit.  We turned on Phineas and Ferb, got a snack, and he watched with half mast eyes.  After finishing his apples slices and drinking two cups of ice water, he sort of fell asleep- lightly- until the show was over.  As soon as the TV clicked off, he literally leapt up from the couch, grabbed his new blue knight's cape, his fireman's axe, and ran down the hallway- screaming at the top of his lungs- I'M A CRAZY MANS.  I'M A CRAZY MANS.  Dude, what happened to being tired? 





Breckin:  Mommy.  This is serious.  You need to call Officer Mark right now.  Someone is parked in the wheelchair spot here and it's not a wheelchair.  It's a car.
Me:  Oh, no, buddy.  Those spots aren't for wheelchairs.  They are for people that may have wheelchairs or have trouble walking so they need to park close to the door.
Breckin:  Oh.  When Daddy is old he will have a wheelchair so we can park in that spot. 



And, keep reading cause Dustin is playing NCAA on the xbox so I had plenty of time to post three lovely blog entries all at the same time.
 

The Sky

Alright, now I've done it.  I've made my son look like a fool at school.  Not cool.  Mom's don't rule.  And, that's enough of that...  Good lord, I'm getting off topic in the first sentence.

Ok, so here's glimpse into one of the many fascinating conversations Breckin and I have had in the car on the way home from preschool.  Remember that car commercial where the dad is seatbelting his little girl in the back and she's blabbering on about ponies and glitter and he walks around the car to get in and she's still talking and he just smiles and nods and inserts a "uh-huh" every now and then?  That's my daily life.  If you ever want some entertainment- or vouch for my silly anecdotes- ride in a car with Breckin.  He talks nonstop about anything and everything and if it gets too silent, he makes a weird noise and laughs. 

Again, I digress.  So, a while back, Breckin started asking about the sky. 

Breckin:  Mommy, does the sky start at the tops of our heads, at the top of the trees, or at the top of the skyscrapers?

I hate these kind of questions because there's not really an answer and I have to think fast and chances are, I'll be wrong.  And, to every question Breckin asks, he follows it with Really?  Is that a yes?  Is that for real?  Like he knows I'm BSing but if he just asks enough, it'll make it real.

Me:  Well, see how you can see the sky way up there?  points to the overcast
Breckin:  Yep.  But, where does it start?
Me:  I think it starts all around us down here but we just can't see it.  I'm thinking it's too early to bust out the word atmosphere but I can't think of a better way to explain the sky
Breckin:  So does it start at the top of Tiki's head?
Me:  It kinda just starts from the ground up and goes as far as you can see up there.  We just call the place where the clouds are the sky cause no one really thinks about the sky around us.
Breckin:  So, I walk through the sky every day?  Chase said we can't walk on sky.

Oh cripes.  Now we're getting into metaphysical stuff and I really don't want to explain that.

Me:  Well, we aren't walking on the sky, we are walking on the ground but the sky is everywhere. 
Breckin:  For reals?
Me:  Yep.
Breckin:  Is that true?
Me:  Yes.
Breckin:  Is that yes?
Me:  That's a yes, buddy.

Ok, fast forward to yesterday at school.  The kids are playing some stretching game out in the field while waiting for their turn on the slip N slide.  Miss Suzi (thank God I have a good relationship with her and she tells me stories about Breckin every day) says "Reach down to the ground."  Ok, "Reach up to the sky."

All the kids reach their arms up as high as they can and stand on their tip toes to reach into the nothingness of sky.  Not Breckin.  He sticks his arms straight out, winds them around in circles, and swoops them down to his toes.  The other kids laugh, Miss Suzi tells him to pay attention and reach up to the sky.  He says "Mommy says the sky is all around us so I'm reaching all around me."

Mommy forgot to tell him to just reach up high when he's told but take that, Miss Suzi.  Next time you'll have to get creative and tell them to reach up to the clouds.  I promise I won't tell him about low level fog in the mornings....

True Story.

Breckin had Hope over for a playdate last night.  She hasn't been over to play in FOREVER and he was bored with me telling him that I would play with him as soon as the dinner dishes were done so he walked down the street (with me standing on the sidewalk- no, he's not big enough to go scouting the 'hood ALL by himself) and asked if she could come over. 

They had a great time.  They play VERY well together.  And, she doesn't mind playing trains and he doesn't mind playing house so it worked out well.  Here's what Dustin heard:

Hope:  Honey, I'm home from work.  Now I have to go to the gym.

Here's what I heard a little later:

Breckin:  I'll be out in the garage building a deck.
Hope:  Do you want waffles for dinner, honey?
Breckin:  Oh, yes!  Thanks!  I love brefixt for dinner.  Here's $3.

So, I don't know if he thinks Dustin has to pay for dinner or if he switched to restaurant mode.  Either way, their little exchange is hilarious and VERY accurate to their respective homes.  Minus the paying for dinner part.  Although, I think I should start charging... that could be lucrative.  ;)


Want another True Story?

I think all of the essentials have heard by now: parents, co-workers, boss, girlfriends, Ella's Supernanny.  My last day as a paid employee will be July 30th.  I will be resuming my post as Stay At Home Mom. 

Breckin will be home with me for the month of August then he's off to half-day Kindergarten in Sept.  It was a tough decision and without going into our financial spreadsheet, it's what works for us at this point.  That's all I'll say about it but instead of broke, working, and stressed we will be broke, 1/2 home, and happy.  I love couponing and finding new recipes so this will be a test of stretching the grocery dollar and finding the best free playground in the local area. 

My parents did a lot more with a lot less when I was a small child so I know it can be done.  Honestly, although I'll dearly miss my coworkers and adult time during the day, I won't miss worrying about Ella's milestones escaping me and losing the precious time of playing pretend and enjoying the carefree youth of my babies.  Everything happens for a reason and I'm just rolling with this one...   

We've created a monster

This is a long one.  Bear with me.

Dustin and I are avid WSU Cougar fans.  We went there, met there, graduated from there, and most of our closest friends are also shameless fans of the Cougs.  For crying out loud, our college slogans are:
Win or lose, we drink more booze.
Our drinking team has a football problem.

Our cheerleading team is kind of a joke.  Every dozen years or so we end up with a good team.  Somewhere in sports.  We look forward to those early season football games against Southern Methodist or NorthEast Michigan United College of the Arts (<--- I made that one up) because we know we might have a shot at winning.  We spend the rest of the football season carefully calculating which teams we think we will beat and usually end up allowing ourselves a 2-10 or 3-9 season.  Optimistically.

We wear our colors more often, in more places, and for no good reason other than the fact that being stranded 300 miles from a city in the middle of wheat fields tends to bring people together.

We have encouraged the rivalry between WSU and UW in our household since before it was even a household.  And, Dustin and I are- by no means- the most rabid Coug fans we know.  Not even close.  And, yet somehow, by hanging out with these people, the rivalry has rubbed off on Breckin.  He's been around watching football games with us, Bobby, Bull, the girls, and Uncle G since he was born.  He knows that Derek and Kait root for the other team and we should say boo.  But, today's events...... I don't know.  They kinda warmed my heart.  They kinda freaked me out.

On our way to the zoo (yes, I know, what about a lovely blog post recounting the zoo trip?  No.  I can't.  Not after this.) we have to drive past the college campus of the University of Washington.  We start up the slight hill on I-5 North bound, just past Lakeview Blvd., where the top of the U is coming into view.  Breckin sees the office building formerly known as the Safeco Tower.  He sees that it is emblazoned with a giant purple W and the words "University of Washington."  And, then.  This conversation.

Breckin:  Mommy.  I know what I want to be when I grow up.
Me:  Oh, yeah?  What's that?  (we've had a string of these conversations lately so I'm used to it)
Breckin:  I want to be a crane truck driver with a huge wrecking ball on it so I can drive that truck all through that town down there.  See that big tower?  That's the bad W and I want to knock it down and flush it down the toilet.  I will SMASH right into it with my wrecking ball!
Me:  Yeah!  That's awesome buddy!  I mean, NO!  Honey, you can't just knock buildings down.  We don't want anyone to get hurt!  We might be rivals, buddy, but we can't just knock their stuff down.  That would hurt their feelings.

Me, internally:  Wow.  This kid gets it but is already crossing the line.  I can't believe I just cheered him on as my initial response.  I love that he is feeling the rivalry but I have to discourage terrorist behavior before he takes some kid out on the playground for wearing that big purple W.  Foreshadowing?  Maybe.  It does my heart good, however, to hear his passion for the underdogs.

Breckin:  Oh, ok.  But they shouldn't wear that W with that purple.
Me:  Yeah, I know hon.  It only bothers us because they are our rival- they aren't really villains or bad guys.  It's just about the schools and the sports.

Me, internally:  Phew.  Maybe that diverted his energy and redeemed my motherly skills.  Remind me to tell our adult friends to tone it down during the next Apple Cup.  Wait, nah.  Nevermind.  THAT'S not going to happen.

Moving on.  Great day at the zoo.  Kids are fantastic, well behaved, and Breckin made Ella squeal with delight during our lunch break.  Everyone around us groaned with parental approval.  And, on our way out of the Zoomazium play place at the end of the trip......

Breckin (to some poor kid, probably 6 or 7 yrs old, on his way into the play thing):  Hey!  That boy is wearing purple!  Mommy, he's one of THEM!  He has that big W on his shirt.  Hey guy!  I'm going to flush you down the toilet.  Wolves are stinky!  Go Cougs!  (He still thinks wolves and huskies are the same thing.)
Me:  Breckin!  That's not nice to say.  He can cheer for whoever he wants.

Me, internally:  His father has gotten to him.  Dammit, Bobby and Dustin and Clark.  That's enough.  Wait- no- it just needs to be redirected.  He needs the preschool version of cheering for the Cougs.... not the drunk Vegas version.  I'm mortally embarrassed because even though we talk this way amongst our friends, I really don't want my kid taking it to heart like this.  It's just not as cute coming from a five year old.  I promise, we are not creating a terrorist.

The kid's Dad:  Husband a Coug or you?
Me:  Nods sheepishly.  Yeah, we both are.  Sorry 'bout that.
The kid's Dad:  Hey, don't worry about it.  Sounds like your little guy is off to the right start- just for the wrong team.  Grins, grabs his son, and walks away.
Me:  Thanks.  Have a great evening

Me, internally:  Hmmm.  If some kid shouted Go Huskies at Breckin, I'd encourage him to turn around and say Go Cougs right back.  Thank God we had our first Clark moment in the company of someone who appreciates the rivalry and can take it with a grain of salt.

I think I'll be encouraging Breckin to keep his NCAA pride contained to football games in the future 'cause you never know if the person on the other end is as forgiving.  

Breckin, meet your match

On Tuesday nights, Dustin has bowling league.  So, it's up to me to provide dinner for one carefree adult, one exhausted child, and one relentlessly happy baby.  It's up to me to entertain said group and it's usually up to me to put those three to bed.  Unless, one some occassions, Dustin gets home earlier than bedtime and stirs the sleepy pot with Daddy excitement. 

Last night, this carefree adult, partially exhausted child, and happy baby chose hot dogs and mac N cheese for dinner.  Don't knock it- everyone was fed and pleased.  Then, because the sun appeared, we wanted to play outside.  At the tube slide park.  Up the hill.  Cool.

I didn't want to have an aching back (silly, me) so I thought, hey!  Why don't I stick Ella in the front seat of the double stroller w/o her car seat so she can see where we are going and not get so hot in that thing?  Great!  Bust out the stroller, get Ella set up, Breckin jumps on the back running board and away we go. 

Two houses down.

We invite Kellen and Mikah along with us- the more the merrier at the park, I say.  They play so well together... I'd take them anywhere.  Except, my master plan of alleviating my back gets trashed.  All three of the age 5+ children hopped on the running board together.  Superfun!  Folks, that's 150 lbs + of children.  Plus the 20 lb one up front.  Plus the 20 lb stroller.  Dammit- why didn't I just strap the Ergo on and make Breckin walk?

I don't know but up the hill we go.  Up and up and up the hill.  Breckin says "Yay!  We are finally there!"  Kellen says "I thought we weren't going to make it in time for my bedtime."  Oh, Kellen.  Go play, sweetie.  Mommy's arms are no longer attached and I can't feel my calves.

Play play play.  Everyone had a great time.  We leave at 7:55.  Everyone hopped back on for the ride back- downhill is just fine for an overloaded stroller.  In fact, it's more fun cause it feels like it's out of control.  Whee!

Breckin:  We should have a playdate.  I like playing with Kellen and Mikah.
Kellen:  We don't want to have too much excitement.  When I get exhausted like that, I just fall asleep.

Seriously?  That's pretty wise thinking for a 5 year old.  I don't think Breckin meant right that minute- maybe a later date.  But, it's words like those for why I love Kellen and think he's such a good match for Buddy.  They bust out with some of the funniest things I've heard and they are both comfortable with punching each other in the middle of the back like it's the greatest form of love.  Kellen, I'd take you to the park anyday.

I like different perspectives

So, I'm pretty comfortable with my version of faith.  It's taken a lot of years and a lot of different churches to put my faith together but I like where it's at.  I'm not going to get into The Christian-ish History of Holly right now but let me just say this:
              Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the garage makes you a car.

Thanks for that one, Mom.  It's true.  That combined with "I'll call him God but you can call him/her/it Buddha, Muhammed, Brahma, Tao, etc" basically sums up my views.  I'm not monotheistic.  I like what a lot of religions have to say and I think a lot of them are saying the same thing.  It's a damn shame that we let semantics get in the way.

Intense, huh?  I don't mean it to be a heavy subject, per se.  And, I ran across this via a Facebook status of an old friend (yeah, Danny Clark, I just called you old). 

            Christianity Definition: The belief that some cosmic Jewish zombie can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present because some rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.

Now, if that doesn't sound funny, I don't know what does.  Can't we all get a little perspective from that one?  Doesn't it sound ridiculous when put that way?

What do you believe?  Can you handle it when others re-word something so sacred into something so trivial?  I can.  I think it's hilarious. 

Leave a comment on this one.  Let's start a grown-ups conversation about it.  I'd like to know what you think whether I've known you forever or just met you via the Mommy Blogger world.  Nothing mean, nothing rude, and for the love of God- don't take anything personally.  Go!

Breckin's version of Two Little Blackbirds

This isn't a long, drawn out story.  It's not really even a story.  It's commentary on how Breckin views life and his version of things.

We were listening to quite possibly the most grating children's album I've ever heard.  On repeat.  One of the songs is the children's classic- Two Little Blackbirds.  You know, two little blackbirds sat on a hill.  One named Jack.  One named Jill.  Fly away Jack.  Fly away Jill.  Blah blah blah.

He sings in his best voice along to this one-
                       Two little fatbirds sat on a hill.  One named Jack.  One named Bill. 
Straight faced.  Looking out the window just singing along as if these are the actual words.

I'm not sure if he heard Bill instead of Jill or if he just thinks it should say Bill.  If maybe the birds are fishing buddies- might have a bit of a beer belly and just hanging out together on the top of a hill.  Or, if Jack and Bill are the modern, same-sex partner version of Jack and Jill.  Either way, I like it.

I cracked up after hearing him sing the entire song with Jack and Bill.  He looked at me and started laughing and said, why are you laughing, mommy?  I told him I thought the song was funny.  Now he wants to hear it OVER and OVER and OVER. 

I liked Bill at the beginning.  Now, if I have to hear about Jack and Bill one more time, I might poke myself in the eyeball with a spoon. 

What else does Breckin misinterpret? 

• He calls Goodwill-   Goodwhale.
• He calls Burger King-   King Burgers (and wonders if McDonalds is the Queen).
• He thinks every car that drives by with a window decal of a Transformer is actually a Transformer and wants me to follow them until they transform.  He saw the axle of a large truck that had a Decepticon sticker and still swears that that was the truck's face tucked down.
• He seriously thinks McDonald's is Scottish food because that was our code for it when Dustin and I had to talk about it in front of him and now he's caught on.
• He has no concept that people grow up and leave their parents' house.  He thinks our house is his and someday Dustin and I will leave.  (That might be true if he never actually leaves...  just kidding.)
• Turquoise = Toysker.  And, I won't correct this one just yet.  I love it.

I'm sure there's more.  Leave a note if you can think of one that I left off....

A Letter to No One

Dear Zumba,

I heart you.  I love how nervous I was to start going to your classes but five minutes into the very first one, I remembered the feeling of dancing like this.  Zumba, you bring back my memories of the Valhalla at 12:45 am circa 2001 as well as my memories of The Club Bellevue Solid Gold Dancers way back in 1998.  I'm pretty sure I haven't shook my a$$ like I do in your class without some liquid courage EVER and the fact that I can now do this two times a week, makes me proud.   

The Zumba Gods have given me your best instructor, Jessica.  She is a mom like me and she doesn't show up with a body by Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.  She shows up with a real woman's body and can shimmy like no one's business.  We blast Shakira, Black Eyed Peas, random tribal African drum beats, and a myriad of FAST, reggae-inspired, slightly-flamenco-dancerish rhythms that would make Snooki pump her Jersey little fist til she fell down. 

I am literally dripping sweat half way into my Zumba boogies and I LOVE it.  I hate running.  I semi-despise Step aerobics class.  I hate boot camp type stuff.  I want to work out and not know I'm working out.  Zumba, I heart you the most cause I have gone from still wearing maternity clothes in February to wearing a SIZE 6 today.  Size 6.  Last week I was a size 8.  I could give a crap about the weight number behind it cause as long as I feel good in my clothes, I'm happy.  Granted, this size 6 pant is not from Abercrombie or American Eagle for people with no hips or rear end.  This is a mom-cut, natural-waist, roomy in the seat, Cutter & Buck size 6 but I'll take it. 

Zumba, I love you.  Sometimes, when we dance, I feel like Baby when she's walking down that white fence wearing her oh-so-cute denim shorts and doing a dance all by herself.  I find myself humming the Zumba tunes in the shower and washing my hair while salsaing.  I wish each and every one of my girlfriends could meet you and fall in love like I have.  I will forever be grateful to you, Zumba, for giving me back my body and filling me with the confidence that only dancing and sweating-your-face-off exercise can.  I look forward to Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings and only wish I could go more than that.       

Til next time,
Holly

Mmmmm. Food. (And, a funny conversation)

Although I don't do it as often as I'd like, I really enjoy cooking.  Last night, I made one of my absolute favorite recipes.  It's a Thai Chicken Salad with naan or nann or non or whatever the hell that Indian bread is called.  The salad hails from my much-loved, well-worn, tomato-sauce-splattered cookbooks:  Biggest Loser Family Cookbook.  It requires a lot of chopping and several different measuring spoons (which I can NEVER find cause Breckin thinks they are great as drum sticks/bath tub toys/hot wheel launchers) but you know what?  I'm finding that most mouthwatering recipes are the ones that involve a long grocery list and lots of chopping. 

I'm currently- like just spilled some cilantro on my keyboard- eating the left-overs of this salad and DAMN it's good.  Here's the ingredients:  Ground chicken, EVOO ::Holla Coeur d'A Olive Oil Company!:: , mint, cilantro, honey, garlic, ginger, chili powder, pepper, carrots, onions, cashews, and lettuce.  Combine them in various stages to make a dressing/cooking sauce, bowl o' salad, and hot, ground chicken.  I can't tell you the exact directions cause a) that would violate something and b) I don't have it right now.  A big, huge portion that I can't usually finish is 300 cals.  Yum diddly dum. 

Trust me, it's good.  If you only have room for one more cookbook on your shelf, seriously, go get one of the Biggest Loser books.  Their food is phenom and they really are pretty easy to make.  I pull about three meals a week from those suckers and they are good every.single.time.  For reals.  Tell me when you're coming over and I'll cook you some.  I heart dinner parties and any reason to cook something healthy and delish.  Let's make it a date.  You + The Armstrongs = Dinner time fun. 



Oh, ok.  I promised a conversation, too.  Here's the latest Words from the Mouths of Babes.

Breckin:  Mommy, guess what?  Chase I'll insert a vague name to protect the guilty Charlie's mom, Coach Julie Janie, let him drink lum.

Me:  Lum?  You mean rum?

Breckin:  No.  Llllll um (heavy accent on the L to show me he knows exactly what he's talking about).

Me:  What's lum?

Breckin:  You know, the stuff that pirates hide on deserted islands in treasure boxes.

(wait, when did Breckin see Pirates of the Carribean?  Cause I sure as hell didn't show him.)

Me:  Oh.  That's not really a kid's drink.  You won't be trying lum.

Breckin:  I know.  He said it tastes like the sink pipes.

Alright.  Who can identify the major problem here?  The fact that a 5 year old tried lum?  The fact that he tattled on his mommy to his friends at school and now the whole PTA probably knows?  The fact that my child knows that pirates hide lum on islands?  No.  The fact that the kid related LUM to the SINK PIPES.  Why, on God's green Earth, does a 5 year old know what the sink pipes taste like?  Nevermind.  I don't want to know.

McFatty takes a Holiday

I really shouldn't be posting cause today is hectic so I'll keep it brief.

I cleaned some stuff.  I mean, I looked through the piles and resorted them into different piles that made more sense.  I made two bags of stuff disappear- one to the local dump, one to Goodwill.  I found that I have two totally empty storage bins and now I have anxiety over what to put in them- what precious things will get a new, dust-free home?  I have more scrapbook paper than humanly possible and my storage bins are ::this much too small:: to hold 12x12 paper so it's currently filed on the floor.  But, I went in the room and made baby steps of progress.  Consider this week equivalent to a 1 lb loss.... enough to motivate and feel like I'm actually doing it, but not enough to feel successful. 

In other news, and maybe it should have it's own post, so I'll insert a post title here....

Ella says stuff and I grasp at straws to think it was intentional.

When I change Ella's diaper, to keep her from reaching down and grabbing ahold of dirty yuckies, I give her a plush baby doll to hold onto.  I usually hold the doll above her face, say Baby Doll in the most embarrassing, goo goo voice possible, and snuggle the doll into her waiting arms.  She squeals/screams every time she sees the thing cause she gets sooooo excited.  It keeps her occupied and she has some lovely conversations with her Baby Doll.  Mostly, she eats her hat. 

Well, on Saturday, I put Ella on the changing table after she woke up.  She's squirmy and giggly and generally happy about life.  And then.  She babbles.  She says Da Da Da Da repeatedly and waves her arms around like she's trying to flag down a taxi.  Her consonant is very clear.  Da.  I repeat it back to her a few times thinking she's funny and grab her Baby Doll to distract her.  She sees the Doll.  She SCREAMS Da and squeals loud enough to rival any Beatlemania fan.  Did she just say Doll?  Really?  She damn near bites Doll's head off in all of her excitement. 

I didn't mention it to anyone cause I must be crazy to think my 6 mos old tried to talk.  But, I can't stop thinking about it.  She's seen her Doll since then and hasn't said Da Da Da.  What do you think?  Of course, I can't remember when Breckin first spoke.... I mean, I'm a mom and have severe mom brain.  I know his first word was ball... I just don't know when he said it. 

I'll let you know if it happens again.... sheesh.

The 10 Bad Words

Breckin is starting to learn that sometimes we do stuff even if we don't like to or want to.  It's a hard concept for adults, I'm surprised he's catching on so fast and does stuff when he doesn't want to.  The most common "Don't Want To" things are TBall (cause he thinks he's not good!!!), the dentist, the doctor, washing his hair, and standing in line at stores.  But, he also thinks bad words are the greatest things on Earth, even though he knows he can't say them.  It's never made the blog before but, Breckin used to have an issue with blurting the F word out just to get a reaction.  It's pretty hard not to laugh at a small, just-turned-3 yr old who murmurs f*** at the end of story time while he's wearing Thomas the Tank Engine jammies and cuddling with his stuffed zebra.  Somehow, Dustin and I managed to keep our stern faces and remind him that words like that are ugly and they hurt Jesus's feelings.  He loves going to chapel so it worked.  We haven't heard it from him in almost 2 years.....

And, then.  This conversation. 

Breckin:  Mommy, I had this marble maze at school and it has a pink flusher on the top and Chase and I had five marbles and when we stood up and dropped them, they funked down through.  (Funk is his new fav sound/not-so-word when stuff falls)  Funk.  They funked down through.  F***.  Sheepishly looks up at me.
Me:  Hey.  You know better.  That word is not ok in this house and it's just one of those words that we don't say.
Breckin:  Mommy, wouldn't it be cool if bad words were good words and good words were bad words?
Me:  No way, dude, cause there are loads more good words than bad words and then we'd be stuck with not much to say.
Breckin:  Like how many?
Me:  Well, there are 50 Hundred (it's the biggest number when you're 4) good words and only, like, 10 bad ones.
Breckin:  Holds out his fingers to count them and quietly whispers   Stupid, Hell, Shut Up, Dumb, F***,
Me:  Ok, whoa buddy, we don't need to say them to know what they are.  Let's just use the good ones, ok?

He was really going to count the ten worst things he could think of.  Why can't Daddy handle some of these conversations?  How else can I tell him that those words are not good- is there really a reason why that kids would understand?  All I can say to him is they just aren't good.  Anyone have a better reason?