Down on the Farm

The past few weeks have been very busy (for lack of a better word) for me at my work. I've been going in early and have had to stay late to get my projects done, which has of course taken away some of my precious time with my family.

I struggle very much with being a working mother. My family is my No. 1 priority, although I know that some disagree with this by the sheer fact that I work. I've received some harsh criticism from other mothers for this. There are many, many days when I wish I could just trade in my corporate business cards for a set of those trendy, cute mommy cards. A very large part of me wishes I was not a working mother. But the reality is that me working works best for my family. And so I try to balance as best as I can.

Because of my preoccupation with work as of late, I wanted to take some time out for the little man. I wanted to spend some time with just him - to put the laundry, dishes and all of those other little things aside and just enjoy some time with the little man.

And so I did.

Our community has a wonderful farmstead for children. There are endless opportunities and fun around every corner. The little man and I had a grand day of sunshine, fun and time together. We laughed a lot, explored a lot and did a lot. It gave us a great chance to spend some quality time together and forget about all of the other little worries/responsibilites in life. I wish every day could be like that with the little man.

Just me and the little man. And the farm.

Cruisin'

As a Generation Xer, there were many toys that defined my childhood - Care Bears, Cabbage Patch Dolls, Walkmans, Atari, Nintendo, etc.

However, there is one toy that brought both boys and girls together. One toy that, even today, I think the now grown-up children of my generation can still unanimously agree was probably the most awesome toy of our childhood. A toy that children spent their summers on, begged Santa for and was the pride and joy of both boys and girls across America.

The Big Wheel.

While I have been able to share my favorite books and some toys from my childhood with the little man, I was in my own state of shock and awe on the night before Easter. After tucking the little man into bed, Nana and Grandpa brought up little man's Easter present from them so that daddy could put it together.

We knew they were planning on getting him a tricycle or big-wheel-esque toy, but both my husband and were in complete shock to see the very same Big Wheel sitting before us that we had once loved so much as children.

It was the same Big Wheel. From the yellow handle bars, to the red body and the big black plastic wheel. It was a Big Wheel. Our Big Wheel.

We were amazed that not only did they still make official Big Wheels, but that they still made the original.

We laughed and reminisced about our Big Wheel days. And then we laughed little man's soon-to-be Big Wheel days. Days when he would just climb on his Big Wheel and cruise, just like we had. Racing down the steepest hill in the neighborhood with his friends. Seeing how far it could go in the mud. Wearing the black plastic wheels thin. The sound of the big plastic wheels against the concrete driveway.

Making his own childhood memories.

Landing Strip

Do you know what this is?

It appeared in our house this weekend. Being as it is a small, foam airplane and we have a 3-year-old, some people may just assume it is a common child's toy.

But it's where we found it that sparked the mystery ...

Apparently, we have a landing strip in our house.

I suspect the mystery may have something to do with this ...

When we sold our small, ranch starter-home 2 years ago, we searched high and low for our larger, family home. We immediately fell in love with our current house, which includes a small balcony off of our master bedroom that looks directly into our foyer.

We were warned by everyone, including our Realtor, that the little man (then just 1) would soon be launching toys from said balcony.

But the warnings were not needed - it was the first thing that popped into both me and my husband's minds when we first walked into the house.

So when I walked down the stairs and spied the small red airplane atop the coat closet, I had my suspicions.

And I think my suspicions may be correct.

Happy Plate

Sorry for the lag in posts, the husband and I took an extended weekend to visit friends in Washington, D.C. Little man enjoyed the time with Nana, where they apparently took in the zoo, the Easter Bunny and an airplane museum. Meanwhile we thoroughly enjoyed a weekend of grown-up dinners, conversation and sight-seeing.

The day before we left on our trip, we were going about our usual evening routine of going through the mail, digging through the pantry to see what we could find for the night's dinner and the general "How was your day?" conversations.

Little man had helped his teacher pick up the toys and tidy up the room that afternoon before leaving. As such, he was allowed to pick a "treasure."

He choose Smarties.

When we got home, he immediately wanted to open up his treasure and eat it. I unwrapped the candies and put them into a bowl for him. He toddled out to the living room to eat his reward.

We have a strict, yet simple dinner policy at our house for little man: he eats what we make for dinner (no short-orders at our kitchen) and if he makes a "happy plate" (eats a good dinner and clears his plate) then - and only then - he may have dessert. This used to be more of a battle, but as of late it seems as if we have succeeded in getting this message through to him. Or, more simply put, little man has discovered his love for jellybeans by far outweighs any food aversions. And he knows to get jelly beans, he must make a happy plate.

Before long, little man was back in the kitchen, standing by my side, empty bowl in hand. I was not surprised that the candies had disappeared so fast.

Little man stood next to me, smiling and holding up his plate.

"Are you all done?" I asked him.

"I make a happy plate," little man said.

I laughed. "You most certainly did," I said. "You ate the Smarties all up."

Little man stood silent, just looking at me.

"Momma ..." little man started.

"What buddy?" I asked him. I could tell he wanted something, but did not know what.

"But I made a happy plate," little man said.

I was confused.

"Yes, yes you did," I replied.

"I get jellybeans now," little man said with a smile on his face.

Then I understood - he had eaten all of his smarties. He had made a happy plate. His reward for happy plates was jellybeans.

And we had never, ever clarified to him that happy plates only applied to actual meals.

He had beat us at our own game.

And he knew it.

However, I will admit, I was a wee bit impressed with this maneuver.

I could have taken the time to clarify the rules. To change them on him and deny him his jellybeans all because I was the mommy, and I said so.

But I had to give it to the little guy - he was a smartie himself.

So I did all that I could do.

I reached into the jellybean bowl, took out two jellybeans and put them into little man's hand.

"Good job, buddy," I said. "You made a happy plate."

The Birds and the Bees Mountains

The other night, while eating dinner, little man finished his plate of pasta and hopped down from the table. Little man was in a particularly social mood and even though daddy and I were still eating, little man came over to my side of the table to continue our "What did you do today?" conversation.

Little man pointed at my shirt. I had on a purple sweater with a white camisole underneath.

"Mommy what is that?" Little man asked as he pointed to my sweater.

"That's my shirt," I said.

"No, momma, what's that?" Little man asked as he again pointed at my shirt.

"Oh, that's another shirt," I said. "Mommy has on two shirts today."

"No, momma, what is that?" Little man asked for the third time.

I thought perhaps I had some pasta sauce on my shirt or a piece of lint. I looked down to where little man was pointing.

"What are those ... mountains?" Little man asked.

As I looked down, I realized what exactly little man was pointing at. He had just become increasingly aware of the different physiques of men and women.

I was not prepared to have the boys vs. girls conversation this early. My mind raced trying to find something to say.

My husband, on the other hand, was no help. He was too busy rolling on the floor laughing.

I finally uttered the only thing I could think of:

"Mommy's have mountains," I answered, trying desperately not to laugh and praying it was enough.

Please, God. No. More. Questions.

"Oh, OK," little man said. He than ran off to play.

In complete horror, humor and shock I watched my little man run off to the living room to play, still not quite sure of exactly what just happened, but ever grateful that more questions did not follow.

Daddy, on the other hand, was a different story.

"At least he called them mountains," he said.

Fireman

Little man has decided that he wants to be a fireman when he grows up.

He's always love firetrucks. There is a fire station just across the street from the entrance to our subdivision. When the garage doors are up, little man always loves to see the firetruck inside as we drive past. Sometimes it's even outside, in which little man always squeals with delight.

Most recently we have been blessed with some warm Spring weather. The sunny afternoons and warm temperatures have made for some fun weekends outside. Last weekend little man helped daddy wash the cars in the driveway. Not only was he excited to be helping, but once his little hands got on the hose and he was able to spray the water, little man could hardly contain himself.

"I'm a fireman!" He exclaimed as he sprayed the water. "I spray the hose like fireman!"

His love of firefighters also extends well onto the playground. One warm afternoon I left work a bit early. I was happy to be able to pick up the little man from preschool early and spend what was left of the afternoon with him. When I got there the kids were playing outside. I found little man at the top of the play house. Much to mommy's horror he then reached out to the sliding pole just off of the side. I immediately reached up to grab him.

"No mommy!" He scolded. "I can do it. I'm a fireman!"

Before I knew it, little man was sliding down the pole, just like a fireman. His friend was close behind him.

They were firemen.

A few days later I was loading little man into the car to go to preschool. He ran to a support pole in our garage and began spinning around it.

"Weeeeee!" He screamed.

I honestly had no idea what he was doing.

"I slide down pole like fireman," little man said. "There's an emergency! 9-9-1!"

I giggled to myself as I snatched little man up and put him into his car seat.

"It's 9-1-1," I said. "You call 9-1-1 for an emergency."

"I wanna be a fireman," little man said.

And with that I was once again reminded that my little man was growing up right before my eyes.

And I also knew that it would be in my best interest to keep the hose and sprayer locked up this summer, just in case someone should decide it's a 9-9-1 emergency.

Big Words, Little Man

The little man has been surprising us lately with some big words ... there seems to have been an explosion lately of new words and phrases that have definitely caught us off guard and given us a laugh or two:

When mommy was fiddling around with the car DVD player:
"You just need to be patient, mommy."

When giving little man a bite of my oatmeal:
"Mmmm, that's delicious, mommy."

When playing with daddy in the sandbox:
"Daddy, you need to move over there. You're kinda freaking me out."

And finally, our first "when I grow up ..."
"I want to be a fireman when I grow up."