Texas Strikes Again

Wow, over a month since my last post, oops. The fall weather has arrived and I'm feeling more like myself now, so hopefully this will translate into more regular and frequent blog entries.

Henry: Henry is a full-fledged school boy now. He still feels nervous and sheds a few tears on school mornings, but his teachers say the tearfulness stops the minute I am out the door. When I pick him up at the end of the day, he is always playing happily, and usually he says something along the lines of, "Mommy, I'm not ready to leave, I want to keep playing!" He is making friends at school, slowly and cautiously (he's like his mom!). He talks a good bit about a girl named Penny - he calls her Penelope Claire! - and apparently he often holds hands with another girl, Libby, when they pair up to go outside. Libby's mom introduced herself one day and relayed this information, saying Libby talks about Henry all the time. I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to watch this one around the girls. He is beginning to learn to write letters now, which is exciting, and often when he's drawing, he'll start making letters. "That's a 'D' Mommy!" he'll say proudly. He also learns new songs and Bible stories at school, and one night he even launched into the Pledge of Allegiance, to our great surprise! The most important thing he's learning, though, is that he can be away from me and still survive, that I'll always come back for him. It's taken some time, but I think he's just about convinced. We weighed Henry this week, because I've been struggling to pick him up lately and knew either he was growing or I was experiencing some sort of premature muscle degeneration. He weighs 38 pounds! Henry is really into playing with action figures, now, especially Russell's old Star Wars men, or "guys," as we call them (even Charlie can say "guys"!). He spends hours each day pretending with his vast horde of guys, and he has the nice guys fighting and "knocking out" the mean guys constantly. If I hear it once, I hear it twenty times a day, "Look, Mommy, so-and-so is knocked out!" And there are so many weird names for these guys - Bib Fortuna, Mace Windu, Weequay - I can't keep them all straight. But buddy, Henry can! In sad news, Henry's friend, Parker (and my friend, Jenny) are moving to Texas in just a few days, so this is going to be hard for both of us. They were our first friends after Henry was born. Henry keeps saying, "I'm going to be sad when Parker leaves," and often I'll overhear him saying one of his guys "is moving to Texas," so he's definitely trying to process this new, painful fact of life - sometimes the people we care about have to leave us. I wish he didn't have to learn this lesson so soon, but I guess it was bound to happen eventually. I'm glad he is in school now, at least, so that he does have other kids his age to play with.

Charlie: Charlie has officially passed the eighteen month mark, and he is fully a toddler now, no longer a baby. His vocabulary is expanding daily, but my favorite new word of his is "Henry." It sounds like "eeny." He also says "car," "all done," "cracker," "cookie," "big," "tree," "Mamaw," "Papaw," and many more words I should really record as they are uttered, but don't. He is really beginning to mimic doing many of the things he sees Henry doing, like having two "guys" pretend fight or putting on socks. Charlie's favorite toys are cars and trucks and other vehicles, which is interesting to me because Henry has never taken much of an interest in automobiles, preferring little people instead. Charlie is a tough, fearless little boy, and he loves to roughhouse, especially with Henry, and especially if Henry is not particularly in the mood. Charlie will put that big, hard head down, battering ram style, and run at Henry full bore, tackling him. He does this despite knowing that Henry is bigger and will probably knock him aside easily (and probably painfully). He loves balls, which I assume all little boys do, and he loves telephones, real and pretend. He is a very affectionate boy, and right now he will give me kisses, on demand, any time I want them! I take advantage of this service frequently. Charlie gets very excited and begins dancing frantically when he hears the trumpet opening to CBS's "Sunday Morning." Henry did this, too, when he was a toddler, and though it may be an interesting song to all babies, we imagine it's something in their blood, since Russell is a trumpet player.

Family news: We continue having family culture day on the weekends, or at least family fun day. This past weekend we visited a pumpkin patch, and the two weekends prior were the zoo and a harvest festival. We're trying to decide whether we should get a dog. Or whether we should have one more baby. I asked Henry what he thought, and he voted "dog," then changed it to "both, and a mouse." I can't make up my mind about the dog, or the baby, but given our recent history with small animals, the mouse seems like a no-brainer. Last month we went to Gatlinburg with Russell's family, staying at a chalet in the mountains. We had a fantastic time - Henry panned for gold, we ate at Pancake Pantry, and on the last day, we saw a real black bear! We ended up staying in Morristown for a full week afterward, too, and it made me really wish we could live closer to our families - it's just so good for the boys to be surrounded by the love of extended family. Russell's job should keep us in Middle Tennessee for a long time to come, though, and we love the area and the friends we've made here, so we'll just have to plan on making frequent trips to East Tennessee. At least it's not Texas!!

Details

Whoa. OK now that was a rough patch, in the child-rearing department. Henry started preschool on August 9th, and since then he's attended four days, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for six hours each time. He is in the "Caterpillars" class. There are eight students and two teachers. The first day was just wrenching, for both of us. He clung to me and SCREAMED when I left. I had been banking on his three and a half year old's sense of decorum - something that has definitely developed over the past year - kicking in, but no such luck. He panicked at the prospect of my leaving him in that foreign environment, and he didn't care who witnessed him totally losing it. We both made it through the day, though, somehow. The teacher called me a couple of hours after I left to let me know Henry was doing fine, holding the flag during the Pledge of Allegiance and dancing during music time. "We took pictures!" she told me, as if I would only believe such claims if presented with pictorial evidence (she was right). Throughout the day, a volley of phone calls flew between my Mom, Russell's mom, and me. We were all nervous for him. When I went to pick him up, Henry was exhausted but happy and clearly proud to have made it through the day. I was unbelievably proud of him myself. Subsequent school dropoffs have been progressively easier, with fewer and fewer tears each time until last Thursday, day four, when he didn't cry at all! He wouldn't even hug me goodbye when I left him; he just sat down at a table and started working on whatever craft the teacher had prepared. I hugged him, though! That day was also the first day Henry relaxed enough to fall asleep during nap time, something he has sworn, SWORN he would never do.

The hardest part for me has been how little information I can get out of Henry about what he was doing during the six hours he was away from me each school day. It takes me days to cobble together even a rough outline of his school day. Often when I ask him questions about school, his response is, "I don't remember." Luckily the teachers give me a paper summarizing the highlights of the day - "Good rester. Ate most of his lunch. Enjoyed Spanish class. Word of the day: "family". Read XYZ books. Sang 'Three Little Speckled Frogs.' " - and that gives direction to my interrogation. "Henry, did you sing a song called 'Three Little Speckled Frogs' today?" "Uh, yes." "How does it go?" "I can't 'member." "Well, does it go like this (singing to tune of 'Row, Row'): 'Three little speckled frogs....'?" "NO, Mommy!" "Well, does it go like this (singing to tune of 'Twinkle, Twinkle'): 'Three little speckled frogs...'?" "NO!!!!!" "Well, Henry, I'm just going to have to ask your teacher to sing it for me when I take you back to school...." I want details!!!!!! I also ask him what his friends' names are at school, to which he responds either, "I don't know," or, "I can't 'member," so I finally got smart and took a picture of the kids' names above the backpack hanging station outside the classroom door, and now my questions are more pointed: "Henry, is there a boy named Brayden in your class? Colt? Dalton? Bert?" (that last one was thrown in to see if he was paying attention, heh heh heh.)

OK, I need to write about my Charlie now, Charlie who will never go to preschool and who will always be at home with me!! Charlie is going through a growth spurt, I think, and he is also getting about eight new teeth all at once. This combination of factors makes him very hungry AND very unable to eat as much as he would like, because of the pain. This, in turn, makes him very grumpy (I gleaned all this from a preverbal toddler, impressive, right???). When Charlie is grumpy, he wants to be held a lot, and if I put him down for a minute because I need two hands to, say, pour him some milk, he wraps both arms around my leg and pulls, simultaneously emitting a loud "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" sound that I can only describe as apelike. Combine this with the bundle of nerves Henry and I have been over the school issue, and you can see that tensions have been running a little high at the Moore household over the past few weeks. However, Charlie is learning so many new things, I don't even mind (most of the time). He thrives on the days we have alone together - clearly he loves our one-on-one time, and so do I, as much as I miss my Hen. We blow a lot of bubbles and read a lot of books when we're alone together. We go to parks and do grocery shopping at a leisurely pace. (I don't tell Henry any of this. The official version of what Charlie and I do while Henry is at school is: "We were bored. We stayed at home and missed you. Charlie cried a lot. Mommy cried a little" or some variation of that.) Charlie's vocabulary is expanding daily. He now says, in his own Charlie way, "more," "up," "bye bye," "night night," "car," "bottle," "milk," "bee," "mama," "dada," "fish," "cheese," "water," "all gone," and other words that aren't coming to me right now. He smacks his lips if he wants something to eat or he wants a kiss. He has become an inveterate flirt; when he sees a little girl, he dances, he smiles, he does this Charlie nose-scrunching thing, he does anything he can to get her attention. He has a favorite song now! It's "If You're Happy and You Know It," and he really gets into the hand clapping part. He starts clapping wildly at just the opening measures of the song, before the singing even starts! Adorable. We've been doing the toe counting "This Little Piggy Went To Market" thing with him a lot, and now he'll point to his toes and say, "This!" when he wants us to do it. He goes down the slide at the park by himself now! He is quite the climber, Charlie is. I just love him so.

Other family news: (1) Aunt Jana is coming for a visit this weekend! (2) We are going to Gatlinburg with Russell's parents over Labor Day. (3)We have started a Nashville Culture Day within our little family of four. It is on Sunday, and each Sunday we'll take the boys to one cultural thing in Nashville, also working in Indian food as often as possible. This past weekend we took the boys to see Fort Nashborough, and it was a hit. (4) Goldy, the black goldfish I mentioned for the first time in my last post, is no longer with us, and by that I do not mean we gave him to another

loving owner, unless by "another loving owner" you mean God in Heaven above. I'm going to set aside my fish enthusiast hat for a while, I've decided. I think I owe at least that much to Hendersonville's dwindling goldfish population. (5) Russell celebrated his 35th birthday on August 16th. The boys and I got him a cake and a new watch, and I also gave him a virus. The cake and the watch were hits! (6) We have implemented a new Mommy-Gets-30-Minutes-of-Alone-Time-at-the-End-of-the-Day rule. This came on the heels of an afternoon where I very nearly lost my ever-loving mind for want of some alone time. Russell kindly suggested I might run, or read, or meditate during this time. I came up with the following, more practical use of my time:

Before:

And After:

Oh, and finally, (7) I redid the boys' bathroom last week:

It's The Fi-nal Countdown (sung to the tune of the Europe song)

T minus two days until Henry starts preschool. I have hardly thought about anything else all week. On Thursday night I went to meet his teachers and visit his classroom for parents' night. He will be one of ten kids in his class, with two teachers, Ms. Lisa and Ms. Erin, who both seem very sweet and genuine and fond of children, all qualities necessary for a successful preschool teacher, I imagine. The classroom is a three-year-old's dream: filled to bursting with paints, markers, crayons, stuffed animals, clay, puppets, a play kitchen, a doll house, trucks, cars, Legos (!), bins of seashells, rubber insects, stickers, play telephones (old school ones; I'm not sure the kids will even recognize them for what they are!), books, a computer, and on and on. The room is really well thought out, and everything is set up at three-year-old level, including a sink for frequent hand washing. Despite the perfection of the environment, however, I had a mini-panic attack as I sat there in the toddler-size chair listening to the teachers' spiel. I was having flashbacks to my own first days of school (preschool, kindergarten, first grade, second grade, possibly even third grade), when all I did for the first day or two was sob. All I wanted was to go back home to my MOM, and no one could comfort me. She was my other half, and I felt like I couldn't even function away from her. It was so awful! It is heartbreaking to me to think that Henry might feel even a fraction of the sadness I felt when he goes to school on Tuesday! I don't know what I'm going to do with myself from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. that day, but I am relieved I have Charlie to think of, or else I seriously would probably just sit in the school parking lot all day. By the end of the parent/teacher session, I had almost convinced myself to switch Henry to a different school, one where a friend of mine would be his teacher, or perhaps to just go ahead and get a head start on what inevitably would be Henry's fourteen years of home schooling.

Then on Friday morning, at Russell's prompting, we went ahead and took Henry to visit his classroom and teachers, as we had planned. (I was sure it was pointless; Henry would never be able to be away from me!) Henry marched in and sat himself down at the table with Ms. Lisa. He began drawing with the various colored markers and pencils, and he showed Ms. Lisa how he can write the letter "H"! He was feeling shy and only responding with his high-pitched "shy voice" (it's an octave or so higher than his regular voice), but he stayed there drawing for fifteen minutes or so. Then he made his way around the room, lingering at the hand puppets and Legos, noting the easel and paints, playing with toys and just generally inspecting every inch of the room. He wouldn't answer our questions about whether he liked his classroom or not, so engrossed was he in his investigation. "I'm busy!" he responded at one point. Finally we had to leave, and he objected. "I'm still playing!" he said. We took his reluctance to leave as a good sign, and we went ahead and turned in the paperwork officially registering him for preschool there. And now we wait for Tuesday...

In other news...

Charlie: Charlie has begun singing, and he carries a tune wonderfully! The words are still indistinguishable, but the tunes are there. He can hum/babble the tunes to "Frere Jacques," the ABC song, and "Row, Row." It's so sweet, and I think he is going to fit right in with the rest of our family, with our weird singing conversations (do other families do this?). He has a particular fondness for play golf clubs, and he's taken to using this plastic golf club we have as a bludgeon. Henry is usually his victim, and he gets the club taken away when he hits with it, after which he is positively heartbroken, but he always goes back to hitting when he gets his little mitts on it again. I think he finds it amusing! And it is, kind of, except when someone actually gets hurt. Charlie is getting a LOT of teeth in right now, all at once. His canines on top, I think, and whatever their counterparts on the bottom are called, and maybe a few others. Hopefully he will be able to chew better soon, and I can stop nursing and be confident that he is getting enough nutrition from the solid foods he eats. And speaking of canines, Charlie does a lot of barking like a dog lately. "Wooh! Wooh!" he often cries, for no apparent reason. He did it in the car the other day, and Henry exclaimed, exasperated, "Charlie, I don't know WHAT you're looking at, but it's NOT a dog!"

Henry: Henry has been acting a little more wild than usual lately. He has these intermittent aggressive impulses, out of nowhere, which I attribute to his being a boy. For instance, he really beats the living hell out of his stuffed animals sometimes, and he'll say, "I'm knocking him out. He's dead!" which I try very hard not to find disturbing, having read that it's good for kids (especially boys) to get their aggression out in play, so that it won't express itself in real life. Then a few minutes later, he'll be giving another stuffed animal a bottle and putting it to bed, nurturing it. It's all very complicated and mysterious to me, but fascinating to watch. One day this week Henry told me he had "a couple of jobs for me" (I think they both involved fetching toys for him from the car or some other unreachable place) and "three jobs for Daddy when he [got] home from work" (!). He has certain tyrant tendencies at times - the word "imperious" comes to mind - and while I admire his confidence, I'm trying to curb those just a little, because I'm not sure that will go over all that well at school. Or in life, actually. This evening we were playing a game where he disappears under the table, then makes cat sounds, while I look around, confused: "Where did Henry go? I really want him to hear this cat that's gotten into our house somehow. I'm sure this time that this is a real cat I'm hearing." Then Henry jumps out and I say, "Oh there you are, you just missed a cat who came inside!" And he tries to convince me that HE was making the cat sounds, but I insist it was a real cat I heard. We go back and forth until he gets really frustrated, which he does every time, exclaiming, "No, Mommy, it was REALLY me!! I was the cat! Oh, you don't understand me!" And I catch a glimpse of what our conversations may be like when he is a teen.

Other family news: We got a new goldfish about a week ago. Henry named him "Goldy." He is solid black.

Cages

Wow, three weeks without a post, oops. I've been in my usual summer funk - I can't bear this heat, why haven't we moved to the mountains yet? - and haven't felt like writing. Please get here, fall! Last week we did at least visit the mountains, for our annual Sylva trip with the Goddards. It went by way too fast! I'll let the pictures do the talking, except for two points: Henry and Jessie had the best time ever playing together and were instant best friends; and we ate ice cream every single night of our vacation!

Henry: Henry is so close to starting school. Only eleven more days! Today we got him a new school haircut, and last week we received the backpack and lunch sack we ordered for him online. I had the doctor's office fax his vaccination record to the school today, which made it all seem very real all of a sudden. I still need to get a sheet and blanket for his nap mat, although those items are probably unnecessary - when I told him he would be taking naps at school, he actually laughed. Kind of hard. Like, "Ha ha, Mom, you know I can't sleep without you!" Next week we go to visit his classroom and meet his teacher, which I think is an excellent idea, and I have to go to an informational meeting for parents one night next week, too. I'll be the parent silently

sobbing in the corner. In other Henry news, he is really into drawing right now. He mostly draws people, often family portraits. His people look a lot like primitive sun drawings, or amoebas - one circle with four lines radiating outward for the arms and legs, in varying sizes depending on the age of the subject. Sometimes he also encloses them in cages, so they can't escape. Not sure how to interpret that; fear of abandonment? Anyway, it's fun to watch. While we are in Sylva, I found a wooden child's easel with a blackboard, a dry erase grease board, and a roll of paper on Craigslist for $30, so now he'll really be able to do some drawing. (But that is definitively the last large item our playroom can accommodate! I mean it this time.) Finally, something funny I keep forgetting to write about is Henry's in-the-car "I need to pee" sound, or his "pee sound," as he refers to it. It's kind of a protracted grunting sound he makes when we're on the road (Uhhhhhhhhh. Uh. UH!) and it's accompanied by spasmic thrashing, kicking, and head tossing. Russell and I know when we hear it to start looking for a place to pull over. Henry thinks it's hilarious, and he is right!

Charlie: Charlie, age sixteen and a half months, had his fifteen month checkup today (oops). He weighs twenty six pounds and is 31 1/2 inches tall (or 2 foot 7, as I like to say). The doctor continues to fret over the size of his head (XXL), but I think we've pretty much convinced him it's genetic. Developmentally he is doing fantastic: walking, babbling, running, dancing, saying a few words. And oh yeah, sleeping, too, finally! Now he wakes only once a night, most nights, and I will take it! Charlie's assigned duty in our family right now is "bug patrol": he scours the floors and nooks and crannies of whatever environment we find ourselves in, and when he finds a bug, or even a small speck that might be a bug, he stops and points, bloodhound style, saying, "Buh! Buh!" He does this until someone comes over to inspect the object and gives him a yea or a nay, "Yes, it's a bug, Charlie," or, "No, that's a tiny piece of Lego. Henry, please keep the Legos on the table!" Then he moves on, satisfied he has fulfilled his duties. Bug patrol.

Charlie has a special chair in the den he likes to sit in and look at books. It's a little blue futon-style chair I bought at a consignment sale when Henry was a tot. Charlie loves sitting in this chair, and sometimes he'll disappear and I'll go looking for him and find him alone in the den, sitting in a chair, looking at a book. This definitely reminds me of me. And Russell! Charlie sleeps with a blankie now! I finally got one of my children to form an attachment to a sleep object! I don't know why this feels like an accomplishment, or why it's important, but since I've had children, everyone has insisted that such attachments are healthy. With Henry, I am the sleep object he attached to, a less desirable situation, I've been led to understand. So there you go, world: one of my kids is doing something "normal" in the sleep department! I'm sure it's a fluke.

Other news: I found out a few weeks ago that my friend, Jenny, and Henry's friend, Parker, are moving to Texas in a few weeks. This is terrible news for us, because we love them!! I'm not sure Henry really understands yet, but I understand well enough for both of us. I am the first to admit that I don't make close friends that easily, and Jenny and I have been good friends. Throughout my life, it has seemed that very often when I do form a close friendship, one of us moves away (usually me!). I know this is just part of life, and part of living in a BIG country and a very mobile society, but I'm still considering requiring future friend applicants to sign some sort of...stagnation agreement, wherein we both vow not to move away. Kind of an adult version of the cages Henry draws! That sounds reasonable. I'm sure it won't scare away potential friends, or anything.

Ch-ch-ch-change

OK. I need to do a post that addresses what the boys are doing developmentally right now, because I've been neglecting that part of the blog and they are changing so rapidly!

Henry is getting ready to start preschool in one month. I am not ready for Henry to start preschool in one month. I just gave birth to him, and now I'm supposed to just send him off to school two days a week? That's insane, who does that? Who? Everyone? And most people start their kids at age three, or even age two? And for three days a week, or even FIVE? Oh. Well, that just proves that people are crazy. I've tried gently telling Henry, "Now, at first you may feel sad or afraid about being away from Mommy..." and before I can finish with, "But school will be really fun," he interrupts me: "No, Mommy, I won't. Really." (Shaking his head earnestly.). I'm actually starting to believe him a little. In other Henry news, our summer evening routine is in full swing. Every evening when Russell gets home, Henry and I head outdoors to work in the yard, sometimes accompanied by Russell and Charlie, sometimes not. I usually plant flowers or something, and he helps me dig, but this is all just a prelude to the main event: watering the trees and flowers, which, in Henry's parlance, means watering the Henry. As I water, he dashes through the stream from the hose, fully clothed. Then he heads to the water table and dumps cupfulls of water over his head. Then he pronounces proudly, "Mommy, I'm soaked!" Then, "No, I'm dry, feel my shirt," (I feel it): "I'm SOAKED!" Yesterday, Henry had the idea to make finger puppets (Caillou did it on an episode, so...), so we did that, and it was a hit. He is sleeping with some of them as I type. Some cute expressions of Henry's: "I'm getting busy," which means, "I'm getting dizzy." Today he crossed his arms and told me, "I refuse to do that." I didn't love the sentiment - he was just testing me, but still - but the adultness of it tickled me.

Young Charles is fully a toddler now, and he has such a big personality! He is a ham. He loves to go hide in the walk-in closet upstairs, then sort of surprise whoever walks in after him. He even goes in there when it's dark, and he'll stay longer than you might expect a fifteen month old to, waiting for his prey. This reminds me of me as a little kid; I clearly remember hiding behind doors and jumping out to startle my dad. Actually it reminds me of me NOW. Charlie shakes his head "no" in response to questions now: "Charlie, can Mommy have a kiss? Charlie, would you like something to eat? Charlie, are you ever going to get married and leave your Mommy?" He recognizes many words and points to a variety of objects in books when asked to. He can make a horse sound. Every morning when we wake up, he insists on looking at a book first thing. He wakes me up every morning and after every nap by leaning over me and saying a very breathy, "Hhhhhhi!" I would say he drinks from a sippy cup about 60% of the time now, but he strongly prefers his bottle and would use it all the time if we weren't staring his fifteen month checkup in the face (Dr. Johnson will definitely want him fully off the bottle by now.) He loves berries, and we've been having berries at every meal lately; I won't know how to break it to him in a few months when they aren't in season! Charlie loves his big brother, and lots of times when we're in the car, I glance back to see them holding hands!

Other family happenings: The praying mantises all escaped. I was crushed, but I was alone in my sorrow. No one else has noticed or asked after them! I imagine they're growing big and fat in our lovely yard, but they may have eaten each other. The fish tank is cycling along nicely thanks to a friend who loaned us some gravel from her healthy aquarium. It will be ready to welcome a new fish in a week or so. Unfortunately I've done a little research and discovered that every fish small enough to survive in a three-gallon tank needs to live in a school of at least five fish. But our tank isn't big enough to accommodate five fish! We may end up with one of those fighting betta fish, which for some reason really creep me out. This weekend we are headed to Morristown to celebrate baby Dylan's first birthday...I can't believe he is already one! Next week we are going with our friends David and Wayna to Sylva for our annual trip. Henry and Jessie should really enjoy playing together now, and the two Charlies should enjoy each others' company, too. We always decide when we visit Western North Carolina that we want to live there, then we come back home to the reality of finding a new job for Russell and selling our house, and we decide we'd better stay put. Maybe this year while we're there, a really fabulous job will present itself, alongside a buyer beside himself with desire to purchase a modest but generously-yarded home in Hendersonville, Tennessee...it could happen...

Suffer the little children, man!

I have no idea what happened last week, after the praying mantis hubbub, that is. I remember a lot of playing outdoors. This weekend, however, was grand: the perfect mix of fun, family time, and relaxation, with a few sprinkles of housework thrown in. Friday for lunch the boys and I went into Nashville to play at Centennial Park and then meet Russell at Woodlands for Indian food. Our original plan was to pick up a bike for Henry we found for sale on Craigslist from a guy in West Nashville, but we couldn't agree on a price, so that fell through.

Saturday morning, I met my friend Susie for coffee. Then Russell and I took the boys to Barnes and Noble for story time. It turned out that after story time, there was a bonus, a lady leading music time with instruments. What we didn't realize, though, was that while we were enjoying music time, the frowning older lady who dutifully but unenthusiastically read the book (clearly she had been coerced into doing story time and would have been happier rearranging cook books) went ahead and put out the craft stuff and the snack. Even though everyone was busy singing and playing the "chiquitas" the cheery music lady had brought. Then, when music time was over and the kids began asking, "Monmy, can I have a cookie? Can I draw with these markers?" Her Grumpiness had already taken away the cookies and milk and had begun stonily putting away the markers and paper and glue! I hurriedly told Henry to draw something with the markers (trying to make the missed cookies up to him), even as the Barnes and Noble lady's hands snatched up markers and glue sticks. One little girl asked, "What are the glue sticks for?" and received a scoffing reply: "Ha! Well they WERE for gluing crafts, but craft time is OVER." Then suddenly she stopped. "WHERE is the lid to this glue stick?" she demanded. Aha! I had her. I knew that my Charlie had wandered off to the train table minutes before with the glue stick lid clutched in his hand. This bought Henry enough time to finish his drawing, then I went over, retrieved the lid, and took it to the meany, where she was still searching for it. She didn't ask where I'd found it, and I didn't volunteer that information. When we left the book store, we noticed bounce houses and ponies across the street at the farmers' market, so we went over there for a while. Henry had his first pony ride, on a pony named Ginger, and both boys enjoyed the bounce houses. Charlie also ran around in the fountains and got soaked, which is exactly what Henry used to do at his age.On Sunday, Russell's parents came to visit, as Sam had a doctor's appointment in Nashville early Monday morning. We picked up lunch from the Star Cafe in Goodlettsville and took it to Moss Wright park to eat under the pavilion. We were glad for the pavilion, because it was pouring. After lunch I pushed Henry on the swings in the rain, which he thought was hilarious, and the boys enjoyed running around and getting soaked and playing with Mamaw's giant umbrella. Sunday night after naps, we met Sam and Sharon for dinner at P.F. Chang's. On Monday Sam got his temporary prosthesis, which means he will be able to start learning to walk again.

Yesterday morning, the boys and I drove into Nashville to buy that bike for Henry we found on Craigslist - apparently over the weekend, the guy selling it had a change of heart. It's a sweet bike, blue with training wheels and just Henry's size. The guy selling it threw in a bike helmet, and before I could explain that we are a family of gigantic heads and that no child-size bike helmet in existence would fit on even a newborn member of our family, he was attempting to strap it onto Henry's large noggin. It didn't fit, not even close. "Well," he said, "take it anyway, in case you have a friend [with a normal size head] over to play." (The part between brackets was implied.) After driving all the way from Hendersonville, I figured we should try to find something fun to do in Nashville. Then I remembered we were near Phillips Toy Mart, a legendary toy store we'd always wanted to visit but never had.

The toy store was incredible! They had every toy imaginable. However, the minute we walkedthrough the door and began looking around at toys, a grouchy old lady who worked there (what's the deal with grouchy old ladies working in children's establishments, anyway? I suppressed the urge to ask her if she had a sister who works at Barnes and Noble) began sniping at Henry (age 3) and Charlie (age 1): "Be sure to put those toys BACK when you're done looking at them!" We ignored her and picked up a kite to purchase. I smiled inwardly, thinking, "We are going to have some FUN with this lady...she has no idea about Charlie's pick-up-a-different-item-every-30-seconds ways." We moved on to a section of the store with trikes, scooters, and ride-on toys. Signs were posted there: "Do not touch!" (to our minds, a challenge, a veritable invitation to try out and manipulate and ride on). At this point, I came to the unsettling realization that the older lady's attitude was representative of the toy store's somewhat incongruous philosophy: toys are for looking at, not for playing with. So Henry selected a scooter, Charlie a plasma car, and both got to rolling around. The older lady appeared immediately: "Can I HELP you?" she asked. "No, just sort of looking around," I said. She gave us a disapproving look, then stalked off. "Come on, boys, this is not the kind of toy store you can PLAY in," I said loudly, putting back the plasma car and the scooter. We continued browsing through the store, the old lady straightening and rearranging in our wake all the while. To be fair, there is a section of the store with a couple of train tables where kids are allowed to play unaccosted, but by the time we had reached that area of the store, we were too nervous to play at our ease. When we found the Lego section and an aisle with some Playmobil figures that we'd never seen before, Henry began clamoring for me to buy him "some guys." I turned to see what he was talking about, and when I did, my enormous, embarrassingly full diaper bag struck a bin of toys, knocking it to the ground with a loud crash. Oh no! The grumpy old lady would certainly throw us out for such an egregious offense! I knelt to return the items to the bin, when I realized my clumsiness had been serendipitous: I had knocked over a bin full of Wow! Toys figures, Henry's favorite guys, all marked down to $.50 each! (These are made by a British company, and they are a little pricey, and they are ALL Henry wanted for Christmas last year.) We began celebrating our good luck and discussing which ones to buy, when you-know-who appeared. She frowned and shook her head as I apologized and helped her pick up, trying to simultaneously keep my eye on Charlie, who kept disappearing to different aisles and shouting "Ba! Ba!" at every ball he saw, and Henry, who was just beside himself about the Wow! toys. We made it out of the store shortly after, but not before Charlie spotted and formed an unbreakable attachment to a squeaky rubber chicken, which we also purchased.

On a wing and a prayer...

Today was good and semi-eventful, so I will do a bonus entry. We had friends over this morning, which is always fun but not necessarily bonus blog entry material. Then the boys took naps while I researched how to do a fishless cycle of an aquarium, which is a means of preparing a tank for fish BEFORE introducing the fish. (A great idea in theory, but nigh impossible in practice because A) it requires pure ammonia, which is about as rare as a four leaf clover, who knew? and B) it requires material from an existing, healthy aquarium, which I am also having difficulty finding.) But none of that is blogworthy either, I'm surprised you're even still reading. After naps, we went downstairs to find it was pouring rain. I suggested we go sit out on the porch in the rocking chairs and watch the rain, which we did recently and everyone enjoyed. So we did that, I held Charlie and Henry sat in his own chair, then I held Henry and Charlie sat in his own chair. It was really raining, and that held our attention for a while, so I don't know why I glanced over at the mason jar on the table next to us, the one with the old dried up praying mantis egg sac.

*****Flashback to about three months ago******* I'm at Panera on a Saturday morning for Jill Time, and I meet my friend Hollie and a few other friends for coffee. Hollie is moving to Wisconsin soon (booooooo) and this might be one of our last coffee dates. She greets me with a mason jar containing a dry, grayish, flaky looking thing about the size of a big tooth. "Oh, thanks!" I say reflexively. "It's a praying mantis egg sac!" she announces. I remember then that she and her two boys had had a pet praying mantis last year, and that I sort of half jokingly asked her to save me a baby if it had babies. So she has, she's saved me like dozens (hundreds?) of babies! She instructs me to keep the jar outdoors, because only after six or eight weeks of warm weather will the egg sac open, spewing forth tiny praying mantises (manti?). So I take it home, place it on a little table on our front porch, and forget it. Occasionally over the ensuing weeks, I check for babies, but even after spring passes and unofficial summer is upon us, there is just a dried-up looking pod. I figure the babies didn't make it, and I secretly hope Hollie never asks about them, because I fear I may not have cared for them properly. HER egg sac (there were two) opened weeks ago, IN THE CAR, on the long trip to Wisconsin! I contemplate throwing the egg sac away but don't, mostly out of laziness. Occasionally Henry asks when the egg will hatch, and I tell him I don't know. Never once do I stop to consider what might be involved in raising a multitude of baby praying mantises (that seems right, "manti" doesn't sound right).

Fast forward back to today, the first official day of summer. I glanced over at the mason jar, prompted by the same impulse that causes me to glance over at Pokey's fish tank each time I pass by it in the kitchen, even though I know it is empty. Tiny, feather-light bugs lined the bottom of the jar. Many were dead (how many days ago did they hatch?) but some were not. "The egg sac! The egg sac!!!" I squealed, jumping up and dumping Henry from my lap. The boys looked startled. I showed them the tiny babies in the jar. I felt a little panicked, as I had no idea how to care for baby mantises. I Googled "raising praying mantises" and emailed Hollie, and I found out they need a habitat with grass, moist cotton balls for water, and bugs to eat. Tiny bugs in the beginning, then larger ones later. I packed the boys in the van, happy to have an adventure, an we went to the pet store, where we found a plastic terrarium and a jar of wingless fruit flies with what looks like suet in the bottom. (I can't believe I paid money for this; it stinks to high heaven and features thousands of fruit flies from every stage of the fruit fly life cycle, including squirming larvae, swarming around in disgustingness. However, the alternative was to scour our yard for bugs small enough to be eaten by tiny praying mantis babies.)

We returned home, explained the situation to Russell, who has been very patient with my fish hobby but now I may be pushing it, and went outside to find sticks and grass and leaves for our habitat. We accidentally included a leaf with a spider on it, which would have been unspeakably DISASTROUS for our mantis raising project (!) but we caught our mistake and removed him promptly. We shook four live babies into the habitat (well, three live and one barely alive...I picked three live ones from the mason jar and then poked through the poor dead victim mantises for survivors. I saw a leg move feebly amidst the carnage, so I fished that one out and threw him in too, but I don't have high hopes for him.) Then I had to open that jar of disgustingness and shake out what seemed a reasonable number of fruit flies (12?). They were eager to escape, for obvious reasons. (I joked to Russell, well, half joked, that maybe this could be his role in mantis care, the handling of the fruit fly jar, but his eyes reminded me that he just placed a live fish in tequila not two weeks ago.) We put the lid on the terrarium and looked inside, and at that point we realized we had put in so much greenery, we couldn't find the praying mantises. This is a blessing and a curse, because we won't see them if they die at this stage, but if they live, we won't be able to see them until they are much bigger. We did manage to spot two of them and thought they looked pleased, but then I thought Pokey looked pleased in his new aquarium a few weeks ago, when what he actually looked was near death.

In other news, Henry has fallen asleep alone in the bed for the past few nights! Not without a few tears, but he is being very brave about it, and I am hopeful that moving him to his own room is going to be a success!