Happy Birthday, Roary!

Another year has passed since Roary went from being a random cat/tiger sitting on our coffee table to becoming Jack's steadfast companion. Things have changed a little bit for Roary since his last birthday. The biggest change is that he now has an entire family of tigers living with us - Emmy, Garfield, Nicey, and Cutie. Roary shares Jack's affections with all of them, and an extended family of "stuffed guys." Jack's divided attention hasn't meant less love for Roary, though. Jack loves all of his animals, but Roary remains the king, the one Jack always comes to when he most needs comfort. If anything, Jack's love has grown bigger.

When Jack is sad or hurt, he looks to Roary for a tail rub (and in fact inspects most other stuffed animals for tail rubbing possibilities before buying them). And if Jack sees that someone else needs comfort, Roary offers tail rubs to them, too.


I know that many people will think I'm a little nutty for celebrating a stuffed animal's birthday, but Roary is truly a valuable part of our team. I know that the two of them crack each other up. I know that I can count on Roary to entertain Jack during long car rides. I know that the two of them even argue sometimes, as evidenced by Jack putting Roary in "time out" outside his room because "Roary would not stop talking and I needed to go to sleep." I know that when Jack needs extra love, Roary is there for him. Every time I go away on a work trip, I give Roary extra kisses before I leave. I know that they'll get to Jack when he needs them.

Happy birthday, Roary, the best tiger a kid ever had.

Betsy-Jack Academy

Due to circumstances not of my choosing, I suddenly find myself with a lot of time on my hands. I've been working hard to use that time wisely - taking care of Stately Wasser Manor, running, but above all, spending more time with Jack.

Instead of going to school on Wednesdays, he now spends the day with me. I know that if I left things to chance, Jack and I would wile away the entire day having lightsaber battle-fights and I would completely lose my mind.

This was the inspiration for Betsy-Jack Academy. He may not be going to school on Wednesdays with his friends, but he is spending the day with me learning. I choose a theme for each week and pull together activities, projects, and books to go with that theme. So far we have studied snow, the five senses, and yesterday's huge hit, Fairy Tales.

We start the day with a trip to the Family Museum, where they have an exercise class for kids Jack's age that is completely free. Unfortunately for me, the activity mainly focuses on dance. I suspect that I am objectively the most athletic mom there, but you sure wouldn't know it to look at me when I struggle to touch my toes and repeat my one dance move over and over again. I kept wanting to ask when we were going to do the 400 meter track repeats. To make matters worse, I actually strained my left calf galloping like a horse. But no matter - it's fun to get out of the house and do something active.

After the museum, Jack and I made lunch together. He is very interested in learning how to cook, which is excellent, because as far as I'm concerned one of my main duties as a parent is to make sure I don't raise some dumbass college student who doesn't know how to fold laundry or make anything other than spaghetti and ramen noodles.

Next, we read books. With the fairy tale theme, it was really easy to find great reading material. I was impressed by how quickly Jack understood fairy tales as a literary genre - he came up with the fact that most end with "and they lived happily ever after" all on his own. He also understood that they include elements of magic and often feature princes and princesses and was able to come up with several examples. Future English major? We also talked about how these stories have been told and re-told for a very long time, so there are often different versions of the same story. Again, Jack got the concept right away, giving the example of how, sometimes the Big Bad Wolf eats the first two pigs and sometimes they escape to the third pig's house.

We took a movie break, but that too was within our theme. I rented a DVD of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse stories with a fairy tale bent, which gave us another opportunity to talk about different ways of telling these stories.

The most fun part of our day was Art. First, we made piggy noses for The Three Little Pigs. I cut out pieces of egg carton, then we colored them, added pig nostrils, and I attached elastic to them so they'd go around your head. Jack decided we should make them in all different colors, not just pink, so Jack made a red one for himself, orange for Roary, and so on. Garfield (Roary's daddy) was the Big Bad Wolf.


Then we made puppets. Jack has really enjoyed The Frog Prince, so we made the frog, the princess, and the prince.




Finally, no Betsy-Jack Academy is complete without some baking. We made sugar cookies in the shape of frog princes (I have a tremendous collection of cookie cutters).


When Steve got home, we presented The Three Little Pigs as a play, starring Emmy as the Mommy pig, Nicey, Roary, and Jack as the three little pigs, and Garfield as the Big Bad Wolf. I was the narrator, but I wore a pig nose of my own. Jack did a fantastic job, and Steve was really impressed.

It was a great day at Betsy-Jack Academy.

Sucker

Setting: The grocery store. Jack spots a rack of stuffed animals.

Jack (gasping): Mommy! Yookit!
(He holds up an orange striped animal.)

Me: Yes. That's Garfield.

Jack: Mommy! He is the daddy of Roary and Nicey!

Jack (as Nicey): Daddy!

Jack (as Garfield): Nicey!

Me: Oh, boy.

Jack: Mommy, I think that Garfield needs to come and live with us and be part of our family.

(I quickly scan Garfield's price tag and discover that he costs six dollars.)

Me (sighing): Okay.

Jack (to random passer-by): Hey, yookit this tiger! He is the daddy of this tiger named Nicey and my other tiger Roary who is in the car. He is married to my tiger Emmy and my mommy said that we can get him!

Random Passer-By: That's nice.

Jack: Garfield is going to be part of our family and when we get to the car, he is going to see Roary and Emmy and they are going to be so surprised.

So, yes: I am a huge sucker. But did you really want to see poor Roary and Nicey grow up without their dad if I could get him for less than ten dollars? And to see Emmy struggling as a single mom?

Three

Oh, sweet Yoda in the swamps of Dagobah.

Jack now has THREE tigers.

There's Roary, who has been Jack's faithful companion for a little over two years. Then there is newcomer Emmy, Roary's Mommy. Emmy, you may recall, used to be named Susie, but Jack changed it to Emmy for no apparent reason. Roary threatened to change his name to Johnny, but Jack just laughed at him.

Then, Steve and Jack went to the mall last night, where they visited a third tiger. Jack quickly decided that she was Roary's little sister, Nicey. That's Nice with a Y at the end, which is so steadfastly Jack's favorite name in the entire world that I am resigned to the fact that I will have at least one grandchild named Nicey some day.

Nicey joined Roary and Emmy to read books, and when it was time to say goodbye to her, Jack dragged his feet and Nicey started to cry.

Jack explained to Steve that he, Roary, Emmy, and Nicey would all be sad if Nicey couldn't come home with them. That she would be all alone in the store with no other tigers. That she should be part of our family, and that it would be wrong for her to go home with some other family.

Steve is not made of stone. He bought Jack the tiger.

The question now is one of logistics. Jack can carry all three tigers around with him, but that would be a vastly increased level of Crazy, even for Jack. Steve is trying to reach a compromise in which only two tigers at a time go out with Jack, while the third, assigned on a rotating basis, stays home to hold down the fort.

We'll see.

Have It Your Way

If, like me, you have the glamorous job of being mother to a three-year-old, you spend a tremendous amount of time in public bathrooms. Take today, for example. One trip to Burger King, two trips to the bathroom. The second time, Steve offered to take him, but Jack insisted that I have the honor. I am awesome.

The lid to the wastebasket was broken, a source of endless fascination to Jack. He kept asking me about it - how it happend, who would fix it, and so on. As is often my strategy when barraged with his random questions, I turned it back on him - "Jack, how do you think it got broken?"

He gave the matter some thought, and in the car on the way home, he theorized:

Membe, after everyone was asleep, a monster or a nightmare had a key to Burger King. And then they got in and they sat on the trash can and it broke!

Steve and I agreed that this was a logical explanation, and that was undoubtedly how it happened. Then, we got this exchange:

Roary: Maybe, after Burger King was closed, a monkey and an elephant decided to go in. The monkey used the key to open the door and let the elephant in. Then, the elephant sat on the trash can and broke it.

Jack: That makes no sense, Roary.

Face it, Tiger: You just hit the jackpot.

Two years ago, a miraculous transformation took place. Roary went from being Random Stuffed Cat/Tiger Sitting On The Coffee Table to Jack’s Best Friend – and a valued part of our family. So valued, in fact, that for the second time, we celebrated Roary’s birthday.

I’m happy to say that this year, Roary did not have to help Jack through any surgeries or trips to the emergency room. He did, however, stick with Jack through his the move to Stately Wasser Manor, the transition to his Big Boy Bed, a new school, and potty training. Roary and Jack play together, take naps together, and argue like brothers. When Jack is tired or stressed, he has been known to yell, “Roary! I need you!” And one of my favorite moments ever in my life came on our trip to Disney World. Jack asked Steve how we were able to hear Jiminy Cricket’s voice during the fireworks. Steve said that it was magic. Jack pointed up in the sky and said, “Look, Roary: Magic.”



Jack’s understanding of Roary’s importance has deepened in this past year. About a month ago, I heard Jack’s panicked yell from the bathroom. Acting purely on instinct, I found myself rapidly removing a pile of sodden orange fur from the toilet – Jack dropped Roary as it was flushing.

It was quite a while before Jack found the humor in that situation. He clung to Roary (who I’d secretly swapped for a clean, dry model) and thanked me for rescuing him. “Roary, you could have been lost,” he said tearfully. “You’re part of our family.”

Amazingly, that family has grown. Steve and Jack went to Barnes and Noble last week and found a selection of Roaries, who Jack immediately decided were Roary’s family and should read books with them. When it came time to put the tigers away and say goodbye to them, Jack started to move slowly. He replaced all of the tigers but one.
“Daddy,” he said, “I really want to take this tiger home with us. She is Roary’s mommy and Roary needs his mommy. And then she would be part of our family too.”
Steve listened carefully, and he could tell that Jack was being completely sincere. He was not trying to score a new tiger, so much as he was looking out for his friend. Sure enough, when Jack came home, he held Roary’s mommy over his head and announced, “Ta-da! This is Roary’s mommy and she is part of our family now and her name is Susie!” The Roary and Susie hugged and kissed.



A little while later, Jack grew pensive. He realized that Susie still had her whiskers, but that Roary’s are long gone. It made him sad to think that his friend was missing his whiskers. So, I explained to Jack that he had loved Roary’s whiskers off, and that is what happens to friends who are special to us. I showed him Rexa, who was my special dinosaur when I was a little girl, and the place under her chin where I rubbed off all of the green. I told him that it doesn’t hurt Rexa, just like the missing whiskers don’t hurt Roary, because it reminds them of how much we love them. This made Jack feel better – so much better, in fact, that the next day he removed Susie’s whiskers so that he would know she was loved, too.



We celebrated Roary’s birthday like a family: with cupcakes (marble, so they’d be striped like Roary) with orange icing (Roary’s favorite color) that we decorate with jungle animal candies and black icing stripes. I don’t recommend the black icing, but I do recommend spending a birthday with loved ones.



Happy birthday, Roary, and welcome to the family, Susie.

Oedipus Wrecks

The other night, Jack and I were talking about princesses. As you do. And I asked him which princess is his favorite. He amended his initial response of "all of them" to say Princess Giselle. Why? "Because she wears that beautiful big white dress, Mommy. You should get one like that."

I told Jack that I do have a big white dress like that. In fact, my big white dress is probably only slightly smaller than the comically exaggerated dress from Enchanted. Jack was amazed that I have a dress like that, yet do not wear it every single day, because really, why wouldn't you?

Before he could suggest that I get my dress out of the place where I have it hermetically sealed, I distracted him with an album of wedding pictures. Jack loved them. Not only did they feature a very glamorous Mommy and Daddy, but lots of other people Jack knows. Seeing his older, sophisticated (he is 12, after all) cousin Devin as a baby? Fascinating. Then, Jack and I had this conversation.

Jack: Mommy? When you get married again, will you marry me?

Me: I can't, buddy. I'm already married to Daddy.

Jack: Well, then what am I supposed to do?

I suggested that he could marry somebody else. Somebody smart and funny and... "Membe Cinderella," Jack suggested. Then he had an even better idea: Princess Jasmine, from Aladdin. After all, Princess Jasmine is brave, smart, pretty, and has a pet tiger, just like Jack. Clearly, the two of them already have a lot in common.

Down by the River

Steve called me late yesterday afternoon to tell me that he had to work late. That's fine, but it meant I wouldn't be able to get in a run, since it was also my night to recap American Idol. Again, that'd be okay, except that I know I won't be able to run today either, since he's got another work thing. And that trisko is looming closer, you guys.

Then, I decided to make it work. I wouldn't be able to do my scheduled five miles, but if I kept things interesting for Jack, maybe I could do three. And to make things as interesting as possible, I decided we should go to the bike and running path down by the Mississippi River.

This little outing took considerably more work with the Cub involved. For one thing, I had to figure out how to cram the jogging stroller into my car, ultimately shoving it onto the passenger seat. And I had to pack snacks. Then Jack wanted to learn how to make Gatorade - "Some for you, and some for me, too, because I'm going to run too, Mommy."

The second I parked my car, Jack pulled off a classic kid move: "Mommy, is there a potty here?" The answer to that question was either "No" or "Yeah, see that rock over there?" And thus, I became the one to teach my son how to pee outdoors. I always thought his dad would take him through that rite of passage, but I was desperate.

I finally got him in the jogger, only to have him immediately dump 3/4 of his goldfish crackers on the ground. Jack and I established that there is no Five Second Rule outside when he saw a partially eaten container of McDonald's french fries lying in a parking lot and was intrigued by them. We do not eat food off of the dirt - not even french fries or shrimp cocktail.

At last, we were off. Jack had a fine time looking at ducks, waving at babies, and checking out the dogs. I actually managed to get in about 2-3/4 miles before he asked me if he could run, too. He'd been more than patient, so I unstrapped him, and we took off.

Running a quarter of a mile is probably very much like running a 10 miler if you have little short legs like he does. But Jack really kept at it. Every once in a while, he'd stop to walk, and I'd ask him if he wanted to ride in the stroller for just a little while. Every time, he responded by saying, "I want to run" and taking off once more.

There is no doubt in my mind: the kid is a future distance runner. I think he's in for quite the dilemna the fall of his freshman year in high school when he has to decide between Daddy's sport of soccer and Mommy's sport of cross country. I'd be willing to bet money that he'll wind up a cross country runner. He likes playing soccer, but I've never heard him laughing with glee the way he does when he's running.

After our run, we stopped for Gatorade - me in my green water bottle, Jack in his Thomas the Tank Engine sippy cup. We discovered that the geese that live by the river are a bold and frightening lot. My friend Felicia writes on her blog Life Aboard Mazurka about a pair of geese that pretty effectively terrorize her boat home. She calls them the Cheneys, which made me instantly think of this goose as Condi.

Jack and I stood on one side of a park bench, with his sippy cup on it, and Condi was on the other. She marched right up to us hissing. It is really weird to see a bird hiss, and at first, Jack thought it was funny to see a bird sticking its tongue out. But Condi got awfully close to us, and since she and Jack are roughly the same size, he started to feel intimidated. "Mommy, I don't want that goose to lick my cup," he said, "Will you please pick it up?" I had to admit that I was scared of the goose too and was nervous about picking the cup up. Then, Jack, Roary, and I tried to scare Condi away by roaring at her. We sounded ferocious, but Condi was nonplussed. She backed up slightly, so I swooped in and rescued the sippy cup. Jack and I then retreated.

It was a really fun night. What had looked like an evening of me being slightly resentful at not getting a run in turned into an adventure.

Jack and Roary

Jack: MOMMY! Roary poked me in the eye.


Jack: (whining)
Me: What's wrong, Jack?
Jack: Roary broke my sunglasses.


Jack: MOMMY!
Me: What's wrong, Cub? It's time to go to sleep.
Jack: Roary hit me.
Me: Roary, tell Jack you're sorry.
Jack (as Roary): Sorry, Jack.
Me: Now hug each other and go back to sleep.


Jack: Did not.
Roary: Did too.
Jack: Did not.
Roary: Did too.
Jack: Did not.
Me: Stop it, you guys.



I don't see the need to have another kid.

Super Mommy Powers

I was hanging out downstairs the other day when Jack stood at the top of the stairs and yelled, "MOMMY! WILL YOU PLEASE MAKE ROARY'S TAIL TINY?" The next thing I heard was the familiar thump of a little stuffed tiger being chucked down the stairs. I fixed Roary's tail, then threw him back up the stairs to Jack.

I thought it was funny - and a bit encouraging - that Jack found a solution to this problem that did not just involve him wailing to me until I came and fixed the tail. So, I shared this story with my mom and Steve.

Both of their faces lit up. "What does he mean when he says that," they both wanted to know. Jack, apparently, has asked both of them to make Roary's tail "tiny." My mom changed the subject; Steve said that he didn't know what that meant and that he just wanted to drink his coffee. In both cases, Jack gave up, presumably waiting until I could solve this problem.

Jack rubs Roary's tail when he needs a little extra comfort or love. There are times when Jack will otherwise seem to be in a good mood, but I'll see him sneak in a quick tail rub. And Jack likes Roary's tail best when all of the stuffing is smooshed out of his tail and into his body. Stuffing will occasionally sneak back into his tail, at which point Jack asks for help making it "tiny" again. Everytime a Roary gets out of the washing machine, I always re-tiny his tail before giving him to Jack.

I told Mom and Steve how to make the tail tiny and almost immediately regretted it. Here I had a specialized skill - I shouldn't have shared it with anyone else, as that knowledge gave me power and importance.

I needn't have worried. Apparently, nobody makes Roary's tail tiny as well as Mommy does.

All Dressed Up...

Being Jack's mom is never boring. Sometimes, I'll walk into the living room and encounter this:



As Tim Gunn would say, "That's a lot of look."

You've got the shiny white space suit, so why not accent that with a great big pirate belt? And if that doesn't make enough of a statement, you'll want to throw in the skull necklace. And headband with attached Johnny Depp dreads. Plus, no need to worry about other kids making fun of you, 'cause you've got your trusty sword and a map to get out of there.

Last week, he went through a phase that lasted two days in which he wore an orange fishing vest over his regular clothes and insisted that he was Diego. I met him and Steve out for dinner and we had this conversation.

Jack: MOMMY!
Me: Hi, Cub. Hi, Roary.
Jack (in Roary voice): No, Dora. I'm still Baby Jaguar.
Me: Oh, of course you are.

Jack also told me on Friday that one of his friends at school insisted that he was Diego. The nerve! I asked Jack if maybe they could both be Diego. Jack gave me a look that was so weary, that so clearly conveyed, "Lady, if you think that, then I don't even know where to start with you." It was a look, in short, that I didn't expect to see for at least 9 years. Jack told me that he told his friend, basically, "Dude, I have the vest, so obviously you have no argument." He told the other kid that he could be Tico (since I was already Dora and Roary was already Baby Jaguar). He's nothing if not reasonable.

Tonight, I came home to this:


Jack is wearing the Batman shirt that my mom made for my brother when he was about four years old. She couldn't find the cape and hood that went with it, so she made him a new one - and then upped the ante of coolness by throwing in a cape for Roary so he can be Battiger.



Bad guys beware!

Family Reunion

At Barnes & Noble today, we discovered two more Roaries in the children's section. Jack, of course, had Roary with him and immediately decided that they were Roary's MommyDaddy. Roary and his parents were delighted to see each other and spent a lot of time hugging, then crowding into my lap to hear stories. They had a lovely visit, then said goodbye so we could go home. Later, we had this conversation.

Roary (Jack speaking): I miss my MommyDaddy.
Me: I understand, Roary. But Jack needs you, and you are a very important part of this family.
Jack: Yeah, Roary. I need you.

As if Jack was not the one who brought up the subject of Roary missing his parents. Ah, the complicated emotional life of a boy and his stuffed tiger. Someone should write a comic strip about it.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Jack!

On Monday, December 24, Jack turned three years old.

Jack's third year has been a crazy one. Luckily, it has been free of surgeries and has included only one trip to the emergency room - and only one ear infection. But we did pack up everything we owned in a "big orgish truck" and leave the only home Jack had ever known. There were also smaller transitions - his crib has been replaced with a toddler bed. Sippy cups are used only to protect our carpeting. Binkies are no longer a constant, but rather are only for sleeping and in the car. He's learning to use the potty with increased consistency - to the point where I am no longer buying giant boxes of diapers at Sam's Club.

His vocabulary has exploded - I could no longer list his words if I tried. He says please and thank you without being asked, and often finds me in the kitchen and asks, "Mommy, may I help you, please?" He can take his pants off by himself and does a decent attempt with his shirt, hampered only by his giant head. He can count to about 15 (then the rest of the teen numbers sound a lot alike), knows how to kick a soccer ball, play tee ball, and stir muffin batter.

In short, he's turned from a baby to a toddler to a kid. And not just any kid - a really cool kid. He has a vivid imagination and sometimes spends entire days pretending to be Luke Skywalker. He tries to make us laugh, doing pratfalls and making up silly words to songs. He gets so excited about everything from the rides at Disney World to an unexpected cookie that he jumps up and down with delight. He thinks that both pirates and princesses are cool. He is not at all shy, willing to march right up to the librarian and say, "I need some help, please. I am looking for a book about Thomas the train."

His birthday was very much a day of fun for a big kid.

He got a tricycle from his Mawmaw and Poppa, which he proceeded to ride all around the kitchen. We went out for lunch with his GrandmaGrandpa, Uncle Andy, and Aunt Ariel, and he was stunningly well behaved. He alternated between putting together a cool puzzle from Grandma and wolfing down kraft macaroni and cheese. He and I made cookie dough together, for later decorating.


We had so much fun that I let him pick out another recipe from my cookie cookbook to make. Not surprisingly, he chose candy cane cookies. I proved that baking kicks ass by letting him help me crunch up candy canes using a hammer. Unfortunately, even though I put the big hammers away, we caught him attempting the same when we left him alone for a moment.
Note not only the candy cane dust and Oscar the Grouch hammer, but also vaguely guilty expression.




I made him reindeer sandwiches for dinner, which he loved.

He got all kinds of Star Wars toys from us for his big day, including a very cool x-wing fighter.



If that wasn't cool enough, my brother made him a Roary cake. Jack especially liked eating the stripes. The night ended with a reading of "Twas the Night Before Christmas," which Jack has a surprising amount of committed to memory, then putting out the cookies that we made for Santa.



Happy birthday, Cub. I am proud to be your mommy.

Where Have I Been, Part 1

Okay, yeah... it's been a long time since I've posted. Things have been absolutely crazy at Stately Wasser Manor. The boys and I went to Disney World for a week. Then, there was a rushed week at home, then Steve and I left for a long weekend for a wedding - at which I was the minister. And in between was my peak mileage week for the marathon. It got to the point where I couldn't sleep because I was so stressed about things like when I was going to get a pedicure, because I really needed one, because the shoes for the wedding had peep toes, but what if they messed with my calluses and I got blisters - and holy Yoda, am I really stressing out about a spa treatment?

So, now it's time to catch up.

First, I colored my hair before our vacation.

Believe it or not, I think it has a passing resemblance to my natural hair color, whatever that is.

Then, the boys and I had an amazing, amazing trip. I wondered if going to Disney World with a two and a half year old kid, especially one who is potty training, was going to be just exhausting. But it truly wasn't. Jack was so delighted by everything that he spent most of the vacation in a state of delight, saying, "Lookit!" about every two seconds.


We saw Cinderella's castle...

and met a bunch of characters. Roary was especially excited to meet Tigger, a famous tiger.

We went on rides. Jack especially loved the Buzz Lightyear ride, Peter Pan, and Pirates of the Caribbean (which now features Captain Jack Sparrow). We also had a great time on the teacups.


On our last night, we went to Mickey's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party, an after-hours event with trick or treating, special parades, different fireworks, and all kinds of other fun. The boys and I went as The Incredibles. Steve kept forgetting we were in costume and wondered why people were looking at us and smiling.


There were all kinds of just amazing Disney moments. Jack "scared" Captain Hook by saying "tick tock" to him, which amused him for days. We'd luck into great spots to watch the parades, and we found almost all of his favorite characters at one point or another. A sudden downpour of rain coincided with the chance to watch the Bug's Life movie with no wait in line. A really nice Disney cast member gave Jack a Chip pin, which he wore the next day for a character breakfast where Chip and Dale would be visiting. A woman in the gift shop saw Jack's pin and was so charmed by him that she gave him her Dale pin.

One of the best moments of the trip really summarized the experience. We were watching the fireworks, which were amazing and featured a real live Tinkerbell zipping from the top of the castle right over our heads. Jack was distracted by the voice of Jiminy Cricket, who was narrating the fireworks. Where was Jiminy, he wondered? Steve finally told him that Jiminy's voice was all around us, and that's why we could hear him. Jack took a moment to let that sink in, then said this:

Look, Roary! Magic!

Lesson Learned

Now that Jack is sleeping in his Medium Boy Bed, one of the little joys of my day is that he likes to come wake me up. I can always hear him coming. First, there's a light thump as he climbs out of bed. Then, I can hear him scuttering over to turn off his sound machine. There's a creak as he slowly opens his door, then closes it behind him. More little footsteps as he opens our door, then pads over to me. He rests his little hand on my arm and whispers, "Wake up, Mommy!"

It's really nice.

It is, however, less nice when it happens too early in the morning. In those cases, Steve and I just haul Jack into our bed to sleep between us. It never really works that well. He likes to position himself perpendicular to the two of us, forming a giant letter H. Or he'll kick us in the backs repeatedly. Or somehow get his feet tangled in my hair. Not ideal sleeping conditions by any stretch of the imagination, but still cuddly.

This morning, he arrived at the hideous hour of 5:00. He announced that he needed a binky, so I staggered into his room to get one (should really add one to the bedside table). Then, he told me that he needed Roary. Ugh, could he not have asked for Roary AND the binky at the same time? I brought him Roary, then tried unsuccessfully to go to sleep.

I finally told Jack that if he couldn't lie down, I'd take him back to his room. Jack, believe it or not, seemed into the idea. So, I took him to his room, and he stayed there for a whopping half hour.

He showed up again, and I took him by the hand, walked him back to his room, tucked him in, and proceeded to curl up next to him on his tiny little bed.

After a few minutes, he put his little hand on my arm and said, "Mommy, go to sleep." I told him that's what I was going to do, right there next to him. Jack clarified. "Mommy, go to sleep in mommydaddy bed."

Well, he didn't have to tell me twice. I went right back to mommydaddy bed and didn't hear from him again until 7:30.

Steve and I agreed that from now on, we'll try to put him back in his own bed. With Roary and plentiful binkies.

The Chicken Dance

In the (freaking awesome) movie Knocked Up, Paul Rudd's character laments, "I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles."

It was a very sad little moment, and I think a lot of people feel that way when they see the pure bliss that a kid feels about so many small things in life. I feel lucky in that I truly believe that I am able to feel more joy, more passion about the world around me than the average person. But last night, Jack completely trumped me.

Steve was out at a party, so we were having some Mommy-Son time. I decided that Mommy-Son time would be a lot more fun if there were less of Jack throwing himself on the concrete crying, "Want Daddy" and more of us actually doing something. So, we walked over to our neighborhood park.

As fate would have it, a local church was having a public "Family Fun" night there, and let me tell you, their definition of the word "fun" was rather broad, in my opinion.

They had face painting, and little carnival games, which seemed like fun for the older kids, but not really for Jack. A completely unimpressive band playing Christian rock. They also had "train" rides. The train was, in fact, a riding lawnmower disguised as a train with some plywood, pulling a small cart filled with kids who were honestly too old to be riding on the fake train. Also, the train kept getting stuck in the mud. Jack spent a lot of time watching the "train" and talking excitedly about it.

We walked around some more, and Jack noticed a random guy in a chicken suit. Why a chicken? No idea. It's not like there's some chicken story in the Bible, and the chicken wasn't wearing a Jesus t-shirt or anything. Just, for no particular reason, Chicken. Nevertheless the kid was just as excited about the Christian Chicken as he would have been about someone actually cool like Mickey Mouse or Elmo. He said, "Mommy, want to go see that duck!" I said that it was a chicken, but sure, we could go see him.

Jack marched his little butt right up to the Christian Chicken and said hi. The two of them hugged, and then Jack held Roary up to the Christian Chicken. CC hugged Roary also, then handed him back to Jack. Then, Jack and the Christian Chicken started dancing to the sucky band.

He proceeded to follow Christian Chicken all around the park until I finally convinced him that CC should probably talk to some other kids. I lured him home with the promise of popsicles.

I definitely can't muster up a child-like level of joy for watching a riding lawnmower get stuck in the mud or busting a move with a guy in a chicken suit. But sitting on my back step, eating a popsicle while Jack rests one hand on my knee?

Absolute joy.

Too Many Teardrops

There is far too much crying going on in my house these days.

In the last week or so, Jack has entered into a gigantic crybaby phase. The tiniest little bump sends him into a tizzy, crying and wailing, "Got it boo-boo!" If he were actually hurt, it'd be one thing, but if you stub your toe just a little bit, then suck it up. The last thing I want is the kind of kid who knows he'll get attention for all of these fake injuries. So, I pretty much ignore him, tell him to shake it off, or suggest that he tell Roary about it. I know he'll get over it, and I know that he is, in fact, looking for attention. In the meantime, it's just annoying.

Worse, Jack is currently the president of the Mommy Fan Club and is undergoing some serious seperation anxiety. Last Thursday, I picked him up from his new daycare center, and let me tell you, he was having a blast. He was having so much fun dancing to The Wiggles and following Miss Rita in a march around the room that he didn't even realize I was there until the song ended.

In sharp contrast, the very next day, he started freaking out about a block away from school. He cried and wailed and begged me not to leave him. I've had him cling to me before, but this was the worst it's ever been. I know that he'll stop crying soon after I leave, and I know that he's a social kid and loves school, but it absolutely broke my heart to see him cry like that.

When I left the classroom, I was pretty upset. Carol, the director, peeked in and said that he was already starting to calm down. She ordered me to call her as soon as I got to the office to check in, which was really nice of her. Still, I broke down in tears as soon as I got to the car, then started crying again when Steve called and I told him about it.

Sure enough, the little punk was fine about five minutes after I left and was playing and having fun. But every single time I've had to leave him since then, it's been similarly tough. I am usually pretty stoic about the seperation anxiety, but I am having a lot of trouble with it right now. It's just a horrible way to start the day.

Bedtime

One of my favorite parts of the day is Jack's bedtime. We've developed a routine that is a sweet and snuggly delight.

As soon as Jack's got his teeth brushed and his jammies on, we spread his big Sesame Street blanket on the bed. Usually we read a book (unless Jack's up late and I'm shortening things). Then, we all three cuddle on the blanket and talk about What We Liked.

Me: Today, I liked going running. And I liked playing in the back yard with Jack.
Steve: I liked going swimming with Jack and drinking coffee with Mommy.
Jack: I liked it... coo-ca!

Every single night, Jack leads with his same silly nonsense word and thinks he is the most hilarious guy ever. Sometimes, we can get him to give a straight answer, but he's always got to go for the gag first.

Then it's time to sing songs. If it's not especially late, we'll sing a couple of songs. Jack is a fan of "Jingle Bells," or we'll sing "Happy Birthday" to whoever the mood strikes -- Grandma, Chewbacca, whatever.

But the last song before we put Jack in his crib is always "Rainbow Connection." I've been singing it to Jack since he was a baby, and I love singing it with both of my guys. Jack is starting to learn the words to the song and will chime in as he wishes. The song ends with, "Da, da, da dee, da da dum! Da, da, da, da, da, dee, da dooo!" Jack always hits that last "Da doo!" and often Roary will sing it too, doing a little tiger dance as he belts it.

Then, the three of us do BIG HUGS, tiny hugs, BIG KISSES, and tiny kisses before we put Jack down in his crib.

That routine, however, is going to change a bit in the next few days. Yesterday, when Steve got Jack after his nap, he discovered that Jack had slung his leg over the top of the crib and was trying to climb out. Looks like it's time to transition to the Medium Boy Bed. Hopefully that'll go okay.

Home Sweet Home

I might not have gone through with the Take A Whole Bunch of Meth And Stay Up For Two Days Moving plan, but Steve and I did pretty much everything else to get us into Stately Wasser Manor as quickly as possible.

I was out running on Saturday and, of course, ran past the new house. It's just so pretty, all I want to do is look at it. Well, good thing I did, because the previous owners waved me down and told me that they were all moved out, and would I like the keys now?

Yay!

And no, I did not mind in the least that it meant interrupting my run. I am pretty sure I flew the rest of the way back to Temporary Wasser Manor, I was so happy with the news.

Steve and I got up bright and surly Sunday morning and got right to work loading up our cars and Doug's truck with as much of our stuff as we could carry. Jack contributed to the cause by carrying the DVD's of Potty Time With Elmo and The Empire Strikes Back made it to the house - along with Roary, of course.

On Monday, the movers emptied out our storage unit, we took last minute items from Temporary Wasser Manor, and boom! We were moved in... at least well enough for now. I still have some sweaters and stuff at my mom's house, but I do believe I can live without them for a little while longer.

It has been a lot of fun, believe it or not, unpacking boxes. There are things that I have not seen since March, and it's great having my stuff back. I'd forgotten how comfortable our blue couch is, and how much I like our silverware. And when I unpacked the coffee maker, I literally kissed it, I was so happy.

And speaking of happy, Jack loves his new house. He will occasionally point to a wall and say, "Roary, that Jack's new house!" He likes his big yellow bedroom and the vast toy area in our TV room, but most of all, he loves the big backyard. If Jack had his way, he'd spend most of every day running around, playing in his tent, kicking a ball, and generally sweating like a male member of the Green family, which, alas, he is. (I only sweat like a female member of the Green family, which is not quite as bad.)

The really cool thing is that I don't at all feel like I'm in someone else's house. Despite the boxes - and the fact that I don't have a dresser yet - I feel like I'm at home.

Happy Birthday, Roary!

Not so long ago, Roary was just a random stuffed animal floating around our house. He was a present Jack got from his Grammy and Pappy, along with a book with a tiger on the cover. Jack liked him well enough, but no more than any other stuffed animal.

But last June, Steve was away for a week on a fishing trip on Canada, and I think Jack needed a little extra love and comfort. All of a sudden, I noticed that Jack had that tiger with him everywhere. If I look back at my pictures from that time, Roary is in just about all of them.

He and Jack quickly became inseperable. Jack spends most of his time with Roary tucked under his arm. When he's tired or just needs some comfort, he rubs Roary's tail. The two of them talk all the time, Jack whispers secrets into his ear, and reads his favorite books to Roary.

Jack and Roary have been through a lot together in the past year. Some of it was funny - like the times Jack snuck Roary into the bathtub with him, the incident in which Jack found some of the backup tigers (we have four Roaries), and when Jack decided that the tigers at the zoo were Roary's "mommy-daddy."

But some of it has not been so fun. Roary was there with him when he had the stomach flu, when he had to get the stitches in his ear, on all of our vacations, and helping him adjust to Temporary Wasser Manor and all the changes that meant in his life. When Jack went in for his surgery, I honestly felt a lot better knowing that Roary was with him, even when I couldn't be. It meant a lot to me to see him, still under anesthesia, but with Roary on his chest, the two of them in matching eye patches. I find myself in the odd position of being grateful to a stuffed tiger.

The least I could do, I figured, was have a birthday party for Roary. So, the four of us (because we are really such a foursome at this point that Roary was in our latest family portrait) celebrated the day that Roary changed from being a toy to being Jack's best friend. I made cupcakes, Jack helped him blow out his candle, and insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" to Roary several times.

Happy birthday, Roary. You're the best friend a kid could have.