Hey Teacher, Decode This!

Wow - September is flying by!  Soccer season has started and I have 2 glorious days of peace and quiet every week where both kids are in school at the same time!  Of course a good mom would never publicly call those days "glorious."  Instead, she would wear a huge smile while she recounted how quickly her kids are growing up and how long those hours of separation seem.  Lucky for you, I'm not a good mom...I'm a real mom! 

Now I would be lying if I said that Emery starting kindergarten didn't hit me like a ton of bricks! You see, I've been dropping him off at preschool for over two years and I naively thought that it prepared me to leave him at his new school and never look back! What I didn't count on was just how small a kindergartner looks walking into a school next to 5th graders. I'm now totally one of those moms who breaks stringent car-line rules and parks until I see that Emery has safely made it the whole way into the building. Trust me that in "suburban mom land" the only thing that would make me look more rebellious to my peers is two full tattoo sleeves and a Hot Topic outfit. When the school car-line patrol (that could easily rival air traffic control at PDX) notices me, I can see their uneasy looks at each other while they use covert baseball signals and reach for their walkie talkies.  I'm not kidding when I say that one of their bullet-pointed rules is, "You have 10 seconds to get out!"  But I can honestly appreciate that if they run a car-line in that controlled of a manner, then there is probably a whole lot of learning getting done in those classrooms.

The other major thing I was unprepared for was getting used to a new teacher who reminds me of a 26 year old version of myself. While she was talking 100 miles an hour and proudly proclaiming her credentials which happened to include my alma mater, I literally had visions of her smuggling peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate into a football game at 11:00 am after a week of skipping classes.  Seriously, the coffee on her desk was starting to look a little suspect.  I'm not judging that though - it takes a brave soul to face twenty 5 and 6 years olds all day! Even if her coffee were "special", I wouldn't blame her!

Of course while I was listening to her spiel on her personal educational philosophy on parents night, I was thinking what every parent thinks; "I wonder if she knows how special my kid is? I mean, I wonder if she knows that he's not regular special like the other kids....he's advanced special"  I wanted to raise my hand and ask but another bullet-pointed rule the school made clear was "no child-specific questions on parent's night."  Lucky for me, Emery's teacher had given each parent a questionnaire to fill out about their child where we could all brag explain why our kid is advanced special. Do not be fooled people, this is not a questionnaire....it's a test!  This is how a teacher decodes it:

First to turn yours in = Type A parent.
Not enough description = Under involved parent
Too much description = Over involved parent.
Last to turn yours in = Disorganized parent.

And since I was so sure his teacher had CIA level decoding skills, I decided to give her my own little test!  We were asked to write down 5 words that best describes our kid. 

What I wrote: Sensitive
Decoded: This actually served more as a warning than a descriptive characteristic of Emery.  He's sensitive in that if you ask him to do something he should be doing anyway (ie - picking up his own mess), he will turn on the tears and use some sort of backwards voodoo logic that makes you feel like you stifled his creative process and prohibited him from freely growing in an environment without limitations. Trust me Mrs. Teacher, you will be cleaning up Emery's mess while you apologize to him that your people oppressed his in the 15th century.

What I wrote: Social
Decoded: Good luck getting him to shut his mouth....ever. The kids talks. A lot. Always. And if you happen to get a word in edgewise where you can politely ask him to be quiet he will say, "Okay, I'm being quiet now.  Do you hear me being quiet? Do I get a prize?"

What I wrote: Analytical
Decoded:  Get ready  to answer a whole lot of "Why?" questions! Why does red mean stop? Why does green mean go? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why does mommy drink so much?

What I wrote: Caring
Decoded:  As in "He cares about his video games." But since this questionnaire is a test, I can't tell you that I let him play video games! I can assure you, however, that when it comes to Skylanders Emery cares a great deal!

What I wrote: Focused
Decoded:  He will not hear you when you tell him it's time to do something different than what he is already doing.  And if he does hear you, he won't look at you.  And if he does look at you, he will pretend he is deaf and furrow his eyebrows into a question like you are speaking a lost language. And if you give his 5 more minutes, he will hear 20. And if you figure out how to stop this cycle - please let me know!

Honestly, Emery is a great kid!  But like every kid, he's complex.  And I know that right when his teacher figures him out, he'll be on to first grade with a new teacher!  Am I in for this same process every year for the next 12 years?  All of you more experienced moms are probably laughing at me right now!  That's okay, my turn will come....

Looking sharp next to the ladies!

New Rules for Pinterest & Instagram

There really is no natural way to segue back into a blog that I've been ignoring for almost a year, is there? Every great once in awhile (and I'm using "once in awhile" as a hyperbole here), I get asked why I don't blog as much.  And of course my response is always, "Well mom....I'm busy raising your grandkids!" I may have explained this before, but when I started writing this whole thing years ago I had this vision of a virtual scrapbook to share our life with the world as so many other moms do.  Every picture of our daily outings would be perfectly staged highlighting all of the amazing fun our family has when we're not even trying! We'd look adorably candid in our matching outfits while we walked hand in hand through wheat fields, on railroad tracks, and in front of rustic barns, all while we drank from mason jars with striped straws. Eventually, I was going to have it all printed into a book so that I could give it to my children as they left for college to remind them how wonderful their childhood had been!

Then, one day, I realized with a giant sense of freedom that our life isn't Pinterest or Etsy....and that's okay. For every picture I post of Emery smiling with a new Karate belt, I could post another 20 of me pulling him off his game of Skylanders while he screams, "I don't want to go there today! I want to play video gaaaaaaaammmmmmees!" And realistically, the chance of the kids and I having coordinating outfits is slim to none unless princess Belle clothes come in adult size or I decide to start sporting Crocs on a daily basis. I don't even own mason jars! So instead, my blog took a left turn where I started writing about how crazy my kids are and about how they live in a world where up is down, left is right, and my prayers start with a simple plea for sanity. And that, after all, doesn't make a very good "off to college" present now, does it?!

Speaking of Pinterest, if I owned that website (and it's been stated before that Satan does to which I totally concur) I would require that every craft had a difficulty rating and a picture of the mess that will be left behind in it's wake.  Then I could more realistically decide if digging out a Micheal's coupon and dragging two kids through a store where they get distracted by Christmas decorations in July and start screaming out their list to Santa while I'm rummaging through ribbon bins to decorate some cake stand in hopes of getting one good Instagram shot might be worth it or not. And speaking on Instagram, if owned that site I would require that the 45 shots everyone takes before they finally get one that's post-worthy would have to be displayed as a full succession.  Then, I think, we would all feel more like we are on the same chaotic page in life!?  Here...let me be the first to be a little more honest:

Anyway, I think I've reached a place where I can accept that maybe if I put more work back into this blog,  an eventual bound copy may not be the best gift for Emery and Lulu's twenties.  But do you know what?  It might be a good gift for their thirties when they have a family of their own.  I know I had that moment when it dawned on me exactly what I had put my parents through for 18 years.  At least my kids would know that I laughed (sometimes) while I waded through 2 feet of toys in a messy play room and (eventually) smiled when they drew on our walls in pink highlighter.  So here's to school starting and finally having some time to write down and laugh at imperfection once again!  Until then...I'll be hunting down obscure school supplies (Retractable dry erase markers?  Are caps really that hard to put back on?) and counting down the days until I have a three hour window to clean the house without a new mess following 2 feet behind me.

Have a great week!

Jenny

Everyone Gets a Trophy!

Thank the Good Lord above that the election is over!  Let's just say that I spent last night drinking and I won't mention whether it was in celebration or to drown my sorrows.  Who knows, maybe it's just because I like to drink! I'm sure you'll stay up all night wondering? In any case, I love a good a white-knuckle battle! I love the back and forth and I can humbly appreciate a close outcome no matter which side of the line I end up on.  By their very nature, "close call" elections mildly comfort the defeated by displaying their not-to-be forgotten force and humble the victors to keep from getting too comfortable.  Landslide issues rarely create new passion or evoke a sense of personal responsibility to become educated in your stance. So I'll take a good 49%/50% battle any day of the week!  And after spending the last 3 months watching Emery's soccer team (henceforth referred to as "The Lightning Storm!") be defeated with final scores like 20 to 1, 13 to 0, and 15 to -1, it's been awhile since I've sat on the edge of my seat. 

Ahhh....youth soccer; an American rite of passage!  (Honestly, I never played but it sounded like a good opening statement.) This was Emery's very first year of outdoor soccer and it seemed like an awesome idea back in June when we eagerly signed him up. Of course back in June the sun was still shining and I had no idea the commitment I was making to drag camping chairs, umbrellas, team snacks, water bottles, and Lulu with her 20 baby dolls through the mud, in the rain, at 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning. No wonder they have you pay up front! But fear not, all of my effort wasn't in vain.  While I never got to give Emery a high five for making a goal, I did see a tremendous amount of growth in his skills. I mean, at the beginning of the season he could barely make a shadow puppet that resembled a bird while standing oblivious to the game-play around him. In contrast, by the end of the season he could act out entire shadow plays!  Progress is progress, right?! Kidding aside, I spent the whole season waiting for the concept of soccer to "click" for him. Of course, it didn't happen until the very last game where I actually saw some hustle in his step and fire in his eyes!  I kept getting little thumbs-up from the field and huge smiles letting me know that he was really having fun!  Melt my mom-heart. Finally, when he ran to the sidelines for a water break the cheerleader in me bursted out as I screamed, "Emery!!! THAT. WAS. AWESOME!" to which he replied, "MOM!  Did you see that bird?!"  Huh?  It's true - there had been a seagull circling the game and apparently the "hustle in his step" was only an attempt to keep up with his winged friend. (***Side note - I do not know what it is with Schultz boys and birds!  Has anyone else ever had their husband say, "I just love birds of prey! They're so awesome!"  Is that normal?  I think I should put it out there now that if I ever get into a car wreck, you can put money down that Luke was driving, "thought he saw a hawk" and was straining his neck to see it. ***) Emery later told me that the seagull gave him magical soccer powers.  I'm now looking into hiring someone in costume for next season to bring these powers back. Is anyone looking for a job?  Small caveat, I need you to provide your own seagull costume.

The great thing about kindergarten soccer is that it doesn't matter if you make 50 goals or none.  It doesn't matter if our Lightning Storm team ever beats the Lightning Bolts team (neither of which have ever beat the Lightning Strikes team). And it doesn't matter if you spend half the game making shadow puppets or half the game shooting at the wrong goal. What does matter is that if you show up.....you get a trophy. If you bring cool goody bags on your snack week.....you make friends. And if you can corner the coach's wife at the after-season party, you can assure your son's spot on next year's team regardless of his performance. Simple rules, simple rewards, everyone wins. Could you imagine if life stayed that easy? Instead of bickering and gloating on facebook and twitter, we could just hand out participation awards and hug it out over a rainbow snow-cone. We'd know there's always a "next game" and that if we lose that one too....at least we got to enjoy some refreshing orange slices, right?!

I don't know who said it first, but I truly believe the saying, "Nothing is ever as good or bad as it seems." So I offer my congratulations to you blue folks out there, and my best wishes to you red folks! But remember we're all purple folks!  ( Wait, is that what you get when you mix red and blue? You get my point....)

Have a great week!

Stats: Goals: None. Assists: Not Sure. Shadow Puppets: 35

Twenty-One Questions

Seriously.....I haven't blogged since February?? And even then it was about the neighbor's cats.  That, my friends, is what you call a downward spiral.  A real life hang up your downtown dancing shoes, move to the suburbs, have two kids, celebrate birthdays at Red Robin, dress in hoodies for preschool drop-off, blog about your neighbors cats downward spiral. At this point, I'm surprised my daily planner even offers me the option of scheduling events past 8:00pm without throwing up an, "Are you sure about that?" verification page. It's definitely a far cry from where I was 10 years ago. I mean, I used to have the instinct to high-five someone if we scored free drinks, now I have the instinct to high-five someone if Emery makes it into the "no cavity" club every six months. It's just as cool, right?

But it goes without saying, it's all worth it and every parent knows it.  As quickly as I've come to accept that often enough a Saturday night may feel like a Tuesday night in my house, I've also come to appreciate that a five year old's one liners can make me laugh infinitely harder than any of the mischief I could have found in my twenties. I submit to you a challenge; and it's not to tell me whether I should have used a colon or a semicolon there of which I am not really sure.  It is instead to have a five year old say, "We don't talk about fight club!" without it being significantly more hilarious than if an adult said it!  It's just a fact, it will be funnier.  It's like seeing a baby animal picture on Facebook....you know your heart presses "like" even though your finger refuses to press the button wisely saving you from the associated social stigma. These three things are true: I need to relearn the rules regarding semicolon vs. colon, baby animals are cute, and kids are funnier than adults. 

I love the way kids boil everything down to truth.....no sugarcoating, no making excuses, no wondering what people will think.  It's a rare day when Emery doesn't say something that makes me smile. And I don't mean in the, "Ahh shucks, isn't my kid super smart" way.  I mean in the, "Did he just school me using complete nonsense and I can't think of a comeback?" way!  Watching him grow has been like reliving life through someone else's perspective. But it's a crap shoot as to what he is willing to enlighten me with on any given day.  Naturally, looking for some insight into how his mind works, I combat this the same way any mom does....21 questions. "What did you do at school? What did you have for snack? Did you sing any songs? What did you paint? Did you wear your coat at recess? Who did you play with?"

Let me re-live that real life conversation for you:

Me: What did you do at school today?
Emery: I don't know. 
Me: What did you have for snack?
Emery: Cheese or popcorn. I don't remember.
Me: Did you sing any songs?
Emery: I don't think so.
Me: What did you paint?
Emery: I wanted to build something but Mrs. Jones said no lightsabers. 
Me: Did you wear your coat at recess?
Emery: Brian* didn't bring a coat today.
Me: Okay, Ummm.....who did you play with?
Emery: Brian, Cody, and Mark.
Me: Do you ever play with any girls?
Emery: Girls aren't cool.
Me: But girls are pretty.
Emery: What's cool about being pretty? Do you know what's cool mom?  Brian had a Ninjago shirt on, that's cool!"

I love those moments when he catches me off-guard and I realize he's living in his own world, and not mine.  So, while I'm imagining that he's building vital social skills at the monkey bars that will launch him into some sort of successful career, all he's really thinking is, "cool shirt Brian." I need to re-simplify my life like that.  Then, when some adult tragedy occurs, instead of freaking out I can just say, "Red Robin is good." And luckily because we moved the suburbs, there's one close by. Problem solved.

Have a great week friends!

* names changed to protect those not cool enough to own a Ninjago shirt.

That Last Hour....

CAT UPDATE:  They're alive! I finally sunk to the extreme low of taking pictures of random cats throughout the neighborhood and emailing "Cary" a lineup asking that she identify which were hers.   When I eventually got confirmation, I properly introduced myself to "Hancock" and "Chica" (who had indeed been outside) and allowed them back into their much warmer house.  And how do they repay me for all of my hard work?  One guess?  Anyone? The little started throwing up....everywhere.

Other than that, we're settling into our tax season lull where Luke and I spend every night arguing over whether it's worse to be working away from the kids 80 hours a week or worse to be alone with them for that same amount of time.  We usually agree it's a draw. I'll tell you, it does not matter if I am MADLY in love with my children 79 of those hours and feel Heaven's blessing pouring down on me while experiencing extreme gratitude that God would let me be with them for all of their daily milestones!  That last hour.....that last hour... you know what I'm talking about, right?  That last hour where you are sure your neighbors are going to call CPS and you're going to be left explaining to some social worker why your child is half naked in timeout with finger paint in their hair screaming, "I'll never love you again mommy....NEVER!!!!!!!" in a house where the clean laundry pile looks much like the dirty laundry pile and you're zoned out watching some questionable show on ID Discovery. Been there?  Or is that just me?

Anyway, in an effort to divert my attention away from how awful this time of year is for us, I've been planning a vacation to act as my light at the end of the tunnel! The only problem with this is that I'm a woman and we plan vacations like they're weddings!  We have checklists of details that only get more complicated the more time we have to plan.  Given the months I have, I'm not just pricing the big things like airfare and hotel....I have full-on found myself looking at images of food available at restaurants in the vicinity thinking, "I should write down that I want to try that!" I'm not talking about steak dinners here, I'm talking about things like Churros and Carmel Apples because this is the year we're going to Disneyland! Do you know that there are entire websites of people who post pictures of Disneyland food?  Is it weirder that they take and post pictures or weirder that I somehow found that site, browsed it, and am openly admitting it to you now?  I'd say that's another draw....

The biggest dilemma in planning a Disney vacation is that Emery has no idea what Disneyland is!  We did take him to Disneyworld when he was 20 months old, but other than a few pictures of him in his obligatory Mickey ears in front of the castle, it's nothing he really remembers.  So now I need to figure out how to get him completely pumped about going while simultaneously breaking his heart and making him think we're not going so I don't have to listen to two months of, "Is it time yet?"  Talk about a roller coaster!  For example, up until now, he's been begging to go to the Great Wolf Lodge (it's the only kid oriented place he really remembers so it's the default winner) and I asked him how he would feel if we went to Disneyland instead?  He cried. I mean CRIED!!  That was one of those hours.

To combat this I bought him the Disneyland Kinect Adventures game to introduce him to the concept of Disneyland. (If you have a Kinect, this game is awesome!  It's a very accurate virtual Disneyland game).  It worked!!  Now he doesn't want to go anywhere except Disneyland!  Unfortunately, in the meantime I grew even more determined to make the trip somewhat of a surprise so when he asked if we could go to Disneyland I said, "Maybe this year we'll do the Great Wolf Lodge instead." He cried. I mean CRIED!

Yeah, I did this to myself! Why not make 80 hours/week of primary parenting just a little more frustrating to get through?  Pray for me people.....I'm my own worst enemy for sure.

Have a great Tuesday!

PS: If you think that because I admitted we're going to be out of town that I'm opening up my house to being robbed, then I offer this advice:

1. Bring an allen wrench because I'm not replacing our old Ikea furniture until my kids stop pouring milk on our couch.  Trust me, it will cost you more in gas to get here than you'll make in the craigslist market selling our Scandinavian space saving shelves!
2. "Cary" owes me a favor or two and I fully expect that their new family of four will take shifts camping out at my front door watching for suspicious activity.  In fact, asking her to do this is the next item on my checklist...

Do you think he'd had enough?  Poor kid is in a happiest-place-on-earth coma!

At Least Invisible Cats Make Cheap Pets!

I feel like I need to preface this entry by telling you that I adore my neighbors!!  But I am losing my mind this week!  You see, I am "cat-sitting" while they are out of town and this has been the biggest fail of my life!  Where do I even start??

When Luke and I moved to Sherwood, the thing I was most excited about was living on a cute little suburban street with other young families where Emery and Luelle could ride bikes on the sidewalks and play in the front yard.  They say you return to what you know, and that is how I grew up so naturally, it's how I wanted to raise my own children. Well we hit the neighbor jackpot over here and we've been very happy!  In particular, we have a wonderful single mom with two older children living directly next door. To protect her privacy, we'll call her "Cary."  For real, I'm thinking about having Cary raise my kids because she did an amazing job with hers!  Her high school aged son mows the lawn, takes out the garbage, and has incredible manners!  Her middle school aged daughter steals my heart every time we talk.  Maybe that's because whenever we talk she is dropping off some treat she baked and reminding me that she's almost old enough to babysit! And I loved her even more when she was going on a trip to see "America's Got Talent" and stopped by to show me her glitter, "I Love You Nick Cannon!" sign.

Anyway, "Cary" went on a Hawaiian trip about this time last year and came home sporting a rather large diamond on her ring finger. As you can imagine, her 2011 Valentine's Day proposal turned into a 2012 Valentine's Day wedding!  Aside from being very happy for her, what this means to me is that I am now tasked with watching her two cats for an entire week while she and her family are away celebrating in Mexico.  Are you still following me?  Here's the thing....I live next door, we practically share a back yard, and I have never even seen her cats and have no idea what they look like! When asked, she explained that to me by saying they were strictly indoor cats.  Then she asked me to stop by twice a day and give them each a scoop of food. Easy enough, right? The only other instructions I received were that if the little one started to throw up I need to cover the food.  People....this is why I don't own cats!!  No instructions should ever begin with, "If the little one starts throwing up...."

So here is how my week has gone thus far:

Day 1.  Not gonna lie....I forgot to feed the cats.
Day 2.  Morning- fed the cats, Evening - they didn't eat any of the morning food so I didn't have to do anything.
Day 3. Morning - cats still hadn't eaten. Evening - They still hadn't eaten.

And this is where I started to panic!  It slowly dawned on me that I had never actually seen these cats anywhere!  So this is what I am working with:
1. Don't know that cats names.
2. Don't know what the cats look like.
3. Haven't seen the cats in days....or (more accurately) ever.
4. Cats haven't eaten.
5. These are indoor cats that should never be let outside!

What am I supposed to do? Clearly I don't want to be going through people's personal spaces but of course I started an all out search in a cold, dark, empty house going, "here kitty kitty kitty...." only to scream bloody murder when I saw the shadow of what was mostly likely a serial killer lunging at me from behind a closed door.  In a spit second I knew it had to be the same thing that probably killed the invisible cats! Thank the good Lord above, it just turns out that nothing completes the room decor for a 12 year old girl like a life-size Justin Beiber cutout lurking amongst a sea of stuffed animals. (Sidenote: Hey!  We have the same taste in music!)

As you can guess....I still haven't found those cats and am starting to think I am either completely nuts....or my neighbor is!  And I just had to send probably the most awkwardly worded email of my entire life that went a little something like this:

"Hey Cary! Sorry to bother you on your wedding day, but are you sure there are real cats inside your house?  Is there any chance you let them out on accident and can you describe them in detail to me?  I don't want you to stress...I'm sure they'll turn up, I just want to make sure that they get their food.  Again, please don't spend your wedding day worried about this....but is there any chance someone took your cats and didn't tell you? Congratulations!!!"

I bet you thought this story would have a more satisfying end?  Nope! At this point I'm contemplating adopting two strays, leaving them inside and then being all like, "Wait....those ones aren't yours?! How was Mexico?"  Anyone have a better plan? 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Go Shorty.....It's Your Birthday.....

Okay, in order to even write this entry I need to come clean to all of you about a secret of mine. It's completely personal. It's something I try to hide. It's also something my husband would rather keep under wraps and bad enough that he distances himself from me whenever I slip and display this side of my personality.  But today I will come clean.  Are you ready?  Here it is:

My name is Jenny, and I have the musical taste of a 12 year old girl.

Whew, that felt good!  There is freedom in the truth!  I'm not saying that I kinda like Taylor Swift's top 40 hits. I'm more saying that I know most words to all of her albums!  And I only started with Taylor Swift to ease you into my confession.  I listen to Bruno Mars on YouTube, I think the musical choices on Glee are genius, and worst of all.....I think that Beiber kid can sing. Admit it, it's catchy stuff!  Am I going to buy concert tickets anytime soon?  Ummmm.....no!  But if a boy-band slips into Pandora que once in awhile I might give them a quick thumbs up.

Anyway, I had to be honest about that because this morning I was listening to a little Boy band mix that included the Beiber. I only have permission to do this while my husband isn't home and it's a Friday, so why not?  What's difficult about listening to his music in particular, is that it creates internal conflict. I think the songs are innocent, cute, and idealistic but......he doesn't even look old enough to sneak into an 8th grade dance, so I'm not sure why he's singing about lifelong love in the first place?  I bet my mom thought the same thing about the members and songs of N'Sync back when they were my (at the time "age appropriate") idols. I mean, truly....if that kid wasn't a pop star, he'd be stuffed in a Senior's locker....guaranteed! I've lost perspective over time though, do they all start that young? It's kind of like when you watch a movie you haven't watched for 10 years and all of a sudden everyone that used to be older than you in it is younger than you, and also you finally get all the jokes that used to go over your head.  Have you done that?  Yes people...we're old now!   But I digress....

You see, we've had a Beiber backfire that I am going to have to explain to my husband as soon as he gets home and I'm not looking forward to it!  It all started when I had a few songs playing in the background on my computer.

Emery: "Mommy....what's a "Shorty?"
Me: "Ummm.....sometimes boys calls girls "Shorty."  (Sidenote - this is  a weird one for me because that was a derogatory term that I was VERY familiar with growing up and now it's a term of affection?  I was born 20 years too early!!)
Emery: "Does dad call you shorty?"
Me: "No, daddy's not a thug."
Emery: "Can I call Lulu Shorty?"
Me: "Sure, kid....sure. "

But it didn't stop at his sister Lulu.  Emery is now fully believes he has permission to call every female he encounters "Shorty."  I don't know if it's going to be a long phase, or  a short one, but the timing could not be worse!  You see, he's finally making the jump from size 3T to size 4T. If you're a parent of a toddler boy then you know this; when you move into a new size your little angel looks like he takes fashion directives from X-games all stars who have enough room in their sagging pants to keep an extra skateboard or two.  This is also made worse by the fact that my favorite shoes for Emery are white on white Nike Air Force 1's because they match everything! Does it get more pop-cliche than that? So while daddy isn't a thug, I'm now the proud mom to a sagging 4T wearing,  pop culture shoe sporting, "Shorty" calling,  mini wanna-be player.  He'd have mad game except the girls in his class are a solid 6 inches taller and don't want to play lightsaber.  What can you do?  You have to have common interests, right?

In any case, there are worse things he could be calling his little sister so I will mark today a victory by default!

Have a great weekend!