The Buckeyes will meet the Ducks today in the college football National Championship. Our whole family was all dressed in Buckeye gear this morning, planning to brave being the only ones at our offices and in our classrooms here in Portland, Oregon and our little suburb supporting Ohio instead of Oregon.
Our Nanny roots for Oregon, and so for a while Bryson has been jabbing dad saying he likes the Ducks not the Bucks. Like for a couple of years, when they aren't even facing off. A Buckeye game is on, and Bryson is yelling GO DUCKS. His dad LOVES this, as you can imagine.
So here we are, today. It's finally happening.
Bryson went to school in his grey Ohio State T-shirt over a Red long sleeved and he didn't even argue.
In the car on the way to preschool, I asked him what he was going to do today when people ask him about Ohio State. "Are you going to tell them your dad is a Buckeye?"
He said:
I'm gonna say, my dad roots Buckeye. So do my two sisters. I root Ducks. My mom roots Griz. (Lowered voice and dead serious face). My dad make me wear this shirt.
I said:
Well you know, honey, I root for the Buckeyes too. And Dad roots for the Griz.
He said:
We go to Buckeyes for Dad and Griz for you, so I'm just calling it you root for Griz.
Me:
Did you know that the Griz and the Buckeyes don't play each other? The Ducks and the Buckeyes usually don't either. So you can root for both teams. You can like more than one team. I love Dad, and he loves Buckeyes, so when they are on, I root with him.
Him:
Well, I love Dad too. But I also love Green. And the Ducks are the only person I know who are sports that are Green. So I root Ducks.
Me:
There are some other teams that are green. The Seahawks have green. They are like green and blue.
Him:
Well Green and Yellow are my two favorite colors. So that's why I have to root ducks.
My dad made me wear this shirt, and the tone he said it in, was my favorite part of this conversation!
Showing posts with label Daddy's Boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daddy's Boy. Show all posts
Monday, January 12, 2015
Friday, February 28, 2014
stream of consciousness about a boy
he sits there. in his pjs. his bare feet are still plump with baby fat, and half a leg showing from the pant leg pushed up. he looks intently at each page as his dad reads him amelia bedelia. his curious face is almost too much for me to look at i love it so much. the way he studies each page and picture and knows if the wrong word is read, i look at him in disbelief. disbelief that he is mine. disbelief that he is this old. disbelief that i don't take more time to marvel at him. look at him. look at him. i shake my head.
we go upstairs to brush his teeth. he is a ballet dancer on the bottom as he prances up the stairs. he is spiderman on the top as he slings his web. every single thing we pass catches his attention, he wants this walk to the bathroom to last forever. he sucks the toothpaste off the brush and then hands it to me to rinse. i squeeze his jaw and brush all four pockets haphazardly. his lips pucker cutely and his bright clear blue eyes dance as he looks inquisitively into my own. i don't care if his teeth are as clean as his sister's were five years earlier. good enough. he'll live. i tell him to go potty and then shake my head at the way he expertly lifts the toliet seat 45 degrees to pee under it, pants barely down, shirt pulled up, back arched. a year ago i couldn't get him to do this even with my best song and dance, now look at him, a pro. he forgets to flush. and wash his hands. i shrug and we walk to his room slowly. he's not ready for bed he tells me. i wish i felt the same.
he studies his cd collection to decide which audio story to listen to to fall asleep after i leave the room. he can't decide. i am equal amounts amused and impatient as i watch him sift through a stack of cds in his basket. he says he wants to listen to author and friends collection volume one. i laugh that he refers to it's name in it's entirety. he wants to listen to francine believe it er not. he keeps saying francine believe it or not but he mushed the word all together like believeiter not. this cracks me up. he can't find francine believeiter not cd because i have taken it back to the library already but he remembers that his dad put it on his ipod for him already. he gets his little green square full of stories and puts his headphones on. he asks me to stay for a while while he listens and i do.
i sit on the floor next to his toddler bed. he tells me the dark is scary and can i leave the hall light on. i wonder how much longer he will have a small bed. i wonder how much a twin mattress is. i wonder if that's the reason we haven't moved him into the twin bed frame in his closet or if it's because this is the last toddler bed and i'm not ready.
his breath gets heavy like a wide awake snore. he listens and looks at the the ceiling, paying close attention to the words coming out of his headphones. i love him so much i can't stop staring. i wonder how much longer i have to stay. i want to get out of my work clothes, get the girls to sleep, and become one with the couch and my book. i think he must almost be asleep despite the light being on, i see his eyelids are heavy. he sits up, pauses his green square, takes off his headphones, and looks at me to tell me about francine believeiter not. francine is acting very strange. he lays down get the headphones on, pushes play, gets settled. twenty seconds later again. he tells me that francine won't let the other kids play street hockey, she just makes them guard the goal. again settled. i can't get over how he keeps getting totally out of sorts and sat up and unheadphoned, just to give me the goods on his story.
i keep my hand on his heavy loud chest as he listens and breaths and dozes. i run my hand across the fleece mickey blanket. i see his snuggled monk monk in the crook of his neck. i'm glad he hasn't noticed than he is missing one. i wonder if i should go get it now, or wait for him to notice, or maybe he won't notice. wouldn't that be nice if he doesn't notice? i'll get it later if he notices. one hand on his chest the other in his little hand i kneel beside him and marvel at him. t think about how i need to write it down. how i keep missing stuff and not writing it down. how i keep missing stuff. how i keep forgetting to notice the details in the tired and in the piles and in the lists. there is always so much to do and so many who need me. the noticing, it takes backseat. but the time flies.
today i wrote it down. i memorized his long eyelashes. i remember the feel of his chubby foot in lego pajamas. the dimples on his knuckles. today i took the time. today.
i love this son of mine. four years. two months, one week, and five days. the me of the future will appreciate the me of today for not rushing past this oh too short night together and taking the energy to be with my boy and memorize the details in the beautifully mundane.
before i go to bed, one more look in at him. i have to go get my camera for one quick click.
i don't want to leave the room. i just can't get enough.
we go upstairs to brush his teeth. he is a ballet dancer on the bottom as he prances up the stairs. he is spiderman on the top as he slings his web. every single thing we pass catches his attention, he wants this walk to the bathroom to last forever. he sucks the toothpaste off the brush and then hands it to me to rinse. i squeeze his jaw and brush all four pockets haphazardly. his lips pucker cutely and his bright clear blue eyes dance as he looks inquisitively into my own. i don't care if his teeth are as clean as his sister's were five years earlier. good enough. he'll live. i tell him to go potty and then shake my head at the way he expertly lifts the toliet seat 45 degrees to pee under it, pants barely down, shirt pulled up, back arched. a year ago i couldn't get him to do this even with my best song and dance, now look at him, a pro. he forgets to flush. and wash his hands. i shrug and we walk to his room slowly. he's not ready for bed he tells me. i wish i felt the same.
he studies his cd collection to decide which audio story to listen to to fall asleep after i leave the room. he can't decide. i am equal amounts amused and impatient as i watch him sift through a stack of cds in his basket. he says he wants to listen to author and friends collection volume one. i laugh that he refers to it's name in it's entirety. he wants to listen to francine believe it er not. he keeps saying francine believe it or not but he mushed the word all together like believeiter not. this cracks me up. he can't find francine believeiter not cd because i have taken it back to the library already but he remembers that his dad put it on his ipod for him already. he gets his little green square full of stories and puts his headphones on. he asks me to stay for a while while he listens and i do.
i sit on the floor next to his toddler bed. he tells me the dark is scary and can i leave the hall light on. i wonder how much longer he will have a small bed. i wonder how much a twin mattress is. i wonder if that's the reason we haven't moved him into the twin bed frame in his closet or if it's because this is the last toddler bed and i'm not ready.
his breath gets heavy like a wide awake snore. he listens and looks at the the ceiling, paying close attention to the words coming out of his headphones. i love him so much i can't stop staring. i wonder how much longer i have to stay. i want to get out of my work clothes, get the girls to sleep, and become one with the couch and my book. i think he must almost be asleep despite the light being on, i see his eyelids are heavy. he sits up, pauses his green square, takes off his headphones, and looks at me to tell me about francine believeiter not. francine is acting very strange. he lays down get the headphones on, pushes play, gets settled. twenty seconds later again. he tells me that francine won't let the other kids play street hockey, she just makes them guard the goal. again settled. i can't get over how he keeps getting totally out of sorts and sat up and unheadphoned, just to give me the goods on his story.
i keep my hand on his heavy loud chest as he listens and breaths and dozes. i run my hand across the fleece mickey blanket. i see his snuggled monk monk in the crook of his neck. i'm glad he hasn't noticed than he is missing one. i wonder if i should go get it now, or wait for him to notice, or maybe he won't notice. wouldn't that be nice if he doesn't notice? i'll get it later if he notices. one hand on his chest the other in his little hand i kneel beside him and marvel at him. t think about how i need to write it down. how i keep missing stuff and not writing it down. how i keep missing stuff. how i keep forgetting to notice the details in the tired and in the piles and in the lists. there is always so much to do and so many who need me. the noticing, it takes backseat. but the time flies.
today i wrote it down. i memorized his long eyelashes. i remember the feel of his chubby foot in lego pajamas. the dimples on his knuckles. today i took the time. today.
i love this son of mine. four years. two months, one week, and five days. the me of the future will appreciate the me of today for not rushing past this oh too short night together and taking the energy to be with my boy and memorize the details in the beautifully mundane.
before i go to bed, one more look in at him. i have to go get my camera for one quick click.
i don't want to leave the room. i just can't get enough.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
In lieu of a Father's Day Card...
When I met Lawrence I knew very early on that he was the one I wanted to marry. He was loving and respectful and generous. He treated me the way I'd always deserved and wanted to be treated. He was different than anyone else I'd ever know. I fell in love with him so quickly.
I was looking for a man for me. I didn't give it much thought as to the type of father I was looking for for my future kids. I wasn't looking for a man for them. I remember seeing him with his brother's niece at a party, I thought it was cute that would rather color with her than socialize with the adults. That was the first glimpse I got of how he might be as a father.
I didn't grow up with a father so I didn't know what kind of man I'd be looking for anyway.
How naive I was to think that I found a man who would be content coloring with my kids all the live long day.
Parenting was far harder than we ever imagined. No sleep was far harder than we ever imagined. But it was also more wonderful than we'd ever imagined.
He was more wonderful.
And he was different. I've learned now that there's a lot more to being a good dad than liking to color and be around kids.
Luckily, there was more to him too!
When I see him wrestle with his son, or call his middle daughter "Buds", or watch him watch Ninja Warrior with his oldest under his arm...my mind can barely wrap around what a good dad they have. What a good man I have.
When I thought he was being too hard on Lily during her toddlerhood, I was wrong. She respects him in ways that she will never respect me, they all do. When I worried that maybe he wouldn't ever bond with Addie the way he had with Lily, I was wrong, he found a special relationship with her that is one of the closest in our family. When I thought there was no way he'd have the patience to take three kids out and about, I was wrong, he was even able to coach soccer and baseball with all three of them in tow. He surprises and amazes me every day.
I never understood that I had experienced any kind of a loss growing up without a dad, because I had such a loving family environment. My mom and my brother and me we so close, so tight-knit, that I honestly couldn't imagine how having a dad would have made anything different or better. It wasn't until I had a dad in my family, parenting my children, that I truly see first hand what a loss that was. I cannot imagine our lives without this fantastic dad in it.
I'm so thankful for his way of being a dad. He is the yin to my yang, and he makes this family work. He is the perfect man for me, and he is an even more perfect father for my children. As a mother, I wonder if I could have given my children a better gift all those years ago. I don't think so. I feel blessed because I had no idea what to look for, no one I wanted him to be like, no model of the shoulds and the should nots. And thank you God for that. Because it has allowed his fatherhood to thrive in his own way. Not always in my way.
Lawrence grew up with a father who gave him an awesome role-model. He was involved and he was there and he was loving. He showed his boys how to take care of business and how to throw a ball. He required respect and he taught them to use the grill and love football. Their grandpa may not realize that the best gifts he has given to his grandchildren was training up their dads to be like him, as he taught by example. I'm so thankful for Steve because he showed Lawrence how to be a dad. A very very good dad.
We are entering into a new season of parenthood. One where we still rely on naptime every day, but one where we don't have to carry a diaper bag with us every time we leave the house. Our kids look to their dad more often than I can count to be validated by him. And just when I'm about to worry that he isn't going to be sensitive enough to their needs, I'm reminded, again, that he will surprise me and meet their need in only a way that he can. His relationship with him is so his. Theirs.
I feel nervous about the years ahead. I remember when a friend told me years ago, 'we are now raising our kids, not just keeping them alive". I feel like that. There are so many difficult decisions to make, rules to keep, figuring out what's appropriate for which kid at which age, deciding which battles to pick. And honestly, outside of giving it to God, the fact that I get to do all this with Lawrence is what keeps me confident that we will do it well. That we are doing it well.
And then I feel excited about the years ahead. I see the investments of his time and energy, how can you not, they are everywhere. He gives and gives and gives to our kids, and they are so lucky. He talks about them and beams with pride. He never talks about them like they are anything but his pride and joy. Just ask him how great they are, he will tell you! And he might even tell you if you don't ask. What a wonderful memory it will be for them to look back and remember hearing their dad talking about them with such joy.
Every single day, every single weekend, he gives them, he give us, a memory to savor. He helps us live our lives to the fullest, and let me tell you, it's a lot of work making this much fun, this many memories for 3 little people. He honestly never ever has an ounce of energy left at the end of the day, because he uses it all up for them. Every. Single. Day.
He teaches them to ski and throw and be active, he gives them a healthy example, he build legos, he teaches football, he let's them help him drill and built, he has them help him cook, he'd rather take them with him than go alone, he does cirque du soliel, he changes poopy diapers, he brushes teeth and puts on hats over messy hair, he packs, he carries, he straps on boots, he sets up, he takes down.
I love him.
I love you, Lawrence. Thank you so much for the dad that you are, for the dad that you are becoming, and for the dad that you will be. As seasons change in our life, I wouldn't want to be doing this with any other man. You make me excited for our years ahead. I promise to partner with you, to make you better together than you could be alone, for all the years of our lives. On a day like today, Father's Day, when we celebrate you - I will remind myself to never take one day parenting with you for granted. I'm so lucky and blessed to have you as the Father to my children. To be the only Father I've ever celebrated on Father's Day.
I love you, I respect you, and I'm so so thankful for you! And it is so obvious that your kids feel the same, your three wonderful children.
Friday, February 19, 2010
We heart the games
There is just something about the Olympics that draws us in. We can't get enough. Normally, I would not care about ski jumpers or speed skaters or ice sweepers (okay, I'll admit, I hate curling...glorified shuffleboard on ice, that's a whole other story). But when you put those 5 rings together and give me the stories of those athletes' lives, I'm a total sucker. The pageantry, the athleticism, the pride in each country. I. LOVE. IT.
So when the Olympics come to town, er, TV, it is relaxing having 2 full weeks of knowing something is on that you want to watch when you want to watch it, but nothing that you have to watch when life is too busy for TV and the sun is shining out.
However, I do not highly recommend trying to fall asleep to the figure skating that they keep putting on at nearly midnight. (Why is this now considered prime time when usually that slot is for the late late late show, and no one is watching. I was so excited to be in the same time zone this year, and no dice for reasonable hours) The pit in my stomach as I will the skaters not to fall is adrenaline pumping and does not allow for easy drifting off. Yawn.
I'm teaching the girls the Olympic song. Do-do-duh-do-do-do-do. dodododotodooooo. You know the one. I just realized I'm not great at typing out a tune via keyboard. Just as I can't hummdinger worth a damn either. Extra credit to you if you know what I'm referring to when I say hummdinger, and DOUBLE extra credit to you if you've ever had to be my partner during said hummdinger when it's my turn.
Okay anyway, a little off track.
Each person at the Olympics has worked their entire life for this moment. Each fall or clean performance was the most important moment of their life so far. I cannot imagine that kind of pressure, whether you fail or when you succeed. I try to imagine something I wanted so badly and worked so hard for, and I really can't. The stories draw you in, and they make you want it for them so badly. I think I mentioned before, I.LOVE.IT. That is my kind of reality show.
Today I'm on day 19 of the 30 day shred. I feel great, and sore, and smaller, and stronger, and confident that I can get to March 2 doing all 30 days. Whoa! 30 days! I've never worked out 19 days in a row in my whole life. Ever. Now I try to imagine staying dedicated to work on something since I was nine years old. It is unfathomable to me. To most of us.
But that's what makes it so Amazing.
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