A couple of years ago, when Chase was only about (hmm) maybe four or so, he started asking Paul and me to watch him run from one spot to another. He didn't want us to necessarily time him, just to watch him. Then he would ask, "Was I matching out?"
We were perplexed. We tried to have him explain what 'matching out' meant. However he was not able to put it into other words. Eventually we just began to answer him, "Yes! You were definitely matching out."
This conversation was frequent for a year or two, even with our not comprehending what we were agreeing to. Then, one day, I was watching cartoons with the boys and (perhaps it was Shaggy from Scooby-Doo) started running so fast that you could not see his legs - only just a blur. Chase said, "Wow, he is really matching out!"
Aha! I had just discovered the meaning of 'matching out'!
And so, when pondering what name to give this blog spot's web address, matchingout seemed just right. After all - it has most certainly felt like a blur as these boys speed through our lives.
But a fun one (blur, that is).
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
On Christmas Morning
As parents know, Christmas Eve is an angst-inducing night, and as usual it was for Paul and me again this year (and Paul's sudden attack of nausea did not help). So at about 1:00 am we were finally able to turn in and get some sleep. Or so I thought. At 2:00 am, Micah was at my bedside telling me it was too difficult to sleep and could he sleep in our room? Because that would probably help.
I conceded as long as he would be quiet and still and go back to sleep. But it was not in the cards. Micah wanted to tell me about dreams that he had and what he thought he would get for Christmas and anything else that crossed his mind. Periodically I would tell him to shush and go back to sleep. But the sheer excitement of it all prevented that.
Finally at about 5:00 am I told Micah to just go to his room and not come out again until I told him it was ok. I feel confident that he never went back to sleep because at 7:00 am when I went to give them the ok to come down to see what Santa had brought, he and Chase were sitting at the top of the stairs anxiously awaiting. A bit like eager puppies, I would say. They practically killed one another racing down the steps to be first to go through the stash.
The conversation that followed:
Chase: "Look, Micah, Santa brought me a remote control motorcycle just like you always wanted!"
Micah: "Yeah, and he brought me a Hot Wheel's set just like you always wanted!"
(A few moments passed as they eyed one another's toys.)
Me: "Um, maybe you guys should switch sides?"
(They did, and were much happier).
I asked Micah if he saw everything Santa had brought during the night while he was wandering. "Well, not EVERYTHING" he said. I asked if he told Chase what Santa brought (last year it was Chase who got up in the middle of the night and played with the toys - so he knew he was not allowed to get up - I made it very clear to him). Micah's answer: "Well, not EVERYTHING."
Oh well. Merry Christmas to all.
I conceded as long as he would be quiet and still and go back to sleep. But it was not in the cards. Micah wanted to tell me about dreams that he had and what he thought he would get for Christmas and anything else that crossed his mind. Periodically I would tell him to shush and go back to sleep. But the sheer excitement of it all prevented that.
Finally at about 5:00 am I told Micah to just go to his room and not come out again until I told him it was ok. I feel confident that he never went back to sleep because at 7:00 am when I went to give them the ok to come down to see what Santa had brought, he and Chase were sitting at the top of the stairs anxiously awaiting. A bit like eager puppies, I would say. They practically killed one another racing down the steps to be first to go through the stash.
The conversation that followed:
Chase: "Look, Micah, Santa brought me a remote control motorcycle just like you always wanted!"
Micah: "Yeah, and he brought me a Hot Wheel's set just like you always wanted!"
(A few moments passed as they eyed one another's toys.)
Me: "Um, maybe you guys should switch sides?"
(They did, and were much happier).
I asked Micah if he saw everything Santa had brought during the night while he was wandering. "Well, not EVERYTHING" he said. I asked if he told Chase what Santa brought (last year it was Chase who got up in the middle of the night and played with the toys - so he knew he was not allowed to get up - I made it very clear to him). Micah's answer: "Well, not EVERYTHING."
Oh well. Merry Christmas to all.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Is Santa real? (and other tough questions)
"Is Santa real?" Chase asked me, this year.
So sad. Last year he would never have put up with such a silly question from anyone else. It was not debatable. It was blasphemous to even put forth the question. I remember asking the question. I was eight. There were 3rd grade lunchtime debates - with sides, even. I was on the yes side. Until I just had to ask. "No," Mom answered honestly, and - might I say - a tad too bluntly (thanks, Mom, I still have the scar).
So the question is put forth to me. Oh here come the sweaty palms. How to answer? What to say?
"What do you think?" Even I think that was a cowardly answer and it was mine. Sheesh, who made me Mom?
"Well then, where was Santa born? And where are his parents?"
Micah chimes in, "And did God's mom name him God?"
Oh my word. Where is Paul? Why isn't he ever around when the barrage of questions come? He wasn't home when I had to explain what a** meant, either. But that is a whole other story.
So sad. Last year he would never have put up with such a silly question from anyone else. It was not debatable. It was blasphemous to even put forth the question. I remember asking the question. I was eight. There were 3rd grade lunchtime debates - with sides, even. I was on the yes side. Until I just had to ask. "No," Mom answered honestly, and - might I say - a tad too bluntly (thanks, Mom, I still have the scar).
So the question is put forth to me. Oh here come the sweaty palms. How to answer? What to say?
"What do you think?" Even I think that was a cowardly answer and it was mine. Sheesh, who made me Mom?
"Well then, where was Santa born? And where are his parents?"
Micah chimes in, "And did God's mom name him God?"
Oh my word. Where is Paul? Why isn't he ever around when the barrage of questions come? He wasn't home when I had to explain what a** meant, either. But that is a whole other story.
Thinking back
Paul and I built our home and moved in March 2006. The following August, Chase started Kindergarten. During that sweet year, Chase's lovely teacher taught a series on spiders.
One morning before school as the boys were upstairs getting dressed and I was fixing breakfast, Micah yelled, "Mommy! Come quick! There's a spider in my room!"
"Well, step on it." I answered. (Normally I would not condone such brutish behavior, but I was mid-breakfast after all. If you are a spider enthusiast, I beg your forgiveness).
"I can't." Micah answered. "It's too big."
Hmmm. This doesn't sound good, I thought, but before I could respond Chase said, "That's ok, Mommy, I'll look at it." (Oh, good, our very own entomologist).
A few seconds later, after taking a good look at it, Chase announces from upstairs: "Don't worry, Mommy. It's only a wolf spider."
Hmmm, again. Never heard of it. I finished up what I was doing in the kitchen and trekked upstairs to see what exactly a wolf spider looked like. Too late. It had moved along, and the boys weren't sure where.
After I took them to school, I decided to google 'wolf spider'. Well, that was a big mistake. (see attached photo). I really hope Chase was wrong on his assessment.
Friday, December 12, 2008
An argument for the GPS
Tonight was Micah's basketball practice. I have never been to one before so Paul encouraged (ahem) me to take him this time. Since I've never been (and since Batavia has no youth basketball program) I needed directions to the school where the practice was being held. From Paul. Brief directions. Verbal brief directions.
So Micah and I leave at 6:30. This will give us time to stop and get something to eat along the way and be there by 7:00. It's just the next town over after all and Wendy's is on the way.
Wendy's has a line. Micah suggests we go in, but I think it will still be quicker to go through the drive-thru.
Ok, so it's now 6:45 and we have our food and we're on our way. We're practically there for heaven's sake; we surely will be early. We have 15 whole minutes to get there.
"Micah," I say, "I've never been to your practice before. Do you think you can help me get there?"
"Sure. I think so."
It's 6:55 now and I'm not sure which way to turn, but I know I'm close.
"You were supposed to turn back there, Mommy. You passed it up."
OK, so I take the next street so I can turn around and head back.
"Wait a minute." Micah says. "This street looks right, too. Maybe this is the right one." So we head down it for a bit. It's 7:00, now. It's not the right street.
We turn around and head back to the street I passed up. We drive down it for a bit until Micah says, "Well, I thought this was the right one, but now I'm not so sure. It doesn't look right." We turn around and head back out. It's 7:05.
We travel down the road a bit. Micah says, "I recognize that place! That's where Daddy had to turn around. You've gone too far, Mommy. Turn around." I did. We went up and down the same streets again. Still no school. It's 7:10.
I continue back up the road. I pass all the streets that we've driven up and down at least two times already. I pass the place where Daddy had to turn around. Eventually I come to a street that I remember Paul mentioning in his verbal directions. Jackpot! We find the school! Micah jumps out, basketball ready, and runs for the door. It's 7:15.
The gymnasium is decorated for Christmas. There are tables set up where there should be boys playing basketball. There are nice women working on "Breakfast with Santa" posters instead of coaches running drills. Micah is standing in the middle of it, looking perplexed. He looks at me, "Are you sure there is practice tonight?"
Micah and I are driving home. It is 7:20.
So Micah and I leave at 6:30. This will give us time to stop and get something to eat along the way and be there by 7:00. It's just the next town over after all and Wendy's is on the way.
Wendy's has a line. Micah suggests we go in, but I think it will still be quicker to go through the drive-thru.
Ok, so it's now 6:45 and we have our food and we're on our way. We're practically there for heaven's sake; we surely will be early. We have 15 whole minutes to get there.
"Micah," I say, "I've never been to your practice before. Do you think you can help me get there?"
"Sure. I think so."
It's 6:55 now and I'm not sure which way to turn, but I know I'm close.
"You were supposed to turn back there, Mommy. You passed it up."
OK, so I take the next street so I can turn around and head back.
"Wait a minute." Micah says. "This street looks right, too. Maybe this is the right one." So we head down it for a bit. It's 7:00, now. It's not the right street.
We turn around and head back to the street I passed up. We drive down it for a bit until Micah says, "Well, I thought this was the right one, but now I'm not so sure. It doesn't look right." We turn around and head back out. It's 7:05.
We travel down the road a bit. Micah says, "I recognize that place! That's where Daddy had to turn around. You've gone too far, Mommy. Turn around." I did. We went up and down the same streets again. Still no school. It's 7:10.
I continue back up the road. I pass all the streets that we've driven up and down at least two times already. I pass the place where Daddy had to turn around. Eventually I come to a street that I remember Paul mentioning in his verbal directions. Jackpot! We find the school! Micah jumps out, basketball ready, and runs for the door. It's 7:15.
The gymnasium is decorated for Christmas. There are tables set up where there should be boys playing basketball. There are nice women working on "Breakfast with Santa" posters instead of coaches running drills. Micah is standing in the middle of it, looking perplexed. He looks at me, "Are you sure there is practice tonight?"
Micah and I are driving home. It is 7:20.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Why is the Christmas tree beeping?
The boys' school puts on a Secret Santa shop every year, where the kids can shop for their loved ones without parental assistance. Last year Micah got me a "diamond" necklace (that looks surprisingly real for something that could not have cost more than $5 - $10) and Chase bought some nice fruity lotions. Quite nice.
This year Chase asked me to help him with his wrapping (except my present - which is hidden in his room. Hopefully Paul will lend a hand). So I was blessed to get a glimpse of the presents that Chase chose. Paul will get a tape measure (no doubt to discourage the frequent use of Chase's). Micah will get a pretty cool digital clock. I complimented Chase on his purchases, helped him wrap them up and watched as he placed them under the tree.
That night I put the boys in bed, tucked them in tightly and as I was making my way down the steps an unfamiliar alarm began to go off. I searched the house for the sound. The boys (way to curious to sleep) got up to help me search. The noise seemed to get louder as we got closer to the tree and then I realized, as did Chase, what was going on. Chase and I exchanged glances as Micah asked, repeatedly, "what is it? What is it, Mommy? What?"
"Uh, nothing, Micah. . . OK! Let's all get in bed and go to sleep now!"
Needless to say, Micah has an inkling of an idea what his Christmas present from Chase is. Chase is none too happy about it either. Yet, he won't allow me to help him unwrap, de-battery, and rewrap. So every night, at about 9:00, the Christmas tree rings for about 5 minutes.
"All right everyone! The Christmas tree is going off! Time for bed."
This year Chase asked me to help him with his wrapping (except my present - which is hidden in his room. Hopefully Paul will lend a hand). So I was blessed to get a glimpse of the presents that Chase chose. Paul will get a tape measure (no doubt to discourage the frequent use of Chase's). Micah will get a pretty cool digital clock. I complimented Chase on his purchases, helped him wrap them up and watched as he placed them under the tree.
That night I put the boys in bed, tucked them in tightly and as I was making my way down the steps an unfamiliar alarm began to go off. I searched the house for the sound. The boys (way to curious to sleep) got up to help me search. The noise seemed to get louder as we got closer to the tree and then I realized, as did Chase, what was going on. Chase and I exchanged glances as Micah asked, repeatedly, "what is it? What is it, Mommy? What?"
"Uh, nothing, Micah. . . OK! Let's all get in bed and go to sleep now!"
Needless to say, Micah has an inkling of an idea what his Christmas present from Chase is. Chase is none too happy about it either. Yet, he won't allow me to help him unwrap, de-battery, and rewrap. So every night, at about 9:00, the Christmas tree rings for about 5 minutes.
"All right everyone! The Christmas tree is going off! Time for bed."
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Sick of being sick
I am now officially the last one in my household to avoid Strep throat since Micah was diagnosed with it today. It was especially fun when Paul woke up with it the morning we were to leave for New York (he went anyway, trooper that he is - which could be why Micah has it now . . .).
Anyway I took Micah to the doctor today. She commented that it was odd that there were 2 whole weeks between Chase's infection and Micah's. That's when I told her that Paul had it last week, while in NYC. The conversation that followed went something like this:
Dr. - "Oooh, you went to NYC? How fun! Did you see the parade?"
Me - "Yes, we were there. We were among the 3 million!"
Dr. - "You know, I have another patient who is from NYC and they still have friends there that live in an apartment on the parade route. So they can watch the parade from their home."
Me - "That would be nice. I read that a one bedroom or studio apartment in New York runs about $4800 a month. Can you imagine how much it would be to live in an apartment big enough for a family?"
Dr. - "It's crazy. I guess that's why they have rent-control where a family passes their apartment down generation to generation."
Me - "It'd be the only way to afford it, I guess. Our Thanksgiving dinner for a family of 4 was about $200."
Dr. - "Wow, that is unbelievable."
Micah (sitting alone on the examination table) - "Uh, I think we got off the subject here."
Anyway I took Micah to the doctor today. She commented that it was odd that there were 2 whole weeks between Chase's infection and Micah's. That's when I told her that Paul had it last week, while in NYC. The conversation that followed went something like this:
Dr. - "Oooh, you went to NYC? How fun! Did you see the parade?"
Me - "Yes, we were there. We were among the 3 million!"
Dr. - "You know, I have another patient who is from NYC and they still have friends there that live in an apartment on the parade route. So they can watch the parade from their home."
Me - "That would be nice. I read that a one bedroom or studio apartment in New York runs about $4800 a month. Can you imagine how much it would be to live in an apartment big enough for a family?"
Dr. - "It's crazy. I guess that's why they have rent-control where a family passes their apartment down generation to generation."
Me - "It'd be the only way to afford it, I guess. Our Thanksgiving dinner for a family of 4 was about $200."
Dr. - "Wow, that is unbelievable."
Micah (sitting alone on the examination table) - "Uh, I think we got off the subject here."
Monday, December 1, 2008
This past week has been fraught with frenzy. We've traveled 1400 miles round trip for a Thanksgiving stay in New York City (or as Chase calls it, "You Nork"). What a lovely trip, too, amid all of the hustle and bustle that is New York.
I generally have a solemn vow to avoid things such as Black Friday shopping, however found myself smack dab in the middle of Macy's on 34th Avenue in Manhatten on Black Friday this year. Desperately holding on to two children and hoping that they were mine. Wondering how anybody can find anything to buy when I am giving every last iota of my energies to just getting through the store.
Yes, an exciting and fun trip to the Big Apple, but still, so nice to come back home to the quiet, calm normality of our lives.
The boys went back to school today and brought home their December calendars. Yikes! There are only 3 weeks before Christmas break? That can't be right! Well, time to break out the Advent Calendars anyhow. We'll just let the remaining decorations sit there and call out to me until I can no longer stand it. Shopping looms in the very near future. Gatherings are already planned.
I should ask my mom if she worried about the same things I do. How did she handle December? Did she enjoy the season with her family or did she worry about the shopping, decorating, baking, card-sending and everything else that goes into making the Holidays "magical" for our kids. This time of year sure does make me long for the carefree days of childhood. It was just so magical . . .Mom set too high a standard, maybe.
I generally have a solemn vow to avoid things such as Black Friday shopping, however found myself smack dab in the middle of Macy's on 34th Avenue in Manhatten on Black Friday this year. Desperately holding on to two children and hoping that they were mine. Wondering how anybody can find anything to buy when I am giving every last iota of my energies to just getting through the store.
Yes, an exciting and fun trip to the Big Apple, but still, so nice to come back home to the quiet, calm normality of our lives.
The boys went back to school today and brought home their December calendars. Yikes! There are only 3 weeks before Christmas break? That can't be right! Well, time to break out the Advent Calendars anyhow. We'll just let the remaining decorations sit there and call out to me until I can no longer stand it. Shopping looms in the very near future. Gatherings are already planned.
I should ask my mom if she worried about the same things I do. How did she handle December? Did she enjoy the season with her family or did she worry about the shopping, decorating, baking, card-sending and everything else that goes into making the Holidays "magical" for our kids. This time of year sure does make me long for the carefree days of childhood. It was just so magical . . .Mom set too high a standard, maybe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
