seesawing through spring break

This morning, I decided to take Cruz to story hour at Barnes and Noble.  They have it every Thursday morning and although B&N is one of our favorite date spots, we've never been to story-time.  I was itching to get out of the house since, well, I woke up, and had every intention of spending an hour or so with my boy, reading books and maybe grabbing a cookie before heading home for an afternoon nap.  

Cue 11:00 this morning, a group of children huddled around a nice young woman ready to read Bats at the Ballgame and my son, not-so-casually revealing his disinterest in the book by proceeding to grab two, three, four books off the shelf at a time in his not-so-delicate Cruz way and plopping himself right in the middle of the rest of the pack doing his own thing with his own books.  That is until his not-so-casual mom decided to remove him from the situation and play with the train set while everyone else's child listened to the story.  You know the kids' table at Grandma's Thanksgiving?  We were there.  

Less than ten minutes later, Cruz found a paperback Team Umi-Zoomi book complete with a set of 3-D glasses and pictures that supposedly bounced off the page.  The only problem was that some culprit before Cruz had decided to confiscate the 3-D glasses, which meant for a book with a lot of pictures that just looked really blurry.  3-D glasses or not, Cruz decided his life depended on this book and that if I wanted to get it, I would have to pry it from his cold hands.  And because I refused to spend $4.99 on a book with blurry pictures and missing glasses, I was that mom, leaving Barnes and Noble with a screaming toddler --- a toddler who proceeded to cry and bang his forehead against the car window the entire way home while his mom turned the music up and silently pleaded to the heavens above for spring.

Our Spring Break week is about over and I tell you, it's been an interesting one.  I feel like we're walking through sort of a purgatory right now, looking ahead to spring, but still trudging through the winter we've all had our fill of.  Cruz has been off this week - we can't decide half the time if he's sick or teething or bored - and it seems like one minute we're having a blast and the next, all hell's broke loose.  We're keeping it real around here, enjoying the ups and laughing our way through the dumps of this not-so-Spring Break. 

The look on his face pretty much sums up our week...
 

Enjoying a margarita and some queso dip at Las Margaritas --- definitely up.
 

Cruz impatiently whining for 'chicken nuggets and fries' for twenty minutes while we waited for our food --- definitely dump.
  
Sleeping in past 6:30 and scoring some extra morning cuddles with Cruz in our bed --- definite up.
 

Cruz pretending to be the Once-ler from the Lorax and throwing a bag of mini-marshmallows all over the living room floor at 6:32 am --- definite dump.
  
A completely sorted closet and three rubbermaids filled to the brim with clothes to give away --- up.  
 
Three dead car batteries - three days in a row --- dump.
  
Slow mornings and quiet breakfasts in the kitchen --- up.
 

  
Cruz accidentally spilling an entire bowl of cereal on himself - ten minutes after getting him dressed --- dump. 

Make believe pirate ships out of clothes' baskets, books in beanbag chairs in Cruz's room, family March Madness pools on the fridge ---- up, up, up.
 

Chasing Cruz through the parking lot at Hy-Vee while trying to maneuver six sacks of groceries --- dump.

The seesaw at the park may still be buried under snow, but we're riding our own here at home this week.  And you know what?  It's great a feeling when you're riding your way to the top, enjoying the view from the up, but the falling back down?  Those are good, too.  When you're there, there's an anticipation knowing you can only go up. 

And sometimes, it just feels good to be on the ground.       

The Winter Blues of Spring Break

The first day of Spring is tomorrow, and as of this morning, we have three-inches of fresh snow on the ground.  The winds were blowing through the house tonight, and if I wasn't careful, I'd start to think about pre-Christmas coziness, fires in the fireplace, and mukluks on my feet.  Great feelings, indeed, but the past is the past, and I think I speak for everyone in the Midwest when I say that enough is enough, winter.  Before too long, I fear the three of us might lose our minds to cabin fever.  I usually pride myself at being pretty creative, but I've exhausted all avenues of keeping this toddler busy inside the four walls of this house.  Poor Cruz lags behind me a little bit longer every day we pull into the garage, grabbing sand buckets or golf clubs and attempting to play outside until his hands get cold or his mom drags him in the house.  We're all getting a little restless, and I'm drawing a blank on new ideas to keep this boy busy all week for "Spring" break week.  Ideas, anyone????

Tonight, the three of us celebrated St. Patrick's Day a day late.  Cruz and I cut a green pepper in half and had fun using it as a four-leaf clover stamp.  We made Rice Krispy treats and washed them down with some green milk, and I cooked up a homemade shepherd's pie for dinner.  We toasted the week ahead with mason jars of green beer, and burned off the calories with one heck of a dance party in the living room.  

  

 

Oh boy if you could see us dance.  With our green beers on top of the fireplace mantle, we cranked some Dropkick Murphy's and danced until the three of us were piled on the couch, catching our breath and roaring with laughter.  At times, it seemed each of us were in our own little world, and other times, we laughed in hysterics watching one another dance, feeling old, a little ashamed, but mostly just happy.  

Soon, there we were, the three of us crowded around the laptop screen, singing 'Oh, Danny Boy' in our very best falsettos, Cruz mimicking the open-jawed whole notes and doing his best to follow the words.  When the Irish music started ringing in our ears, we ended the night with some coloring while Beau serenaded us with his guitar.  He learned 'Ho Hey' for me, and even Cruz can sing along.  Just us, crayons spread across the table, trying to match the right words with the right chords, following Cruz's lead and the sweet way he sings 'you're my sweetheart' --- sometimes, it's the unexpected moments that bring us the most joy.  

 

After tucking Cruz in bed and kissing his cheeks, Beau and I played some bananagrams and laughed like old times.  We conquered the winter blues yet again and welcomed our toasty warm beds with an Irish jig still stuck in our heads.  

Now, for the rest of the week...

Stay tuned ;).  

Spring Break - Pre Post

“Late at night my mind would come alive with voices and stories and friends as dear to me as any in the real world. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation.”  

Jo March, Little Women             

Last night, I submitted my first manuscript.  With tired eyes at 11:00 at night, I scanned my final draft one last time and clicked submit.  Just moments after, the pop fly I thought I had hit to left field suddenly felt like a grand slam.  And while I have no intentions of falling into the very slim four-percent acceptance rate of the prolific English Journal, the attempt felt about as good as the reward.  I felt like Jo March in Little Women, walking through the streets of New York City, knocking on publishers' doors and offering pieces of her very soul in exchange for scorn and scrutiny.  And while my attempted scholarly, professional writing is a bit less 'soul-bearing' than say, this blog, it wasn't easy stepping off that cliff, knowing my hard work, time, and energy could amount to nothing but an impersonal letter of declination.  I was less than enthusiastic about stepping into the professional writing world; however, I felt a great sense of accomplishment after.  Call it my first feat of many, I hope.  

And then today happened.  The Friday before Spring Break, after a whirlwind of a week, and I find myself more than ready for after-work drinks, dinner plans, and a relaxing start to a breather week at home, I received a call from daycare informing me that Cruz had puked and would need to be picked up.  My little boy is sick, and there is nothing I can do about it but rub his back, hold him close, and give him small bites of Pedialyte popsicle until his tummy is strong and back to normal.  

And if I felt like a warrior poet last night, nothing makes you more fit for war than being a mama of a baby who's out of sorts.  My role as nurturer steps firmly on the front line, ready and willing to take the weight of the world on her shoulders if that would mean her baby would feel better.  The manuscript is temporarily forgotten, selfish plans for margaritas and salsa are put on hold, and I'm suddenly snuggling on the couch, watching my boy like a hawk, with nowhere to be but right here.

Plans will change, manuscripts will be declined, and disappoint will ensue, but there is no greater victory than being this boy's mama.
 

  
Spring Break last year.  70s all stinkin' week.  Come on, spring.

 

Dear You...

Sweet boy,

Every now and then, I have to remind myself to slow down and just look at you.  Study how long your eyelashes have gotten, or soak in how sweet your face looks when you lay there so still, with your hands cupped up to your chin, your two big brown eyes just staring into mine.  I see so much in those eyes of yours.
 

There’s excitement, in the look on your face when we walk into your room at daycare, or when I ask you if you want to play downstairs.  It’s in the way you holler and cheer when yet another ‘CHUCKY CHEESE’ commercial is on TV, or when we pass a truck, or a crane, or a ‘racecar’ on the side of the road.

I see your wild imagination, in the way your eyes light up when a Pringles can magically becomes a telescope, or when you lay on your tummy and play with your pirate ship before bed.  It’s there when you so diligently make us noodles or chicken nuggets in your kitchen, or help us stir the real thing by the stovetop.
 

I see your innocent concern, when the animals get rained on in Little Blue Truck, or the way you held my hand so tight and watched the doctor like a hawk when you came with me to my appointment.

I see your affection, your sweet kisses I will never grow tired of, the way your wrap those arms around our necks when you really missed us, or the times you get real close to my face and whisper secrets in my ear. 

I see your independence, in the way you know exactly what you want, but are more content figuring things out on your own instead of one of us doing it for you. 
 

I absolutely love that you like arranging things into rows right now.
 

I see your devotion.  To Elmo, and Red Truck, and every single thing you point out and ask ‘What’s this?’ in your absolute favorite books.  You remind us to pray when we forget (even at Pablos), and have taught me that God’s sanctuary can exist in many places --- the side of your bed after tucking you in, the three of us crowded in our tiny bathroom during your bath, or yes, even at McDonalds, sipping Shamrock Shakes and sharing Sweet and Sour sauce.
 

I see your spirit.  It’s in the way you twirl in circles during a dance party in our living room, or the way you whisper and wait anxiously for daddy to find our hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek. 

I see your curiosity, it comes alive during books before bed or when you tell stories with Dad.
  

I see your contentment, at 5:30 in the morning when you curl up next to me in our bed, or when I watch you fully engrossed in play, as if the four walls of our home are everything you need in the whole world.
  

 

Sometimes, I watch you and am reminded how precious these days are.  I feel like we’ve turned a new chapter right now, and are in the pages of a great story.  And although you have no idea now, I hope that someday you can understand how blessed I feel to be a character in this story with you.  We’re chasing our dreams and are so proud of you --- this little boy who is the source of more happiness, more laughter, and more love than I ever dreamed possible.

Love,

Your mom   

Our Seuss Day

All good Seuss Days start with pancakes.  Light, fluffy, Lorax-orange pancakes with sprinkles and candles to kick off our celebration of books, color, and silly little Whos down in Whoville.  Beau thought my candle in the pancakes was taking things a little too far, however, who says candles only come once a year.  I like to think Seuss himself was smiling at that one, watching little Cruz, with his bed head hair and bare feet, staring ever so intently at that lopsided candle, giving it all the air he had in him.  
 

Maybe he'd even write a book about it.
 

  
So our morning started with pancakes.  I let Cruz dump in the flour, whisk in the egg, and watch the batter turn from pancake yellow to Lorax orange with a few drops of food coloring.  We added some sprinkles and syrup, poured glasses of milk, and added some Cat in the Hat inspired fruit skewers to our plates.  We talked about Seuss, shared our favorite books or facts we knew about him, and read books at the table while we ate.  My favorite fact?  Dr. Seuss wrote Green Eggs and Ham on a bet to see if he could publish a book with less than 50 different words.  
 

I'd say he accomplished the task with flying colors. 
 

After breakfast and bath time, we did some Seuss-inspired crafting.  We painted Cat in the Hat's hat (a free template I found here) and had some fun tracing Cruz's little hand for a One Fish, Two Fish craft I found on Pinterest.  Simple, colorful, and super cute hanging up in Cruz's room.
 

  

For lunch, I decided to bring back our Muffin Tin Monday ritual from this summer, creating a Seussical lunch inspired by his most beloved books.  We had 'green eggs and ham', cat in the hat parfaits, one fish, two fish crackers, and for dessert, truffela tree cupcakes.  I read Cat in the Hat, presented Cruz with his very own striped hat, and watched him carefully absorb the delicious treats in front of him.
 

  

After an afternoon nap, it was books in Cruz's room, a Seussical snack mix, and a carpet picnic in the living room watching The Lorax, building our own Whoville out of duplos, and dancing in circles in honor of Dr. Seuss. 
 

My camera couldn't keep up with all the color, and Cruz fully absorbed the day's events with interest and joy.  I hope to make this day a tradition and reason to celebrate around here, as we really do owe so much to this man who became one of the founding fathers of children's literature.  The man had no children of his own, but I'm so thankful he shared his love of rhyme and silly and creativity with mine.

Even my squirt couldn't resist a picture or two of our creation!   

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!  Thanks for filling our bookshelves with your one-of-kind imagination.