Ice Cream Truck

The big boys had an ice cream truck visit their school today.  Notes were sent home in advance so that the children would be prepared with money.  I sent each boy with $3 and instructions to return any money that they did not spend.  Houston spent every bit of his $3 (no surprise there) and Hayes returned some money to me this afternoon (no surprise there).  I let Hayes put his extra in his piggy bank.  It is so funny to see how their own characters and personalities show up in every facet of their lives.

This afternoon the big boys went on a bike ride around the neighborhood together.  Hawkins, Holt, and I were sitting outside enjoying the weather while Halle napped inside.  We could start to hear "It's A Small World" playing off in the distance.  Hawk's ears perked up.  Holt was oblivious because he has never experienced the magical ice cream truck.  Hawkins froze in anticipation of the truck as the tune grew louder and louder.  "Can we get some ice cream?" he asked very sweetly with his batting big blue eyes.  What he didn't know, is that when I heard the ice cream truck, I was already planning on getting them ice cream.  I don't think he actually believed that my answer would possibly be 'yes' because when I spoke it, his response was, "Really?!"  It was as if he were actually saying with his one word response, oh my gosh Mom, you never ever say yes.  Did I really just hear you say yes?  Or did I imagine it because I want ice cream so badly?

He jumped up and ran to the curb and began waving his arms, to which mini-me followed suit, though he had no clue what he was actually doing.

The truck was still far down the road but they stood there waving those arms like a survivor on a life raft off the Titanic.  At this point, Holt was feeding off of Hawk's excitement.  Little man could tell that something really mind-blowing was about to take place.  I pointed out the rows from which they were allowed to make their selection.

With ice cream in hand and the giddy kind of smile plastered on their sweet faces, we all headed back up the driveway to take a seat and enjoy their treat. "Mommy, is the ice cream free?" Hawkins inquired. He seemed satisfied with my simple, "No, baby." as he licked his sour cherry bar. Then after a few moments of silence and a couple licks later, "Wouldn't it be cool if it was free?!"

I've already mentioned in this post how Holt is Hawk's mini-me.  He does everything any of his big brothers does, but specially Hawkins.  The other thing you must understand about this dynamic is that Holt argues with Hawkins about everything, even the simplest of things.  Case and point follows:  Holt points at his popsicle and says, "Boo!"  (translation: Blue).  Hawkins corrects him, "No, Holt-y, it's green."  "No!  Boo!"

"HOOOOOOOOOLT!  It is GREEEEEEEN!"  "No!  Booooooooo!"

 

 

Holt spotted an orange cap peeking out from under my car and conceeded this battle (for now).  And once he acquired said orange cap, he cared no more for his sour watermelon that was quickly vanishing in the mid 80s temperatures.  I actually had to bribe him to continue eating his ice cream.  What's wrong with this picture?  I bribed my child to eat ice cream?!  I wanted the sticky red face picture.  Don't judge!

 



Though poor sour watermelon mostly just melted into a puddle of red goo, the boys enjoyed their once-in-a-lifetime occasional visit from the ice cream truck.

Resurrection

I have no idea how to rightfully resurrect a blog but I am going to give it an honest try.  I do wish at some point to go back and update on the highlights that are missing over my hiatus.  I haven't figured out exactly how to do that yet. But I will let you know.

It was never my intention to take such a long break from blogging, but somehow it's been nearly two years since I maintained it at the volume that I desired.  I truly enjoy it and see the priceless value of it as a journal for my children.  I like to imagine that one day they will cherish it.  But I do have 4/5ths boys, so that might be wishful thinking.  And if not, I blog for me and Adam.  If you are a parent, then you know just how quickly these tiny moments are fleeting.  This is my opportunity to stamp these precious memories into forever.  And I also blog for you, family and friends, who like to keep up with the Schwartz happenings.

So let's review how our family has changed in the last two years:

Houston is now 9 and wrapping up 3rd grade.  His growth is still off the charts.  (He wears a men's size 10 shoe.)  He is still quite the talented artist.  "I'm full" was spoken by him never in the last two years.  He is thankfully a fantastic assistant.  He has a compassionate heart towards others.  He is an early riser.  He loves to help in the kitchen, especially when baking muffins.  He is a video game wizard and speaks fluent British.

Hayes is 8 and finishing 2nd grade.  He is still our peacemaker and tender hearted seeker of justice.  He despises when anyone is wronged.  Hayes tears up easily.  All you have to do is tell him something really sweet or something remotely sad.  Like I said, tender hearted.  He adores all things hockey and would rather play with any actual toys than something electronic.

Hawkins is 5 and will be starting kindergarten in the Fall.  The kid has one volume...LOUD!!  He is energetic, wild, spontaneous, fun-loving and ornery.  He is particular with his outfits.  His clothes have to fit just right -- not too loose, not too tight, not too long, not too short or a full out fit will erupt.  He is a picky eater and every bit of the stereotypical pesky little brother.

Holt is 2.5.  He hasn't grown into his big head yet but he is the smiley-est little boy ever.  He is a slow talker but doesn't let that stand in his way of attempting to boss his brothers around, especially Hawk.  His nickname is Captain Destructor.  If left unsupervised for any period of time, he just might leave you a wake the size of Kansas.  He loves to pretend cook with plastic food or real food scraps.  He freely gives and receives hugs and kisses, and is completely attached to his little lamb stuffed animal named Hammy.

And Halle.  Our blessed surprise from heaven.  We were oblivious to the enormous hole we had in our family until she arrived and filled it.  She is the center of all the attention and affection around here.  The boys argue for a turn to cuddle with her.  She has chubby baby goodness for thighs and cheeks.  She loves, loves, loves to sleep.  When she is awake, she is either singing, smiling, bouncing or a combination of those three.

 

Rebekah.  We said good-bye to our beloved family pet just one short month ago.  Poor kitty stuck it out through thick and thin with us.  She has been here since the beginning.  She was a gift from Adam when we first started dating in 1997.  We have had many pets over the years, but she is the only one that we hung on to.  She was never a lap cat but when she wanted affection, she would come find you.  She mewed in the wee hours of the mornings and move articles of clothing around the house as if they were her kittens.  She loved to play with anything small or stringy.  She would impatiently wait every morning to polish off the milk in the bottom of my cereal bowl.

 

 

And finally, the addition of Mercedes.  Oh my!  There is much more to this story that I will update later.  But for now, she is a red tail boa and is approximately 4 feet long.  She joined our household September of 2012.  She is the fulfillment of one of Adam's childhood dreams and the embodiment of all my childhood adult fears.  I still can't bring myself to touch her, much less hold her.  I told Adam one day, "I still don't get the point of owning a snake.  She just stays curled under her rock all day long.  She is so boring."  He very wittingly replied, "Well dear, would you rather that she be highly active?"  Point taken.

 

 



A Christmas Carol

Houston's teacher sent out an email requesting for volunteers to chaperone their upcoming field trip to see a performance of A Christmas Carol at a local theatre.  Since I happened to be on my email a mere thirty minutes after her message hit my inbox, I promptly replied back that I would love the opportunity.  With such a swift response, I felt as though I had an edge on all the other working parents.  I didn't care where they were going, what they were doing, or when it was happening.  I just knew I wanted to be there!

My mother never missed a single field trip when my brothers and I were young.  But, you see, these days, the opportunity to chaperone a field trip in elementary school is not like it used to be.  It is extremely competitive.  I even volunteered to be the room parent one year, hoping that would give me an advantage.  Complete falsehood.  I have yet to be able to attend a class outing with either of my children.  There's been a total of four chances over the last two years, but sadly, my name was "never drawn from the hat".

When the note came home that I had attained a coveted spot, I felt as though I'd won Publisher's Clearing House!  I perused the red flyer twice and gave Houston a gigantic embrace.  I won!  I won!  I finally won!  I didn't hesitate to send in my $8 the very next day, for fear that my space would be filled with another eager parent.

Field trip day arrived.  Parents are not allowed to ride the bus so I met them at the theatre.  Once the kids exited the bus, I joined up with Houston's class on the sidewalk.  There were a sea of second graders!  Teachers were nervously trying to herd their children.  I approached Houston's teacher.  "Where are all my parents?" she frantically inquired.  "I only have four parents.  All the other teachers have ten or eleven," she continued.

And just like that, my sense of good fortune disappeared like a gallon of milk with a threat of snow.  You feel less like a winner when everyone's a winner.  At least I was there!

As we filed into the auditorium, Houston looked at me, giddy with joy, "I'm SO excited!" he giggled.  Truth be told, I was just as excited.  We sat on the second row.  There was a good twenty minutes to kill before the show began, which gave me a chance to socialize with some of his classmates.  I learned many little golden nuggets.  For instance, the fake snow that was sprinkled all over the carpet will magically transform you into anything you want, should it land on you.  It was about that time that she blew her collection of white, plastic flakes at my face.  Another child made known her Christmas list to include, but not limited to, a Taylor Swift CD, an Easy Bake Oven, fuzzy purple slippers, and a hot pink Ipod.

I also deducted through observance that Houston's good friend is a troublemaker.  It was pretty obvious when Calvin (name changed to protect the guilty) was switched from his seat farthest away from the teacher to a spot right near her.  "I thought you'd like a better view," she reassured him as she patted his back and winked at me.  All the while the little girl dressed in all black and seated right next to me continued to bounce up and down in her seat and re-adjust her headband a ga-jillion times.  "I'm dressed in Goth today," she announced before she began sucking her thumb.

As the performance began, the kids quickly settled down.  They became far less interested in devising a way to "accidentally" fall into the orchestra pit.  Ten minutes in, the first spirit visited Ebeneezer Scrooge.  The ghost of Jacob Marley was quite scarier than I remember from childhood.  Houston loved it!  Goth girl grabbed my arm and squealed with fright.  Another student, shielding his eyes, scurried down our row searching for refuge in the lap of the teacher.  He ended up having to leave altogether.  Later in the play, my next-seat-neighbor yanked my arm down when I held my cell phone up to take some pictures.  She scolded me in a whisper, "No flash photography!"  I had already turned the flash off, hence the slighly blurry pictures.

All in all, the play was exceptional--especially being so close.  It was a short sixty minutes, perfectly suited for an eight-year-old attention span.  We grabbed a quick snap-shot with one of the leading role actors and high-fived Tiny Tim on the way out the door.

I can't wait to re-live the experience with Hayes next year, since I now know that the Christmas Carol is an everyone-receives-a-trophy-in-little-league field trip.

Christmas Catalogs

Today was the day my children have been anticipating for nearly 320-some odd days -- the arrival of the Christmas catalogs!  However, little did my children know, that I remembered from last year what a horrible experience this was.  The circling of pictures and making of the Christmas wish list, that is. 

Here's how it went down last year:

As a child, my brothers and I had a blast looking through the Christmas catalogs.  With each flip of the page, we were dreaming of what we would possibly find under the tree on Christmas morning.  Fast forward to 2010.  When the Target and Toys R Us ads arrived in the mailbox, I couldn't wait for the kids to arrive home!  I greeted them at the door with markers and magazines in hand.  I think I actually had visions of sugar plums in my head as I offered the catalogs, chock full of the best toys that retailers had to offer, to the pack of hyenas disguised as my children.  Within a matter of minutes, they had nearly devoured the shiny circulars as if a delectable, lone wildebeest.  The remains were nearly unrecognizable.  I had to intercept a few fists, snatch some markers, and enforce time-outs.  I could not convince my children that an item on one child's list was actually a win for the whole family.

As the toy catalogs began to arrive this year, Adam and I decided to dispose of the evidence quickly and permanently.  Until today.  When I checked the mail, there was another holiday teaser.  I guess I had a change of heart.  Who am I to deprive my boys of such an exciting and joyous pasttime?

Once again, I greeted them at the door with the catalog.  I enticingly offered to Houston, "How would you like to pick out your Christmas list?" as I dangled the fresh meat in front of his face.  His eyes popped open and his mouth dropped.  "I get to go first?!"  He couldn't believe it!  He snatched the catalog and bee-lined for the kitchen.  He ravaged the junk drawer for a Sharpie marker and came up empty.  He settled on an ink pen and plopped down at the table, never even stopping to remove his backpack.  You could see the elation and expectancy grow with each page turn.  The anticipation was killing him as he scrambled to get through the "girls section".  Worry began to set in as he realized he was nearing the end and still had not found anything for boys.

And then the unthinkable happened...he reached the last page.  He was completely bewildered that there was not a single Transformer or Bionicle.  Not even the most basic of boys toys, a truck or a train, were present.  That's when he flipped back to the front cover.

"You can order the dolls to look just like you!" I taunted him.  "And they have every accessory in the world you could think of!  Wanna have a tea party?  They've got you covered!  Wanna hit the slopes for some skiing?  They've got that too!  How 'bout a pet?  So many to choose from!"

He was not amused.  I presume it worked out for the best, considering I'd have to refinance the mortgage to afford such a gift.

Hawk-ism: Where's Mommy?

Adam was being a sweetheart this morning and letting me sleep in.  In my house of loud, rambunctious boys, the only way to accomplish this is to banish them to their room until Sleeping Beauty awakens.  Adam was playing a video game in the living room and the boys had been playing altogether in the big boys' room.  Hawkins emerged and was crying profusely.

Adam:  Hawk, what's wrong?
Hawkins:  <still balling his eyes out>  Where's Mommy?
Adam:  Shh.  Shh.  It's okay.  Mommy is sleeping right now.  What do you need?
Hawkins:  I need Mommy!
Adam:  Baby, she's in bed.  What do you need?
Hawkins:  <still crying>  I need a drink!!
Adam:  <laughingly>  I can get you a drink!

And instantly, his entire demeanor changed.  He immediately quit crying and began grinning ear to ear.

Proof positive that the kids do not view Adam as any form of caretaker or provider, although we really don't know why.

Check-Up Time

Well, it's the second week of November and that means at least one thing is for sure...annual check-up for Houston and Holt.  When I made the announcement this morning, the fear in Houston's eyes was immediate and unmistakable.  He hasn't had a vaccination since he was five.  Nor will he need another one until he is twelve.  This he knows and relies on for a confidence booster with every mention of the doctor's office.  "But I'm NOT getting a shot!" he declares with much authority.  And with a slightly more vulnerable tone he questions, "Am I getting a finger prick?"

I nod my head and in efforts to blow right past that terrifying truth, I offer with a gigantic grin, "And you get to pee in a cup!"  With my affirmation of a needle, that's when the panic began to set in.  You could almost witness the beads of sweat roll down his now pale face.  Since the cup didn't excite him, I felt another distraction tactic was in order, "I'm checking you guys out from school today!"

He didn't even look up from his bowl of Cookie Crisp.

Later that afternoon, as we walked up the sidewalk to Dr. Owen's office, the Funeral March playing in Houston's head was audible to us all.  I filled out the same paperwork for the ump-teenth time while Adam attempted to psych Houston up about the finger prick.  Once I was done with the forms, I pulled up last year's blog post on my phone about Houston and the finger prick for purposes of encouraging him.

"You were very reluctant to hand over your finger for a prick.  However, you finally did and realized it doesn't hurt!  (Just like Mom and Dad were trying to convince you.)  Hopefully, you will remember that next year.  Perhaps we should read this blog before going to your 8 year check up."

He nervously smiled and headed back over to solemnly watch whatever preschool show was blaring on the waiting room television.

I have failed to mention up until this point, although you probably assumed, that the entire Schwartz family was represented today.  We hadn't really thought about the logistics of cramming into an exam room when Adam and I agreed to all go to the appointment.  The open space is no more than 4 x 10.  Hawkins was in the stroller crammed all the way by the window while Houston and Holt sat on the exam table.  Adam and Hayes took up residence in the only two seats.  I stood in the "aisle".  I'm positive the room could not have held anymore Schwartz's.  Should we decide to have another child, I think our pediatrician should consider building a bigger, family-friendly exam room.

"Mommy, Mommy!  Can I wash my hands?" Hayes pipes in over the continual shuffling of weigh checks and height checks and blood pressure monitoring and head circumferences.  I'm not sure what it is in my second born, about the doctor's office that sparks a newfound passion for hygiene.  Due to the fact that we're snug in there like a jigsaw puzzle even without the two additional nurses, I asked him to wait.

Enter "Bug Lady".  That's what our kids have nicknamed the sweet nurse from the patho lab that comes in to prick fingers.  She got her name because she tells the kids that she is checking their blood for bugs.

Houston objected to every finger she wanted to use.  "That's my gamer finger!" he protested.  He began to beg.  And grovel.  Then he resorted to crying.  I decided to let her go ahead and prick Holt since Huey was having difficulty with accepting reality.  Commence Holt crying which made Hawkins cry.  Holt was screaming, Houston was crying, Nurse Julie was repeating "It's okay, it's okay" and the Bug Lady was calmly requesting "Let me see your finger.  It isn't gonna hurt!"  Adam and I were very sternly suggesting for Houston to man up and stick a finger out.  The poor kid in the exam room next to us probably thought that someone was getting their arm chopped off with all the sounds of anguish exuding from Room 12.

Adam managed to pry a finger out of the deeply clenched fist and that's when the bug lady swept in for the kill.  Houston instantly quit crying because he realized, Hey, that didn't hurt afterall. The medical staff departed, quite enthusiastically, and the room was finally quiet for half a minute.  A nice reprieve from the last five minutes of screaming and/or crying from eight individuals simultaneously.  We all just sat there, catching our breath and re-hashing in our heads, what in the world just happened?!

Hayes broke the silence first.
"Hey, Mom, can I was my hands now?!"


Here's Our Stats:

Houston
54.5" tall  96%
92 pounds 97%

Holt
30.5" tall  75%
22.10 pounds  50%
49.5 head circumference  97%

Holt is 12 Months!!

So, we had a pretty busy month and I kind of neglected to write down your achievements from this last month.  And since I am writing this on the eve of your 13th month, that doesn't help much either.

Here's what I can say in all certainty...

Not much changed this month.  You're getting better at standing unassisted.  You're up to twenty seconds or so without falling down.  You like to practice walking while holding on to both of my hands.

You've become a bit of a food snob.  You no longer eat bananas.  I guess I've fed you too many of them over the last few months.  However, you love to throw the chopped up pieces on the floor.  Your brothers think it is hilarious.  In fact, this is what you do with all of your meal-time offerings that you decide not to eat.

You are drinking a few whole milk bottles a week as I am beginning to wean me and you from breastmilk.  You don't seem to care one bit which I'm not going to lie, saddens me a little.  However, it is great that this transition is easy for you.

You have perfected the 'stink eye'.  You are constantly furrowing your brow at things/people/situations that displease you.  I'm afraid that I taught you this because that was one of my silly faces that I used to flash you.  I just hope it doesn't sink all the way into your personality.  That could cost you a lot in therapy down the road.  Oops!

You're still a Mommy-addict.  We're in the process of searching for care groups to curb this pattern of behavior.  (sarcasm, people)  No really, but we are researching some kind of child seat hip implant.  We figured that would save my arms from falling off having to hold you all the time.  Unfortunately, the implant is only available on the black market as of yet.  Something about the titanium coating on the four inch bolts, that are manufactured in Taiwan, which have the ability to cause dysentery.

You're still not talking.  Not even Mama or Dada.  You make those sounds when you're babbling but it doesn't mean anything, yet.  Everything is 'eh' or 'uh'.  And if you really, really want something, it's 'eh, eh, eh".  I can't wait for verbal skills!  Well, at least, 'Mama'.

I guess I did a good job remembering afterall!  Your Dad and I, along with all your brothers, love you so, so very much.  We are so blessed to have you in our family.  I can't believe this first year has come and gone so quickly.  We look forward to this next year as we really get to see your personality begin to blossom.  You will learn to navigate the world on two feet and to speak up for yourself.  And trust me, around here, that is very important!  This next year will be full of so much adventure.  Just wish there was a way to slow it all down.

You are wonderful in every way and there is nothing your Dad or I would change about you!