Here's a deep thought for you

It comes to me this morning, right around mile 2, that in my official sample of two families (mine and a friend's) with older daughter/younger son, the sons each have a nickname and the daughters do not. Grant's is Bug, and is sometimes used by Hubs, Emma, and me to refer to him instead of his name. While I call Emma Sweetness, I never use that instead of her name. And no one else calls her that, just me.

Now why is that? Could it be because little boys are made of sticks and snails and puppy dog tails while little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice? Could it be birth order? Gender order? No explicable reason?

Deep thoughts.

Lookin' Good

We got quite a bit of attention in Trader Joe's today. Partially because the store isn't that big and the regular employees are getting to know us. Partially because Emma was hopscotching her way through the store and in some places that was causing a traffic jam. And partially because of what the kids had on.

Emma chose her white leotard with pink tights, which was fine since we were headed to dance class after Trader Joe's. Then she decided she wanted to wear her red sparkly shoes, and they were making her feet hot so she needed some socks. She couldn't wear her ankle socks because they were WHITE. Instead she chose the bright purple socks with Sleeping Beauty on them (no, I did not buy her princess socks. Please.) that are way to big and in order for them to fit her at the toes, she has to pull them halfway up her calf. So white leotard, pink tights, bright purple calf socks, sparkly red shoes. Hopscotching down the aisle.

Grant chose his camo shorts (and I picked a coordinating shirt) and his rain boots. He stomped his way from the parking lot to the cart pickup, and then stomped his way back out to the car when we left. At some points in the stomping he roared and announced he was a dinosaur.

There's no blending in to the crowd when accompanied by those two.

Outside time

The fleas are finally gone (I used garden variety diatomaceous earth and just spread it around), the porch is cleaned up, the grass is cut. We're finally playing outside in the back this spring!

Emma loves to watch herself hula hoop in the sliding glass door, Grant loves to ride the scooter.

Emma loves to have me throw the softball to her, Grant loves to whack the heck out of the t-ball stand (note: not the ball on the t-ball stand, the stand itself)

Emma loves to jump rope, Grant loves to jump while swinging the jump rope dangerously over his head.

Emma loves to ride her bike, Grant loves to sit on his trike and "walk" with his feet.

Emma lifts her left leg up high as she throws the ball to me (Hubs is trying to get her to use "proper" form when throwing), Grant throws the ball to me and it lands on his head.

Emma loves to prance along the bench like it's a beam routine, Grant loves to toss his tricycle to its side and spin the wheels while yelling "Wheel broke!" like he's repairing it.

I love that I can sit at the patio table and watch the kids play outside rather than run around like my hair's on fire keeping Grant out of trouble. Ahhh the maturity of another year.

Crazy busy was good

This one might be hard Mom.

Today was a crazy busy day. One of those days where you wake up overwhelmed with the number of things that need to be accomplished. One of those days where you wonder how you're going to do it all when there isn't anything that can give. Up at 6am for a run, the day just never slowed down. I felt like all I did all day was rush rush rush, always trying to beat the clock, willing time to slow down and cut me a break.

But it was okay to be crazy busy today. In fact, it was what I needed. I know, hard to believe. I needed to be distracted today because today is the one year anniversary of the day Granny died. I drank my coffee out of the UCI Anteater mug I so proudly gave her my freshman year in college. I opened a Mother's Day card from a dear friend of Granny's that arrived in the mail. I found myself humming praise songs throughout today. And today, after months of not asking, Emma asked if Big Granny was still healthy up in heaven.

I still miss her terribly. And that missing her usually catches me off guard. A funeral procession will drive by and suddenly I'm glad for my dark sunglasses to shield my tears from the kids. The praise band at church will play the first several notes of the song Leah sang at Granny's funeral and I'm instantly transported back to the emotions of that day. A picture of Granny with my kids will pop up on my computer desktop and my heart will sometimes ache at how she'll never know the amazing adults they are going to grow up to be. And they'll never remember the unconditional adoration she felt toward them. Mom will show up with a dress for Emma that Granny had made for me when I was a little girl and I will take a moment to be so thankful I had such an incredible Granny. What I wrote a year ago hasn't changed. Every kid should be so lucky.

This last year I've learned that grieving doesn't ever go away. It just changes.

Puddle walk

We've been taking more and more neighborhood walks up and down our street, especially in the late afternoon. Today, during a break in the rain, we suited the kids up in rainboots and rain coats and took a puddle walk. The differences between boys and girls, Grant and Emma, was never more apparent than during the puddle walk.

We encountered our first ginormous puddle about three houses into the walk. Emma gingerly tiptoed into the puddle, holding her sweatpants up high, exiting the puddle with nary a drop on the top of her boots, much less anywhere else. Grant barreled into the puddle, stomping and jumping with vigor and great delight. He emerged from the puddle with water all the way up to his sweatshirt, and I wiped his forehead dry. This pattern continued with each ginormously deep puddle we came across. Emma emerging dry, Grant emerging even wetter and dirtier.

When we got home, Emma slipped her boots off and walked inside to play. Grant took his boots off, I pulled off his socks and rung them out. He took off his dripping wet pants and underwear, I pulled off his wet sweatshirt and wet jacket. Grant walked into the house naked with puddle dirt in his hair and on his forehead.

Aaahhh boys.

Blog Book Tour

MOPS asked me to participate in a blog book tour and I said "Sign me up!" I love reading and I love blogging. Various MOPS publishers send me books that are soon to be released, I read them, then post a review on my blog within specific dates they give me. First up, "Making Work at Home Work". Perfect, right? Since I work from home and all. I'm hoping to get some great tips, and the Table of Contents looks promising. I have to post the review around May 18, so stay tuned!

Time for Mama

I joined a book club last night. It's awesome. It's the perfect melding of my love for reading and my love for gabbing. We meet monthly, spend most of the time gabbing, and then quickly talk about the book so we can continue to bill ourselves as a book club. Awesome. We just finished "Ella Minnow Pea", and this month we are reading "The Secret Lives of Bees".

I'm also dusting off my resume because I've decided to apply to be a sub at preschool next year. Only on the days Grant is in school. Which now that I think about it might make Kindergarten pick up tricky....hmmm nothing like seeing a flaw in the plan as I'm typing the plan out on my blog. Clearly this needs more thought. And maybe a discussion with Hubs too. More on this one later.