Puppy Love

We were excited to recently find out that Sam's "girlfriend" Mia lives two blocks up and two blocks over. Last weekend we walked the dog past her house and said hello. Sam was all googly eyes and bashful smiles.

And then yesterday we were playing in the front yard when Mia and her brother Milo came walking down the sidewalk. Again, Sam was giddy. (Jake too, to tell you the truth.) They played for quite awhile, front and back yard, hide and seek, light sabers. A little while later her dad showed up and we talked while the kids played. I told him Sam and I would walk them home at dinner home. So about an hour later, we headed back to Mia's.

The whole experience was invigorating. Sam doesn't have many playmates in our neighborhood and since I have a theory that your friends are your kids' friends' parents, Bryon and I don't have a lot of playmates either. So between meeting new people and seeing Sam so proud and shy and the fresh air and the sunshine, I was a little giddy too.

But the best part? When we walked home, Sam and Mia walked a few yards ahead of Milo and me ... holding hands.

Twisted Brother

Although Jake is only 5 years old, I have always been a little concerned about his sense of humor. He leans toward the Tom & Jerry sort of comedy, meaning he likes his jokes with a side of violence. Trips and falls, groin injuries, spontaneous combustion. Think America's Funniest Home Videos.

Sam's humor seems more like mine. A little cynical, a little sarcastic. Just yesterday we were watching a TV commercial with an annoying spokesgirl. When it was over we looked at each other, a little confused at how entranced we were with the commercial and Sam said, "She's stupid." It wasn't meant as an insult. It seemed astute, mature and well ... funny.

But then later last night, I was reminded that Sam is just 8 and he and Jake may be more alike than I think. We were getting ready for bed when he asked me, "Do you know what would be really funny?"

"What?"

"If a priest fell into an open grave ... That would be funny."

Suddenly a horse kicking a man in the groin seems quite innocent.

Penny For Your Thoughts

Lately Sam is into journaling. It's not a diary, he tells me, because a diary is private. His journal contains his ideas for inventions, which he wants his dad to copyright for him, and his thoughts on our family, our pets and his hobbies.

I am thankful he is willing to share his journal because he offers an interesting perspective. For instance, he thinks his dad gets calm by talking to himself. He thinks Abby is bossy. He thinks I "support" Bryon when he's mad and go to parent/teacher conferences. He loves Phineas the Kitten and hopes that Phin and Felix the Cat become fast friends soon.

Last night when I was flipping through his journal, he told me there is one page in the back that is private. I didn't have the heart to tell him I had already seen it.

It simply said:

girlfriend=Mia

Earworm

When I was a kid, one of my favorite things was falling asleep on the couch while my dad watched the Tonight Show. I always knew that soon after that unmistakable theme song and opening monologue my dad would carry me upstairs to bed. To this day I love going to sleep with the TV on. But because I often have a kid or kids in my bed, I usually watch TV muted with the closed captioning on.

If you don't ever use closed captioning, don't start. I find it addictive. In fact, for me it's hard to watch the actual show, I'm so entranced by the captioning. But if you want to watch Kill Bill or Hurt Locker when there's a sleepy kid in your bed, captions are the way to go.

But just the other night I was watching a horror movie - I don't even know what one - with the captioning and something 'happened' in the movie that I can't get out of my head. If I had been watching it with sound it probably wouldn't bother me. But in this particular scene, the captioning described the sound of the actions in the movie as "squelching."

And God help me, I can't get that word out of my mind. Squelching. It creates a gory, vivid scene in my head (that has nothing to do with the movie, mind you) and, as Abby would say, I don't like it anymore.

Just last night after all the kids were in bed, Sam came into the bedroom and said his loose front tooth was really bothering him - did I think Bryon could yank it out like the last loose tooth? So we went downstairs, towel in hand, ready to pull that tooth. And with all that twisting and yanking all I could hear was SQUELCH, SQUELCH, SQUELCH. I had to leave the room.

A few minutes later, Sam came back upstairs, head hanging low. "Mom, we couldn't get it. It's going to bother me all night long, " he said. Then he lifted his head. And the tooth was gone.

Now if I can just stop hearing SQUELCH.

Like Mother Like Son

Sam has developed a bad habit of picking his bottom lip. He's actually been doing it for awhile but only recently has it become a problem because, first of all, it's raw most of the time, and secondly, it's a true habit. He does it when he's nervous, bored, anxious. Bryon and I are on him about it a lot. And although it makes him stop for a minute or two, we've had no long-term effect.

And then yesterday, while I was furiously picking my fingernails and asking Sam to stop pulling his lip, I realized how alike we are. And how so many of those similarities are what I bug him about incessantly.

Like the fingernails. Right now, coming off a stressful, funk of a winter, my fingernails are all so shabby and raw, it sometimes hurts to type on the computer.

And just the other day Sam was starting his homework at the same time Jake found Kung Fu Panda on TV. I could NOT pull Sam away from that movie. He has seen it 50 times. We have it on DVD. I reminded him he could watch it at any time, but he could not turn away. And then yesterday I found myself sitting on the couch in my coat, keys in hand, watching Fight Club. I have seen it more than a few times. I know how it ends. I know the dialogue but I couldn't even stop watching long enough to take off my coat or throw my keys in the bowl.

I can't recall how many times we have left the toy store with a new toy that had to be opened in the car. Usually a toy with a hundred small pieces. But again, there have been many, MANY times I have driven away from Target using my knee to steer so I can try on a new lipstick or flip through a newly purchased magazine or take just one more look at that new shirt.

Having kids can be like looking at yourself in the mirror. These days, I get a lot of laughs at what I see.

A Thing of Beauty

Last week Jake had a performance at school. He and his classmates dressed as cowboys and sang about Texas in Spanish to the tune of BINGO. After the program we all crammed into the cafeteria for frito pie and cookies. At one point I turned around and saw Sam sitting on the floor next to Mia, his "girlfriend." I wanted to ask if I could take their picture together but thought it might embarrass them both. I did ask, however, and before I could finish the request, Mia threw her arm around Sam and flashed her best smile. Sam was a little more coy. I love the photo of the two of them. I'm going to put it in his memory box. He may not remember Mia but I will.

Yesterday Jessica Simpson was on Oprah to counter all the gossip about her and to talk about a VH1 show she did on beauty around the world. I had the show paused because Sam and Jake were playing so loudly inches from my face I couldn't hear it. It happened to be paused on a flattering shot of Ms. Simpson.

"Who's she?" Sam asked.

"She's a singer and celebrity. Why?"

"I don't know," Sam said, with a familiar grin. He was asking because she was pretty.

"You don't have to embarrassed. Many people think she's pretty."

"She's nice to look at."

"Like Mia?" I asked. (No wonder he's coy. I tease him relentlessly.)

"Yes, Mia's pretty."