hello, gorgeous

My son is checking himself out. I don't know if it's because he sees me watching him or because he's almost four and old enough to feel slightly embarrassed about his behavior, but he's definitely being sly about the posing. He spins, then stops, cocks his head and his hip, glances over his shoulder to view his backside. Then, he quickly releases the pose, shreds his imaginary guitar and falls on the floor. He jumps up, spins again, points his toe and gazes down his arm with an oddly self-conscious half smile. Again, he quickly releases the pose and does some tae kwon do punches. He's in love with his outfit. Weirdly enough, it has to be the ugliest thing in his closet -- a teal and powder blue tie-dyed, screen-printed soccer ball shirt and matching capri-length, elastic-waistband shorts that are also tie dyed in the same awful shades of blue.

The shorts set, plucked from a bag of hand-me-downs a cousin kindly sent our way, was headed for Salvation Army when Liam spied it in the donation pile and immediately began disrobing.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm wearing that," he said.

"No, honey, it's the middle of winter and that's a summer outfit," I said. "Plus, it's ugly."

Aghast, he grabed the outfit and clutched it to his chest. "No, it's not," he cried. "It's cool, mom, and I want to wear it right now."

"Fine, be my guest."

I figured the crush would wear off quickly. He's a boy, afterall. Boys aren't interested in clothes. But nearly every day, Liam disappears into his closet and comes out in an outfit of his choosing. Most days, it's the tie dye or an Ireland soccer jersey that's two sizes too big or the halloween pajamas that are two sizes too small. I tell him, "Fine, for an hour you can wear that, BUT we are changing into an outfit I pick before you go to school or see any human outside this house."

My mom says, store the summer stuff and the clothes that don't fit. Out of sight, out of mind. She's probably right, but I can never remember or find the energy to do it. Plus, he'll just fall in love with something equally bizarre or hideous.

For instance, one day a bag of cast-offs arrived for Elliott and before I knew it Liam had pillaged a pair of 6-12 month jeans out of the bag, slipped them on and snapped and zipped them! They came to his knees but actually fit pretty well otherwise. He insisted on wearing them the rest of the day. We had no plans. Who was I to rain on his parade?

My husband gives me a hard time. Who made you the fashion police? He doesn't even have to say it. I know what he's thinking. The kid is three. He's experimenting. He's having fun. He actually has his own opinions and preferences. And, when he's in teal and powder blue tie dye, he thinks he's a rock star. He bursts into the room with a full-on grin, spinning and swaggering and posing.

I might not think much of the outfit, but you're looking good, Liam. Looking good.

favorite things

When I'm having a blah day (like today) and get easily riled by small annoyances (like today), I try to focus on the little things that make me smile. Here are a few that come to mind:

-This colored-in drawing. Liam drew it and he and Andrew colored it in together. We hung it in the kitchen (it's big -- 2 1/2 ft x 3 ft) and now it's my favorite thing to look at.

-A new bag. My good friend and talented fabric/sewer girl Ann made an awesome one for me and it makes me happy just to sling it over my shoulder. Check it out.

-An issue of Brain, Child magazine in my mailbox. I'm waiting.

-Gorgeous framed photos of Liam and Elliott. Courtesy of my talented photographer friend Vanessa.

-A cup of tea. And five minutes of peace to sip it.

-A totally clean house. And, yes, when one works, mothers and does one million other things in a day, a cleaning lady is the only way to achieve this. It's one small gift I buy for myself every other week. And, I swear, it nearly makes me cry.

-Andrew's CD. I have probably listened to this intrumental CD, Andrew Bordoni & Friends, 100 times, and I makes me smile every time. (Liam, as well as his 3-year-old neighbor friend Henry, are very big fans as well. Henry's mom, Heather, told me that he sat back on the couch to listen to it the other day and said, "Mom, I love Andrew Bordoni.")

-Big smiles from Elliott. The best ones come playing peek-a-boo in the mirror and drying off after a bath. The smiles I get when I tuck him into bed are pretty adorable, too. Almost makes me want to sweep him up and rock him to sleep. But not quite.

-Kind words from Liam. The absolute best is the unprompted, unexpected, "Mom, I love you." The funny things that come out of his mouth also give me a great lift. Today, as he parted from his "best friend" Ava after preschool, they gave each other a big hug. Then, Liam called after her in a "yo, Adrian"-style voice, "Ava, I'm going to marry you!" It still makes me laugh.

(so long) winter haikus

put on your socks and long sleeves
you may not wear shorts
since when is zero "warm out"?

is your guy wearing glasses?
does he have white hair?
still playing guess who, round twenty

low-guilt video watching
cuddles on the couch
another day shut indoors

get lost winter, just beat it
where are your manners?
show's over, it's time to go

another day, another snowfall

It may have been the prettiest morning of the winter season, but the grownups can't help but ask, when will it end? The kids, well, it's clear what they think.

party time

This is a photo of Liam almost exactly one year ago. I don't know what I was doing, but while my back was turned he cleaned out the silverware drawer. Ever since he could grab and move, he's had an odd attachment to cutlery and napkins. Nearly every day now I find a "party" set up in some random spot in our house. Some days I take it well and play along. I pause for a couple minutes and say, hey, what do you have going on here? Usually it's a party with Matt and Banjo and Simmy and Corny and Sour (his loyal "friends" or, shall we say, fall guys). I ask what they're celebrating and what they're eating, the usual thing one would inquire about when one finds yarn tied to drawer handles and spoons, forks, floral napkins, twist ties, straws and little hors d'oeuvre knives covering the coffee table or forming a big circle on the floor. But, honestly, most days I am frustrated... crazy clean up lady. And he sees me coming. He practically throws himself over the "party," a human shield. "No, mom," he shouts. "This is my party!" Usually I acquiesce. But occasionally, the party's over.

Today was one of those days. The house had gone too long without tidying and I was going under. After a while the clutter kills me and I've got to get it under control immediately. I know this is happening when Andrew stands by and asks, "Are you mad?" I always assume he means angry but maybe he's concerned I'm crazy. I bark, "No! I'm cleaning up!" This is the only way I know how to do it... as the crazy clean up lady. So, today, after I had tidied the remnants of a several-days-old party and organized various books and board games, etc., etc., I passed by Liam's room and saw that all of his little Playschool knights (and their various swords, horses, shields, etc.) were out jousting or whatever it is they were doing.

I found Liam and said in my sweetest crazy clean up lady voice, "Honey, you're going to need to clean up your room today."

As if he had utterly forgotten his room and its contents existed, he excitedly said, running from the hall to his door, "I'm going to play with my knights!"

I smartly called after him, "Okay, for a little bit, but as you finish playing with them, put them away in their bin."

"That's a really good idea, mom," he enthusiastically called out. Then he paused and added, "But, no."

The knights did end up in their bin (with a little help from dad), but at bedtime I saw that Mr. Smartypants had them all out swordfighting again. Really, what's the point of cleaning up? So, okay, here's to fascinating, free-form cutlery sculptures and parties, parties, parties. Mom's trying, Liam. She really is.

sleeping patterns

We have good sleepers in this house. I don't claim credit for this, but our boys actually like to go to bed and they crash early. Because of Andrew's schedule, he is never home at bedtime except on the weekends. On these rare nights I try to convince Liam to let Daddy put him to bed, but I guess because he's a creature of habit, he wants mom to do it. I should be flattered, I know. Tonight, however, after Andrew read stories, Liam came in the kitchen and said "hug and kiss," which meant he was going up with Andrew. I was pleased to have the break so I could, um, empty the dishwasher and clean the kitchen. (What has happened to me?) Anyway, after about one minute, I heard Andrew coming down the stairs. He appeared in the kitchen door looking kind of sheepish, "Liam said 'Sorry dad, but I really need mom up here.'"

Now, when Andrew's not home, the late afternoon consists of very mellow play -- drawing, playing board games, a little video watching -- as we wind down for dinner and, immediately after, our bedtime ritual. This makes going to bed a very calm experience. I like this, but that's just me, apparently. When Andrew is home, there is sword fighting, rock and roll playing, wrestling and loud farting up until the bedtime hour. Hmmm, I wonder who's the funner parent? But (as I have been told I used to say as a child), if we're going to play house, someone has to be the mother.

No suprise that I found a wound up child tangled in the covers, hiding. In a few seconds, we got sorted out - head on the pillow, blanket straightened, thumb in mouth. And then in one swoop, Liam kicked off the covers, threw his arms down to his sides, let out an exasperated sigh and said, "I am not a fan of lying down."

The comment took me so off guard and sounded so funny, I burst out laughing. Soon Liam and I were both in tears laughing. I guess I can be a fun parent, too. And the boy who's not a fan of lying down . . . sound asleep in two minutes.

partial reading list

Some people are serial readers; they finish one book before they start another. That definitely does not describe me. Tonight I counted 15 books beside my bed that are in various stages of "being read," including just started, pick up from time to time, taking a break from, dip into randomly, very slowly finishing, may never finish, forcing myself to skim for a book group, will probably start over someday. Occasionally, I actually do finish a book and sometimes, very rarely, I read one book straight through, forsaking all others. A few of these "couldn't put it down" books in recent memory include The Kite Runner (a two-night read), Expecting Adam (downed on one airplane flight, crying all the way) and Peace Like a River. Here is my current partial reading list, in no particular order:

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (I thought this was going to be another read-straight-through book, but with about 50 pages left, I haven't been able to muster the courage to finish.)
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys
Captivating by Staci Eldredge
Sinners Welcome by Mary Karr (poetry)
Winter Morning Walks by Ted Kooser (poetry)
Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
Writing to Change the World by Mary Pipher
For the Time Being by Annie Dillard (dipping in for the second time)
Saving Fish from Drowning by Amy Tan
The Impossible Will Take a Little While (essays)
Baby Signs: How to Talk with Your Baby Before Your Baby Can Talk
Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen (I started this book last night and I already know that it will be one of the rare books I read straight through.)

So what does this say about me? High intelligence? Poor attention span? Open minded? Scattered? I have come to terms with the fact that wrong or right, it's just the way I read! So, if there's a book in your pile you think I should add to mine, please let me know. The bigger the pile, the better.