And so it begins

I always figured I had at LEAST a good ten years before my kids started being embarrassed by me. Not so, apparently.

Last week, I had on my early morning ensemble of sweats and a ponytail and was ready to head out the door to take Riley to school--which, by the way, begins at the horrid hour of 7:55 a.m.

Riley looked at me and said, "Mom, don't you want to wear sumpin' more pretty."

To which I responded: "Nope, I'm good."

To which he responded: Well, don't you want to make your hair look nice? You're 'posed to look nice for school."

Ouch.

To Riley's credit, I guess I can kind of see where he's coming on this one. I never bother getting dressed up just to drop him off. And when I pick him up, I'm usually coming from the gym. His teacher has seen me in actual clothes and make-up maybe five times. She probably thinks I'm a crazy bag lady.

To make up for my lack of PTA-momness, I decided to volunteer at Riley's school library book fair. I didn't mention to him that I was going to be there, and I just knew he was going to be oh so very excited to see me. After all, I was wearing actual non-pj clothes and even some make-up. Nothing to be embarrassed about there, right?

Wrong. Riley walks in the door, and I very giddily try to get his attention. "Riley, Riley!" I'm waving my arms and it may be possible that I'm beaming. Riley looks right at me. Then he looks away. And then he proceeds to completely ignore me for the next five minutes.

The humiliation was worsened by the well-meaning grandmotherly lady beside me who had witnessed the whole scene. She kept clucking her tongue and uttering phrases like, "They grow up so fast."

Then, just before the book fair was over, Riley fell down and skinned his knee and came running to me as fast as he could. (And yes, I do realize my child is possibly the only kid on the face of the planet who can manage to injure himself in a library). I was tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine and turn up my nose and find some other kid to hug. But I didn't because, well for one, that probably would have gotten me arrested. AND Secondly, I guess I'll take what I can get.

Germs, what germs?

Lately, I am turning into a little bit of a germaphobe.

Mostly, I blame it on swine flu. And Riley. It's pretty hard to stop thinking about germs being EVERYWHERE when you have a four-year-old boy who is always picking his nose or scratching his bottom (Note to reader: for some mysterious reason, Riley seems to think the scratching of the bottom can only be properly performed without the troublesome barrier of pants or underwear).

We've had the germ talk before, Riley and I. And I used to be under the illusion that some of it was sinking in, that maybe, just maybe, I could stop being the hand sanitizer nazi and have a chance at a normal life again.

Those hopes were pretty much dashed yesterday. Riley informed me that he had to go "poo"---Lucky for me, he always lets me know, and in those exact delightful words, usually as I'm about to take a big bite of dinner.

Anyway, Riley went to the bathroom and when I could hear that he was done, I decided I better intercept him and do a quick hand check.

Me: "Hey buddy, let me see those hands. Did you get them good and clean?"
R: "Yeah, mommy. They're weal clean." (yep, he still has a speech impediment.)
Me: Grabbing hand.."Let me see. Wait just a minute, they aren't even wet. And why is your hand all balled up like that?"
Me: Prying open Riley's fingers... "Is your hand full of teddy grahams? Why would you take Teddy Grahams to the bathroom?"
Riley: "They're just weally super e-licious and I didn't want Ashy to eat them. I just weally, weaally, like them."

For those of you who are wondering how an uncordinated four-year old can manage to hoist himself off the toilet, wipe properly, and zip up his pants one-handed and without any cross-fecal contamination of the teddy grahams, let me solve the mystery for you: It Can't. Be. Done.

Good thing they sell hand sanitizer in bulk.

In other news...

After a very, very, very long hiatus I have decided to rejoin the blogosphere. At least until I get tired of it again---which, to be honest, is likely to happen sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Too much has happened around here in the past six months to cover it all, so I'll just hit the high points. Let's start with me, me, me, me. I have been really into running lately.

I honestly never thought I would hear those words come out of my mouth. Or technically, see them on my computer screen after my fingers typed them. For the past couple of months, my friend Judith and I have been training for a half-marathon (which, by the way, is now right around the corner.)

Two months later, and I've learned some pretty important things. 1-Jogging makes your behind huge. Seriously. No one warned me about this phenomenon, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Apparently, rumor has it that the general male population likes some junk in the trunk, which is kind of weird but whatever. But it just makes me feel unbalanced (physically, not mentally.) 2- If your prior lifetime running experience consists of a half-dozen fun runs and then you jump immediately into training to run 13. some-odd miles, you are likely to be really, really, slow. Pathetically slow.

In preparation for the half, I ran the 9.3 mile Tulsa run on Halloween. Halfway though, I was going strong and feeling pretty darn good about myself. Then, I glanced up and noticed I was being passed up by a fireman in full-out uniform, complete with a huge oxygen tank strapped to his back. I give you permission to call me speedster, if you want.

In other news, this guy:

... is now one. His birthday was like two months ago, but since I haven't posted since May, I feel like I've got to mention it somewhere. He is still as good-natured as can be but refusing to walk. I'm thinking he might have a little bit of a lazy bone in him. Pretty sure he got that from me.

And this guy:


......is now a certified school boy. He goes to Pre-K four hours a day and by all accounts appears to be doing quite well. They haven't kicked him out yet, so that's got to be a good sign right? Between music and gym, lunch time, and two recesses, I'm not sure how much actual learning takes place, but he loves it and that's all that matters. After all, what are our tax dollars for if not the amusement of our children?


I guess that pretty much wraps things up.

Oh yeah, the hubby. Guess I should mention him. Sam is enjoying being a third-year medical student and all of the responsibilities that go with it. He is rotating in the hospitals and doing doctorly-ish chores. Can you believe they actually gave him a scalpel and let him cut some sort of growth off of someone's face? He's almost a real doctor now. We only have to wait approximately six more years before we start making money to speak of.

Sam is also really, really, really looking forward to the ward Christmas party, where our family has been asked to sing "I want a Hippopautamos for Christmas." No matter what he says or how much he complains, I can secretly tell he is mega excited about it. I bet he's secretly choreographing a dance routine.

That pretty much wraps it up for now. Stay tuned for additional updates.