Hellooo, ladies!

As I was picking Tate up from daycare the other day I found a strange coat in his cubby with his name written on the tag. It definitely wasn't his. I took it to the teacher and explained, "I don't know how Tate's name got on this coat because it isn't is. Everything of Tate's is clearly marked 'Owen Smith'."
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Tate sauntered into the nursery at church and exclaimed, "Helllooo, ladies!" to the two women who care for the kids. I immediately made a mental note to talk to Roger about what he's teaching this child. The next day, Tate finds Owen's pirate hat in the closet and gets really excited. "Helllloooo, ladies!" he screams. It takes me over a week and the realization of his new pirate phase to finally understand he's actually saying, "Hellooo, mateys!" Oh.

Tate - The Medical Phenomenon

Seems there's always some sort of medical drama going on with Tate. The symptom du jour? Diarrhea. And lots. of. it. Currently, we are rounding out at day number 21. Now, am I frustrated that my little one is so pitifully sick and dehydrated and pathetically weak? Nope. I'm frustrated because after day 17, the doctors are still telling me to wait it out. I'm frustrated because he can't stay at daycare after three bad diapers and isn't welcome back the second day, causing me to shuffle my schedule at work or find someone to watch him. I'm frustrated because nothing we are doing seems to be helping. Tate, on the other hand, is happy as a clam. No fever. Perfectly hydrated. The boy has somehow managed to GAIN weight. A medical phenomenon. He's also learned rather quickly how to play the sick card. Even when it makes absolutely no sense. "Mommy!.....Mommy!! I want to brush my teeth NOW!" "No, Tate, let's wait until after your bath." "But I'M SICK!" The child is two.

We've ruled out parasites, salmonela, and e coli. Next on the agenda, allergy testing or checking for some other random gastrointestinal disorder. The doctors must love seeing us come in the door. Cha-ching!$! And meanwhile, the diapers keep filling, and filling, and filling....

Milk Money

So Kindergarten is going well, although we are having a hard time disciplining Owen and his milk money. After a long long LONG discussion last time about going back to the "buffet line", we made it clear (or so I thought) that he was only to buy milk each day for lunch. Lord knows I pack him more than enough food. I sign into his account to find he's been buying both breakfast AND chips along with his milk. Really, child!? "Owen, why did you buy breakfast today?" Look of panic and silence...."Um, how did you know that?" "I'm your MOTHER, I know everything!" God... did I really just say that? When did I turn into my mother? Next thing you know, I'm going to be telling the lad to go for a brisk walk. Another look at his account today and he has bought chips along with his milk the last two days. This boy is in trouble! I'm also foreseeing the future of an unorganized kid. And those who know me know this is killing me. He's already lost his daily binder he's supposed to take to and from school along with his library book he got from school last week. Please don't let him be "that" kid. I will not be able to handle it. There IS one cute thing he did this week. Thursday night, he says he wants to make a card for each of the TWENTY FOUR kids in his class. He asks me for index cards and crayons and I set him up at the dining room table thinking this is never going to happen. He proceeds to draw a picture of each kid in his class, puts them in his bookbag and hands them out on Friday. Now, does that make up for the chips at lunch? Not so much, but it's pretty darn cute...

Kindergarten - The Beginning

So Owen and his Mommy have successfully (I guess that term is relative) survived the first couple days of Kindergarten! Like a good Mommy, I packed Owen a healthy lunch for him in his Iron Man Lunch Box, complete with reusable ice packs to keep his food fresh and cold. Mrs. Kibler, Owen's teacher, had told me instead of sending Owen with milk money each day, it was much easier to fund his "account". Great idea! I send the child to school with a check for $25 - sure to last awhile since it was only for milk each day. And we specified WHITE milk, stay away from the chocolate and strawberry. I'm trying here, people! Roger and I raced to school after his first day, so excited to see how it went. Owen's all smiles, and extremely talkative, telling us all about his day, showing us his bookbag, including his lunch box with - his lunch still in there. "Owen, what did you have for lunch?" "Well, I had a piece of pizza, then I went back and got another piece. Then, they were also having fish sticks, so I had some of those too." *Sigh* "What color milk did you get?" Pause. "White..... and it only had a little bit of sugar in it." Wow. The child thinks the cafeteria is a buffet. There is no telling how much of my $25 I have left in the account.

Wishful Thinking

Owen was having a particularly hard time getting out of bed this morning (Friday). With tired eyes he looked at me and said, "Mommy, can I please just go back to bed for awhile?" "No, not today, but tomorrow (Saturday) you can sleep in as long as you want!" "Really? OK!" Now....how much do you wanna bet?

Owen's Randomness

I finally got Owen interested in brushing my hair last night. Felt so good, he was up until after 9:00. I told him if he brushed it every day, it would look really, really nice. "You'll look so good Yaya will want to kiss you on the lips? And people will see you and say, 'Who's that lady? Who's that lady?'"
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Roger was packing for a business trip to Texas - he'll be gone for four days. Tells Owen to stay out of his suitcase. "Why, cuz you've got pepper spray and a gun in there?"

Graduation from Mudpies!

Owen graduated from preschool on Tuesday. A complete program of poems, songs and pictures. Marching down the aisle of the church to Pomp and Circumstance, dressed in their purple satin caps and gowns. Could not be any cuter.
During one song, while most children were staring straight ahead barely moving their lips, an adorable girl on stage right was seriously getting her groove on. Roger caught it all on videotape, certain we will get some cash or at least an honorable mention on America's Funniest Home Videos. Didn't matter it wasn't even our kid. She wasn't even in his class.
Each child was passed the microphone and told the audience their name and what they wanted to be when they grew up. "My name is Noah. And when I grow up, I want to be a race car driver." "My name is Jasmine, and I want to be a teacher and a mommy." "MY NAME IS OWEN" (said embarrassingly loud) "And when I grow up, I want to be RICH!" Um, did he really just say that? I look at Rog who shook his head, "Nope, he didn't get that from me". I caught the eye of his teacher. "Nope, not me. That's YOUR son." Yes, that's my son.
After the long (incredibly long - an hour and twenty min!?!) ceremony, we got Owen together with his girlfriend Abby Hobson for pictures. I'm fully convinced these shots are going to be a part of the photo collage at their rehearsal dinner when they get married. Yes, I'm serious. So both are posed leaning against the baptism pool on the church stage. Owen pops his head up and his tassle goes flying slow mo into the water. Super Yaya to the rescue ready to dive in. And dive in he did. We quickly left the church hoping no one noticed the wet hair, wet arms, shirt...and pants.
So you think our night was full enough to end there, huh? Not so fast. I need to preface this next part by explaining what happened to me the day before. I went to pick Tate up from daycare and had to bend down to get since he was being particularly obstinate. A loud "Criicck" as well as the look on my face prompted the teacher to ask if I had thrown my back out. Gee, I wish! At least then I would've gotten some Prednisone! But alas, it was merely the crotch of my pants completely splitting at the seam. For real. Lucky for me, I was wearing a sweater which I quickly wrapped around my waste as I shuffled out of school, dragging Taterskins reluctantly behind me. So back to graduation night. Getting pictures outside of our little graduate with Yaya in front of the balloons. Yaya squats and.... "Criick". I think someone is trying to tell us something. And I refuse to believe it has anything to do with eating better. And Roger refuses to believe it has anything to do with drinking beer. We'll just blame it on shoddy craftsmanship. In fact that's exactly what it is. They just don't make things like they used to...
Congratulations to my baby boy. I really am proud of the little man he's becoming. And at the rate we're going, there are bound to be countless opportunities and stories for more posts to blog.