Our Summer of Baseball

The song is "Pop Fly" by Justin Roberts

Headsong Friday: Willy Was A Whale

Today's headsong is inspired by one of our favorites, Justin Roberts. From the time Joe-Henry was an infant, whenever we ran errands, I'd put in a cd. Someone had suggested "Wee Sing", and I purchased it, then quickly realized that I wanted to tape cinnamon rolls to my ears so I wouldn't have to listen. When Joe-Henry was not even a year old, I picked up Justin's cd Great Big Sun, followed quickly by Yellow Bus. I'd put Joe-Henry in his highchair while I got dinner ready, and he'd rock out. One of his first words, after listening to "In The Car" was "AGAIN!", until he learned how to say "REPEAT!"
To add some icing to the whole deal is Justin and his band genuinely love meeting their little fans. We've been to several concerts and he always remembers Joe-Henry, even though it might have been a few years and many concerts for him. The thing that I love the most about his music is how rich it is. It's not simple little tunes - the orchestration is full and peppy, thanks in part to his collaborator Liam Davis and the amazing Not Ready For Naptime Players, and he doesn't "sing down" because his target audience is smaller than he is. His music is full of imagery, and it makes you want to hear it over and over. And it doesn't hurt that his voice sounds just a little bit like James Taylor.

I love this song in particular because I'm a huge fan of puns, and the visual pun of the Weno sign just makes me giggle. Give it a listen, then head over to his website to check out more of his music.

AGAIN!

amazing, but true

One of the kids I have in my group has some real behavior challenges, and he's always saying "I don't like...", "No, Anne", and "Anne's not feeling well" (when he wants me to be sent home!). I had just put him in his third break in a row and when he said it again, I just put my head on my knees, and he put his arm around my neck and said "Hi, Anne." His eyes were pleading and I realized that I just cannot show frustration, because he can't help it. I just have to try a new road with him. At recess he and I had such a nice conversation, and he looked me in the eyes and asked me questions and answered my questions. He slays me.

On a hugely positive note, one of the more severely affected kids in our class made a huge breakthrough today, when it was discovered (through pointing to words) that he could read.

When his aide told me, at the end of the day, and then showed me the note he wrote (with her help) to his mom, I burst into tears.

Then to top it off, I get to come home to my kid, my sweet, happy boy, who is starting (don't tell him though) to love first grade. He snuggles next to me on the couch and tells me about everything, and I am so happy I could pop. It's a far cry from last year when getting him to tell me what went on was like pulling teeth. He's even picked up on the book he started writing last spring break called "A Cat's Adventure." He found the pages he'd started back in April, and looked at his words and said "Mom, I was sort of a babyish writer in kindergarten, wasn't I?"

These kids will be the death of me.

I want to eat my child.

Not actually canibalize him, mind you, but he just turned six, and so he's particularly yummy right now. He gave me the idea to blog. (He and a friend) He blogs all day long, it's just not written down. He just spews forth his simple and profound thoughts regarding anything and everything. Busses, trains, smoking, kindergarten, war.... And he does it all with this merry, untroubled look on his face. Either that, or he's excited beyond belief that he solved it. He solved the puzzle of why people smoke. Or as he puts it "blow disgusting steam". He's beyond obsessed by it - he's so worried about anyone we might know who smokes, and their imminent and untimely deaths. He mourns them in his own lovely way. In advance. "I'll be so sad when they die. Don't they know that?"

Watching his focus as he plays with his trains or cars - wish I had that. Wish I could muster that, for say, the dishes or laundry. Because he's doing his job. And that's mine right now. So what am I doing blogging? Why do I sit at my computer, instead of loading/unloading dishes/laundry, making beds, happily humming while I concentrate all my love and attention on straightening the sheets on the bed? Because it's boring? Well, yes, that's partly it. I'm a procrastinator? Yep, that too. But honestly, it does give me some weird satisfaction to do it, to take care of my family in this way. But I also feel a need to connect with the world, to communicate and to help people. Not that my blog will help anyone, but I hope it might be a meeting place for other moms (and dads) to connect with each other, to feel less isolated, to appreciate what's in our heads so we can truly focus on our kids when we have the chance. Because it's flying by, this time. Before I know it, he will not want to tell me everything. Or, God forbid, anything. So let me get this muck out of my head, so I can listen to him, hear him and appreciate his wisdom and laugh at his jokes.

Last night, my son was playing with a select few of his trucks, trains, busses, and one of the lego people who drives the digger was out of his digger seat (with the hole in his bottom that helps him fit snuggly into his digger seat prominently showing) directing traffic. "Mom, isn't it great that he has two jobs?! He is so happy to be helping people". Then a look at me. We've had lots of talks about my going back to work. I've been fortunate to be home for him. I've done odd jobs here and there, but since our move to a new state last spring, being his mom is my main focus. He started kindergarten in September, and it's two and a half hours. That's just enough time to get the house picked up. (or not). It's not enough time to drive to a place of employment, get some work done, and get home to wait for his bus. Anyway, he said "I'll bet you'd like to have a job. I'll bet you'd be really happy to help people."

I would. I do. I am.

Time to go wait for the bus.