"Bravo Mom. Bravo..."

Tuesday morning I did not want to get out of bed and get Zayne ready for school. Especially following a 3 1/2 day weekend from school. But I did it. I also consented to letting him buy lunch from school. It was a hectic morning. Definitely one of those "do we really have to jump back into this all so soon?" Pender was beyond defiant that I required him to wear a puffy winter coat for the school drop off. It's as if the mere 3 1/2 days had wiped his memory of any recollection of ever going through this routine before. But we did it. We got ourselves pulling down the driveway, tear subsided, by 7:47am. As I turned into the subdivision where we drop off Zayne for school, I didn't see the familiar bustle of families making the drop off. The Dad who bikes with his daughter to school and is already completed and homebound as we arrive. The Dad that has a real white-guy, urban thread to him that pays more for an apartment for the location but not necessarily the apartment amenities, but has deemed it worth it so his kids can attend this school district (No disrespect intended, it's just the most condensed way I could describe him). The Mom who drives a souped up black monstrosity of a truck, but sports the casual crunchy of a modern day hippie chic. They were all absent, as were all the other regulars, so I checked the time, 7:51am. As I pulled upon the school it was apparent that it was a student holiday. A quick check online confirmed my error. I apologized to my boys and turned the car back towards home, exclaiming that we get to have a play day. As we cruised towards our street I glanced back at the bundled up boys in the back. It was then that Zayne with a wide teasing smile proceeds to clap his gloved hands slowly and says "Bravo Mom, Bravo..." I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and felt lucky to have him with me for another day. 

We filled the day with board games, books, Disney's Pocahontas, and cookies. After dinner, I asked the boys if any of them would like to accompany me to Costco and Sprouts. No takers. I willingly obliged, and set off to a mothers blissful oasis of grocery shopping unattended. It was about 9:30 when I pulled my husband produce laden car out of the Sprouts parking space. It was about 1 minute later when the huge monstrosity of a Toyato Tundra that was waiting in front of me in the driveway exit decided to reverse into me instead of merging onto Southlake Blvd. Imagine my stunned aghast look,  as I had 1 second to process that this big roaring truck was suddenly crunching the front end of my hubby's new-ish car. This wasn't a diet coke spill, or a blood stain (my previous plotful infractions against his vehicle), this was actual mayhem. Horrified was my expression. I'll admit it took some restraint to exit the vehicle with the self promise to converse civilly and not bitchy. As the driver appeared, my inner humorist emerged. Here was this tall, blonde,  8-month pregnant, full make-up, Texas Momma mirroring the same horrified expression I had. At that moment I thought back to the car ride that morning and wanted to respond to her with the same comical approach that my Zayne had taught me that morning. "Bravo, Mom. Bravo." But the reference would have been lost on her . So I just conjured up my civility, and maybe a bit of compassion, because we all make mistakes that impact those around us. Maybe it's a bit self congratulatory, but as I lay in bed after enduring the hubby's inquisition and inspection, with what I would consider an apologetic grace, I thought, "Bravo, Mom. Bravo." 

MLK Day

Our MLK Day. My methods (educationally-wise) on this holiday from school for Zayne were unconventional and random. Our curriculum is sometimes a bit "fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants" on these days off. This also means we incorporate loose plans and probably no forethought to an actual academic approach to education. Morning item on the itinerary? Visiting the FWSM during the FWSSR. Fort Worth Science Museum during the Fort Worth Stock Show Rodeo. Plugging away with a giant Lite-Brites, driving a mini ambulance, laying on a bed of nails, and scaring the wits out of my 2 year old at a 3-D experience meets rows of tractors, cowboys, and trucks. Lots of heavy, gutteral, roaring trucks. We didn't even go onto the stock show grounds. This was just a teaser. We will likely make our way back for a more thorough exploration this weekend. 

I'll just condense the whole way home to one sentence. Basically a $6 trip to McDonalds resulted in at least 30 minutes of unhappiness for 3 people. You do the math. It basically equals letting the kids grumble from hunger until we got home would have resulted in the same outcome and so I should have just pocketed the $6.

Home, naptime, and quick FB check later and I have a somewhat relevant lesson plan for MLK Day. As Zayne plays with an online Martin Luther King Jr coloring page 
MLK Coloring Page, I told him a quick bio with surprisingly accurate quotations from the "I Have a Dream" speech. (I fact checked afterwards so as not to lose the 6 year olds attention ;)

It didn't take long for us to digress...in all fairness a quick shift to pop culture icons is not always a digression. I guess it depends where it takes us and where we end up at that determines whether it was a digression or an educational ascension.  I'll let you be the judge...
We detoured through coloring pages and Mom narrated bio's of  Bill Cosby, Rosa Parks, President Barrack Obama, and Michael Jackson. It was then that I realized my son had likely never seen Michael Jackson moon-walk. Well that just wouldn't do. Ending our MLK day educational exploration in ta-da, another "youtube moment" MJ Moonwalk


 

Sweet & Spooky Gets me Going...

It has to be considered common knowledge that if you have named your blog "On the Fritz", chances are, there will be stages (aka many months) when the machine malfunctions so completely that there is a disruption in service. Describing it as an inability to operate isn't quite the correct metaphor. Life, motherhood, & the general basics necessitate tinkering together the requirements for daily survival. Eventually though the piece-meal quick fix solutions wear out, requiring professional service contract workers, revamping the set up, and getting things up and running again. After new implementation there is that transition-in-training period. Instruction manual available, but vague & personal interpretation & application is required and timely. Really it comes down to hours and minutes. Knowing that the condition of your day-to-day has become so precarious that in order to re-establish and stabilize you must hunker down, tighten your circle, and usually that means that even an outlet gets shelved for a time. 

I suppose it was this fall evening after making caramel apples and carving pumpkins with my boys that I considered taking the outlet off the shelf and writing again. Our system for the evening worked well. Johnathan and the boys cleaned pumpkins in the driveway while I stirred caramel on the stove (note to self, next year buy those handy caramel apple wraps). While removing the caramel from the heat, I was beckoned outside to draw an Anakin Skywalker face onto Zayne's pumpkin. I then expertly retreated back inside to dip the apples intentionally bypassing my least favorite Halloween activity (the actual carving). It also probably helped that this years pumpkin carving was NOT interrupted by Zayne disregarding our 5 warnings to "NOT touch the knives" and slicing his finger so that we had a band-aid raid proceeded by a 15 minute deliberation over an Urgent Care visit (such as Pumpkin Carving 2011). However, we did have to hover over Pender in order to allow him to hug the lit Jack-o-laterns with the burning candles inside of them while gripping a warm slice of caramel apple. I shared in his glowing smile, something about the sweet & spooky of this season still gets me going...

"Mom, you broke my plan up in pieces..."

Well this week I really did it. I ruined Zaynes life. For real this time. Not like the time I cut the PBJ sandwich in half, or the time he told me "Mom, you broke my plan up in pieces. It's a big mess, and a REAL big problem. It's really all your fault Mom." Actually this plot against him began 5 years ago, at birth.

On Fridays, I let Zayne choose the radio stations while we are driving to our "outing" destination. This past Friday as we were zoo bound, he was asking me to switch stations until he heard a "boy singer." To my relief he vetoed Bruno Mars, but stopped me at Metallica. He then asked me, "What boy is singing this?" When I responded, it was as if it was the first time he'd heard the bands name. "That's a cool name", he said contemplatively as he began murmuring the name to himself a few times. Then he enlightened me with a stern seriousness on my obvious parental error with "Mom, I wish my name could be Metallica. I didn't want it to be Zayne."

I'm sorry son, for some reason, as much as I like Metallica, I thought it prudent to avoid labeling your little rock-n-roll soul, before it even had a chance to develop, with one of the worlds most widely recognized Heavy Metal bands name. I mean that, and a myriad of other reasons I may have wanted to shield you from the possible repercussions of naming you Metallica. I hope you can forgive me. Love, Mom.

"Mom, you regot (forgot)..."

Leave it to the one year old to take matters into his own hands when it comes to personal hygiene. I mean what's a boy to do, if no one else is going to look after his dental health. This week my two boys emerged from the bathroom, toothbrushes in mouth, scrubbing away. Our sweet little baby with his four budding front teeth had to hijack one of his brothers toothbrushes. Figuring out teeth brushing via big brother and watching the rest of us, since his mother so neglectfully forgot to "teach" him and provide him with his own toothbrush. I've since remidied the situation. In addition, Zayne brought home a dental hygiene packet from school this week. Lectured me on the drive home about not reminding him to brush &
floss TWICE daily. "Mom, you only told me in the morning, some nights you 'regot' (forgot) to remind me to brush my teeth." As we arrived home he promptly posted the pamphlet picturing hideous tooth decay on his bathroom mirror. No thanks to myself, the whole family is now using correct dental practices.