A prayer from Aidan

"Dear God,
I love you.
Please, could I have a different dream tonight?  Not one with Sasquach or something like that.  I think that dream you've been giving me is more for an eight-year-old, not a five-and-a-half-year-old.  Could I have a dream more for someone my age?  Like, maybe a playdate with Phillip?
Thank you, God.
I love you.
Amen."

I don't think he's alone

The other day, as we were driving to school (which ride is host to some of our best conversations) I could tell Aidan was pondering something.  He said to me, "Mommy, why do girls have to wear a shirt when they go out in public?"  Now, I know he knows why.  The reason I know he knows is that we've had that same conversation numerous times - he's been periodically curious about it, wanting to learn the rules and starting to want his own privacy.  I said, "You know why, Aidan."

"(sigh) Yes, Mommy.  (sigh)  I wish they weren't private."

you'd think I'd have learned by now....

This last week we were on vaca (fantastic) in Cabo (also fantastic), and we learned once again the lesson that it's really easy to underestimate what he's capable of. It's a recurring theme - I remember being surprised when he was eating at the table with silverware in the infant room at daycare, and I'm still having to learn. Anyway, we found out several grown-up things he can do while we were gone. Body surfing for one, but also he knows already how to play rummy? I knew he was ready for and plays card games like concentration, war, go fish, crazy 8s but rummy? That's a pretty tough game. No problem, though - he gets it. (He hadn't told us he knows how to play because he didn't know we knew how.)

He's also teaching himself chess, and I've finally convinced him the name of the game isn't "chest."  I thought it best that he doesn't run around asking friends to play chest with him.  Anyhoo, I don't know how to play - my Nook came with a free Chess application.  I had to look up on Wikipedia how the pieces move, so he's got that now, and he plays the computer.  He's getting into it - I'll hear him say, "I'm getting out my nasty queen!" in an excited and menacing voice.  I sense a Christmas present (and some chess lessons for Mommy!)

"I'm a gentleman"

We were sitting at dinner at a local restaurant and got flavored water to drink.  He grabbed my glass and the water and said, as though to himself, "I'm a gentleman and I pour for ladies."  Where it came from, I have no idea.  My boy was chivalrous.  Awesome!

Uma has it

Aidan has a love for music.  He sings all the time and has taken to whistling lately, which I enjoy immensely.  I mean, unhappy children don't burst into song (he's not singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" or anything), so I take it as a good sign.  This morning I dropped him off at kgarten, and I saw him strolling down the sidewalk, carrying his backpack, whistling.  Cool.

All this to say that he knows quite a bit of pop music.  We listen to it in the car a lot (he knows his favorite stations by call number and will request them).  I should say, he "knows" quite a bit of pop music. 

He loves Adele.  We've had a running discussion about her song, Rumor Has It.  He loves the song, but insists it's Uma Has It, even before he knew that Uma was a name.  I've asked what on earth that means, but it doesn't matter.  He's convinced.  The song comes on, and he'll say, "Mommy, speak it up so you can hear it's Uma."  It's be on another day, and he'll say something like, "See-some people think it's Rumor, but Phillip [his buddy] and I know it's Uma."  Another time, even that Phillip's (older) brother had told them it's Rumor, but he and Phillip talked, and they decided it's definitely Uma.  They will not be swayed.  It's been months - several months - he is certain.  How great is that sort of determination?  I'm hoping this means that he won't fall to peer pressure as he grows.

In fact, that's a reasonable hope, as I think about it.  My brother had a similar trait and did not fall, decidedly, to peer pressure.  Still doesn't.  (My brother's extra cool.)  Being 7 years older than my bro ("LB"), here are some of the hits from his youth as he insisted on singing them:

• For Joan Jett's "I love rock and roll," the line following being consistent, but unintelligible, syllables.  No amount of "so put another dime in the jukebox, Baby" would convince him.  In fact, he'd get angry with me for the suggestion.  Strangely, Aidan shares that one with LB.  Also adores the song, also sings consistent but unintelligible lyrics for those lines.  Awesome.
• In "California Dreamin'", 2nd verse that is "Stopped into a church I passed along the way," he had "Stuck down in a church" - which explained why the guy would get down on his knees and begin to pray (the next line) - I mean, you're stuck.  Of course you pray.  Even better, the following line:  "You know the preacher likes to call; he knows I'm gonna stay."  Um, yeah you're gonna stay--you're stuck!  (I love that one)
• INXS Need you tonight, Actual lyrics:  "Your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know - you're one of my kind."  LB's lyrics:  "Your knees are so raw, I've got to let you know - you're one of my kind."  I never wanted to know the details of why this gentleman might be seeking out a lady with raw knees.  I never asked (though I did get bad mental pictures).

Ninjas

We found this awesome children's album called "Snacktime" by Barenaked Ladies at the library.  I highly recommend.  It has such wonders as "7-8-9" (seven ate nine) and "Eraser," an actual ode to the wonders of an eraser.  Aidan and I both love it - we'll be purchasing.

Anyway, there's a song on there about ninjas.  The dude wakes up and he can tell the ninjas have been in his home - things are moved, etc.  The chorus is, "The ninjas are deadly and silent; they're also unspeakably violent.  They speak Japanese, they do whatever they please, and when you pull of their masks, they'll be smilin'."  We've sung it a bunch of times in the last week or two.

Last night, on the way home from soccer, Aidan got to thinking.  It's not always easy to keep a straight face; sometimes harder than others.  Especially when he's dead serious.  His narrative went something like this....

"They got the song all wrong.  This guy doesn't know anything about ninjas.  First of all, ninjas don't move things - you'd never know they'd been there.  I know.  I'm a real ninja--and am I speaking Japanese right now?  No!"

"Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad."

My beautiful friend Carrie sent me a card with that quote, and I love it.  (She asked me to be in her wedding in that card, and I love that too, but that's not the point here.)

Aidan very much reminds me of that.  He marches to the beat of his own drummer.  I told him I wanted to take a picture of him with his backpack for the first day of school, and this was the closest to a portrait I could get.  He wanted fighting pictures (Bey Blades "Blay Blayers").  He wanted to see the pictures after I took them, and he loves them.  It's smack-on Aidan.

His teacher sent home a form to send out to tell our hopes and concerns about our kids.  I have lots of both, but my biggest hope/concerns is that he's so beautifully unfiltered - so happy and confident in himself, not knowing or caring what is cool.  I hope that the other or big kids don't beat that out of him; I want him to stay so gloriously dorky, so himself - so honestly cool.

what's new?

I'm wondering how many days he'll get out of the car when I drop him off for school and yell, "Bye, Mommy!  I love you!  Have a great day!"  I could eat him.

I adore this stage where he's sounding things out and so proud of doing it by himself.  This is the text from a birthday card Aidan wrote for Lou Marino, our neighbor, on his 85th birthday on Saturday (Lou was pretty happy to get it!).
HAPE BRF
DA
TU
LU

Again, I could eat him!

and so it begins for the next generation

Audrey, my niece, who's 2 and a half, had a great one the other day.

My sister insists that she doesn't deserve it (clearly she did), when Audrey popped out with, "Mommy, you not being nice....Lord help you!"  I hope she's writing some of these down too.

little man

My gorgeous sweetheart love angel,

I am clear.  I know that your growing up is part of this deal.  I remember feeling like others might not understand when I was little.  You are growing up.  You should.  You must.  I want you to.

I try my best, but I'm not good at it, not to long for the you who's gone while the you who's here is right here for me to appreciate and snuggle.  It's hard.  You're my only you, and honestly, you're spectacular.

You are bright, inventive, curious, involved, funny, loving, appreciative, thoughtful--as well as I know you, you constantly surprise me.  You take the right things seriously and have fun as much as possible; we could all learn a thing or two from that approach. 

As you know, I find you completely irresistible.  I'm also terrible at not showering you with affection; I'm working on it, I promise.  As you're inevitably growing up, I feel the window for such showering closing.  I believe there will be a day when you might not want to be seen with me, when I'll embarrass you (you know, when I'm doing it unintentionally).  It's possible to miss this you who's with me right now as I see the you who will be creeping in, which drives me to drink in every moment I can. 

Yes, I know that I'm nuts, and as much as you do, I also wish that I could turn all this off inside my head and just be as you do.  I can't.  I do, however, love you silly.  Always will; every bit of you.

All this to wish you well as you start kindergarten next week, a new adventure.  Fly, my little man, fly.  You are beautiful.

it's good to have a plan

Aidan had previously thought that he'd like to have five jobs when he grows up (these are coincidental, not sequential):  soldier, builder, accountant, astronaut and zookeeper.  There's been a change to the plan (I'd like to add that none of this is prompted or provoked - the whole was one long dissertation).

When Aidan grows up, he will be twelve different types of scientist.  He's currently working on which twelve, but he's considering astronomy, biology, marine biology, zoology, entomology, gastronomy, microbology, etc.  The list keeps growing and all sound good to him.

He's worked out the schedule.  It'll be too overwhelming to try and fit all of these into a single work day, and he's concerned that he'll not be able to get much done.  Therefore, he'll assign one science to each day and work just on that one.  He'll work long days, but he would like a break from lunch each day.  He'll work through weekends, but he'll take Mondays off.  He'll work very, very hard, but the world will need him to study science.

You go, little man.

Seven hours

On Saturday, I took Aidan to the science museum here in town.  It was a pretty spectacular day--we got to see exhibits, a double feature of imax films, and a local meterologist.

On a side note, the meterologist, who's been on TV as far back as I can remember (which is saying something), asked Aidan whether he'd seen his forecasts.  Aidan's reply?  "Yes!  Sometimes my daddy turns it on, but I don't really like it."  Sorry.

So, we're walking down the stairs an hour past Aidan's naptime, and I tell him that I think he's tired and we should go home now.  "Who really cares what you think, anyway?"  Really?  His punishment is normally to sit on the stairs, and since we were on some already, I had him just sit down where he was.  He kept saying, "Sorry!  Sorry!  Sorry!"  They know.

Seven hours later, I'd been dumped for basketball.  We had tickets to the theater, but I took my sis so that Steven could watch the tournament.  No problem.  He was putting Aidan down for bed and came into the room to see Aidan kneeling in the middle of the bed, praying to Jesus (not an everyday event).  Steven heard something like, "help bring her home safely."  He asked Aidan what he was doing, and found out that he was praying for my safe return - you know, as though I'd gone off to war the year before.  He said, "Aidan, she's only been gone two hours!"  "Oh, Daddy--it seems like forever!  I just hope Jesus brings her home safe to me.  I miss her so much."

Okay, that's undeniably cute.  Really, though?  Really?  In the same span who really cares what I think anyway and also please, Jesus, please bring her back home to me?  Okay....

one down

I ran a 5k on Saturday - I didn't walk it, and I sprinted the end.  I've never run a race before.  I was completely surprised when I was tempted to try it.  Lara spoke of how fun a race was, and traditionally my thought about running has been something akin to, "running is for people who are being chased."  For some reason, though, I was tempted.

Despite the fact that I've been busier this winter than normal, which is saying something, I completed a "couch to 5k" program that had me running three times a week, first 90 seconds at a time and then more until I ran outside last week.  I really like it?  I mean, I really like it!

I still have an issue of getting going.  It's hard to get myself to get out there and run, but I'm always so happy I did.  I'm a little afraid that without a goal (read, "race") I won't be able to keep going, even though I know it's best for me to do it.  I'll sign up for a 10k in June in hopes that that keeps me going (note that this week I haven't been out at all - ugh - training for the 10k starts April 15.  Sure, I'm not feeling well and my hubby's working late, but could I find a way to make it work?  Sure...).

However, I ran my first 5k!  I had a real number and results and everything!  Good start.

I will not try to top this next year

Aidan is five.

That would be enough for an entry - it's big.

But it's been quite a birthday week.  Started with a party on Sunday, a pool party with 17 of his friends.  It was fantastic - we went to a rec center, and even though it was March 11, we rode over in shorts and flip flops - amazing.  The kids had a blast and played great together, the parents all loved it, the timing worked out, the food showed up - AND there were more presents than one child can mentally process.  It was great.  But that wasn't all.

The night before his birthday, he and I had pizza with our dear friend Lori and then spent the night with my folks and my sister's family (which includes his favorite sister).  How awesome is that?  But that wasn't all.

At 8:15, a fire truck pulled into my folks' driveway, there to drive him to school.  His little friend Addison came over and rode with him, and her brother and Audrey (cousin) got to get into the truck and look around.  I gave my seat to my dad, who might've been the most excited about the whole thing.  The truck went to Aidan's school, and I rode in my car behind.  When we got to the school, all of the kids were outside waiting for him, clapping.  He got out of the truck, and my dad said that people should sing, so the whole school sang Happy Birthday to him.  Aidan, Addison and Dad sat on the front of the truck for pictures, and then each class got to stand in front of the truck for their pictures.  Even the babies in their wagons got to walk around and see the flashing lights. 

It was amazing from so many angles - Addison's mom was crying (as was I) because it was so special.  The teachers all thought it was amazing, the kids were awed, my dad was beyond.  Even the firemen benefitted - they said that they'd never done this before, other than VIPs in parades.  One had been on the force over 30 years and was never able to give his parents or kids a ride.  He came to work having a bad day, and he said the kids completely brightened his day.  He felt special when the kids said he was a hero, which he said he rarely hears.

Best $150 ever spent - we got it from a charity auction, and even better is that the money went to buy prom dresses (and accessories, shoes, bling, even hair and makeup) for girls who wouldn't be able to have them otherwise, to make them feel beautiful and special and magical.

Excellent week.

already?

Aidan to his Nonna on the phone a moment ago, about me:  "She always acts crazy, like a total mom."  I'm not sure whether to be proud or offended.  I ama total mom, after all.  Crazy doesn't seem too hot, though.

Birthdays are the currency of (almost) five year olds

"If you do something great, "You're invited to my birthday!"  If you don't, "Then you're not invited to my birthday!"  (Nudges of, "Without me, there IS no birthday" are no help to that logic.)  When Addison dumps Phillip and falls in love with Aidan, she's not invited to Phillip's birthday.  Eventually, they're forgiven and birthday invitations resume.  Aidan spends his time making tickets of sorts (the last set were swords cut out of paper and colored) and giving them to friends to show their admissibility to his birthday party.  Birthdays are big.  Really big.

Party's coming up - we bought actual invitations Friday, the kind that have details about the when and where of the party.  Can't wait to hand them out at school tomorrow.  It's a pool party at a rec center, and we're inviting the whole class.  Big stuff.  That's not the best part, though.

We're going to spend the night at my folks' house the night before his birthday as a special treat.  He'll think that's the special treat.  In fact, that morning, the morning he turns five, a fire truck will pull up to my folks' house and drive him to school.  He doesn't know, but the school does, and they'll all be standing outside waiting for the firetruck to pull up when he gets there.  It's the coolest thing I've ever heard of - I didn't even know it existed.  We got it in a silent auction.  I can't wait. 

I.  Can't.  Wait.

nuances

Was just reading my last blogpost.  I must be taking my baby's beginning of school harder than I thought, because I said he's starting college this year.  It's actually kindergarten.  Very, very slight difference.

I crack myself up!

Year of?

Interesting, very interesting.

Year of journeys?  I am decidedly not an athlete.  I'm in week 6 of a 9-week "couch to 5k" program that will begin with my very first race ever (ever) and may or may not culminate in my trying a half marathon in October.  One step (one workout) at a time - I don't look ahead.

Year of beginnings?  Just got involved with a wonderful, amazing NFP.  They help special needs pre-kindergarten kids see how beautiful they are, how much they can do, what they're capable of.  I'm honored to be even slightly associated.  I'm a zero!  (Five-year commitment, and it starts in the fall.)

Year of fun?  Said charity has an annual variety show - they raised about half a million dollars in one night (legally) last year.  So far I've been asked to tap in the opening number.  Thing is, I don't know how to tap dance.  Details.  Anyway, I haven't been involved in a theater production since 1990; no dance (or auditions) since 1989.  Wow.  Sounds like a blast!

Year of changes?  We're hoping to live in a different house by the end of the year, my baby starts college, my work situation is changing slightly (working more - good stuff).

Year of grateful?  There's a lot.  I might be stressed, but I'm not - I'm excited!  I'm a little proud of myself for that one.  Not to mention my gorgeous husband, beautiful son, many blessings.  Mmmm.

Year of open?  I'm finding myself much better at not getting offended, taking suggestions, listening, getting better, coaching.  Being open minded more.  It's good.

Grateful - I like the grateful.