An answer to the rhetorical question...

...but first, a word on how my son kicks ass at baby swim class. Yes, I just used "kicked ass" when describing what went on at a baby swim class. It is not like the boy with the bone disease is going to be the star quarterback, so really, I'll take any shining athletic moment I can! He was awesome - below you will find a list of the things he was the BEST AT:
1) sliding off the edge
2) jumping off the edge but ONLY on my mommy cue
3) singing wheels on the bus
4) blowing bubbles
5) chasing balls
6) chasing and gathering rubber ducks
7) laying on his back
8) kicking
9) splashing other people
10) voluntarily sticking face in water
Basically, he was amazing. He even got to be the "demo" baby.


And now, onto the rhetorical question. Nearly every day of my life involves a considerable amount of time looking for my keys. I have thrown my keys in the trash, left them in the door, and lost them in Nashville at ???? It just seems that when it comes to putting my keys somewhere, my mind is already way ahead and on to the next task, or else I am doing my purse/briefcase/violin/diaper bag/grocery bag/baby/stuffed monkey/sippy cup/cell phone juggling act, and have lost my keys in the process of not dropping the baby.

Ever since I can remember, I have always asked Daniel where my keys are. I don't even realize I say it, because I say it every flippin' time I try to leave the house. "Where's mama's keys Daniel?" ..."Daniel, have you seen mommy's keys?" Obviously, as a baby, he never answered, and most of his speaking life, he has ignored me, or acted like he didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth.

This morning he is watching Blues Clues and having his morning banana. I'm trying to load the car, and my arms are full. "Where are my keys?" I yelled. Calmly and nonchalantly came "right there mama". I was stunned. In 22 months, I have never heard my question answered. He was listening? He processed? I thought it was funny, until I turned around and saw he was actually pointing at my keys, with his eyes still on Blues Clues, banana in hand, leaning against the couch. I followed his chubby pointed finger, and there, behind my boots, where my keys.

I ran over and smothered him with kisses. I got a little nuzzle in return then he pushed me away (I was in front of the TV...) "Shoe-ies, mama. Right there," I looked at him funny because we both already had shoes on..."Keys shoe-ies," He says again, this time with just a hint of exasperation, as if my questioning look that made him repeat himself somehow inconvenienced him. "oh, I get it - you're telling me my keys were behind my shoes?" I asked. He nods yes, I pick up my keys, and he claps and yells and OVER enthusiastic "yay!". Great...a patronizing 22 month old with a flair for the dramatic... (I cant imagine where who he got that from?)

Snowpocalypse II

Blizzard of 2010, Snowpocalyse, Snowmagedon, Snowtorius B.I.G - call it what you will (preferably NOT the later) but we are buried. I'm going with Snowpocalpse II, because I was calling the 19" we got in December the original Snowpocalypse.

I don't ever get homesick, but I have to admit this winter makes feel like I'm right back in Western PA, and I like it. As a child, my cousin Davey and I were tossed out of doors by my grandmother in every sort of weather. 100 degree heat? Stay in the shade, get a drink. Blustery winds? Zip up your jacket. Rain? Stay on the patio (it had a roof). Blizzard? Put on 12 layers of clothes, thick socks, grocery bags on your feet, moon boots, mismatched outwear gathered from the basement and closet, 2 pairs of gloves (one snug fitting, one waterproof) add at least 1 scarf, a pair of earmuffs, and a hat...and get out of the house.

To be honest, I don't think we ever complained about being out in the snow. We always had sleds and our imaginations. I remember one day we just sat there, eating fistfuls of snow until we swore it tasted like blueberries. We would build speed bumps to fly over in our sleds and build snow forts, which we favored over boring old snowmen.

This was what the winters of my childhood were made of, and I hope Daniel's are as memorable. I adapted the concept of layers - snug pants, then fleece, then a waterproof layer. He got his thick socks, but I spared him the plastic bags. He got gloves, a hat, and a hood. He was sweating. Guess he did get my thick blood! Out we went, in a blizzard. He LOVED it. He did not want to come in, even after his gloves were soaked, his hands were red, and his eyelashes heavy with snowflakes.
The next day, once the snow was falling lightly, we went out twice. Today, with no snow falling, we walked through what sidewalks were cleared to watch the "dumpy" (dump truck) and the plow move snow.

He helped me shovel-he insisted actually. He moved his fair share of snow in his toy dump truck. He scraped ice from the rear bumper of the car. He would get so brave, running into the snow, until it came up to his ankles. Then came the frantic cries of "help! stuck! help! mommy mommy" I tried showing him that he wasn't stuck, but that he just had to try harder. He flopped down on his butt. "UH oh- Stuck" Now he was stuck, because bending at the waist isn't really an option with 3 pairs of pants on. My job was to plop him back on the path, on his feet.

I hope these are his happy winter memories, because these are my new winter mommy memories.

Strong-Willed, Part 2

I finished the book. And when I say finished, I mean I skipped the chapters on siblings and adolescences and ADHD. I found everything in it to be good information, but, I feel like it was really lacking in some practical applications. Like, do this for that, and instead this try that. I appreciated the he accepts that spanking, even done appropriately and in a loving way, is not for every child. (spanking was my major issue with the "other book". My excitement over this part of the book quickly diminished when no alternative consequences were offered.

I will likely reread the parts I found applicable, and mull it over again, seeing how I can get the application of this process down. If nothing else, my changed attitude towards his willful nature made the read worthwhile.

On a lighter note, toddler bed transitioning is going well. Gets a little better every night. Tonight, no 'suppernanny' process of sneaking out - I just left after stories. A few minutes later, I hear paper rustling. I peak in, and he is reading a HUGE Blues Clues book - laying down, trying to hold up a hardback book of about 100 pages above his face. There he is, "reading" in complete darkness...silly boy!