Friday Funny- If I Can't See It, It Must Be Okay...

It's that time of the week- Friday Funny!


But first, a shout out to the Berg Twins- Adam and Eric. Happy 11th Birthday! 


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About a week ago, I found a beautiful lock of hair in the master bath. About three inches long, it had a wonderful chestnut color and a bit of curl tapering to the end. I couldn't imagine from where it had come, as it was not my color nor The Hub's. It didn't look like either of the children's. And after Z2's hair cutting debacle a few springs ago, she knew far better than to cut her hair. Except of course, when she renewed her lesson three months ago. Nonetheless, as it did not match anyone's hair color (or so I thought), I was a bit perplexed. Just what was going on in my master bath? Hmmm.....


Last night, while getting ready for bed, I found yet another lock of hair. This one was quite thicker. I picked it up and feeling it in my hands, I knew. This was no secret girlfriend in my bathroom, but my own  son's hair! "Good night!" I thought. "He's cutting his hair. What on earth?!?!" He had already fallen asleep, so the questioning would have to wait. 


This morning he toddled (yes, at age 11, the first sleepy walks in the morning are still toddling) into the kitchen and sleepily snuggled into my arms.I buried my face in the crown of his head. Inhaling deeply, I rubbed my nose slightly in his hair. And that's when I felt it... the unevenness in the thickness of that thatch of hair.


"Son," I started,"Have you been cutting your hair?"


"Yep," he said, matter of factly.


"Uhm... Why?" I asked.


"It's the sticky-uppy pieces back there. I can't get them to lay down, so I'm just cutting them off. If I can't see them, I don't have to comb them."


True, but how shall we explain a bald spot at age 11?


Yours, hiding all the scissors,


Melissa

Friday Funny- Innate or Learned?

The other day I was recounting to a friend how quiet my son was when younger. He didn't really start talking in longer conversations until about age 4. About that time, my daughter was two. She went from two word phrases to lengthy monologues.

And the question still goes unanswered. . . born that way, or do they learn it?

Yours, wishing you a wonderful weekend,

Melissa

Thursday Thoughts- So, so small!

Why is it with every milestone my children reach they look smaller?

Seriously.

This past Tuesday, after begging to do this all year, and of course, being encouraged by The Hub, who was absolutely NOWHERE around to facilitate this event, my son rode his bike to school. Now, that may not seem like a big deal, but when he's only in third grade and has to cross a major road with FIVE LANES OF TRAFFIC, this becomes the point where I think I need a sedative. I was a wreck all morning, well into the day, and frankly, getting him home wasn't a picnic either.

My son, on the other hand, did amazingly well. He used the cross walks, obeyed the traffic signals, looked both ways every time. My other mommy friends were watching him and helping him along too. All eight of us were beaming with pride. Well, they were beaming. I was ready to puke.

You would think I could cut the cord by now, but I have to tell you, he looked entirely too small next to those cars. I don't think this is going to happen again until at LEAST college.

If he's lucky.

Yours, knowing the days are long, but the years are so, so short,

Melissa

Friday Funny! My Son, the Problem Solver

So Sunday morning I was asleep in the basement. (Not to worry- it's finished. I was not sleeping in a cellar). and I awoke to the sound of the Aflac Duck. Except two octaves higher and five minutes longer. My daughter, Z2, was on the second floor, screaming at her brother, Z1.  Seriously, she sounded like a pterodactyl on attack. Not something you want to hear even on mornings when you have gotten sleep (which I hadn't, but that's an entirely different post).

So I trudge up the stairs and sort it out. Well, kind of, I think. It is hard to remember in my sleep deprived stupor. I feel my way back downstairs into the kitchen where I proceed to grope my way to the coffee maker.  Make some coffee, just getting ready to sit down when my son, Z1 comes up to me with duct tape and scissors.

"Here, Mom," he says. "You can tape her mouth shut. I'll help. I've always wanted to."

I am not even lying!   What the heck do you say to that?

Yours, wondering what day I will wake up and find a tape-induced silence in the house,

Melissa

He's a Good Elephant

You all know I'm a musician. One of my current gigs is an Arts School in town and we just finished our production of Seussical the Musical. I somehow managed to talk my husband into bringing the kids last night. We figured it's time for them to be able to start sitting through something besides a TV show or school. And since the musical was a shortened version of the Broadway production (cut down to 1:10 as opposed to 1:45), I thought this might be a good place to start.

I love being a musician and entertainer. At the core of it, I love it because music, theater, art, whatever media you are working with has the inherent ability to move something on the inside of people. And if you are lucky, you might inspire someone or make them stop and think. And if you are really working hard at it, you just might take people on a journey and let them forget life for awhile.

I just didn't expect to get to do that with my OWN kids.

They slipped in last night as the curtain was coming up. From what I gather, Z2 sang along almost the entire time. Apparently she has "relocated" the Seussical CD to her CD player and has learned all the music. And in the scene where Gertrude McFuzz eats the berries from the pillberry bush to grow her tail, Z2 whispered (think soft roar) to everyone around her,"MY mom made that bush! She did! That's her at the piano! See her? That's MY mom!"

Yes, plenty of giggles ensued.

When I got home last night, Z1 was still awake. I asked him what he thought and he said,"Mom, I want to be Horton one day. He's a good man. Well, good elephant."

Yes, the flowers I got last night are beautiful. The applause, I'll admit, I loved it. And it's wonderful to hear how much people liked it and appreciated our hard work. Working with other peoples' kids- mostly rewarding.

But when you make your own kids proud, when you take them on an adventure, when you stop and make them think without a lecture or some form of discipline, when you connect with what's on the inside of them, that's better than anything else I can think of.

Yours, relishing the rewards of such an unexpected adventure,

Melissa