Tag Archives: Oliver

Yours, Mine and Never the Twain Shall Meet (Plus a Few Holiday Highlights)

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I don’t think it’s possible for me to not post about my Christmas tree. It’s the highlight of my holiday season and a photo shoot inevitably takes place the morning after it’s trimmed (I always decorate at night – much better for testing the lights).

This year was a little bit different as we had two tree trimming parties. One for the kids’ tree and one for mine. Theirs was a raucous party of willy nilly ornament placement and candy cane stealing. Mine was a more sedate OCD party for one.

It was clear to me that this would be the year for two trees. There was just a little too much talk about holiday decorating as the Christmas DVD watching began to rev up after Thanksgiving. Every day I was getting requests for tinsel and popcorn to string – neither of which work with my my own decorating aesthetic. So I saw the writing on the wall – hieroglyphics of children molesting my pretty little tree with their indiscriminate strewing of festive bling – and I bought a Target tree to suffer their enthusiastic pawing.

Here is their tree:





And here is mine:






I know – the security panel behind it is an eyesore – but it’s the best corner for the tree. I just pretend it’s not there.

Don’t worry – I know that some of you (Christy) prefer the colorful kids’ tree to my more conservative one. My feelings aren’t hurt. I’m very open minded when it comes to personal holiday style. To each his own and all.

Which is exactly why we have two trees in our house and I love them equally. Or more accurately – I love how much my kids love their tree as much as I love mine.

Other holiday highlights include going to visit Santa. After waiting in line for an hour fighting with the boys over the fake snow they insisted on flinging at each other, we walked away with one of the worst pictures ever taken of my children. Oh well – at least they were polite to Santa and didn’t cry or pee on him or anything.

I’ve also reveled in the rare treat of watching my daughter dance around the house in a lovely party dress that isn’t pink OR sparkly. The stars aligned and she picked out a Christmas dress that not only didn’t make me cringe, but that I actually would have picked out for her on my own. Isn’t this adorable? And it’s NAVY of all things:



And of course, nostalgia has reigned as we’ve watched all of the movies from my childhood through the eyes of this new generation. With the exception of Oliver’s eyes during the viewing of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The abominable snowman scared the bejeezus out of him and he wouldn’t come back into the room until it was over. But I did get a good laugh out of Eleanor’s periodic alerts that “It’s not scary Oliver! It’s CUTE!“

So this has been quite the merry and messy holiday season. Joy is abundant. Hope prevails. Magic is a given. Hope your December has been as festive (and pink and purple) as ours. Look for our holiday greeting on Saturday and in the meantime, much love to you and yours!


Wherein I Decide That It’s Actually Oliver Who Wears the Pants

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Sometimes I think I worry too much about Oliver. Or not so much that I worry…but that I just always assume he’s going to be the odd man out. Not without reason of course – my son is one weird little dude. I personally like this about him, but I’m also aware of the fact that “weird” isn’t a sought after quality in elementary school friends.

The fact that he’s in Kindergarten makes everything a little bit easier. He’s given some leeway as being a “little kid” and the other Kindergartners are still kind of goofy in their own ways, regardless of how much more typical they are. So Oliver continues to fly under the radar, doing his own thing his own way, and isn’t largely concerned with how he may be perceived.

That’s another thing I like about Oliver. He’s his own man. So other kids are moving on from their old preschool interests and now run around playing “Star Wars”? Whatevs – he’s still happy with his Thomas Trains. They think trains are for babies? Good – more trains for him. He’s not abandoning his ardent love of those cheeky little engines just because someone else tells him that’s so 2009. He has staying power.

He is also so incredibly comfortable in his own skin. I’ve mentioned before that he’s a very big kid. Five years old and over 60 lbs, he’s as tall as some of the second graders. And he is solid. I was also pretty tall for my age and a fairly sturdy little girl, but this always made me feel awkward. Like I was just a little too much. I felt heavier and weighted down by my size. But Oliver is sure footed and agile. He uses this sense of weightiness as an anchor. He stands firm and holds his ground. A physical quality that matches his personality.

And when I say Oliver is “comfortable in his own skin” I mean that quite literally. He likes to wear as little clothing as possible. Coats are constricting and only to be tolerated in the coldest of temperatures. He has little patience for layers. They are peeled off as quickly as they were applied. And once inside, clothes are hardly necessary. Really – what purpose do they serve when not protecting you from the elements?

Other children run in after school kicking off their shoes and flinging aside coats, seemingly deaf to their parents’ reminders to please put that in the closet. My son does this as well, but he takes it a step further by adding his pants to the trail of outerwear.

Oliver doesn’t wear pants at home. In fact, he doesn’t wear pants in any home where he feels at home. It’s not uncommon for me to walk into a room at a play date and find my pantsless son building lego towers or lounging in front of a TV. Doesn’t matter if all the other kids are fully dressed. To each his own, you know. It’s not that he’s rude – he’s just comfortable. His state of undress is really just a testament to your superb hospitality. Kudos – you hostess with the mostess, you!

I’ve come to accept this little quirk in the same way that I surrender to my daughter’s insistence on wearing nothing but pink. It’s not my preference…but I respect their choices as long as they’re not hurting anyone else (maybe just my eyes).

At the end of the day, I’m just thrilled if Oliver is at least wearing underpants.

Aside from his current trajectory toward being “the naked guy” at college parties, Oliver is quite well behaved. He’s a nice boy and very accepting of others. Feel free to take off your pants at his house too. He doesn’t judge. He likes other kids as a general rule and will only be put off by unpleasant behavior. Even then, he doesn’t take offense – he just moves on. It’s like he has this innate sense of there being plenty of room for everyone. If you give him some space, he’ll give you yours. And in such a “my team/your team” world, I find this both brave and wise. I hope he always has the strength of character and confidence required to maintain that approach to life.

So yes – he’s a special needs kid. He’s different. He’s maybe even a little weird. But he’s fine.

The other day at the YMCA, I glanced down at the kids area to see Oliver standing still while other children raced around him. I kept watching and realized that he wasn’t just standing still, he was frozen on the spot. His arms were stiff at his sides and his knees were locked. He stared straight ahead and looked as if he was trying not to blink. He stayed this way for long enough that even I, the head cheerleader for Team Different thought, “what fuck is that?” Time stood still as Oliver stayed still. Blurred shapes of playing children swirled around him, but I only had eyes for my son the statue. I thought, “what are you doing? Come on – just move already before the others notice. Walk. Play. Be normal. Please.”

Then a small figure disengaged from the only vaguely perceived melee around Oliver and tapped him on the shoulder. Just like that my son came back to life and ran out of view. And I suddenly understood. Oliver wasn’t playing some strange game of his own, oblivious to everyone around him and their potential scorn. He was playing Freeze Tag. They all were. He was part of the game. One of them.

Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees… Oliver isn’t always alone. Sometimes he really is part of the group. And sometimes he’s not, but it doesn’t matter because he’s always exactly where he wants to be. There is always a place for him.

I never need to worry about Oliver. He’s not oblivious to the world around him. He just makes his own decisions about when and where he wants to engage with it. He’s come a long way in the past few years, and the truth is, he has a long way to go. But I have more faith in him than I do in almost anyone else in my life. He is my constant and he is true to himself. I have no doubt that he will always find his place in life. One where he is happiest, regardless of what anyone else thinks about it. He is now and will hopefully always be his own man. With the support of his family and friends and without any fear of ever truly being alone. With or without pants.

Because…

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“Why do you always ask me my name?”

Because he’s trying to communicate with you. He knows your name, but he wants to ask you a question. To have a conversation with you.

“Why do you always try to talk to me like that on the bus? It doesn’t make sense.”

Because he understands what he’s trying to say and hopes that you will too. He wants to be your friend. And to him, this is what is sounds like when friends talk to each other.

“Why are you speaking another language? I don’t speak that language.”

Because it’s the one he created when he couldn’t speak ours. He’s learning ours, but he’s far more fluent in this one. Nobody else speaks this language. It’s entirely his. And that can get lonely.

He never asks me my name. He doesn’t have to try so hard to communicate with me. I always listen to what he’s trying to say and I understand. I don’t speak his language, but I don’t have to.


Because I speak the universal language that mothers have with their children. He never feels lonely with me.

As much as want him to be able to communicate with the world, I hope he never forgets our own language. This is the language of my heart.

A Couple of Firsts and Lessons Learned

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We had a couple of “firsts” over the past few days. Both of which provided me with those “teaching moments” that parents are always going on about. Of course, the teaching moments were for me…but I think that still qualifies.

Number one involves the universally anticipated and either loved/hated daylight savings time. Before having kids, I reveled in the extra hour of sleep that autumn daylight savings time bestowed upon us. The annual “fall back” morning was like a holiday – people looked happier, younger and willing to ignore the fact that it was suddenly dark when they left the office. They had an extra hour of sleep, making that early sunset dazzle like no other.

Then I had a baby. And I learned that babies don’t wake up and say, “hey – I have a whole other hour to keep sleeping. Score!” Autumn daylight savings time became a major inconvenience. And I started to much prefer the “spring forward” perk of my baby finally waking up at a far less cruel hour of the morning.

This continued for years until recently. Now that Oliver is five and the twins are four, they rarely torture me with 5:00 a.m. wake up calls. And if they ever do, they’re old enough to be tossed in front of the TV with a snack while I go back to bed. Gaining an extra hour in the morning may not mean that I’ll get more sleep, but that earlier wake up time isn’t unreasonable. It’s the extra evening hour that holds so much appeal for me. The fact that it feels like it’s an hour later when bedtime rolls around should hold great potential for new kid-free time before 9:00 p.m. Or at least that’s what I thought…

Sadly, it was no easier getting them up to bed Sunday night than any other night. And if anything, they fell asleep even later. This is probably due to my own hubris – thinking I could just close the door and forgo the previously required time in their room, making sure they calmed down and fell asleep. At the very least, I thought they’d all sleep in yesterday giving me a little alone time in the morning – but that was another disappointment. Everyone was bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6:00 a.m.

So my first year of “fall back” working in my favor was a total bust. Next time I won’t have such high expectations. Exactly why do we do all of this falling and springing anyway? What percentage of the U.S. population is planting crops?

The other recent “first” is pretty exciting. My first born, Oliver lost his FIRST tooth last night. We have been eagerly awaiting this event for about a month after he first wiggled it at us. I checked that thing every day looking for progress and had recently decided that I would probably have to pull it out myself when he graduated high school.


But the new tooth coming in finally pushed the old one out. And last night around 7:00 p.m. we all jumped up and down cheering for the tiny speck of white enamel lying on the dining room floor.

(Not the best picture I have of Oliver – but definitely the best one of the hole in his smile.)

Now – one would think that over the course of the past month, someone (I) would have procured a Tooth Fairy gift to have ready in the wings. But no – not a single celestial surprise existed in any of our closets or storage spaces. So five minutes into the celebration, I turned to Chris and said, “I guess you’d better run out and buy something.” Go Supermom!

When Chris arrived home, sneaking in the “best thing could find at Rite Aid on short notice”…


(More goofy pictures…he really is a handsome boy…)

…he knew the kids would be upstairs brushing teeth and getting ready for our bedtime marathon. Unfortunately, Cindy Lou Who (Eleanor) surprised him on his way in the door. I didn’t know anything about this until this morning when she announced to everyone exclaiming over the fabulous cheap plastic train set from the Tooth Fairy that “Daddy bought it at the store.” Go Superdad! I wonder if there will be probing questions about why Santa’s workshop produces the same crap we see at Target every week…

Lesson learned – plan ahead for sneak attacks from the Tooth Fairy. And have a good story ready if your cover is blown.

Live and learn…

It’s Come to This…

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I still have no writing mojo. Or I have these short windows of time that I rarely use for writing. Either way – I’m not doing a lot of writing. As a result – I continue to inflict family photos on my readers.

Took these today:











Children who play nicely together without requiring my participation? If it had lasted longer than ten minutes, I’d probably contact NASA with ranting accusations of alien plots to abduct kids and replace them with pod people.

Maybe I’ll write something tomorrow. It could happen…

Happy Halloween!

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I’ve written before about how this is not my favorite holiday (because, you know – it’s scary). But I can’t dispute the complete joy of little kids in costumes.


Oliver is going as Batman again since his costume from last year still fits. I was hoping George would do the same, but he insisted that he wanted to be Spiderman. Of course Target didn’t have any of those, so he ended up picking this hideous plastic Transformer thing. But he loves it – so whatever. To stay in keeping with the original Justice League trend, Eleanor wanted to be Wonder Woman and we DID find that costume at Target. Funny enough – it’s really cute, keeping my guilt over not being the mom who sews beautiful handmade costumes (i.e. my mom) at a comfortable low this year.

We went to a Halloween party last weekend where the costumes were given a test drive:

Off to fight crime!

Optimus Prime joins the Marvel gang.


Want to know what Eleanor first said she wanted to be for Halloween? Well – she knew that Batman is a superhero, and she wanted to be a girl hero. So she was very insistent that she wanted to be “Batgirl Star Underwear.” It took us several weeks to figure out that she meant “Wonder Woman.”

Happily – no cheap synthetic fabrics were ripped or shredded at the party and we’re all ready for the big show tonight.

Wishing you and yours very little gory dismemberment and tons of sticky candy smiles!

I Think This May Be the Year!

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Before I had children, I received many holiday cards from friends featuring smiling babies and toddlers. And they all looked more than thrilled to be posing for the all important statement that yes – their parents have given birth to THE most adorable child/children EVER.

So of course, I assumed that I would do the same with our own annual holiday mailing. And we had a good start the year that Oliver was born. He was old enough to sit on Santa’s lap and not cry or look like a festive potato, so I used one of the pictures I took for the card:


A little dark – but it did the trick. And I was even able to come up with a cute caption for the inside – something along the lines of “...and I want a remote control, and some paper clips, and a calculator, and a cell phone…OOOH and a few pennies…”
I ordered my holiday cards through Shutterfly and was very happy with the finished product.

Then I had the twins.

They were born a couple of months before the following Christmas, and to say that I didn’t quite have my act together would be like saying that the Titanic was short one or two lifeboats.

This is the closest thing I have to a festive group shot that holiday season:


Aside from the bizarre tree that looked like a porcupine with a mohawk gone awry (Chris wasn’t at the top of his game either when he went out to buy it), and the fact that my oldest child wasn’t in the picture, you couldn’t have paid me to publicize that picture of my exhaustion and general dishevelment. Now of course, I have no such compunctions since I’ve looked like that for the past four years and am used to it.

The following year when Oliver was two and the twins were one, I TRIED to pull something off with the help of some toys and cookies (and a table to trap them against their chairs):


But no dice. That was the best of the bunch.

In 2008, I thought I had a great plan in grabbing them right before we left for a holiday party. I promised Tic Tacs (ah – the days when they thought Tic Tacs were candy…) for each pose:


Sadly, the Tic Tacs were a distraction and caused too much jumping up and down and arm waving. Not to mention the Tic Tacs visible in their mouths in some of the livelier shots. Above, is the most normal looking one of all the pictures I took. FAIL.

Finally, last year, I did manage to get a group picture in front of our tree on New Years Eve. It was too late to do a card, but I think this one would have been “good enough.”


I mean – with the exception of the Irish cross ornament growing out of Eleanor’s head.

But THIS year… THIS is going to be the year. I WILL get a decent group picture on a card and put it in the mail, even if it’s an image of them in their underwear in front of a trash can. I’m sure a Photoshop-adept friend can help me paint in a tree and some pants. If necessary, I will send out a picture of someone else’s children. But I’m mailing a damn holiday card and Merry Christmas, Hanukkah and Quanza to all and to all a goodnight goddammit!

So what luck that I was asked by Shutterfly to review their new line of holiday cards for 2010!

I’ve always loved holiday photo cards best. They don’t even have to be of people. Just knowing that there is a personal photograph involved makes the message all that more tangible. Why offices continue to send out those boring generic holiday cards is beyond me…what a waste of paper.

Since my number one priority is the picture, the designs I prefer are rather uncluttered with just a simple statement of good wishes. I also look for “holiday” cards as opposed to Christmas cards since not all of my friends celebrate the same religious holidays.

Here are a few that fit all of my requirements (click each image for full details):




I also liked this one as an alternative to the lengthy holiday “letter.” Just enough space to give a few highlights (and a better chance that the recipients will actually read it!):


I don’t think I will go with the option above since I could NEVER limit myself that that small amount of text… But the other three are definite possibilities.

This is the year! We will send out a holiday card – and even if the picture stinks, at least the design will be lovely.

Do you want 50 free holiday cards from Shutterfly? Click here to go to Shutterfly for information on how you can get 50 free cards this holiday season, and make sure to select Clever 1000 as the referral source.

This post is part of a series sponsored by Shutterfly. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

A Reemergence, A Lot of Pictures and An Excuse or Two

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Have I really not posted anything in the past two weeks? And the last post was about a bug infestation…nice.

I do have two posts I’ve been meaning to write (one for a couple of weeks and the other for a couple of months), but I’ve been so scattered lately. Maybe I’ll just fill in with various and sundry recent goings on…

First, we just returned from a road trip to Georgia. We left mid-last week and were gone for about six days. That is a long time for three small children to be living as vagabonds. Even longer for their parents.

We were there for a big Hood family reunion, and while there, we also celebrated the twins’ fourth birthday. George and Eleanor are so happy to finally be four. Eleanor would rather be five like Oliver, but she’s settling for four. She’s cool like that.

Here are some pictures from the reunion:
















The actual reunion party took place on a river and we spent half our time sighing at the breathtaking view and the other half trying to keep or children alive. It was a good time. And yes I did notice that most of my immediate family is wearing green and NO that was not planned.

The downside to the twins turning four is their awareness that they can combine forces to make defiant an understatement. I’ve been seeing a lot more of this of late:



If I’m lucky, I can turn it into this…


…but all too often we fall back on tears, time outs, door slamming and even the odd spanking. I’m not wild about hitting of any kind, but it has become a last resort when the sassiness gets out of control. And when I spank, it’s like one whack on the bottom that probably doesn’t even hurt that much. Of course that doesn’t stop Eleanor shouting “and DON’T hit me” when we’re in public places. She’s great like that.

In other news, George just got a super cute new haircut…


…and Oliver is about to lose his first tooth! (Sorry – not pictures of the last – it’s hard to capture a wiggly bottom tooth in a photo.)

Writing will probably continue to be slow on all of my sites for a while. For someone who doesn’t work in an office 9-5, I seem to have a hard time getting anything done around the house. I blame the children and all of their “needs” and stuff. Because they aren’t old enough to read my blog and comment. So yeah – it’s all their fault.

Oh – and I’m seriously thinking about just clearing my reader and starting over since there is no way I will ever catch up on the two weeks of posts I’ve missed. Let me know if you’ve written anything particularly brilliant. Or just good. Or interesting. Or funny? Whatever – you be the judge. Just let me know.

Raisin’ ‘Em Right!

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I have been SO busy with life lately. I mean, now that my twins go to preschool three mornings a week I have a whole 7.5 hours of alone time to devote to examining my new wrinkles, making myself snacks and reading Project Runway recaps online.

All of this distracted meandering around my house is exhausting! I have very little inclination to do anything productive like writing blog posts or cleaning or giving myself that much needed pedicure. I’m simply too worn out from the lassitude of loose endedness.

But my children make up for my cuticle picking torpor by achieving new personal bests on a daily basis. The most remarkable of these was a tandem effort by my sons, Oliver and George to start the school year off with a literal “pow” by hitting people. And it gets better! The incidents occurred within a week of each other and both of the targets were GIRLS. I’m just bursting with pride…


I already mentioned Oliver’s outburst in a previous post. He hit his teacher the other week. As a special needs kid, Oliver has some little quirks that could be explained as “self soothing,” and when they don’t disrupt the classroom, they are allowed. One of these is “self talk” or the tendency to keep up a stream of semi-intelligible chit chat with oneself while performing tasks or playing. Sometimes it’s scripting from favorite TV shows and DVDs and sometimes it’s something else, but from what his special ed teachers and therapists have told me, it’s not a problem and they don’t see the need to interfere with it. Unless of course, he really has to be silent. Which is the case for certain “zones” in the school hallways. Apparently he was chatting away in one of these zones and when his teacher tried to end it, she inadvertently opened a can of whup-ass. Or more specifically, he got upset and struck out at her (connecting with her face).

Super.

It’s all okay though. His special ed case manager was called and she talked to him about how his reaction wasn’t “a good choice” and what better choices he could have made (here is where I’m madly taking notes on how I should be handling things with him at home). Then he had a little time out before going back to join his friends. They weren’t too worried about it overall since Oliver is rarely violent and seemed very upset about what he did (and his teacher said he’s still apologizing to her, so maybe the lesson will stick?). Anyway…BYGONES!

Then, there’s George. That’s become almost a catchphrase of mine of late, “then, there’s George…”

My very intense younger son has embraced preschool with his usual unmitigated enthusiasm, and from what I could tell was seamlessly assimilating to this new environment. Then came the check in call (that all of the parents got) on Friday, reporting on the twins’ first couple of weeks. It was all rainbows and unicorns until a final caveat that there was just one incident in which a few days prior, George had a fight with another student. The teacher claimed not to have seen what happened, but that he and the LITTLE GIRL (note to self: must augment his school wardrobe with some new wife beater tank tops) were “really going at it.” I believe she even used the word, “fisticuffs.” Nice. But the good news is that the little girl’s mother was there and could comfort her while the teacher focused on talking to George. So that was great…

The truth is, George’s teacher didn’t seem overly concerned about it and just wanted to let me know in case he brought it up (yeah right!). Knowing my son as well as I do, I pretty much assumed that he was the instigator. Not that he starts a lot of fights, but we’ll chalk it up to mother’s intuition. So I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when I asked him why he and his friend had a fight and his answer was “‘Ecause she wouldn’t make room.” So basically, he wanted her to scoot over so he could sit down, and when she wouldn’t (or couldn’t), he decided to forcibly move her. Then the “fisticuffs” ensued.

I was able to apologize to the other mom, and I think that there are no hard feelings. But seriously – what is wrong with my boys!? We don’t encourage physical violence at home. I’m just going to assume that they’re busting out the inevitable bad behavior as early as possible instead of waiting until later in the school year (my little over achievers!). At least I won’t be lulled into a false sense of confidence.

But now I have a little free time, so I’m going to be Scarlett O’Hara and leave those pesky worries for another day called “tomorrow.” I can’t sit around thinking about parenting strategies right now. I’m fairly certain that I have some old chocolate chips in the back of the freezer and I simply must check the TV listings for this evening. Hope I’m not forgetting anything unimportant…

A lazy woman’s work is never done…literally.

First Day of Preschool (Alternatively Titled: How Many Mediocre Pictures Can I Cram into One Post?)

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Oliver wasn’t the only one who had a first day of school. Today, the twins had their very first day of preschool!

I wanted to take a picture of all three kids on our front steps, but Eleanor had just had a wardrobe crisis and was still reeling from the stress of it all. She refused to sit with her brothers.




Yeah – so they weren’t all that cooperative either.

Then I decided to try again after parking next to Oliver’s school. First, just of Eleanor since she was striking a pose. But George kept jumping in front of her.



Then I found some good lighting and lined them up, all the while, spewing empty promises of candy and special treats for good behavior…









That was the best I could get out of them. And at this point of reviewing my shots, I realized that there must be a smudge on the lens. Luckily it’s just in the lower corner. Note to self: don’t let George play with the camera anymore. Especially since it results in hundreds of images that look like this:


We were a bit early for preschool arrival, so thought I’d try for a nice first day of school shot of the twins…


I want to kill whoever taught George that Home Alone pose…










Again – this was about as good as it got. Striking “Crew Cuts models” off the list of ways the kids can make money for their college funds.

At any rate – they had a very successful first day and barely looked at me when I left them. We went out for pizza and ice cream to celebrate.




And just when I was starting to feel all smug about what great scholars my children are turning out to be, I spent an hour yelling at the twins to get back into bed and GO TO SLEEP! AND had a super fun phone call from Oliver’s school about how he hit his teacher. Sigh…oh well – one day at a time I guess.