"Peter Man and Tinkellbell"

Well, here they are -"Peter Man and Tinkellbell" as they say. Last year they were Raggedy Ann and Andy. So they went trick or treating, ran around on a sugar rush, and Maria said they were going to get married. Successful evening all around.

Riding in the Car with Noodle Salad

"Some people have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story. Good times, noodle salad." - Jack Nicholson,As Good as it Gets

In college Regan and I went to see this movie every time we had a bad or rough day. I'd venture to say we saw it at least once a week. Of course, once it moved to the $1 theater, our bad days didn't affect the bank account as much... Since then I've made mental notes of the Noodle Salad days and tried to overwrite the rough days with those.

When your kid has a rough day, you, too had a rough day. They don't tell you this. In fact, a notice should be sent out to those of us who sit up all night worrying about our own bad days - we should not get married, we should not have children. Because then you're not up all night with your own bad days, you're up all night with everyone else's bad days (and they're sleeping them off just fine). I saw no such warning label.

So rough day happens to Will. Chris decides that we should go out to dinner because that way it tricks us into "celebration mode". This is really code for it was his turn to cook and he snuck out of it. We asked Will where he wanted to eat. It was, after all, his rough day. "Red Lobster." Ok. I must have missed the generation where all preschoolers loved McDonalds. It was not THAT bad of a day. We look at each other. Neither of us was really in the mood for Red Lobster. We wanted Mexican. After an eternity of negotiations which involved ice cream for dessert, we head to Baja Fresh - or, as Will says, BaaBaa Beef.

We eat dinner in relative silence. No one at our booth is very talkative. We finish up BaaBaa Beef and decide next on the agenda is Cold Stone Creamery for ice cream. We go in, everyone orders up, we dig in.

Will is first to finish. He leans back in his chair and rubs his belly. "You know what makes bad days good, Mommy?" No. I do not. "Chocolate with Oreos mixed in. I think I want to have more bad days."

More? No, son, Mama can't take your bad days because they make my heart ache worse than anything.

He hopped up and sat on my lap. A chocolate kiss comes my way and plants itself on my cheek. "Let's go clean up Mommy." Ok.

In the bathroom I can see it. Chocolate kiss on my cheek. I don't want to wash it off. Also on my shirt is a burrito smear from a hug after dinner. And a coke stain. Mom-wear. Somehow I think these are the evidences that he didn't have to go through his bad day alone - and neither did I. He's washing his hands, singing a song he has written about him and his mommy and chocolate ice cream. I watch him. I think to myself - good times, noodle salad.

Texas vs. Clean Laundry

He's been a Cardinal fan since birth, an Astros fan for a week, and now he's a White Sox fan...

Since there is no loyalty or logic in who the boys cheered for in the NLCS (if you have no idea what I'm speaking of, you'll need to head to the archives to find "The Astro Turf is Always Greener" and "When the Pujols Hits the Fan") I figured I would beat Chris at his own game. And I won.

Last night, game 4 in the World Series:
Will - "Are the Cardinals playing?"
Me - "No."
Will - "Who is playing?"
Me - "The Astros and the White Sox."
Will - "The Astros are from Texas."
Me - "Yes."
Will - "I am from Texas too. I'm going to cheer for the Astros. Are you cheering for the Astros?"
Me - "Not a chance. I'm sticking with the team from the region that has four distinct seasons." Then, seeing my opportunity to outsmart Chris' Texas Card play "Will, what do you have on your feet?"
Will - "White socks."
Me - "Yeah. Do you like clean, white socks?"
Will - "Yes." He thinks for a minute, "I like clean socks. I'm cheering for the White Socks."

And we score one for laundry, the White Sox, and the absence of reason. Go Chicago.

I Don't Know Why He Swallowed the Fly - He Thinks He'll Die

For reasons of illness Will and I stayed home this fine Monday. Yes, I am supposed to rest when I'm sick but, no, I didn't because you can't rest when there's laundry to do. I learned it from my mother...

So I'm folding and hanging clothes while Wilson watches Spongebob. He gets up and comes back to the room. I might add here that this child has NO poker face. He can never be a defense attorney, he will not make a great politician, he will never, ever be on a poker challenge airing on tv. He comes in the room and sits down without saying a word. That's uncommon. Normally he is the great commentator. Spongebob ends and we switch over to the 4:00 news.

One of the headlines is "20 Seconds that will help you save someone's life". I start to change the channel because hurricane coverage is on first and Wilson has anxiety over hurricanes now. He doesn't want me to change the channel. He starts crying. He gets up and stands in the corner. I ask him what's wrong.

"I just want to say I love you."
"Ok. I love you too. Will, are you sick?"
"No - I'm going to die. You changed the channel and now I'm going to die."
"What happened?"
"I swallowed a bug and now it's on the way to my brain and I'm going to die."

Ok...

"Let me explain how the digestive system works."

I pull out an old health book and explain how the bug got the raw end of the deal. He has me explain it three times. Finally he's decided I'm not sugar-coating his death. He gives me a big hug and says "Thank you for saving my life. I love you!" With that he was off, death having been cheated out of a bug to the brain.

Pumpkin Patch

Saturday we went out to a farm for a family day at Mainstay Farm just south of Fort Worth. Maria had gone with her parents and it looked like fun, so, monkey-see monkey-do.

Aside from the weather getting QUITE warm as the day wore on, and aside from the herds of people who showed up as the day wore on, we had a great time together. If you're interested, you too should take a trip out to Mainstay Farm. It was a perfect day.

Picking out his pumpkin

Playing in the maze.

Swinging.

Dad's turn.

Playing in the tree house.

Painting his pumpkin.

After hours of "When are we going to cut up my pumpkin?" we gave in. Let me tell you the indicators of a pumpkin disaster: Your assistant is a 3 year old, you have never actually done this yourself, and your resident "expert" hasn't done this since she was 16. Those are indications that this won't be so easy...

He wanted to help. As soon as he put his hand in he said it was nasty. No more help.

A Perfect Pumpkin - not bad for our 1st time. Wilson looked into the pumpkin and said "You're amazing!" Made it all worth it.

A Children's Book You Should Buy

I'm going to do a plug for a children's book. I have been reading my fair share of children's books for the last several years. That makes me a mommy with a reading degree. A pseudo-expert.

Children's books are the hardest to author (and do a good job). You know what makes a good children's book? Artwork and a good moral that kids hear from moms, dads, teachers - but it really sinks in when they see it in a book they like. Something else I've learned is that very few children's books are authored and illustrated by the same person. It's hard to write for children because you can't fool them. It's harder to illustrate for children - because they study artwork and know if it's bad. You know what else makes a great children's book? An action figure.

I have found the book that meets all above criteria. It will be available in time for Christmas. Little Bunny Kung-Fu. The book is written and illustrated by Regan Johnson. Even though it's not on shelves yet you can order one by going into Barnes and Noble and giving the ISBN - 0976941783. Actually, with that number you can order it from anyone, but B&N is my favorite because once a pre-ordered book hits their warehouse they ship it to your local store. Like book fast food. And - there's an action figure coming - a plush rabbit you can pose. How great is that?!

The book is "a story about learning respect for those around you. By seeing how one bunny's actions effect his neighbors, we realize that in life, what goes around, comes around."

On a personal note, I know the author. Regan is very talented. Very, very talented. I have seen how much work she puts into her craft and I know this book would be a welcomed addition to every child's library. As "Wilson's Sheri" said - if parents would just read to their kids 30 minutes every night illiteracy would be gone. There's another good reason to buy the book. If you start kids out with a love for learning you are creating an excellent foundation.

This is Regan's first book but I've seen her to-do list and I assure you this will not be her last. Toys break and kids eventually outgrow them - this Christmas give the kids you're buying for a gift they will not outgrow or get tired of in three weeks (it happens, I promise) go out and buy the book, Little Bunny Kung Fu by Regan Johnson. It doesn't require some assembly, it will not make loud noises, it does not have flashing lights, and it takes up little space. Plus you're investing in the foundation of education. Books make the best gifts. :)

A Letter to My Son

Sweet Pea-

Sometimes I have to remind myself that you are 3 ½. What I mean is that sometimes I feel like you have been a part of me forever – and sometimes I feel like you were just born a week ago. I can’t remember what I did before you came and I have to remind myself that you just keep getting bigger and more independent. I’m doing my best to keep up with you without holding you back. It’s more difficult than tightrope walking across a mountain range with your feet tied together and balancing an elephant. While chewing gum. Seriously, it’s that hard.

You are the hardest and most important thing I have ever done. Looking through your baby book I see we have documented everything you have ever done. But there are no lines in a baby book for “the spaces between” – the things you do that are not particularly milestones but are things that endear you to me. “The Spaces Between” are events that we did not have a camera for, things we did not rush to call grandparents about. These moments I think are more important than when you took your first steps or when you cut your first teeth. Those are things that happen to every child – spaces between are things that only happen to you, and you were sweet enough to share them with your mommy. Here’s what I mean:

October 18th, 2005 – the day you learned the First Amendment: You had recently gotten in trouble for saying something that was not nice and not appropriate. I won’t elaborate, but we’ll file that under the first time you used a “bad” word... There was a debate on a news program concerning the White House leak of a CIA agent to the news media. The issue of free speech was introduced on TV while I folded laundry and you played – so I thought. Later you came to me and said “Mommy, you can’t get mad at me for saying nasty things. This is America. I can say what I want.” Me, again not prepared to have this kind of argument until you were at least 12, stared at you and wondered why I even turn on the news. “Baby, you can’t argue free speech in this house until you start paying taxes – or until you vote. Until then, it’s censorship city for you.” And then you brushed your teeth, kissed me, said your prayers, and crawled into bed with your stuffed spotted doggie.

Why don't people create baby books for the spaces between? My son, I believe it’s because the authors of those have never lived with a child. Certainly not a child like you – and for that I am so blessed to have been given this honor.

I love you more than anything.

Mommy

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

Cardinals lost. The boys are free to cheer on the Astros. Good luck to them. :(

Just Call Him Mary-Lou

I wasn't aware when we purchased the new living room furniture that we had actually gotten more for our money. Not only did we purchase a couch, loveseat, end tables, and coffee table - we also purchased a full gymnastic studio for Wilson.

He's been told not to climb on the furniture more than once. I'd venture to say he believes his mother only knows two sentences - "I love you", and, "Don't jump on the couch". I'm not trying to be a pain about the couch thing, but the truth of it is that if he does it at my house, he'll do it at yours and then you will wish I had been more strict. If you can't do it at home, you won't dare do it at someone else's.

Poor kid. I remember what it's like. Nate and I used to pile pillows, cushions, and blankets at the bottom of the stairs to our basement and then jump off the stairs onto them. No, we never broke anything. We did, however, learn that if you went much higher than 7 stairs you would bang your head on the ceiling in your attempt to land on the pillows. And then Mom saw us and it was all over. Moms have a way of ending the best of times by citing potential personal and/or property damage.

Wilson, unfortunately, does not have a staircase or a basement. He's all boy and there's something about gravity he's determined to test. So he's taken to running and landing on the couch where he waits just long enough to bounce into the air and land across the room. Again, I wouldn't care if I weren't sure he'll do this to someone else's couch and, well, it's a new couch.

Warnings and time-outs have worked - some. There's just the call of the couch springs that get the best of him. Obviously he likes that kind of thing and I'm certainly not wanting to end his fun.

His friend at school is attending gymnastics. Stuart's mom raved about it. This is a class where they go a few times a week and get the bounce worked out of them in a space appropriate area, with professional instructors who know how to show the boys to bounce and test gravity - with the benefits of padding and no new furniture.

So we sign him up and he and Maria join a preschooler class. I've never actually tried to herd cats, but I bet teaching preschool gymnastics is as close as you can get. They loved it and God bless their instructor. Lucky for me she has a son not much older than Wilson.

My boy, jumping up and down on the trampoline, would stop what he was doing and turn around to the stands where I was sitting with Maria's parents. He gave me the "thumbs up" and blew me a kiss. Sigh, eyes get a little teary, and I promise myself to make a mental snapshot of his face in that place, in that moment so I don't think about killing him the next time he tries to be an Olympic gymnast on my living room furniture...

The Astro Turf is Always Greener

One of the definitions of the word Loyal is "faithful to a cause, ideal, custom, institution, or product". Another definition is "unswerving in allegiance". Here's the thing - when we set up this blog Chris set the links over there on your right hand side. Do you see what links he put in? That's right, there's a link to the St. Louis Cardinals. Do you see a link to the Houston Astros? No. You don't. It's not there because he did not put that team there.

I was born in St. Louis. I grew up in St. Louis. I grew up watching and attending Cardinal games. Before we got married I let Chris know there are a few things my family holds sacred - politics, religion, the Marine Corps, and the Cardinals. Everything else is fair game. He had no problem with that when we met nor when we married. He's been attending Cardinals games and cheering for them every year with my family since then. He buys a Cardinals hat every time he wears one out and those are his favorite hats.

Then there's his son - Wilson has literally been wearing Cardinals apparel since he was a week old. He was a newborn and we watched Spring Training during my entire maternity leave. I listened to his colicky cries during the 2002 home opener. He has a room decorated in Cardinals memorabilia, courtesy of the family in St. Louis - including an autographed baseball by Stan Musial. He learned what a Cardinal was as soon as he learned to talk. One of his few sentences starting out was "Go Cardinals!". He's only ever been to see the Cardinals play at Busch Stadium. He watches every televised game and cheers for them.

Here's where I get confused: Chris never mentioned the Astros until last October when it was down to Houston and St. Louis. All of a sudden, he's an Astros fan. Fine, I understand he grew up "near Houston" and attended a handful of games when he was younger. Fine. But he never, ever mentioned the Astros before that and I can tell you last year he couldn't name you 5 players on the team or even who the coach was. I had to tell him it wasn't Enron Field anymore. Big Astros fan, huh? Then the Astros started losing and what do you know, he's cheering for the Cards again. I thought he'd learned his lesson.

This year it's the same story. Only this time he has taken our son who has only ever cheered for the Cardinals and turned him against me. Chris played the Texas card. Apparently if you're a Texan you're going to cheer for the Astros, even if you've spent the last 6 years (or in Will's case - your entire life) cheering for the other team, attending the other team's games, watching the other team on TV, wearing clothing with the other team's logo on it... What's worse is the two boys can give you the batting order of the Cardinals - I had to tell them what the "Killer B's" meant. Then Chris comes up with some jive story about being able to have more than one team to cheer for! Way to teach your kid how to be a fence-sitter. Not in my house.

Chris said "It's just baseball". No it's not. It's not just baseball. It's about the one thing your wife still has here in Texas, her favorite sports team, her connection to her family. It would be like me burying him outside of Texas, and I'm tempted now to bury him in Oklahoma after this stunt he has pulled. They seem to think that when "their Astros" win this series with the Cardinals that I'm going to cheer along with them. Chris, as he has said at least 500 times a game, "grew up near Houston." Well, I grew up "near" Chicago. I'm going to be the best White Sox fan ever - I know just as much about the White Sox as these two Texans know about the Astros.

I've explained to Chris that you don't go against the family where the Cardinals are concerned - during the 1985 World Series there was a rift between the St. Louis side of my family and the Kansas City side of the family due to a terrible call made by the umpire. Chris said "I didn't know you have family in Kansas City." That's the point.

Two Thumbs - Way, Way Up

The trickiest part of asking Wilson what movie he wants to watch on "movie night" (Fridays) is figuring out what movie he is requesting. Sometimes he says the name of the movie, others he just gives us what he thinks is the plot. Here's an example and we'll see if you can figure it out.

"The one with the knights that are fighting the horses for Mexico. And then they paint."

So we're trying to think of what this is... The Alamo? No. Knight's Tale? No. "Tom Sawyer?" Wrong. He's asking for Braveheart - they're fighting on horses, their faces are painted, and we're pretty sure Wilson only knows of two countries - The U.S. and Mexico, so England and Scotland don't mean anything to him.

I'll tell you he's never seen the whole movie. I'll also tell you he's not allowed to. That doesn't stop him from asking for it, as strangely as he possibly can.

Thank Heaven for Little Girls

I knew what time of year it was - the weather was getting cooler, the candy apples are on sale at the grocery store, two aisles are dedicated to super value packs of candy, and pumpkins are on display... That means Halloween.

We go to a church carnival for the event, often referred to as a "Fall Family Festival". I like this approach much better than the door to door trek through the neighborhood I had growing up. For one thing I don't know the people three houses down from me in either direction and something seems hypocritical to me about telling Will not to take things from strangers and then sending him out there deliberately to get candy from strangers. Another benefit of the Family Festival is that instead of one of us being stuck at home passing out candy while the other parent journeys on the street with the boy, we can both share in this event - and there's still candy involved. Plus, this way I get to sit in a parking lot with Karen and talk to an adult while passing out candy to kids. Heaven.

The dread was in the costume. Since this is an event at church there are several characters we can't send our kid as. And then there's the added complication of either buying something (overpriced) or trying to make something within my sewing ability. The thing I've got going for me is that it's dark out at these festivals, so no one can see too much of the detail in my sewing. But here's what Wilson has said he wanted to be for Halloween:

1. Batman
2. Power Ranger
3. A host of other characters that, while not violent, were not "church-worthy"

This is the pain of having a son and not being a boy yourself. There are a great deal of things I think are adorable, but after age 2 it's just wrong of a mom to dress her son to make him "adorable" in public. I prayed very, very hard for a solution. And she came to me...

Maria, Wilson's older girl friend, wants to be Tinkerbell for Halloween. Thank God. Every Tinkerbell needs a Peter Pan and that counts in all of my costume requirements - easy to make, adorable and non-humiliating, AND Peter Pan has a sword so the boy is happy. I owe Maria. Big time.

Close Quarters

Chris and I have been taking inventory of what we still have leftover from Wilson that we can use for Reagan. They will have to share a room, just for a little while until we move into a larger place and most of Reagan's things will be "gently used". Some of Reagan's things will be new because Wilson's stuff was no longer usable (or because we gave it away...) but I'm seeing that a lot of what Reagan does or has will have been done before.

So... hormone induced guilt set in. While Reagan does make some appearances on this blog, it's hard to compete with a live-wire brother who is in preschool when you haven't been born yet. The vast majority of stuff here has to do with Wilson and brief cameos are made by our soon-to-be baby, but I felt bad. Really bad.

And then I remembered - blogs are free. Reagan now has his/her very own free space where you can read about the life prenatal. www.reagansroom.blogspot.com All Reagan, all the time.

We got up Saturday morning and went to watch Brandon play Little League. Wilson was excited to be back outside playing - now that the cold front came through and we no longer have 106 degree days where if you go outside it's just too hot to do anything but wonder why on earth you went outside. It was a lot of fun to go and watch Brandon play. Chris was there, with his camera... Of course.

Some Americans at this game probably think the Esterhuizens are in the whole South African diamond business because Brandon goes to play little league baseball and brings his own sports photographer, Chris.

But Brandon also had a second photographer, Chris' co-worker Rob. (Actually Chris and Rob came to the game straight from taking pictures for work so they had their cameras. I bet some of the other parents wondered about Kenneth and Lesley though, showing up with two cameramen...)

It was a beautiful, cool day to go watch a baseball game.

Brandon on deck.

Brandon plays second base.

Obviously Kerry-Lea and Wilson are paying attention to the game.

Kenneth helps with coaching Brandon's team. Here's the funny thing - baseball is not South Africa's national past time. But there's no little league rugby team, so you've got yourself a coach who can yell at you in Afrikaans. :)

It looked good, it sounded good, and it went really, really far. So Brandon heads to first...

...and he's safe at home and that's the game winner.

The "good game" line up after Brandon won it.

Time to go home and eat lunch.

Kicking Your Brother is Bad

Reagan has started moving enough so that Chris and Wilson are able to feel movement. I thought this would be more exciting than it really is for Wilson. Chris, of course, was excited and I'm excited, Wilson is just sort of annoyed with the entire thing (movement, not Reagan as a person).

He felt Reagan moving around and said "What's he doing?" (Again, we don't know Reagan's gender but as far as Wilson is concerned it is a "he" and there's really no point in arguing with him.) I said "That's Reagan kicking." Bad choice of description. Wilson looked at me and said, very sad, "Mommy, Reagan's kicking me and that's bad choices."

I forgot. I'm dealing with preschool mindset. If you "kick" someone, you have to get time out or some other form of punishment. So now I'm sitting there stuck with a son who is upset that he is getting kicked and I'm trying to figure out how to explain to Wilson that this kind of kicking is like saying "Hi". But then I run the risk of him getting time out at school because he started kicking people to say "hi". This is the proverbial rock and a hard place. I can't give a kid who isn't even born yet time out, can I? On the other hand Wilson has just gotten his feelings hurt because his unborn sibling is "kicking" him. So... "Wilson, do you want a milkshake?"

Out of rock and hard place. This parenting thing gets exponentially difficult when there is more than one.

Chris and his very first pair of glasses!