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.

Five years old and a PhD later...

Well Owen's the big "Oh Five" and boy does everyone in his general vicinity know it. He's extremely proud of this accomplishment and I'll admit, so am I. We've all survived the past five years, just barely, and are now looking ahead to.....KINDERGARTEN. I'll admit, he's as emotional as a preteen girl, but he's very athletic and extremely intelligent and a very sweet boy. Aside from general behavioral problems, we've been pretty lucky raising Owen. Tate, on the otherhand, is on his way to getting us a medical degree with all we're going through with him. Pyloric Stenosis, Lactose Intolerance, Acid Reflux & GERD, Pulmonary Aspiration, in addition to the "normal" run-of-the-mill childhood illnesses, all I can say is.... Thank God for my health benefits! The illness du jour is Pulmonary Aspiration. After a visit to the hospital for a swallow test, we learned that Tate literally inhales his drinks instead of swallowing them. Prescription? Thickening his drinks to the consistency of honey. Nasty nasty business. Unfortunately, we're going through all of this as he ascends to his throne as "King of the Terrible 2's". Poor Owen is getting a taste of his own medicine, that's for sure. I'm actually considering sending him overseas and since "no" means the same thing is virtually every language, he'll get along just fine.

Who's the prettiest?

Owen has recently become interested in ballet ever since seeing Mom's Nutcracker. But it's not just the music. It's not just the costumes. He wants to lift the girls. The pretty girls. "I would like to lift them because I like looking at them and their pretty faces." Which prompted the question, "Who is the prettiest girl in your class?" The answer, of course, to no surprise is Piper who he's had a crush on for the past two years. Smart Mommy then asks, "Who's the prettiest girl in this house?" Ha ha, trick question. Response in a whisper: "You, Mommy, but don't tell Juniper".

Pantyhose!

The four year old mind never ceases to amaze me...
Owen was having 'naked time', running around the living room and shaking his booty. "Owen, put your 'naughty bits' away". (That's what we've decided to call the boy's privates. Not sure why to be honest. Sometimes, sounds almost worse than the real thing. But alas, they are now 'naughty bits'.)
"Mommy, it's my PANTYHOSE!". Silence. My wheels are spinning. I realize he is referring to the HOSE in his PANTY'S. Clever, really.
Roger has now informed me, he now refers to it as his LADYBUG. Hmmm... And I thought PANTYHOSE was bad. Now I'm scared...
The four year old mind never ceases to amaze me....

Oh, Owen...

Roger and I went to pick up the boys on Wednesday only to be flagged down by the Preschool Director. "Torva! Roger! Come here! Owen's been telling me some things..." Uh oh... Can't be good. No place to hide. I plaster a smile on my face trying to prepare myself for what she's about to say. "Owen told me this afternoon, 'Ms. Cheryl, I need to speak with you. I'm going to get a sister next September. ' I told Owen, he must be mistaken, 'No, Ms. Cheryl, her name is going to be Tasha.' " Hmmm...

The other week when Nana and Pop Pop came down for a visit, Nana was looking at a class picture of the boys on the fridge. "This picture is so cute but my favorite is still the one of Tate in the damn bucket." Owen steps in: "Nana!!! We've got a damn bucket in our living room, see?" showing her a picture of Tate on our mantel sitting in...well...a damn bucket.

Today we went to Big Lots to pick up some sand buckets for our beach trip with the boys this coming week. I asked Owen if he knew how to make a sand castle. He proceeded to tell me very seriously that you needed WET SAND to make a sand castle. Why yes, how did you know that? Silence. Owen, how did you know you need wet sand to make a sand castle? "I know that because I'm very smart".... Nuf said.

Next came a visit to Golden Corral for lunch. On our way out, we saluted a retired military officer. I asked Owen if he wanted to be a soldier when he grew up. "Well, if I'm a soldier, can I hit someone in the face with a baseball bat?????" Really? That's what you think of when you think of becoming a soldier? No, Owen, you can't hit someone in the face with a baseball bat. "Okay, I'll just hit them in the back, then..." Really??

"Diarrhea, Diarrhea"

So this week was Vacation Bible School for Owen - his first year and he loved it. Each day he had to wear a different colored shirt. They sang songs, learned dances, played games and made crafts. We were given a CD to listen to in the car to learn the songs. After day 2, Owen asked me if we could listen to the "Diarrhea Song" on the way home. Huh? Son, you must be mistaken. Attention was diverted and we moved on. The next morning we were jamming to the Jesus music on the way to daycare. "We worship you..... Hallelujah, Hallelujah!" Only in the backseat, the words were: "We worship you.... Diarrhea, Diarrhea!" Close, Owen, but not quite...
This week was also Spirit Week at school. Monday was Hat Day. Tuesday was Pajama Day and boy did I learn my lesson from last year when he was the only one who didn't show up in his PJs. My concern was the 100 degree weather. But I was sadly mistaken. Now I know - PJs no matter what the temp. Wednesday was Backward's Day. Turns out he was the only one who showed up with his clothes on backwards. Guess you can't win for trying. We got strange looks from other parents - I wanted to say: "Hey, it's Backward's Day. Who's the one who's Backwards, now? Huh? Huh? We've got Spirit, damnit, and we're proud of it!" So what should we do next year? Hide in the bushes and wait to see whether the other classmates are participating? Sounds like a plan...