In which my son turns eight…

Today we are celebrating Dubya turning eight years old.  Eight.  This is a hard number for me to wrap my head around for some reason.  It isn’t a milestone birthday.  It isn’t the end of childhood or the beginning of the tweens.  But this one.  This one is hitting me hard.  I don’t know why.

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This kid asks hard questions.  He tells stories that never end and have no real point.   He has horrible handwriting.  He is the king of bad puns.  He loves to dance.  He is really good at eating just enough to sustain life.  He is polite.  He has a strong sense of right and wrong.  He is a nerd.happyHe adores his sister.  He adores pestering his sister.  He idolizes his daddy.  He tolerates my shenanigans.

dressu pHe is a little boy one minute (Mom, all I really want is the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sewer lair playset) and an eighty year old man the next (Mom, I need a farmer’s almanac)!  He is a worrywart.  He is handsome like his daddy.   He is a ham.

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He is strong and smart and funny and a thousand other things all rolled into one pretty amazing kid. 

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He is my son.   And I am so very grateful for that.

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In which I play catch up….

When last I blogged, I was celebrating Moo’s fourth birthday.  I’m gearing up for the celebration of Dubya’s eighth(!).  Clearly, I am not the best of bloggers.  So what has happened since then, you ask?  

  • I taught my kids the diarrhea song.  Clearly, this was not my best parenting moment, but after Moo having multiple bouts of diarrhea, we needed a moment of lightness.  Now my kids follow me around the house singing various incantations of the diarrhea song.        
  • Moo was pronounced to be significantly buffer than other kids that our doctor sees. To which we responded: DUH.

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  •  We celebrated Christmas.  It was fun.  There was lots of fun, food, festivities.  Yay Jesus.  

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  • Kids and I celebrated the New Year with a party of our own since Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner was protecting and serving. 

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  • Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner bought a guitar and a death metal distorter.  He follows me around the house while strumming.  I haven’t killed him.  Yet.  

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  • My bestest friend Em-uh-lee presented me with the most amazing thing I have EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.  

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                                                           So good, right?  SO GOOD

  • And we had to have the sex talk with Dubya.  THANKS A LOT BILL NYE. 

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Dubya and Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner were watching Bill Nye debate Ken Ham last night.  I was getting ready to head downstairs to do some laundry when Dubya informs em that Bill Nye said something ‘totally disgusting’.   That something ‘totally disgusting’ ended up being about fish having sex with each other.  Or themselves.  

I’ll spare you the nitty gritty other than to say that I stuck with the basics and ended with a stern warning that while I am trusting him with this knowledge, other parents haven’t talked to their kids about this yet and he needs to make sure he doesn’t talk about it to other kids.  Just like his knowledge of Santa Claus.  Although, I did about choke to death when he asked me what was in sperm.  I followed the whole discussion up with a reminder that regardless of how embarrassing or disgusting something might seem to him, he can always ask me and I’ll do my best to answer.

It was one of the most awkward conversations that we have had thus far.  (A close second is when we were sitting in the lobby of the gymnastics studio and he asked me if he was all bloody when he came out of my stomach.  His horror at the fact that he did not come out of my stomach is legendary.)    

I still want to know how I am the one who always gets stuck handling the hard questions while Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner is off frolicking, all nimbly bimbly, without a care in the world.  

  • And there is not really a bullet point to be made here, but just a shout-out to a relative: GET OFF MY BACK MONKEY, I blogged.

And that, my friends, is the end of the catch-up.  

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In which we celebrate my daughter…

At this moment, four years ago, I was reveling in my beautiful newborn baby girl.  (As beautiful as only a wrinkly, squalling, red, freshly birthed baby can be to her mama)

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My Moo Cow was born on the early morning hours of Thanksgiving.  The first few days of this pretty lady’s life were tranquil, content.  Our little family was complete and she was healthy and happy.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the chaos this girl would unleash upon our family.  

I was not prepared for the sassy-pants-ness of my Moo. 

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I was not prepared for her deep devotion of her big brother and how difficult parenting could be when they join forces.

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I was not prepared for her hatred of all things fun.

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I was not prepared for the utter despair she could bring about with a pair of safety scissors.

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I was not prepared for this face.

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Or this one.

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And I was not prepared for this deep, unwavering love she has for her mama.

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She loves me.  She humbles me.  She finishes me.

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And for all her craziness, she finishes our family.

 

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In which I declare myself the winner of parenting…

Last time I blogged, I discussed my (numerous) failures as a parent.  

Let me be clear here, mmmk?  Parenting is not all sunshine and rainbows and sparkle ponies. Kids cry.  They whine.  They wait until you have them in a public space to ask how babies get out of mommies.  They can never let you go to the bathroom alone.   Sure, it is great and all, biggest accomplishment of my life.    But it is really freaking hard.    And no one gives you a trophy at the end. 

Except…..this note that was hand-delivered to me at 930 pm by a blatant bedtime violator….

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Clearly this is a trophy.  A big shiny declarer of my parenting prowess.  I am basking in the glory of this moment.

Because tomorrow, I might suck and my kids might mistake a celebrated children’s author for a notorious dead terrorist again.  

But, tonight?  I FREAKING WIN.  

Gauntlet thrown, bitches.

 

(except not really, because parenting is not a contest.)

(and if it were, there would be no point in accepting my challenge.  Because I win.)

 

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In which I fail…

Sometimes, I think that I am kicking ass at this whole parenting thing.  My kids are really good kids.  (And by good, I am not necessarily referring to their behavior, because sometimes my kids suck, but their character.)  And then, my kids go and ruin my ass-kicking awesomeness by saying something so totally wrong that I just want to beat my head on the wall and weep.

Like the time that Dubya confused Elvis with Albus Dumbledore.  

Like the time that Dubya had to ask if he lived or died

Like the time I found the flag of Nazi Germany in Dubya’s backpack.  

Like a few weeks ago, I was driving Moo home from daycare and the song Uptown Girls by Billy Joel came on.  She asked, “Is this the Beastie Boys?”   (And just in case, my blog ever makes it big, I feel as if I should go ahead and apologize to Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock.  I’m sorry, fellas.  We’re gonna work on that.   Oh, and just in case Billy Joel ever reads my blog, I feel as if we should thank Moo for mistaking him for the Beastie Boys.  She says. “You’re welcome”.)

But you guys, last night was the WORST. EVER. FAIL.  

While Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner took Dubya to soccer, I took Moo to the library for the Monster Mash celebration.  After hearing some spooky stories, making a monster face with facial hair, we decided to check out a few books.  I found a chemistry book  and a Legend of Zelda graphic novel for Dubya.  Moo picked out a book about a fairy and another about the ballerinas in Swan Lake.  I picked out the book and c.d. of  In A Dark, Dark Room.  (My kids are obsessed with the line ‘Jenny’s head. fell. off.’)  I also grabbed a copy of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. 

I showed the book to Dubya and told him I thought we would read that tonight instead of a chapter from Alice in Wonderland.  And he says, “A book about Osama Bin Laden? Okay, cool.”  

My. Jaw. Dropped.   “What are you talking about Dubya?  This is The Giving Tree.”

He showed me the picture on the back:  

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Okay, so maybe I can kind of see where he was coming from.  But STILL.  I felt like roaring a terrible roar and gnashing my terrible teeth.  (quick!  figure out that reference)

So wrong, Dubs, so so wrong.  

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In which we nerd out…

To know me is to love me.  And to maybe also realize, that I am a bit of a nerd.  So is Dubya.  We read Harry Potter.  We watch every Marvel superhero movie in theaters.  (Sorry, Christopher Nolan, but your Batman is a wee bit too dark for Dubya.)  We are especially fond of the X-Men cartoon from the 90s.  When we had to come up with a way for Dubya to represent his favorite school subject, we dressed him as Dr. Bruce Banner.

We also attend Comic Book I-CON, the longest running comic book convention in our state.  Last year, Dubya wanted to be the Hulk.  One year he was Captain America.  Another year,  he was Thor.

This year, he decided to go another route.  A more sinister route.

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He wanted to be Loki, brother of Thor.  (Which is not really how Loki likes to be defined, in case you were wondering) How awesome, right?  Yeah, NO. Not awesome.  Because  NO ONE SELLS LOKI COSTUMES FOR CHILDREN.  But who was I to crush my supervillian’s dreams?

I mean, honestly, how hard could it be to make a Loki costume??  I found a cape on Amazon.  I also purchased a knight’s armor set on Amazon.  We did a little bit of reconstruction work on the breastplate and cut the shield up to give Dubya a little bit of bulk in the shoulders.  And then I tried to make the hat.   And then Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner took over the making of the hat.   So I present to you the following:

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Not bad, right?  Tom Hiddleston better watch out for this kid.  Dubya practiced lines from The Avengers movie for a week before this event.  Moo tried to convince me that she needed to dress as Belle from Beauty and the Beast.  She cried.  Until I told her she could wear red sparkle shoes and carry Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir.  She cried some more.  And then I let her wear sparkles and lip gloss and told her she was girl Thor.  And then she was fine.  But she said she was NOT getting her picture taken with anyone.

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She made an exception for Batman.

Dubya was over the moon.  He entered the trivia contest.  He got trounced, soundly, as I knew he would.  (I believe allowing him to crash and burn builds character.)  He was just thrilled that he got a question right.

Oh, and there was this moment:

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Which totally made Dubya feel like the most kick-ass kid known to man.  They have declared this year to be a success.  Moo has decided to Lady Sif next year.  (That would be Lady Sif of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three for the uneducated reader)  She decided I need to dress as Thor.  As for Dubya….well he is currently undecided.   But can you imagine him as Odin Allfather?

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In which I discuss ALL THE THINGS…

So I haven’t blogged for awhile.  Life gets in the way and between school, preschool, soccer, gymnastics, and guitar lessons, we are some busy little beavers over here at the House of McD.

Now you are just gonna read about ALL THE THINGS.  Gird your loins, fellas.

Working backwards, we have this:

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Aren’t they cute?  Dubya enjoys soccer and he gets really into it.  He doesn’t so much as run towards the ball as he does dance towards it.  He cheers and jumps on the sidelines when he isn’t playing.  We won a game, which is more of an added bonus than the desired outcome when you consider how much fun he is having.  Moo…..well…she sure is cute huh?  She walks off the field when she is tired.  Or hot.  Or she wants her ponytail fixed.  But then, soccer at that age isn’t so much about playing soccer.  It is more like an attempted herding of cats.  But again, she sure is cute.

My Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner and I celebrated 8 years of matrimony.  As always, he was working and I was schlepping kids to and fro, but it was still better than that year he was in Iraq.  Oh and as a ‘Hey you are awesome, I love you, thanks for putting up with me’ present, Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner surprised me and made arrangements for me to complete item number 2 on my 30 before 30 challenge.

Immediately after Saturday’s soccer games were finished a friend and I headed over to the tattoo shop that a friend of Hollywood Boyfriend Jeremy Renner is apprenticing at and I was tattooed.  It isn’t anything wild or crazy, just a simple quote on my ribs, but it suits me and I like it.  So do the kids.  Dubya keeps telling all his friends about it and Moo washes her imaginary Beauty and the Beast tattoo when I wash mine.(Coincidentally, her ‘Belle tattoo’ is in the exact same spot as my tattoo.  Her level of devotion to me is humbling.)

And so far, that is all I remember.  So in which I discuss ALL THE THINGS just became when I discussed two things.

Eh. If I set the bar low, I can get over it easier.

That’s how it works right?

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