Peas and Carrots

He's long and lanky.
She's short and sweet.

He's a bit on the quiet side.
And she's...well, not.

He'd wear the same outfit every day.
She changes three times in an hour.

He loves a good story.
She's all about the music.

He owns one pair of shoes.
She has a pair for each day of the week and then some.

As different as night and day, these two.
But some how they go together,
adoring each other like they do,
and they make it work.


"Like peas and carrots, Jenny, like peas and carrots."

14 Years

Fourteen years and things have changed a bit...

Your picture books have been replaced by the classics.

Your "play" phones now have text packages.

"Dress up" now translates to "coat and tie."

And {sigh} there's no more talk of dump trucks.

  Just the driver's license that awaits in the not-so-distant future.

But one thing will never change no matter how many years go by.

You will always, always be my baby boy.

Happy 14th Michael!

Growing Up So Fast...

Thirteen years, fifty weeks, and four days ago (but really, who's counting?) we dressed this sweet little bug in a Pooh-bear onesie, wrapped him in a matching blanket, and prepared to make that life-changing journey from the security of the hospital to our home.

And I marveled at how much cuteness could be found in such a tiny bundle.

{Sigh.}

Tonight I helped him get dressed once again.
Straightening his tie.
Adjusting his coat.
Preparing for his eighth grade graduation.

And though the bundle had grown about 5 and a half feet since that trip home from the hospital,
I still marveled at his cuteness.

And his humor.

For example...
This afternoon we were all in the car for a long time.
A very long time.
And one of the backseat passengers was voicing their complaint of just how long they had been in the backseat.

So in an act of bribery a moment of compassion, I offered said child one of the bread sticks that we had just picked up for dinner....
If they would , you know, learn to find joy in their backseat suffering for the duration of our trip.

When I reappeared in the driver's seat, my soon-to-be-high schooler, fresh from his history exam says...


"Did you just appease her?  'Cause they tried that with Hitler you know.
 Appeasement.
 In World War II.
Gave him some land.  Thought that would make him go away.
Next thing you know he's all over Poland."

Really?
Comparing my parenting skills to one of the greatest political oversights of the 20th century?
Just what I need.

But goodness he's a funny kid.

And though I dearly miss that little bundle that we brought home the hospital years ago,
I am so enjoying the young man that he is growing up to be.

And I can't wait to see what kind of parenting advice I'll get during his high school years.

And then...

And then there was one.
One last recital post.

My piano man.

I have no problem driving him around town to lessons.
Or reminding him to practice.
Day after day.
Week in and week out.


'Cause the boy's got mad skills.
Mad skills, I tell you.
(In my very humble, completely unbiased, mother-of-this-my-first-born-child opinion.)

Now, if I could only get him to make his bed....

Found him

Last post I wondered where my "little" boy had gone.
Tonight I walk into the kitchen and find this...

Looks like that whole growing up thing isn't occurring quite as fast as originally suspected.
I'm OK with that.
I think...

Excuse Me...

...has anyone seen my little boy?

He was just here a minute ago.  Or at least that what it seems like.


Wasn't it only yesterday that we were sprawled out on the floor together learning our ABC's and reading "Go Dog Go" for the 1000th time?

Building Legos.  Watching Blue's Clues.  Playing in the sandbox.

Today he was all decked out for a special school assembly and as he sat beside me in the van... all arms, legs, and facial hair...critiquing my lack of  driving skills with vocabulary words I've never heard of, I realized that my little boy is quickly growing into a young man.

And although those days when I was smarter than him of dump trucks and dinosaurs are a thing of the past...

...he will always, always, always be my little boy.