Happy Valentine's Day

Jeffrey, the Valentine fairy, made a visit to Sam and Jake early this morning. Each of them got a Batman action 'figger.' I have decided, I mean Jeffrey has decided, that whenever possible they will get the exact same toy. Not only does it prevent fights but it creates a toy back-up system when one of them tires of the toy.

The toys came in handy this morning when I realized I hadn't addressed any of Sam's 17 classmates' Valentines. About a week ago I stayed up specifically to pack 17 goodies bags with Sweet Tarts, suckers and candy dots. But sometime between then and this morning I forgot to address any of them. We had explicit instructions to write "To my friend" on each Valentine (political correctness begins early) so while they played Batman and ate yogurt Cheerios (which are awesome, you must try them) I scribbled "To my friend, Sam Romine" on 17 Valentines.

We had to be early to school this morning because Sam had a field trip. We missed the last one because we got stuck in traffic and the bus left without us. I haven't lived that down so we left early and got there early, all to be certain we wouldn't miss this trip to the 'li-berry.'

Sam and Jake were in their rooms by 8:15, too early for me to go to work (not really but ...) so I got a Starbucks and drove back to school, parked in the back of the parking lot and watched the kids get on the bus for the field trip. I don't know what I was expecting - kids galloping, clasping hands, smiling, slow motion from the building into a perfect yellow school bus, waved on by happy teachers. But out they came, single file, Sam in front. And away they went.

Mammories, Like the Corners of My Mind

I've had a lot of doctor's appointments recently. Nothing's wrong, just that time of the year ... and time of life I suppose. I had my first mammogram last week. As I assumed, it turned out to be nothing, and I already have my results back ("no sign of breast cancer or other abnormality").

I thought by telling Sam that I too had to go to the doctor, he would be less apprehensive about it himself. (Not that he is apprehensive, he's actually quite good, but ...) Last week I told him about the mammogram appointment. And today, on the way to school, I told him I had another doctor's appointment today. (Today's my annual gynecologist appointment.)

When Sam asked what for, Bryon leaned in and said "You want to field this one?"

So, I told him I was going to a doctor that made sure a mommy's tummy was healthy after she had a baby. Close enough.

"Is she going to take pictures of your bubs?" Sam asked.

Never Let Him See You Pee

At a Superbowl party this weekend my friends Cathy, Julie and Joslyn were talking about the secrets to a happy marriage. One of Joslyn's favorites - never let him see you pee. Now while I do agree with this, I can't remember the last time I used the bathroom with the door shut. You see, a mother behind a closed door is a magnet for screaming, crying, knocking kids.

This morning, for example, I'm in the shower, enjoying some peace and quiet, thinking about my mammogram today, when someone comes in. I can tell by the sound of the footsteps it isn't Bryon. Then, the shower curtain is flung open and there stands Sam, holding a light saber, and Jake, holding our neighbor's Barney guitar. Our bathroom is very small, so soon all the warm air is out of the room and I'm wet, cold and exposed. Sam shuts the door, but they stay in the room.

Next I hear a thud, like a melon hitting the floor - Jake's head hitting the tile. As he gets up he activates the Barney guitar so now I am showering with an open shower curtain, Sam swinging the light saber, Jake crying, and the Barney guitar playing a tinny version of 'She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain.'

So much for easing into my day.

One Man's Trash

This weekend Sam and I went to First Monday Trade Days in Canton, Texas. It's like a big garage sale. I don't know why I like to go because afterwards I'm always critical of the people, the junk and the food.

To give you an idea of the demographic at Canton - lots of people are riding Rascals while smoking. There are weiner dogs everywhere, and you can get just about any food fried. I've seen guns, saddles, Confederate flags. This time someone was even trying to sell an opened box of Lee Press On nails. But I keep going back. Where else can you find a dresser for $15.

At some point we were waiting in line for a Lemon Shake Up. I was shoveling KettleCorn in my mouth with one hand, and actually scratching my belly button with the other when I heard myself say "Hey Sam, they got fried pickles."

We left soon after.

A Sweet Story

Sam had his second school evaluation Saturday morning at a school called St. John's. For whatever reason he didn't want to go. I tried to convince it would be fun, new friends to meet, snacks, blah blah blah. Finally I told him it has to be cool because they named the school after his cousin John Wyatt. That piqued his interest for a moment until ...

"And grandpa?" he asked.

"Well, yes, my dad's name is John." My father left our family about 10 years ago. None of us have seen him since. I don't talk about him, but apparently Sam's heard me mention his name.

"Is he dead?" he asked.

"No."

"'Cause grandpa died." he said.

"Yes, my grandpa died." My maternal grandfather, Donald Herring, died in 1990, way before Sam came along.

"Did someone kill him?"

"No. He got sick and went to the hospital. But the doctors couldn't help him and he died. Did you know his name was Donald?" I asked. Donald is one of Sam's favorite trains.

"I love him so much," Sam said.

"Sam, that's very nice. But you didn't meet my grandpa."

"No, but I can still love him. Like I love you."

The Boxer Rebellion

Sam gave Jake a bloody nose last night. It wasn't a tilt-your-head-back, blood-soaked rag bloody nose. But there was blood and it was coming from Jake's nose.

They were tussling over a toy when Sam decided to tackle Jake from behind, skidding him across the hardwoods and the rug in the family room. I keep telling Sam that one of these days Jake is going to turn around and let loose 16 months of pent-up toddler anger and you know what, I'm going to let him. I have no worries about Jake being able to hold his own ... in the very near future. Even I have to duck and weave when his arms and hands start flailing.

Bryon has told stories of how he used to beat up on his younger brother until one day Bryon was chasing Emmett and as he rounded a corner, Emmett hit him smack in the stomach with a red rubber Hoppity Hop. Apparently it threw him back a few feet, knocked the wind out of him and knocked some sense into him.

A Perfect 10

We missed last week's skating lesson. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't pick Sam up in time and we were 15 minutes late (for a 30-minute lesson) so we just punted the whole thing. I think that was a mistake. In the first lesson all the kids used walkers to navigate the ice. It was more free play than skating. Well, apparently, last week, the session we missed, they went straight to Hamill-Camels.

It was fairly evident that Sam had missed a week. No walkers this week, just 'quit yer bawling and get up!' Bryon circled the rink, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up every time Sam fell. That is until Joy, the joy-less instructor, came off the ice and said "Not to be rude, but he cries every time he sees you."

I'm sure there will be some candy or toy bribes needed to get him onto the ice next week.