Instructions from Your Mom

We have things at our home that we teach our son because we feel they are important life lessons. Right now he's a child and those things we impart to him are things like "Brush your teeth twice a day", "Wash your hands", "Put the toilet lid down everytime", "Share", "Listen to your teachers". Just basic things to make sure our son grows up to be an upstanding and healthy young man when we ship him off to college in 14 1/2 years.

Last night I was ironing and watching the news. Suddenly I realized we needed to ammend our other list of things to teach our child once he does go off to college and sets out on his own. I want to make sure all of the foundational things we teach him help him become a polite and responsible man. This isn't a final list of things we need to go over with him when he enters adulthood, but just a few important things, and two new things we needed to add after watching the news last night.

• Wear sunscreen every time you go outside for a long period of time.
• Always hold the door open for ladies. No matter what they look like.
• Never try to beat a moving train across the tracks. The train wins and you don't want to try to prove Mama wrong on this one.
• There's always someone worse off than you are. Find them and help them.
• Before you decide to go and protest a war you need to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with Poppy on Vietnam or with Uncle Jonathan on Iraq.
• Vote whether its the Presidential election or a schoolboard election because both are important.
• Wear your seatbelt and make everyone in the car with you put theirs on.
• When you are getting married and the minister says "for richer, for poorer" you just keep in mind that "poorer" is going to happen a whole lot earlier and more often than the "richer" part.
• Electricity, haircuts, and medical operations are things that need to be handled by professionals.
• If you're ever in the French Quarter in New Orleans and you see a weather radar that shows a large, red and purple circular mass headed for you, drop the beignets and whatever else and evacuate. Immediately.
• If you're ever in the French Quarter and don't take the above advice and instead I see you, the child I delivered into this world, on CNN holding a beignet in one hand and a hurricane drink in the other, telling the Hurricane to "bring it on" you had better hope and pray that Hurricane gets to you before Mama does. The hurricane may head east at the last minute and spare your life - but I won't.

So there's the beginning of the list of things Chris and I need to remember to teach Wilson as he enters manhood. It's just a start...

Football Season

I'll admit it - I never sat down and watched a football game until Chris and I were engaged. I used to be the one Chris watched Monday night football with. We used to make popcorn and eat chips and cheer on our teams. Then Wilson was born and I was demoted to the refresment retriever. I don't mind. I love football and basketball season because I get to watch the boys sit and cheer for their favorite team.

So here they are cheering on their Cowboys in their chair, preparing for the regular season. They really are just too cute. So I've been replaced as Chris' football buddy, but I don't think he could have picked a better replacement.

Wilson took his bath, put on his Superman pjs, and now he's ready to armchair quarterback with Chris.

It's past Wilson's bedtime, but football with Daddy is a special occasion.

Go Cowboys.

Ready for the regular season to start.

Fun With Names

"What are you going to name the baby?" Well, I'm not telling you because that wouldn't be as much fun as the cool photo game I have for you! (Chris is working and I'm bored on a Saturday night.) I've disabled the comments on the pictures because some of you know and some of you would suggest that they aren't good names - here's the thing, I don't care if it's not your personal favorite name because I've already had one kiddo and I'm not phased by opinion. That's great thing #3001 about your second child.

The first name is the same boy or girl and I think we've made it pretty easy to figure that name out. In 2002 it was our "leftover" name from Wilson - it came down to two and we went with the family name for our first born. So we just decided to use it this time. The others are ideas for middle names. One may be pretty hard to guess.

Now, as is the case with pregnant women, I reserve the right to change my mind. But I am not open to suggestions, Mom, so Isabella is out, family name or not. :)

First Name - boy or girl. Some of you already know. Some of you will not like the name - too bad. Have your own kid. :)

Middle Name 1 - no, it's not "river". The trick here is that the name is what this place is, which none of you will get... Well, maybe Ginny will. She's an English major.

Middle Name 2

Epiphany

Epiphany - "...was given currency as a critical term by James Joyce, who used it to designate an event in which the essential nature of something - a person, a situation, an object - was suddenly perceived. It is thus an intuitive grasp of reality achieved in a quick flash of recognition in which something, usually simple and commonplace, is seen in a new light, and as Joyce says, "its soul, its whatness leaps to us from the vestment of its appearance." This sudden insight is the epiphany." (Harmon 191).

It happened to me. Here's a dialog from a dinnertable, a commonplace thing, between two individuals, very commonplace in their beings:

"How was your day at school?"
"Bad."
"What happened?"
"_S_ and I had a fight."
"What did you and _S_ fight about?"
"Nothing."
"Well, what was it?"
"Nothing. I'm just mad."
"Did you do something to _S_?"
"No."
"Did _S_ do something to you?"
"Look, I'm just mad."
"Well, tell me what happened."
"Mom, just eat your dinner ok. We'll talk about this later."

Typical mother and child dialog, right? Except the child here is a three and a half year old boy who happens to be mine, and I am the nosey mom told to "eat your dinner" - childspeak for "mind your own business". So I was left, mouth opened in silent shock, over my black beans, rice, and cheesy enchilada.

Epiphany happened at 7:30 pm on August 18th, 2005 over a kitchen table filled with a homecooked meal in Fort Worth, Texas: My child is his own individual and he is growing up.

Chris was no help. He just hid behind his dinner napkin to hide his silent laughter. I would have laughed to - if Wilson had told Chris to eat his dinner. But it was me. It wasn't funny.

My parenting magazine this month addresses issues parents face with their children. I checked the 3-4 age range issues - sharing, naptime, picky eaters. Nothing about how to handle it when you've become a nosey mom. In fact, that wasn't even covered until the 10-12 age range, along with how to handle your child's first crush. I'm discontinuing my subscription. This magazine was not written with my son in mind.

Over time I did manage to get Wilson to open up (lime sherbert in case you ever run into this with your own 3 1/2 year old - and I won't charge you a fee to read that in a magazine). It appears someone made a hissing cat nose at someone else and from there it was just a bad day on the playground bridge. But I realized that the best days of parenting are what I'm having right now with Peanut - I know exactly where he/she is at all times. I know he/she is getting enough to eat. I know without a doubt that he/she is warm enough. I don't have to worry about bad people getting him/her. I don't have to worry that he/she may get his/her heartbroken today or tomorrow. Peanut is not getting mad or hurt about a hissing cat incident on the playground bridge. This is as easy as parenting ever gets, and I finally understand that this 2nd time around. The first go-round I just wanted to get the baby out in the real world where I could see him and, well, get my body back (which doesn't happen, just in case you're wondering). This time I'm not so eager to get to the delivery date.

They will tell you all the things you need to bring to the hospital to deliver and take home a baby. They will not tell you that suddenly the world becomes increasingly unsafe for that child in your eyes. And they do not tell you that one day you will have an epiphany that you have to begin to let go of your baby from the day of his/her birth. I can't control Wilson's environment, but I am finding some solice and peace in knowing that I have prayer, love to give him, and, of course, lime sherbert.

Harmon, William, and C. Hugh Holman. _A_Handbook_to_Literature_. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1996.

Premeditated Housekeeping?

The only person I know who hates attention more than I do is my dear friend Lesley... So this goes out to her for the worst case of Premeditated Housekeeping I have ever been witness to.

To start off, I met Lesley through e-mail before she, her husband, and two darling children moved to Fort Worth from Johannesburg, South Africa. I had no idea what a darling friend I would make and I consider myself very fortunate to have her and her family become such and important part of my life.

While we were out of town at "The Reunion" Lesley was kind enough to watch the animals and the mail while we were gone. Lesley never fails to help us out with the animals and the mail - no small chore considering the amount of pets we have and the kind of mail we get (who wants important mail to Chris from the President of the United States sitting in their mailbox for days - see "Wilson's House Guest" if you're confused...).

The last couple of days before we left I really let the housework go. I mean GO. My mother would be embarrassed if she knew what it looked like before we left. Typically our house is clean, but we were running late for our trip, it was too hot, I'm pregnant, and I figured Lesley is the kind of friend I'm comfortable with to the point where I don't scramble to clean for her. Those, by the way, are the best kind of friends, ones you don't clean for because that means they are truly loved and truly your friends.

So we came home Sunday. I know about Santa. I know about the Tooth Fairy. I was not acquainted with the Amazing South African Pet Sitter. Not only does this person of myth, "ASAPS" actually exist, but she does way more than watch your pets and bring in your mail. The laundry was done - cleaned and folded. The living room was clean. The kitchen, which on Friday looked like it was the scene of a COPS raid, had a clean sink, clean counters, clean dished, and had a wonderful, clean, antiseptic smell.

We thanked Lesley for all of her hard work and for her love. I thought we had seen all of "ASAPS"'s handiwork. And then, this afternoon I saw it. My stove.

Those metal things under your burners on the stove - mine, which had been blackened and nasty, despite my best scrubbing and soaking efforts, were POLISHED. I could see my baffled expression reflected back at me. I called Chris in to show him. Chris shook his head in disbelief and said "This was premeditated housekeeping. She didn't just straighten up incidentally, she premeditated cleanliness here."

To my darling friend - I don't know how you did it, and I'm not sure why you did it, but I do know I can never repay the kindness you've shown to us - and to our stove. And you can never, ever move back to South Africa until you show me how you make burner pans look like chrome...

A Reunion, a Reflection, and a Re-Cap

Hold on to 16 as long as you can
Changes come around real soon, make us women and men.

Oh yeah, life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin is gone
Oh yeah, they say life goes on
Long after the thrill of livin is gone

-"Jack and Diane" by John Cougar Mellancamp

Ah, the Sage from the jukebox - our high school commons area had a jukebox that was usually playing "No Rain" by Blind Melon, but sometimes we were treated to a song with a catchy, if not completely disturbing, refrain like the one above.

We went to Chris' 10 year reunion. It was fine, and we saw some of his friends, said our hellos, caught up with what everyone is doing, had Chris' picture taken with his class, ate dinner, and left early to have a "date" - PawPaw and Nana were watching Wilson for the evening, and a free babysitter that you don't have to worry about always trumps hanging out with people you knew 10 years ago (or in my case, complete strangers). Chris enjoyed seeing everyone and I enjoyed getting to meet people who knew Chris "B.M." - before marriage. However, going to a reunion that isn't yours is a different experience - fun, but different.

My own reunion is supposed to be next month in St. Louis. I will not be attending. For one thing it's at the busiest time for me as I have/get to take enrollment statistics for the fall term. Another thing - it's like $300. And if Chris wants to drop $300 for a dinner and night out with people who are strangers, we should go somewhere exciting to do it, not to my class reunion.

There were nearly 1000 people in my graduating class. I went to college 900 miles away from home - I don't know these people, they don't know me. It's that simple.

Besides that, going back to my song lyrics above - the truth of it is that if you hold on to 16, you're missing out on a lot. Let's figure that average life expectancy here in the U.S. is 77 years. Most of us will live well beyond that, but assuming we are expected to live 77 years and you're holding on to 16, there are 61 years there that you're not enjoying. That's not being very optimistic about 3/4ths of your life.

Speaking for me (since I'm an expert on that subject), 16 was ok, nothing special, but it was fun (I was an exchange student in Spain when I was 16, how could that not be fun?). Since then I went to college, fell in love, got married, had a beautiful child, and I'm expecting my second in 25 weeks. That's just the bottom line, and while I'm not who I was at 16, I don't want to be. Even if I did want to be that person, spending $300 for a high school reunion isn't going to make that happen.

Here's the other thing: That really, really cool, attractive, popular, star football player from high school - well, I can tell you what he looks like 40 years after high school graduation: He's still attractive, but he sleeps in his recliner with one sock on and one sock off. If he does home repair that involves electricity or a chain saw, there's a good chance someone will go to the E.R. He always misses the exit he needs when he's coming home from the airport - and then gets irritated if you laugh about that. He can't figure out how to work the t.v. or dvd player, unless his wife is there. He has three grown children and two grandchildren who think he's still that really cool star athlete, but his eldest daughter knows he cheats by giving her junky bait when the two of them go fishing together. He has moved his kids from apartment to apartment, from state to state, paid a king's ransom in college tuition, and has never complained - to his kids - about that. He probably doesn't think about 1965 much anymore, and there aren't that many cheerleaders lining up to hang out with him (unless you count his youngest daughter, but that was because she needed cash and happened to be a cheerleader). He thinks his grand-daughter is more beautiful than any homecoming queen he ever dated in the 60s. He doesn't play baseball much these days, but he's always there to watch his only son play, or to teach his grandson how to field a grounder. Since I grew up with this man, and since I think he's pretty special, I'll just save my reunion money and take him and my mom out when they visit me in September for my birthday - to say thank you. Just so he knows how special he has become since his 16th birthday on August 16th 1963. Happy birthday Dad.

Wilson's House Guest

Chris was working out of town when Wilson and I came home this evening. I got the mail and Wilson, ever aware of what comes in the mail for some reason, said "What'd we get?" I flipped through the mail - "Water bill, junk mail, and Daddy got a letter." "Who's it from?" "Well, the return address says 'President, George W Bush'".

At this point Wilson looked like those people who have won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Award during half-time at the Super Bowl. He grabbed the letter out of my hands and started jumping up and down saying "President George! President George! President George!"

At this point I will point out to you that you, too, can get a letter where the return address is labeled "President George W Bush". All you need to do is send in a $25 donation to the RNC, and they will send you a request for more money every few weeks. So, really, it is junk mail from the RNC. Wilson can't read, he knows nothing of fundraising - all he knew was in his hands was an envelope to his father that came from the Leader of the Free World. So I played along.

"What do you think President George wants?" I asked. Wilson stopped jumping and screaming. He looked at the prize letter in his possession and then looked up at me "He's coming to our house - THIS WEEKEND!" After he said it quietly once he started getting louder and louder and started the jumping up and down again. Our neighbors, who were outside fixing their car in their driveway, were suddenly very interested in our mail. Not sure if they were "friendly" with the RNC, I ushered Wilson quickly inside so he could call and tell Chris that President George had mailed him a letter to announce he will be visiting us this weekend.

Chris told Wilson we wouldn't be home this weekend - we're going to his 10 year reunion, which should provide us with another somewhat humorus blog entry... So if you're in the neighborhood this weekend and you see a motorcade on our street...

Year-End Review

It may seem strange to reflect on the past year in August, but we work in the educational industry. In education your year goes from August to July, not from January to December. Since our next academic year begins next week we've been reflecting on all of the things that we have done as a family since last summer. So, in photography provided by Chris, I give you our 2004-05 Academic Year in Pictures...

The boys at Baylor - June 2004.

Playing Superman on the couch - July 2004.

Wilson and his idea of a live superhero, his uncle Nate - August 2004

We celebrated Jolene's birthday with the Esterhuizens - later we all got to go to the ER when Brandon fell out of a tree and broke his arm. - September 2004

Our cousins Rob and Lori shared their Baylor season tickets with us, Wilson thinks Rob is really neat (Rob was a football player) but...

...Baylor didn't do so good...- October 2004

The boys went to a motorcycle expo - November 2004.

Chris graduated with his MA degree...

... and was treated to a good laugh courtesy of our good friends in the Registrar's Office - December 2004

My adorable niece Adison was born three weeks early, the cutest little girl in the world - January 2005

Wilson got really sick and threw up on his third birthday...

...so we postponed his party and took the Esterhuizen kids to Build-a-Bear a week later - February 2004.

We celebrated another Easter together - March 2004.

Wilson had fun playing in the rain - April 2004.

And just when we realized our baby had grown up, we found out we were having another one - May 2005.

Dentist Appointment

Wilson went in for his dentist appointment today. No, this wasn't his first trip - he's been going since right before he turned 2. This is a pediatric dentist so the only patients are kids and their office is AWESOME! There are fun movies around to watch, video games to play, neat dental assitants who love kids and make balloon animals, good flavored toothpaste, toys everywhere... It's a dental paradise for kids. This is a FAR cry from my experiences at the dentist as a child. My brother will confirm that the dentist was terrible to go to - and the assistant was a 100 year old woman who hated kids and yelled at the two of us if we wanted to spit out the nasty toothpaste. And she did her best to torture us with the dental tools. Not kid friendly. If I had a dentist like this when I was Wilson's age I would love dentists. I didn't and to this day I think dentists office are the one level of Hell Dante forgot to write about, especially that artifact that used to clean Nathan's and my teeth when Mom took us in for check ups. That woman was pure evil.

Wilson sat still for his cleaning and for his dental x-rays. He did so good. In a year we're going to re-evaluate, but right now he has an underbite which may require a little device that will be put in his mouth until it corrects his bite. That will be all sorts of fun. Especially on the pocketbook.

The aggravation and gripe for the day is that the name I picked out for Peanut was on the marker board no less than 5 times this morning. Too bad. I'm not changing my mind. My sister-in-law has had the same problem with Adison's name, every other little girl appears to be named Adison. Well, fine. Now I have to come up with a clever middle name in case every kid in the classroom has my kid's name.

Naming a child is WAY more painful than actually delivering the child.

Here's the baby - at the left is the head and the profile complete with eye, nose, and mouth. This is a MUCH better sonogram picture than most we've seen where you just have to figure there's a baby somewhere.

Meet My Child - JD Salinger

For those who skipped Freshman English, JD Salinger is the reclusive novelist who wrote Catcher in the Rye. Although hundred of reporters have tried desperately to interview Salinger, he hides, or even runs away, from them to keep his privacy. Salinger is extremely big on his privacy.

We were suppose to have our OBGYN visit this morning to hear Peanut's heartbeat. No go. Peanut, in the doctor's words, "is trying to hide out and doesn't want to be bothered". Same deal as last visit - we were ushered across the hall to the sonogram room to make sure Peanut was still ok and had a heartbeat. He/She does, although it took awhile to see the heart because Peanut was doing all he/she could to get into a position that made it completely impossible. I suppose after awhile, "Peanut Salinger" decided it was best to let us see the heartbeat so we would all just go away and leave him/her alone - which we did, after the nurse snapped a photo of course.

This photo is great because you can actually SEE a profile - little eyelid, nose, mouth. This one is way better than Wilson's was, it just looks like tv static. No, we have no idea what the gender is, but Chris did say this one is just too pretty to be a boy. Although Wilson is pretty too - with those long eyelashes that are completely a waste on a boy. IF we had been able to hear the heartbeat we would have been given the heartrate - some say if the heartrate is fast then you're having a girl. If the heartrate is slow, the thought is you're having a boy. It wouldn't have worked though because Wilson had a high heartrate and he's not a girl.

As great as the picture is - it is expensive. Every time you run across the hall for a sonogram it costs $$$. Insurance helps, but we still end up paying nearly $200. We just got the bill for last month's run across the hall, so we were a little less than excited when Peanut wouldn't work with the Doppler again this month. At any rate, Peanut likes his/her privacy.

Just Another Day in the Life

Today was Wilson's first day in his new classroom at school. It went well enough, but in his cubby was a note that all parents received:

Dear Parents:

As a part of our room decoration, I have made a kite with each child's birthday on it. I would like to put two things he or she likes on the tail. Sometime this week please let me know two things your child likes so that I can learn more about each of the children.

Signed Wilson's teacher.

Simple enough, right? I asked Wilson to list his favorite things that he wanted on his kite while we were on our way to pick up Chris. I won't give you a play-by-play of our dialogue, I'll just post the letter I'm going to return to his teacher.

Dear ________,

Wilson's favorite things, if you ask HIM, are:
1. America
2. Mama
3. Tattoos
But since those have all the makings of a bad country song and not such a great kite, I would suggest putting baseball and Star Wars on his kite. If Star Wars won't work, Wilson really likes pizza.

We are excited to spend the next year in your class! We look forward to working with you.

Jolene (Wilson's Mommy)

Yes, America, Mama, and Tattoos. It will make a great country and western song. There has not been a dull moment since the boy learned to string thoughts and words together.