XOXO

The other morning I wake up to find this note on Bobby's nightstand:

Me and Leah are downstairs just so you know because we didn't want to wake ya. XOXO

Bryce worte this for us. It is great on so many levels!

Smarty Pants!

Let's face it, your kid is either born with brains or maybe they are born with some other special gift. I am so proud of how smart my kids are, but genes were more than half of that battle. And although I do believe environment plays a role in reaching your full potential, some people "get it" faster and better than others. With that said, I still can't help but be proud of my little Bryceman!  

I was cleaning out the closet of doom yesterday, you know the place where all the stuff gets thrown right before a big party, and I came across all of the paperwork I've been saving from Bryce's school work. It's hard to know what to keep, because once your child reaches school age a LOT of paperwork comes home. It is all so cute and seems like a milestone. I decided to only keep really good grade papers. The problem with that is every paper and test is good. It is overwhelming to keep it and he is only in 2nd grade. I decided to throw out many of these papers. I figure his report card speaks for itself. I will keep only a couple from here on out. So the closet of doom can be organized and clean. 

Back to my smarty pants...

I have always thought the kid was exceptionally intelligent, but put it into perspective- I am heads over heels for the kid, and everything he touches turns to gold. We all think our kids are the best, but mine really are! I figured if he was smart, like I thought, he would get exceptional grades and the teachers would all praise him like I do and he would be tested for GATE (Gifted and Talented Education). He has gotten great grades, his teachers say he is a pleasure to have in class, but he wasn't recommended for GATE. 

I was in GATE. My kid is smart. He gets good grades. I wondered if the teachers would EVER test him. But, I didn't want to be "THAT MOM." I work in a school and trust me, there are plenty of parents who think their kids are gifted, and I have seen them in class picking their nose and eating it while staring into space. I hear the teachers complain and get annoyed when every parent thinks their kid should be tested, and I was just going to let it happen or not happen. Brains speak for themselves.

His teacher, who is such an excellent teacher, tells me of his progress. There is a computer program that keeps bumping you up to harder problems if you are getting the answers correct. She was very pleased because Bryce raised his hand because he didn't know how to do a problem. She went to help and discovered he got all the way to division, which they haven't even learned yet!

But still no GATE mention, which to me is what determines where you rank. I still thought he was the smartest kid alive, don't get me wrong, but why wasn't the school on board with my diagnosis?

Finally, I got word. His teacher doesn't test for GATE until Spring, to give the students a better chance at passing the test. But there was a GATE project and she pulled a few of her "hopeful" students out to participate. And guess what? Bryce was one of those potential GATE kids!!

I am excited for him. He needs to be challenged and the extra assignments GATE kids get will be great for him!

This is all said and thought in my head because I don't want him to feel any pressure from me to get into the program. When the teacher told him about the project, he had no idea what GATE even was. But the fact he is being tested is enough confirmation for me....my kids a smarty pants!

Leah's Turn

It was Leah's turn for a trip to the doctor. Bobby and I decided to take a trip to Costco to stock up on food. The kids decided they wanted to ride on the bottom of the cart on their stomachs. Against my way better judgement, I let them. I NEVER let them. I am always the parent to say no because it's unsafe. I keep telling them every 5 seconds to keep their hands by their sides. "Don't put your hands on the floor, they will get ran over." Bobby is also saying they need to get up and not ride down there. We are getting worried looks from fellow shoppers, some even telling us, to "watch their fingers." I agree and tell them again to keep their hands inside. Bobby tells me they need to get up from there.

So against our better judgment and own advise ,we did the most stupid thing...we let them stay there. They were being good. They were having fun. We were being a little cautious by reminding them to watch their fingers, but tradegy still struck. We are the world's worst parents. I just barely moved the cart to the side when it wouldn't move. Like something was stuck under it. I stopped immediately, kind of knowing what it was, but hoping I was wrong. No crying. I stand still for a second. Then Bryce jumps up and says, "She's hurt Mom, like REAL BAD! Hurry she's hurt." Damn it, please don't let it be too bad. I pull her from the bottom of the cart and look at her fingers.

How Bryce knew it was bad is a mystery, because when I got to her it wasn't bleeding yet. Just looked...hmmm...mangled- I guess would be the best way to describe it. I hold her hand up to look, and then see, it's bad. Blood starts gushing from the two open wounds on her two finger tips. The skin on one finger is attached by a flap of skin. The other finger is missing a nail but it is still attached by some skin. I grab both fingers and squeeze them so the skin is held in place and start running to the front. Four Costco workers see me and Leah, who is now crying and come over to ask what I need. I tell them band-aids and go to the bathroom. I'm not sure where to start.

Her fingers are black from the tire. I don't want to put it under water because I'm afraid it will tear whatever is left holding it together. I sprinkle water in it from my hand to get the dirt off. The Costco workers and Bobby help me bandage it. We leave and head straight to Kaiser. I know this isn't going to be good.

Bobby and I both feel awful. We knew better. We got comfortable with them occupying themselves and having fun. The shopping experience was going good because they liked it down there. All the stares of worried people kept creeping in. I knew I should have stopped it. Bobby said we should have stopped it. Why didn't we listen to ourselves? Bad parenting.

Next time Bobby said he is just going to be the a**hole and stop the fun.

The whole experience at the doctor's was awful. She screamed so loud. We had to hold her down while they gave her a numbing shot and stitched her finger. Heart wrenching. She kept begging to just go home. When that part was over we promised her anything she wanted. She picked McDonald's. Whatever you want, babes!

The next two nights were sleepless, as she kept waking in pain, even with medicine. I felt so bad for her. Then we had to take her back to get re-bandaged. I think she is now terrified of the doctor. I asked for stronger medicine so she can sleep better at night.

Now we have to re bandage it everyday. It's sad, but she can make wearing bandages look cute. I hope it heals fast and that the nail that grows back isn't too funky. She's a girl and I know how important polish is going to be.

The one time we put down our safety guard, and this happens. People sometimes tease me for being overly cautious, and this is why...horrible experience!

My Give a Damn is Busted

You ever feel like you have so much to say and then go back and forth with yourself about whether or not it is better to keep it to yourself and move on, or pour your guts out? That's how I have been feeling lately....

I want to tell people off and stand up for myself. I want to be a b-word to many different people. Give them a piece of my mind....then I decide...NO, not going to go there. But then, instead of moving on, it ends up eating me up inside. Not sure if it is better to let people have it, or just live your own life with intent and purpose and really... let everything else go.

It's sad, but I am coming to a point where I feel it's better to care less about people, their lives and their choices. I am always super involved with other people's lives and I think it is somewhat of a downfall in my personality. I really care too much about things that have nothing to do with me and my family. I am a fixer of other people's problems and it's draining.

I think I am going to try to make a conscience effort to "not care" anymore. It will be hard. It isn't in my make-up, but there is always room for change. And sometimes, change is a good thing.

Tattoo Your Name Across My Heart

I have been tossing around the idea of getting a tattoo with Bobby's name for years now. I really don't love tattoos but love what they mean and stand for. I really wanted to get one with his name because it is something that lasts forever and you can take it to your grave, unlike my wedding ring. I had one already that is pretty hidden, but wasn't sure if I wanted one more. But the idea of having his name on me, kept creeping back into my head. Bobby has no tattoos and so getting one was a big deal. We have talked about it forever. Bobby is the type of guy who doesn't like to display his love for me. He just loves me the best he can, everyday...without fancy stuff to show for it. And I appreciate that about him. His actions speak volumes.

We made a bet that if we hit our fitness goals we would go get them done. I thought this was a good attempt to quiet me for a while on Bobby's part. Well, the best shape we got in was for our 10 year anniversary and we were about 10 pounds shy of our goal. Then the holidays came and that bet seemed to go away.

My birthday came and went. Not a big celebration, but that's how I like it.

Then on the Saturday after my birthday, Bobby gets a sitter. He says we are going out to dinner. After leaving the kids, my stomach started to hurt, as usual. Probably separation anxiety. I tell him let's just stay in, but he insists on going out. I get ready and get into the car. He drives and turns in a tattoo shop! I was like, "Are you sure, are you serious?" I was so surprised!!

Needless to say, I now have a "B" where my heart is and he has a "J" on his shoulder, which I love what that symbolizes. Maybe not every one's idea of romantic, but the gesture was sweet. I love it! He will now always be close to my heart [insert mushy sigh here].