William-ese

Grandpa has been in town which is fabulous for all of us, but especially for William. He has really been spoiled lately with visits from BOTH grandpas (and one grandma) in the same week. He loves visitors and adores his grandparents. Life doesn’t get much better than it is when they are around.

So, last night we were eating dinner and I told him he needed to hurry up and finish his dinner because grandpa bought ice cream for dessert.

William looks at my dad, pats him on the arm repeatedly and says, “Thank you. Thank you, Grandpa, for buying me ice cream. You’re a good boy.”

He knows how to win over somebody pretty fast, doesn’t he?

The Train Song

The train is rolling down the track,Listen to the wheels go clickety clack,

Over the bridge, around the bend,
Taking me for a ride.

The engine's up at the front of the train, pulling all the cars  through the sun and the rain,

Over the bridge, around the bend,
Taking me for a ride.

Now we sit here in the passenger car,

And the freight car's next in line,

And way in back is the little caboose,
Rolling along behind.

The train is rolling down the track,
Listen to the wheels go clickety clack,
Over the bridge, around the bend,
Taking me for a ride.

Swimming

As part of lifeguard training (way back in the day) parents in the community were invited to bring their children to the pool on a Saturday. Eager prospective lifeguards were each assigned one or two children to "practice on".

A red-headed boy was passed on to me. He screamed. And screamed. And screamed. I carried him into the pool and walked out into the middle of the shallow end. He screamed. And screamed. And screamed. I sang to him. He screamed. And paused. And screamed. And paused. I kept singing. He paused. He looked. He smiled. Fifteen minutes laterI walked out of that pool with a happy 3-year-old and picked his parent's jaws off the pool deck.


After my first expereince with the red-headed boy I never looked back. Teaching kids (and even a few adults) to swim became my passion. My peak summer I taught from 10 to 12 at the Parks and Rec went to our athletic club and taught from 12:30 to 3:30 and then finished out the day at the Parks and Rec from 4 to 7. No child got the better of me and very few walked away after 2 weeks not knowing how to swim at least a few feet.


I was a "damn good [swim] teacher," in the words of my manager. (I had a Sunday School teacher that used to swear all the time. He was always quoting his father when he used swear words. He told us that it isn't swearing if you are quoting someone.) I tell you this not to brag, but to put you in the right mind set. To set the stage for the recent parenting dilemma I faced.


You see, William is now "of age." He needs to learn to swim this summer. If Marie picked it up as well, I would be thrilled.


Being in California for the last couple of weeks has offered great opportunity. Beach once (twice after tomorrow) and the pool three times. It was our first visit to the pool that I was caught off-guard.


Any swim instructor will tell you that the number one goal in teaching a person to swim is to help him become comfortable with going under water. If you try to swim with your head up your bum sinks. It's hard to swim with a sinking bum. Adults manage. Children really, really struggle. Put your head down and you are on your way to being the next Michael Phelps.


So there I was in the pool with my two darling munchkins. With another child I wouldn't have let a minute pass by before I had tricked them into going under water with me.


"Motorboat, motor boat, go so slow. Motorboat, motorboat, go so fast. Motorboat, motorboat, turn off the gas!" And blow in the face so they will hold their breath and down we go under water. The child comes up spitting and coughing and I come up with a big fat, "Hooray! You did it! Let's do it again!"


Suddenly I was dreading the underwater moment because, well, I knew they wouldn't like it at first. Suddenly I had great understanding for those pesky mom's that used to stand by the pool and ask if they could wait their with a towel ready because "Junior just doesn't like to get his face wet. I always wipe it dry whenever it gets wet in the bath." And in that very same moment I remembered how pathetic I thought those mom's were and the fact that they were enabling their children.


I dunked my kids. Repeatedly. In a non-child abuse fashion, of course.

Happy Easter!

William-ese

Reading Green Eggs and Ham to William was providential. Since then we have convinced him to eat many meals simply by saying,

Mommy or Daddy: You do not like them, so you say. Try them, try them, and you may! Try them and you may, I say!

William: Sam, uh, Daddy, if you will let me be, I will try them. You will see.

Without fail (so far) and without a fuss he will then take a bite of the meal that we have been begging him and pleading him to eat with as much diligence as Sam I Am. And without fail he will repeat,

William: Say, I like __(insert name of whatever he just ate)____! I do! I like them, Sam, uh, Daddy!

And then proceed to finish his meal and usually explains to us where he is as he takes each bite.

William: I will eat this in a box. Now on a train. The train is going to crash. Now I am on a boat. ……

Thank you, Dr. Suess. I owe you one.

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We thought he took it a bit too far when he proceeded to dip a tortilla chip into his ice cream and said reassuringly to us,

William: I will like it. You will see.

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Marie-esque

She fell just before I took this picture. If she hadn’t you would see that she was strolling around the house in her Daddy’s tennis shoes, in addition to her Daddy’s sock, and two pajama shirts. She is our laundry basket scavenger. If there is a pile of clothes within her reach she will pull one piece at a time out and scatter the clothes throughout the room. Or in this case, ask Daddy to put the selected item on her, “pwease, off, pwease.” (Yes, in her world off is the new on.)

And then there are those days

when you wonder if you should waste your breathe at all because your three-year-old isn’t listening to a thing you say anyway.

when you want to be the best mom possible, but it feels like you are continually taking one step forward and then ten steps back.

when you wonder if your 18-month-old will ever stop coughing and wish that love could cure her asthma.

when moments of frustration with your kids turn into lack of patience which in turn leads to frustration with yourself.

when your mind knows you are incredibly blessed and “this too shall pass” but your heart isn’t getting the message.

when the bad guys are taking over and you find yourself repeating, “This is my dream!” (minus the Shabby Apple outfit, of course.)

Those are the days when these words mean the most.

"You can’t possibly do this alone, but you do have help. The Master of Heaven and Earth is there to bless you—He who resolutely goes after the lost sheep, sweeps thoroughly to find the lost coin, waits everlastingly for the return of the prodigal son. Yours is the work of salvation, and therefore you will be magnified, compensated, made more than you are and better than you have ever been as you try to make honest effort, however feeble you may sometimes feel that to be.” Jeffrey R. Holland, “‘Because She Is a Mother’,” Ensign, May 1997, 35