You can call me green bean!

It snowed today. I’m not ready for snow. It’s November 6. Autumn will be gone and winter will be here before we know it, so thought I better do a fall recap.

Adam’s favorite after-school activities are watching Word Girl, playing computer games (pbskids.org), going for bike rides, playing Aaron’s iPhone (Candy Crush!), playing Legos, playing ball in the backyard, or fighting with Ben. He also recently became obsessed with Pokemon cards. He learned a lesson about friendship when an older kid took advantage of him and got a few of Adam’s best cards. What did Adam get in return? “I get to be friends with a third grader!”Um, sorry, that’s not how it works. “If you have to give something to someone in order to be his friend, then he’s not a good friend. People will like you for who you are, not what you give them,” Aaron told him.
Sound advice, at any age.  

Ben’s favorite activities are similar, although when he tries to play on my phone (I only have one game — Angry Birds), he just keeps scrolling through screens with his chubby little fingers until he’s two scrolls away from changing my password or blocking someone’s number, and then he’ll say, “Mom! Fix this! Mom! Something’s wrong!” He also loves watching movies.

It’s probably no surprise to anyone that he’s still obsessed with Batman, and has told us more than once that he hates the name Ben and wants to be called either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Dressing in a Batman costume is just another normal day in Ben’s world. (I mean Batman’s world.) Just about every morning, he argues with Aaron about what he’s going to wear to preschool. He wants to wear a Batman shirt every.single.day.

We had Adam’s school conferences awhile ago and his teacher said he’s really blossomed in her class, thanks to his friendship with Michael (they “cherish” one another), and Cadence (another friend from preschool, and Adam’s current crush). His anxiety is definitely in check. Mrs. B said he’s doing well in all subjects, and the only time he gets into trouble is when he’s being “too affectionate” and play-wrestling with his buddies. “It’s hard for kindergarteners to know what’s acceptable and unacceptable school behavior,” she told us. “That comes with time.” 

His favorite class is gym. I am not surprised. He is so much like Aaron.
  
He still doesn’t like the majority of hot school lunches, and yet doesn’t want to bring his own. I worry about his appetite and how he skips meals. He’s already so small. When he skips lunch, he’s usually feeling nauseous by the time I pick him up from preschool. I don’t know if it’s a combination of not eating, sleep deprivation, and anxiety, but Mondays are particularly bad. Yesterday we had to cancel dinner plans because he felt sick, and thankfully we did cancel them, because he wound up throwing up into a bucket on the drive home. (We always have a bucket in the backseat of the car, because with kids, ya just never know.) I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment to have his blood tested for allergies again, just in case he’s getting sick from something he’s eating (when he does eat). The weird thing is that he only throws up once, rests for awhile on the couch, and is fine by the time he has to go to bed. I know it’s not the flu because he doesn’t get achy or feverish, and he doesn’t sleep for hours and hours (like he does when he’s got a flu bug), and he always feels fine after a few hours.  
Adam has also recently decided he no longer eats spaghetti, pizza, “salad” (known as lettuce to most everyone else) or hot dogs. That kid would happily live on Chipotle burrito bowls (no salad!), chickpea nuggets, pork chops, roast beef sandwiches, salami, cinnamon and sugar toast, granola bars, waffles, my dad’s Swedish pancakes, and scrambled eggs if we let him.

When he drops food on the floor, he actually counts out loud while he’s in the process of picking it up. Apparently someone taught him the “five second” rule and he takes it very literally. He’s a rule follower, that one. Very different from his little brother.

I recently overheard him singing the song “Royals” by Lorde. Here are the correct lyrics: 

“And we’ll never be royals (royals).
It don’t run in our blood,
That kind of lux just ain’t for us.
We crave a different kind of buzz.
Let me be your ruler (ruler),
You can call me queen bee
And baby I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule.
Let me live that fantasy.”

Here’s Adam’s version:

“Let me be your ruler
You can call me green bean!
And baby I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule
Just eat your vegetables.”

Just kidding about that last part, but he did think it was “green bean” instead of “queen bee.”  Reminds me of how, when I was younger, I thought the lyrics to that 80s Stacey Q song was “body parts, when body parts are one … I need you! I need you!” instead of “two of hearts, two hearts that beat as one …” (Hey! Either way makes sense.) 

While Adam likes school and has made a number of little friends, he still talks about Sam and Zander, his first friends (aka the three amigos). He was able to spend some time playing at Zander’s house a few weeks ago when we stopped over to borrow a Harry Potter cape for Halloween, and he and Ben were both so excited about playing with their daycare friends at the annual bonfire party.

The three amigos, together again. They were inseparable at the annual daycare bonfire party (we were still invited, even though we no longer go there).

It was actually fun getting out the Halloween costume and decoration bins from the basement—mainly because I have kids who share my enthusiasm for the holiday! We have five Halloween bins now, more stuff than we have for Christmas. I brought the goods out of storage extra early, so we’d have at least a month to enjoy the decor. I came to love the soft orange glow from the orange lights that I hung in our living room. It gave me a sense of peace, almost like how I feel when we have the Christmas tree plugged in.

Ben, however, did not appreciate me clipping a fake ponytail onto his hair.

But then I bribed him with candy, and got this pic. Wayne’s World, party time, excellent.

Tonya, Sam, and Evan visited Minnesota for her grandma’s 90th birthday at the end of September. The girls hung out in downtown Minneapolis one evening, and all the families hung out in Forest Lake another afternoon. I took a day off, too, to spend some additional time with my friends from Idaho.

I feel better knowing they are protecting us.

I love all of these little ones and their mamas! It was a special treat to have Evan in the mix, too. (Not pictured = the twins)

Adam in his element, with pretty girls on either side of him.
(And goofball Jacob in the front.)

Dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, 
followed by drinks on the Brit’s rooftop.
These girls add to my life in ways I can't describe.

Hanging out with my buddy Evan at the apple orchard, followed by dinner at Eli's Northeast. As usual, the time went too fast.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about babies. First Katie, then Amanda had baby girls last year, my friend Emily recently had baby Christopher, two of Aaron’s coworkers just had baby boys, my friend Kirsten is due any day now, my friend Christine is due in December (and had a lovely baby shower at Amy’s house a few weeks ago), and my friend Morgan is due in January, which is part of the reason that I have babies on the brain, but an even bigger reason is that Aaron and I haven’t closed the door on a third (tick-tock). I constantly wonder, “Is our family complete?” I know time isn't exactly on our side. Will we ever have another newborn? Will I live through The Blur again, when days and nights blurred together and I had hard days when I felt like I was on the outside looking in, yearning for the freedom that my friends and family all seemed to have? I know now, with a newborn, you're going to feel tired (not just sort of tired, but exhausted tired), you’re going to feel like a human milk machine, you’re going to feel like you're always changing diapers, you’re going to feel like the last time you felt normal was so long ago that you forgot how that felt, you're going to wonder how you ever created something so beautiful, so perfect, so precious and innocent and full of possibilities. And then you have a roller, then a crawler, then a walker and a talker, and your baby outgrows those sweet little onesies, and you start buying bigger diapers and different toys, and eventually you find yourself with a curious toddler who questions everything, and makes you laugh, and on some days can exhaust you with his or her relentless need to be entertained or frustrating boundary-pushing actions, and other days make you feel so proud, so happy, so in love with the little person they are becoming. I survived the newborn and toddler stages twice. I'm pretty sure I could survive those stages again. Nowhere in the books, though, did I read about how to survive the Stage of Constant Battling Between Siblings. I was unprepared for this stage. Some days I wonder what I’m doing wrong that my boys are so mean to one another. The bickering, the hitting, the chasing, the crying, the tattling—it drives me crazy. A year ago the boys kind of fought, kind of played together. This year sibling rivalry is in full force. 
The only way I can get them to pick up their toys is by making it into a contest. “Who can pick up the most Legos first? Ready, go!” [It works. Sometimes.] When they go for a bike ride, both of them want to “be the leader,” although Adam is naturally more cautious than his little brother, so Ben seems to spend more time ahead of the pack. They fight over which couch they’re going to sit on (they both want the big couch), they fight over cars and Legos and crayons and whose turn it is to hit the ball and whose turn it is to be the caller in Red Light, Green Light, and who gets to lie closest to the bedroom door (Mom's side of the bed) when I read them books at night. Sometimes I escape to the kitchen to do the dishes just to drown out the noise. (Sorry, Aaron.) If anyone has advice on how to handle this, please fill me in! And if anyone fought with a younger or older sibling and is now his or her good friend, tell me that, too, so I have hope for my boys.

Thankfully they try to get along when we’re out in public. Heck, they even look like friends in the photo below! Aaron and I both took a day off over MEA and brought the kids to Country Sun Farm in Stillwater. Highly recommend the corn maze and the corn pit. Plus, what city kid doesn’t love a petting zoo? I think it might become an annual fall tradition.

This fall we also went to Rem and Jim’s annual Halloween bash. I think this was their fifth year hosting, and every year is better than the last. They are such generous hosts, and their coworkers and family members are all so nice. I think there were 22 people there this year, all in creative costumes, all ready to party (who said Jello shots were just for college kids?). I felt bad for Rem and Jim, though, when they got a call from Grandma and Grandpa that the twins were crying hysterically for Mommy and Daddy and just would not go to sleep, so Jim left the party to pick them up, brought them back to a house full of loud, obnoxious strangers (to them), and amazingly they passed out in their cribs within the hour (even with a bunch of drunks playing rowdy games of Categories/King’s Corner and Spoons). Aaron passed out at midnight, but I managed to hold on until almost 2 a.m. (We always spend the night—we even stayed over when Ben was four months old. I brought him along, fed him, put him to sleep in his pack-n-play before the guests arrived, and checked on him as the evening wore on.) Rem’s Halloween party is one of the highlights of fall for me. I’d have to be in labor or at the bedside of a sick or dying loved one to miss it. 

We should have purchased two jars of blue face paint.
I love how Aaron’s Papa Smurf turned out. I was less than impressed with my Smurfette.

Tara as Ace Ventura: Pet Detective and Rem as Abby Cadabby from Sesame Street.

The hunter and the hunted.

Who did frame Roger Rabbit?!

When in doubt, figure it out. That’s the redneck way.

Ben just about had a heart attack when he saw that Batman was at the party.

The guys at the party. The photo of the girls didn’t turn out.

Wig swap! I was trying to look like a dead deer. I blame it on the Jello shots.

Adam is in karate right now, mainly because his friend Michael wanted him to join. Their class is in the gymnasium at John Glenn Junior High, which is a total flashback to me — it's where I went to middle school. The junior high dances, the first time I realized there was a hierarchy of popularity (the girls who wore name-brand clothes = popular. I had one Guess t-shirt and one pair of Guess jeans, so yeah, not exactly in the cool crowd), the boys with their smelly feet and changing voices, excessive amounts of Exclamation! and Electric Youth perfume, the girls who already wore bras, the nice teachers, the mean ones, the nice girls, the mean ones, the clueless boys ... I walked around the halls on the first day Adam had class, trying to keep Ben entertained, and the memories came flooding back. I haven’t ventured into the locker room yet ... that might bring back the strongest memories of all. Who thought it was a good idea to have junior high girls take swimming class? I remember us showering with our suits still on (heaven forbid someone notice what we look like naked!), then hanging our miniscule white towels from locker to locker and trying to quickly change behind our little barriers. I also remember changing in that same locker room for cross-country practices and meets, though, and those are good memories, mostly because I loved our coach, Mr. Smith. Sometimes, at the end of our practice, we would all run to McDonald’s and he’d buy everyone a twist cone. That was back when I could run a mile in 7 minutes. And back when I weighed 113 pounds. Why was I so hard on myself then? Wait. Why am I so hard on myself now? 

When Ben is willing to sit still for Adam’s 40-minute karate class, I find it incredibly amusing watching a room full of little boys (and one brave girl) try to do jumping jacks (so uncoordinated!), or remember their left from their right, or attempt to do a roundhouse kick. Adam has his star block down, and he’s pretty good at following directions, but I don’t know if he’ll want to sign up again after this season is over. He’s been talking about soccer lately, so maybe we’ll sign him up for that again next fall. He seems to do better in team sports, especially those involving a ball. I don’t regret him taking karate, though. The sensei is strict but kind, and the rules he enforces are good ones: be on time, listen, be respectful, be polite. (He always praises the kids who say “thank you” after receiving their weekly handout.) He also has a safety lesson at the end of each class, which I love. Just a few of the topics he’s covered = talking to strangers, calling 911, and what to do if you’re being followed (don’t hide in a dark alley, go into a bright spot and yell, yell, yell).  I figure it can only help his self-esteem and confidence to know some karate moves, and maybe help him win a fight against Ben one day, once little brother outgrows big brother. (They’re less than a pound apart in weight. It won’t be long now.) Adam likes to say, “You might be taller and bigger than me some day, Ben, but I’ll always be older than you.” 

I’m not good at determining if kids are ‘naturals’ at sports (most of the kids who seem to excel at one sport or another seem good because they practice a lot), but Ben seems like a natural wrestler to me. He instinctively knows to throw a leg over Adam or try to pin his shoulders down (on the flip side, he also pulls hair and kicks, which we’ve told him is cheating). I looked at community ed classes to see how old he had to be to take a wrestling class, and the earliest he can take classes is next year, when he’s four.  Who knows, maybe his wrestling ‘moves’ are normal for aggressive 3-year-old boys … but it would be cool if we got him into a sport that he enjoyed at a young age. Wasn’t Tiger Woods three when he first started to golf? (Dream on, right?) ;) 

Work is same old, same old. A few of my friends have recently left to pursue other jobs or freelance opportunities, which leaves a void only they can fill, but I still love my boss and the marketing girls (Alex makes me laugh on a daily basis), I still love the flexibility, I still love my walks with Anna, I still love my friends, I still believe in the products, I still love that we produce, and sponsor, so many cool events. There are always reasons to complain, no matter where you work, so I try not to dwell too much on those reasons and focus on the positive. Life is short.

Best of the Cities

AHA Gala/masquerade theme: I still think of us as a team/little family, 
even though Kelly isn’t officially part of the crew anymore.

We got together with Aaron’s family this fall a few times, definitely not as often as during the summer when there’s an explosion of birthday parties, but once for Jay’s birthday and again when Patti hosted a Halloween party for the grandkids, complete with goody bags and pumpkin bowling and spooky bingo and golf and shooting spiders at targets. I love that the cousins are so close in age. Seeing them together—whether they’re playing soccer or office or baseball or school or Legos—reminds me of the fun I had with my cousins, Abby and Sara, and how much I looked forward to seeing them at family gatherings. (Not pictured = the girls, Kayla, Morgan, and Lucy.) 

I didn’t ask them to hold hands. They just did.

The boys were so excited for Halloween this year—counting down the days and talking about their costumes—that I'm thinking this Christmas will be really fun. This was the first Halloween that Nick and Ashley and Shawn and Trish joined us in Forest Lake for dinner, followed by trick-or-treating. It was a family affair! This was also the first year that my parents have been retired on Halloween, meaning they were willing to prepare dinner (they had the time and energy) and they weren't in a rush for everyone to leave at the end of the night, since they had the luxury of sleeping in the next morning. I love that so many people really get into the spirit of the holiday in my parents’ neighborhood—with adults standing around portable bonfires in their driveways, handing out beers to the adults and candy to the kiddos. Adam and Ben remember the elderly couple who pass out short cans of pop every year (their favorite treat), and the adults appreciate the one house that goes all out to entertain others on one night of the year. This year, a junior-high aged kid stood in the front yard dressed in a super tall scary guy outfit (Ben was terrified of him when he realized he was real), and there were all kinds of spooky Halloween decorations leading up to the front door, then the homeowner came to the door in a witch’s costume and handed out “bloody brains” shots to every adult in our group (seven of us). I think it's great that her family is so into Halloween. It's a lot of work to be that dedicated, all for just a few hours of gratification. My dad didn’t hook a trailer up to his four-wheeler this year, Aaron pulled the kids around in a wagon instead, and that worked out well (less dangerous getting off a wagon than getting off a trailer). I think we made it to 10 houses or so before the boys started complaining about being tired and cold (it was drizzling by then). We covered a lot of ground that night, so they really were troopers. Everyone seemed to have a great time, with the exception of Nick scaring the snot out of Ben with his realistic looking Freddy Krueger costume. (Fine for scaring teenagers and adults; not so cool to a 3-year-old.)  
“One, two, Freddy’s comin’ for you ...”

Excited Batman and Harry Potter

My parents went to a costume party this year, and my dad really got into putting together an authentic hippy outfit. He even made those pants with fabric paint. Groovy.
We had so much fun!

  

Because this post isn’t long enough, there’s also a meme!!  I filled this out a long time ago and just now discovered it, then updated a few answers to be current. Apparently I was too lazy to send it to my friends to “play along.” (Or maybe I didn’t want to bother them with it.) Anyhow, here goes:

1) I WISH I KNEW HOW TO …  play the piano, have a conversation in sign language, negotiate a giant raise.

2) NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I BEEN … scuba diving. My brother Shawn loves it. It freaks me out. I’ve also never shot to kill, gutted an animal, or gone on a ghost hunting expedition. No thanks, no thanks, no thanks. 

3) MY GREATEST FEAR IS  … dying young, and not having a chance to watch my boys grow up. 

4) HIGH SCHOOL WAS … 20 years ago, before cell phones and the invention of the Internet! Wow. I'm a dinosaur. I have no desire to “re-live” those four years, either. I had fun in gymnastics and track, I had fun with my circle of friends (still close friends today) and boyfriend Brian, but the beyond-high-school-years are so, so, so much better. 

5) WHEN I'M NERVOUS, I … sweat, feel like my heart is going to explode, feel like my lips have been injected with Novocain, say dumb things. 

6) THE LAST CONCERT I WENT TO WAS … Mumford & Sons. AMAZING show! I also saw Trampled by Turtles at the State Fair. Equally amazing.    

7) MY IDEA OF THE PERFECT DAY IS … 75 and sunny … bbqing with friends or family, doing something active (kickball? Going for a run?), sipping a top-shelf margarita on the rocks, taking a siesta, going on a dinner date with Aaron, followed by drinks and dancing with friends! 

8) MY HOUSE IS … not everything I want, but everything I need.
 
9) PEOPLE SAY I HAVE A … way of making people feel welcome (probably by pestering them with questions!)
 
10) LAST CHRISTMAS, I … celebrated at seven Christmas parties, each special in its own way. 

11) I SHOULD … take another CPR class, reupholster the dining room chairs, learn to drive a stick shift, start a garden (some day). 
 
12) MY HAIR IS … never going to be long and thick and luscious, or naturally curly. I need to accept that. (Thankfully I have a talented stylist!) 

13) THE LAST TIME I WAS ON A PLANE, I WENT TO …  visit Tonya and Evan in Seattle, spring of 2012. Oh how I wish I could make that an annual trip. 

14) THE BEST TV SHOW EVER MADE IS … Modern Family. 
 
15) THE QUALITY I MOST VALUE IN A FRIEND IS … honesty. 

16) I ALWAYS HAVE THESE THREE THINGS IN MY REFRIGERATOR: A gallon of milk, some type of beer, a jar of pickles. 

17) YOU KNOW I LIKE YOU WHEN … I start teasing you good-naturedly. 

18) IF MY HOUSE WAS BURNING DOWN, AND ALL MY LOVED ONES WERE SAFE, I WOULD TRY TO GRAB MY … purse and laptop. 

19) TAKE MY ADVICE, LIFE IS … what you make of it. 

20) THE ONE THING I REALLY WANT TO BUY RIGHT NOW IS … ankle boots for fall. 

21) SOMEDAY, I WOULD LOVE TO VISIT … Hawaii, Alaska, Australia, Italy, Greece, and Spain. 

22) MY STYLE IS … safe and modest. I admire the fashion sense of my niece April, my cousin Sara, and all the hip women I work with downtown!
 
23) I FIND INSPIRATION IN … words!! And people who defy the odds. And marathon runners! I love cheering on friends who are running distance races. 

24) THE WORLD CAN DO WITHOUT … cancer!!! Also? Pollution, corporate greed, Internet bullying (or any kind of bullying, for that matter), and when kids “sag” their pants. Pull ‘em up, dudes! I don’t want to see your boxer shorts or your crack.    

25) I'D RATHER LICK THE BELLY OF A COCKROACH THAN … Really? You lost me at “belly of a cockroach.” 

26) THE LAST TIME I SPENT OVER $100, I WAS … probably buying groceries. 

27) IN THE MORNING I … need to take a hot, steamy shower to fully wake up. 

28) THIS WEEKEND I WILL BE … going to my nephew’s First Communion in Lakeville on Saturday, and going shopping in Woodbury with my mom and niece on Sunday.

29) ONCE AT A BAR, I … let a guy do a body shot off me. It was a wild bachelorette party.

30) IF I COULD HAVE LUNCH WITH ANYONE, DEAD OR ALIVE, IT WOULD BE … Jesus. I have a lot of questions.
 

Summertime, and the livin' is easy

Ben is three! And look, Batman is standing in for Adam!

Aaron is 40! Bottom row, l to r: Sara, April, the old man, Josh's girlfriend Becky. Back: Me, Amy, Patti.

My favorite t-ball player and coach

Crivitz, Wis. (Holly & Kevin's cabin, just north of Green Bay)

Canoeing down the Peshtigo River, Crivitz, Wis.

Some of my best friends from college. UWEC forever.

Itasca State Park

Headwaters of the Mississippi River

What? Everyone is looking? And smiling? Stop the press!

My parents

Family hike in Itasca State Park

We played a lot of bags this summer

Look-alikes Ben and Uncle Nick

My catch (Aaron), his catch (northern). Lake Itasca.

Camping at Hok-si-la, Lake Pepin. (Jeremy ready to get the party started!!)

Rock on, Tara, Trish and big brother Shawn

Arrrrrrrrgh

Adam is six!

Aqua Batman?

Mahtomedi Beach

Weekend at Becky's parents' cabin, Siren, Wis. - Aaron, Adam, Logan, Josh, Lane

That smile!

Captain Lucy, first time on a boat

What a nice big cousin

20 year (!?!) reunion -- trying to recreate the photo below. My best friends from high school. What a FUN night!!!

Treina, me, Amy, Karla, Tonya, Megan. So much love.

Cousins Ben, Leo, Adam

Annual Coon Rapids/Blaine overnight get-together near Prior Lake (Aaron was wearing Conrad's letterman jacket)

Shawn's birthday at Psycho Suzi's ... love my beautiful niece April

Fun in the backyard

Family reunion in Madison, Wis.

Family, sunshine, Spotted Cow. Happy girl.

Mumford and Sons!

Water your brother and he will grow.

Ready to ride into fall ...

Things change. Life doesn't stop for anybody.

Oh, man. I've been bad about blogging on here. June was my last post? A whole summer has gone by. I know I should do a summer recap, but first I'm gonna blog about September 2013 because it's kind of been a big month in our household. And it's probably going to be a long, drawn-out post. Be prepared for lots of rambling. I'm going to have to go with a "change" theme for this one, since there was change in my life (new company, new office), Ben's life (transitioning from daycare to preschool), and Adam's life (starting kindergarten). 

Ok, let me reverse a little bit to August. Thursday, Aug. 29 to be exact—Adam and Ben's last day at daycare. What an emotional day. Six years of pulling into and out of the same driveway five days a week, at first lugging Baby Adam in that bucket carseat into and out of the house, then carrying him on my hip, then balancing him on my hip as my pregnant belly got in the way, then lugging Baby Ben in that bucket carseat while Adam walked beside me ... six years of watching the seasons change ... six years of making small talk with Mary, chatting with the other parents, watching the kids play, getting to know the kids ... six years of watching them grow from helpless babies to kids with personalities. I can't tell you how many times Adam or Ben asked, "Can we play for a little longer?" once I arrived to pick them up. And how many times I've sat down next to Mary or Katie or Judy or Lindsay in one of those red chairs, out on the driveway, and watched the kids ride their bikes in the cul-de-sac, or play Star Wars in the grass, or chase one another, laughing and yelling and having fun while we talked about the little things in life that make our lives worthwhile. You really get to know people when you see them nearly 20 days a month for six years.

A page from Adam's daily notebook update. He was almost four months old. For nearly a year, Mary documented when he ate, how much he ate, when he napped, when he pooped, and any other facts of relevance.

 

Halloween 2010, Adam (3) as a duck and Ben as a chunky pumpkin four-month-old (almost five months). 

Mary watched Adam grow from a happy-go-lucky three-month-old to a sensitive six-year-old; she visited me in the hospital after having Ben, bringing us food and gifts, and watched him grow from a chunky baby (22 pounds at four months!) to a 3-year-old who just informed me that he wants to change his name to Bruce Wayne. [I know a lot of kids like Batman, but this is a serious obsession.]
She genuinely cared about our kids and reveled in their milestone moments (first tooth, first time crawling, first word, first time walking) just like family. And when I say family, I mean the good and the bad ... because sometimes a family can be slightly dysfunctional and a family member will say or do something to really upset you—something you disagree with, and other times you feel so grateful, so appreciative, so thankful for their love and support. Families are weird like that.

Over a few weeks I collected photos from the other moms, then waited until the last minute to put the slideshow together. (Last-minute is often how I operate, much to Aaron's annoyance.) I spent all night creating a slideshow for Mary as a farewell gift. I sent the video link to her email before I picked up the boys, not thinking she would check her email until after we were gone. When I walked into the basement, she was sitting at the computer with tears in her eyes. "I could only watch the first two slides," she said, grabbing a Kleenex. "And then I started crying. I'll have to watch it later." 
We walked together outside, trying not to bring up the Elephant in the Room that was really more like a T-Rex at this point. What should I say? How should I say it? What's the best way to say goodbye?  
What's that saying? It's always easier to be the one leaving than to be the one left behind? 
We made superficial small talk about our weekend plans before Mary gave each of the boys a parting gift (Batman books for Ben; Star Wars books for Adam) and suggested that we get together for dinner in the future. I agreed that it would be nice to plan a dinner date. 
"Good luck at school," she told Adam. "You'll do great."
He smiled shyly.
"And Ben," she said, "Be sure to use the potty this weekend for your mom and dad. Batman doesn't wear a diaper." 
"I will!" he said before running toward the car.

There were hugs and goodbyes and heartfelt thank you's and we were off, just like that. I felt sad, Adam was sad, Ben was oblivious. We watched the slideshow that night (after dinner) and Adam announced, "I wasn't even thinking about my friends and now seeing that made me think of them and miss them." 
Ben was still oblivious. He knew he would be going to preschool, but I don't know that he fully comprehended that going to preschool meant not going to daycare anymore.

On Friday I drove the boys up to Forest Lake for the day so that I could work from home and Aaron and I could go to the State Fair later that evening with friends to see the Mason Jennings/Suburbs/Trampled by Turtles show (such amazing local talent! I could listen to Trampled over and over and over again. Bonus that I was able to enjoy an ooey, gooey, chocolatey paper cone of delicious Sweet Martha's chocolate chip cookies, my only "must-have" Fair food). It was the perfect summer evening to be at an outdoor concert with good friends. It almost made me forget about the Chore that Lied Ahead—the dreaded Potty Training Boot Camp.

On Saturday it was do-or-die training time. Ben was required to show up in underwear at preschool. We had three days to figure it out. It was a nearly impossible task, but I was hell-bent on at least trying. I mean, there were plenty of blog posts and books about potty training in a DAY. I had 48 more hours than that, practically an eternity! 

"We're done now with diapers," I told Ben in a firm no-nonsense tone when I picked him up from my parents house.
He nodded like he understood. 
"If you have to pee or poop, tell me, or you'll ruin these AWESOME Batman underwear."
"I will," he answered like a snotty teenage girl. If he had known how to roll his eyes, I'm sure he would have (and then texted a friend 'OMG, SMH, 303 is an ACORN, **//'). 
[Translation: OMG, shaking my head, Mom is A Completely Obsessive Really Nutty person, wink, wink, nudge, nudge].  

Anyhow, I'm pretty sure he peed in his pants about 10 minutes after that conversation. Yee-ha! We were off to a great start!

Aaron and I loaded him up on liquids throughout the day and set the oven timer for every 20 minutes, when we would rush him upstairs to our lone bathroom. I began to hate the sound of that timer. Again?!?! How could 20 minutes have gone by already!?!? (I remember the same feeling when I was breastfeeding Adam. How could he be hungry again!? Didn't he JUST eat??)

Ben was a good sport, though, and obediently tried to pee or poop every time that damned timer went off. Well, no, obediently is the wrong word. Sometimes he begrudgingly tried to go, sometimes he resisted, sometimes he DID go but only for a two-second trickle. Clearly he didn't understand what it meant to fully empty his bladder. And every time I'd think we had an "A-ha!" moment, it would be followed by an accident. I felt like a robot, constantly asking, "Ben, do you have to go potty? Are you sure? Do we feel like you have to pee? Do you have to poop? Let's just try." 
The low point of the weekend was, after one particularly messy accident, when Ben exclaimed "Mommy is mad at me!" then burst into tears. I felt like Joan Crawford. 
The one thing I never wanted to do throughout the weekend was make Ben feel bad.
"I'm not mad at YOU," I told him, furiously scrubbing the soiled carpet. I was annoyed, but more than anything, I was mad at myself.
"Give me a hug," I said instead. It wasn't his fault that we had placed this ridiculously huge burden on his little shoulders.
"Do I still get Skittles?" he asked. 
I am such a gigantic pushover that I gave him three Skittles just for trying.
Be persistent. Be patient. Be encouraging. Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.
After the first day, he had successfully peed in the potty three times. Three times more than Friday. I considered it progress. Maybe we could pull this off, after all. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Sunday was an f'ing disaster. He had EIGHT accidents. Eight. Accidents. Part of it was because we had friends over for a last-minute BBQ and we weren't as good about reminding him and bringing him upstairs like we had Saturday. Part of it was that he was too busy playing with our friends' kids to stop what he was doing. And part of it—the part that terrified me—was that he just did not care. 
I felt like crying. Why did I think my 3-year-old could be trained in a long weekend? Was I nuts? I must be crazy. This deadline was too much, too soon. It was clear that no amount of Skittles, no amount of bribing (Batman backpack), no amount of praise and encouragement was going to magically do the trick. 

The next day (Labor Day) we went to Aaron's mom's house for a few hours during the afternoon. It was a breath of fresh air to take a break from that horrid kitchen timer. We had more successes than accidents, and one No. 2 victory. Even with the successes, though, I hardly slept at all the night before Ben's monumental first day of preschool, I was so terrified that his amateur potty skills would get him kicked out. How on earth could he be expected to wipe his own butt when he wouldn’t even poop without being prompted? I started doubting our rationale for pulling him from daycare (I know it was the first day of school for many of the preschool kids, but still, we should have waited a few months until he was ready). I felt like I was setting him up for failure—not only was he going to be in a new school with different teachers and new little friends and a whole new routine (learning!), he was saddled with this bathroom expectation that he couldn’t possibly fulfill. I was a terrible mom. This was a terrible decision. The whole thing was a gigantic fail and it was all my fault. 

In preparation of the first day of preschool, I packed four extra sets of shorts and underwear in Ben's backpack. At drop-off, I was a nervous mess. When I'm nervous, I either clam up or I can't shut up. This morning, I couldn't shut up. “We have to constantly remind Ben to use the bathroom. Does a teacher do that?” I asked the director. “I just don’t want him to have too many accidents, you know? Do you ever put the three-year-olds in diapers, for the teachers' convenience?” 
The director answered in her stern Nanny McPhee way, “Oh no. We don’t have diapering facilities here.” And then, as if she suddenly realized the possibility that maybe—horror of horrors!—he wasn’t actually potty trained, she asked, her eyes wide in fear, “He is wearing underwear, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah, he wears underwear,” I reassured her with a wave of my hand. (As of, like, three days ago.) 
“I’m just worried that he won’t be reminded to go and will have accidents.” (I’m just worried that even if he’s reminded to go he’ll have accidents.) 
I had this awful visual of Ben, crying alone in the bathroom, trying to clean his underwear, while the teachers were taking care of the other toddlers. 
The guilt.
“Do you have extra clothes for him?” she asked.
I nodded yes.
“Our teachers are very good about reminding the kids to go. He’ll be fine,” she finally smiled at me.

Ben didn’t want me to leave for work, and the only thing that eased his troubled mind was the fact that Adam was there, too. It was odd to see the normally nervous Adam in the role of caretaker. Ben also had “blue blankie” for comfort, and that’s how I picture him now when I think about Day One—deeply inhaling the comforting scent of his blue blanket. The blanket that smelled like love.

I was on pins and needles all day, worrying about receiving a call from the center. 
Miracle of all miracles he didn’t have a single accident. I should have bought a lottery ticket that day. He managed to stay clean and dry from 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., peeing during bathroom breaks and THANK THE LORD never having to poop. His teacher sent us home with a progress report saying that he did really well for his first day (he hung near his brother for the first part of the day and then hung out with his class for the remainder). He listened. He followed directions. He took a nap at nap time. He ate his lunch. He colored. He played. He made a friend. 
Sept. 3 was also my first day in a new office, after being in the same space for nearly nine years. The new office isn't as big (I prefer to call it "cozy"), and it's not as modern, but it's alright. I still have a spot at the window, I still get to see and talk to my friends every day, and I still get paid to write. My only complaint is that it's way too quiet. I feel like I need to apologize to everyone around me when I eat loud food, like sourdough pretzels or carrots, and having a personal phone conversation is basically out of the question. There are some days when I really miss the buzz of the newsroom. 

Ok. Back to Ben. The rest of the week at preschool wasn't quite as miraculous when it came to using the potty (two accidents the next day, soaked through his bedding at nap time the third day, two more accidents the fourth day), but the teachers seemed understanding and Ben seemed to be making friends and having fun and adapting really well, despite the bathroom issues. 
One day, as we were leaving the center and Ben was grumbling about how he wanted to wear his lace-up shoes like Adam, I joked to one of the teachers that we sometimes call Ben "the crabby old man." I wanted her to know that she didn't have to sugarcoat anything with us. It was ok to be honest. I mean, we live with him. We know his moods. We sometimes live in fear of the next time he'll throw his cane at one of us.
She looked genuinely surprised and said, "Ben never acts crabby when he's here." 
Say what!?

We didn't ask him to pose like this. He just did.

And now he's been there for two weeks, so I think it's safe to say they're gonna keep him. (*Cue church bells ringing and angels singing.)

Adam also conquered a nerve-wracking first day of kindergarten. His first day of school was Sept. 4, and after weeks of us talking about kindergarten and reading books and meeting his teacher and touring the school and filling out forms, the day finally arrived. Aaron and I realized as we were getting him ready that we had failed to buy him a first day of school outfit. Oops. Unlike his Batman-apparel-obsessed little brother, he could care less what clothes we put him in. He wound up wearing a hand-me-down polo-style shirt, some brown cargo shorts, his new red tie shoes, his old Puma jacket, and a hand-me-down Star Wars backpack. [We vowed then to go back-to-school shopping before school starts next year, like everyone else does.] He talked a lot in the car ride to preschool—projecting his own nervous thoughts onto Ben, "It's ok, Ben. You'll be ok without me at preschool. You'll make friends. You won't be alone. I know you're scared, but you'll have fun." [I don't think Ben had even considered the possibility of being left alone at the center until Adam kept driving that fact home again and again and again.] Aaron and I wanted to watch our first-born get on the bus that morning, you know, first day of school ritual and all, so we dropped him off at preschool then went to Burger King for breakfast to stall for time, returning to the parking lot 35 minutes later. [Since we do open enrollment, Adam takes the bus to school from preschool.] When we pulled up, Adam was standing off by himself, looking worried. The other (older) kids were hyper, chasing one another and yelling. They had to be told a few times to settle down. Even armed with the knowledge that two kids from preschool would be in his class (Cadence and Adam's good friend Michael), he was quiet as a mouse. When the bus arrived, the older boys lined up and Adam kept a safe distance; he was the last one to get on the bus. I imagine it took nearly all of his courage to climb up those bus steps into the Great Unknown. I knew he was probably freaking out inside, but he kept his composure and even forced a weak smile (or two). I was so proud of him.

When Aaron and I waved goodbye to him at the bus stop, I don't think he realized he'd see us again at his school. The poor kid totally lost it when we showed up at his elementary school for the class "parent reception" at 8:45. Seeing our familiar faces triggered a release of tears. He was the only one in his class crying, and seeing that sad face and those crocodile tears just about broke me. I had blink really fast so that I wouldn't start crying, too. I was grateful that a teacher's assistant was there in the room, hovering near us, asking Adam questions to distract him. (Was she there just to help Adam? I have no idea, but I do know she was our guardian angel that morning.) 
When the other parents started filing out and we told Adam we had to go, too, first he buried his face in Aaron's work shirt and wouldn't let go, and then—after Aaron freed himself and left the room—he locked his fingers around my neck and held on with all his might. I had to pry myself free of his death grip and practically run out of the room so he couldn't chase me down the hall.
It was emotionally draining.
Today is Sept. 18 and he's only had one anxiety-related incident since then, when he threw up in music class (new room + new teacher = nerves + no breakfast and very little lunch + long school day without a nap  = upset stomach). Thankfully the very understanding teacher gave the very understanding nurse a brief recap of Adam's background and his anxiety, and the very understanding nurse called me to explain that his coloring was good, he didn't have a fever, he said he felt ok, and he wanted to return to class, so she said I didn't need to come pick him up. I can honestly say that Adam likes school. At night he sings the Spanish song he's learning in music class, he's excited on the days he gets to have gym class (his favorite so far), he recently told me that he learned the difference between fiction and nonfiction, and he even likes his once-a-week reading assignments. This is a huge relief to me, because really, it could go either way. Last year there were battles in the morning, tearful, emotionally-charged drop-offs, and incredible feelings of guilt as I backed out of the parking lot at preschool, looking at his sad face waving goodbye to me from the chair at the window. 
I know that it helps that he has familiar faces in his class (his teacher said that he and Michael "cherish" one another's friendship), because—no matter how old you are—it does make you feel better to have a friend at your side when you're going into a potentially intimidating situation, and I know that it helps Ben to have Adam at preschool in the mornings to help him when he's feeling tired or sad. I do miss daycare (mostly the social interaction), but I think—after everything—these changes were good for our family.

OK. WAKE UP! I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD BE A LONG ONE. Don't say you weren't warned.