We read this poem at work during professional development today.  I thought it was a beautiful poem that captures the love a father has for his child.

Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

You are in DEEP DOO-DOO!

School started back and the insaneness that would be referenced as "mornings" came with it.  Courtney and I were particularly rushed one morning and it's almost as though Sawyer can smell our frenzied behavior.  It's a sixth sense that he possesses, and this is when he enjoys pushing our buttons the most.  

Anyone who has small children (and even those who don't) understand that every second counts  when you are trying to get to work in the mornings.  We had five minutes until we were to leave, which would give me twelve minutes to get Sawyer to daycare, and another ten to get to work.  PERFECT!  Right?  WRONG.  In approximately two minutes Sawyer took his pants off, defecated on my sisal rug, and then used my couch as toilet paper by rubbing his butt up and down the base of the couch.  I wanted to cry.  Maybe scream.  But I laughed.  I laughed hard, and then my friends laughed about it when I recounted the story to them at work.  One colleague did not laugh, nor did she bat an eye.  She simply said, "That is when you leave it on the floor, go to work anyways, and lock the dog in the pantry."  I pondered her advice and inquired why should I leave the dog in the pantry?  She continued her sage advice by adding, "Because you know the dog will eat the doo-doo."  This comes from a mother of three girls.  Thank God I am not alone.

Daddy's Head

As Courtney was kissing Sawyer good-bye this morning, Sawyer leaned into him like he was going to hug him and told Courtney he has a very big head.  Let the comments begin...

Feel The Pee!!!!!

Sawyer peed in our bedroom fan and it was still on.  AWESOME.  He told me to "feel the pee!" as I was running towards the fan in an effort to control the spray.

Observations from a three year old

Observations from an almost three year old:

• Feeding your sibling cat food will turn said sibling into a cat
• It's weird that we hang "cooking gloves" on the mantle during Christmas
• Volcanoes are amazing
• But lava is even better
• Heavy rain looks like a dust storm
• Pretending various items catch on fire is interesting

Naked? Check. Chainsaw? Check.

I was washing the dishes the other day while Sawyer "quietly" played in the den.  I looked out the kitchen window in hopes that I would catch a glimpse of some deer munching on my neighbors berries.  What I hoped for and what I saw was completely different.  I saw my son in the neighbors backyard, naked, and with his toy chainsaw.  I'm not sure what Sawyer had in mind but luckily our neighbors like us and found it entertaining to watch our toddler, unattended, wandering naked with his chainsaw in their backyard.

Crushed Nuts

Today we went to church and Sawyer told me he learned about a man catching on fire in Sunday school.  I feel sure his interpretation was a little off.  We then went to lunch with Courtney's side of the family and he preceded to lick the seat at the restaurant.  Once home, he and his Dada had many tickle fights and he racked his dad so many times that I lost count.  I secretly laughed inside as my husband doubled over in pain.  If only I could do that occasionally and get away with it.

No Boring Mama's Aloud

Sawyer told me I am a sweet Mama, not a boring one.  That's a relief.

CRAP

Sawyer crapped on the sisal rug.  It took me an hour to dig it out of the rug with toothpicks.  I know, GROSS.

Fish can't talk, dummy.

Yesterday Sawyer was pretending he had a fish tank with little fish in it.  He was telling my father about the fish, and as he was doing this my father leaned over to speak to the fish in hopes of playing along in Sawyer's pretend world.  Sawyer was not having this.  S told my father, "I don't know that fish can talk."  He should have added "dummy" or "idiot" at the end of the sentence because his tone expressed this condescending manner.  I suppose even a two and a half year old realizes the limitations of imagination, or maybe this particular fish could not talk in Sawyer's pretend world.

I'm starting a blog and feel like I have no idea what I am doing.  This is a test...on many levels.  First, I am testing my technological skills, and second, I am hoping to create a record of the behaviors my son, Sawyer, partakes in.

L