Doesn't Miss A Thing

Preparing for departure to his T-Ball game this weekend, Max looked out the window and calmy stated, "I think we're taking the truck today."

"Oh", I replied "Is Daddy taking the truck?" while quickly running a car seat location /calculation formula in my head.

"No, he didn't say that. But when Daddy wears his brown pants with the paint dots on them and his gray shirt, that usually means we'll be driving in the truck."

It's good to be predictable.

For the record, Mr. Wonderful changed his clothes and they drove in the car. He's crazy like that.

F-Bomb Right on Target

Sammy dropped his first F-bomb yesterday.

Getting out of the car, he looked down at his feet, realized that his shoes were off, and said, "Fwuk".

Like he owned the word.

"What did you just say?" I asked with a cross of astonishment and incredulousness.

And again, "FWUK!", he repeated, this time louder.

Before I could say another word, he told me straight up,
"Me say like Daddy."

Of course you do, my son, of course you do. Because apples don't fall far from targets or trees.

Coffee Talk

Looking up from the Wall Street Journal, Mr. Wonderful comments with coffee cup in hand...

"He really does look like Hugh Hefner right now," directing his glance to the couch across the room.

Max, a mess of fever and bed head, has his flannel pajama top unbuttoned; all the better with which to prominently display his prized shark tooth necklace. The shark bathrobe adds a finishing touch to preschool's patriarch of the grotto.

If it weren't for the 45 decibels of Go, Diego Go! blaring from the t.v., I might be mistaken, too.

Snowmageddon 2008

I never thought I would ever write these words...I'm so glad it's finally raining!




The cozy blankets of snow that have been falling for the past 10 days have been a blessing of sorts. We're healthier than any December since bringing the little petri dishes into our lives, since we've been unable to interact with the outside world and therefore unable to collect its germs. Long, hibernating nights during this Solstice week have made for happy little morning bears (and well-rested Mama and Papa bears, too).




The week before Christmas this year has found us gift-making instead of buying, since driving to shops is on the list of dangerous activities that might also include eating radioactive waste and playing hide and seek with tiger sharks. We've enjoyed extraordinary meals prepared from the contents of our freezer/pantry and have managed to get equal amounts of energy-sapping snow shoveling and cozy couch cuddling in each day. Mr. Wonderful's daily trek to the gas station to see if the paper delivery truck made it (Yay! Boo! Yay!) have kept us connected to the outside world and its necessary provisions.



I've really enjoyed this week of having our family together to focus on what matters most to us this season...each other.

Well, that and dry socks.

Just a little off the top, please

It was time. The curls were fraying out and my little man was beginning to impersonate a small troll spinning upon the top of a pencil. The little devil wings above his ears were sprouting into horns and we made the family decision for a FIRST HAIRCUT.

Mr. Wonderful and Max have built a beautiful relationship around their trips to the barber together; replete with lollipops, trucks and a stop at the Daddy Store (aka hardware store). Although it was very hard for me to undo the apron strings and let Daddy take him for his first haircut, I decided that this was a gift that needed to be shared with Sam, too.

I only cry about the lost curls three or four times a day and keep wondering who this big boy is who showed up at our house and keeps calling me "Mommy." He's cute, though, and he seems to really like it here, so we're going to keep him. And the little bag of curls that I've taped to the refrigerator.

Mahalo

I could not let this day go by without some heartfelt and way overdue gratitude.

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for caring for the little keiki while we sunned and snorkled. Your gift was immense and will be treasured always. Now go sleep.

Thank you, Mr. Wonderful, for saving the tiny umbrellas from our Mai Tais and promising to return them to me in the dead of winter when I'm rainlogged, overrun by muddy and stir-crazy boys, and my eyeballs are receding into my skull from the absence of sunshine.

Thank you, Max and Sam, for understanding that Mommy and Daddy needed some time to finish their sentences, meals, thoughts, and laughs. We even managed to talk about a few things other than the two of you.

Thank you Ocean, for your soothing sounds, salty silences and tireless reminder that the constants in our world roll back to us like waves. Some days are gentle and warm, others are fierce and chilling in this limitless sea called LIFE. Waves return, though never in equal form, and it all rolls on.

Mahalo nui loa.

He's No Potato Bug AND he can make Samurai Pie

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

-Robert Heinlein
Time Enough For Love, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

This wouldn't be my list, but it sums up Mr. Wonderful -- and why I admire him so much -- perfectly . With one exception, I've known him to accomplish each of these listed above.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Wonderful.
No rush on the exception, you gallant and magnificent man.
I love you and all of your mad skills.

I'm Married to the Pointer Sisters' Muse

He's so shy. And so good lookin'. And I will love him until the day I die. But Mr. Wonderful does not love the blogosphere. See, here's the link to his blog. Hmmm? You can't open it? Oh, wait. That's because he doesn't have one, won't ever have one, and probably thinks this is a very enormous waste of time. But we're okay with that. He's a very private person, and I, well I'm not.

I like to talk. Especially during certain times of the month, and a full moon, and a lunar eclipse. Honey, you'd better just bring out the baked goods, pull up a chair, pour yourself a drink and turn down the volume on that Lifetime movie of the week that I've been watching where Merideth Baxter Birney plays the woman who is DWB (dying while beautiful) and yeah I know how it's going to end because I've seen in before, but what does that matter? 'Cuz babe, I need to emote. And ruminate. And say the same thing over and over and over again until neither one of us can take it anymore. And then, when you think it's all settled and done with and you can relax, I'll bring it up again. Just as you're about to fall asleep.

And even though I've kept you up beyond your bedtime and exhausted your very last nerve, you'll still get up with the kiddos in the morning and make waffles. "Fresh waffles" as Max likes to call them (as opposed to the frozen babies I toss in the toaster while my coffee is brewin') and you let the boy crack the egg and stir the batter even though it makes something twitch inside of you to see the shell go into the batter. You still say "Good job" and remind him not to lick the spoon due to the uncooked egg (BTW, I saw him lick it when you turned your back, but he seems fine).

Which is why I love you, my Mr. Wonderful. And I will respect your wishes to remain anonymous and mysterious.