happy father's day

Today (although technically it's Monday, seeing how it's only 10 minutes after midnight, I still feel it's Sunday to me) is Pook's day to shine as a father. I wish I had made him a card and given him a cool present, but I didn't. I stopped making father's day cards (and any other cards) a while ago. My attempt seemed to be useless, seeing how he appreciated my words and actions more than a card and seeing how he never saved them but only set them down where ever he happened to be after the prerequisite "aww, how nice!" comment.

I think his partagas cigars and bike ride with BedHeadSid (BHS) were more meaningful to him as a father. Which is okay with me. I'll just love him and be thankful he's in our lives and loves his family so.

He takes pride in being a father, in being the father of this family, and no commercial holiday is needed to remind him of our appreciation. When Pooks leaves for work, we wish him a good day and kiss and hug him fiercely, hoping our love helps him manage through the day. We miss him terribly when he's gone, and although we are whole people on our own, a part of us is "out there," an understanding that denotes something is "missing" -- the balance of our family is slightly askew. So when Pooks comes home for lunch and from work, our collective "Daddy's home! Hi, Daddy!" greets him, along with hugs and kisses, and we are genuinely glad to see him back home, safe and sound. If we had tails, we'd wag them. That's how much we love our Pooks.


Happy Father's Day!

I Said the Seersucker Suit, Mommy, Not the Chambray Shirt!

It amazes me how much the boys have grown. BedHeadSid (BHS) is thick around the middle, trunk-like, and growing taller, ever more the "young boy" body, no longer the toddler/preschooler munchkin. I've seen his baby/toddler pictures lately, and he's grown so much that I am floored to think he was so small, so fragile, and so infantly sweet. So difficult to think these pictures were only a few years old.

Just the other day, BHS was wondering what a comedian is. I gave my answer, but what was surprising was his reasoning and recognition of self and self-action: "Oh, you mean like earlier today when I said all the good behavior is from daddy's side of the family and all the bad stuff is from your side?" What could I say? It's never pleasant to be outwitted by a seven-year old, let alone your own. I did what any self-respecting parent would do, I lied: "NO, what you said was an innocent remark that you were unaware of." While Pooks laughed out loud and chuckled that it was straight out of the mouth of babes, BHS looked at me intently. He might as well of said "R-i-i-ght, mom," but he had the sense to keep quiet and eat his lunch. Everyone's a comedian at my house.

Inevitably, StinkyHeadMonkeyToes (SHMT) is growing up too. He is communicating his will, humor and temper with great emotion and personality. Funniest thing is SHMT's particular need to dress according to his will. He will not, absolutely will not wear something that does not please him. Every day, I get him dressed a bit earlier than usual knowing there will be this stage of deep sartorial (that's my new word) scrutiny.


He obsessed over his shoes for the longest time, wearing only wear his Spongebob sandals - until they stank and I had to throw them out. Then it was his leather giraffe booties. Forget that they were all scuffed with holes at the toes. He wouldn't wear anything else for the longest time. Finally I got fed up, forced him to go shoeless into the car, and broke out another pair shoes when we were far from home. Check and mate, baby. Who's your mommy? Now he's a bit more flexible about other shoes. But don't ask about the clothes, okay?

Okay.


SHMT's godmother Tia D stitched these beautiful patches and beads onto Levi jean jackets for the boys. They look soooo cute, and they just love them! They've been wearing them every day now. We couldn't get SHMT to take his off the first day! So we let him sleep in it, but by the third day, I had to take it off when he spilled water on it. He seemed to be okay with that until nighttime. I swear he woke up in the middle of the night, pointed to the closet, and started hollering because he didn't have his jacket on. It took me hours to console him. Unbelievable...

A Capitol Day

A boy and his ever growing pet chameleon

Sid enjoying "Charmander" -- his amazing "growing" toy from Mexico, courtesy of Auntie Lo-Lo. Thank you Auntie Lo-Lo, Charmander grew up on our front porch for a week, and Sid loved every moment of it. Too bad we didn't snap a shot of it at the pupa stage -- it was tiny, like my pinky!

Pooks and I let him (Charmander) live out his last days in the shower a few days ago (scared the hell out of us every time we drew back the shower curtain!!!), but he's not been seen since. Rumor has it, he hooked up with a rogue skink and hightailed it to the river via the sewer pipe. Some swear he's headed back home where the margaritas are cold and the chicas are hot, hot, hot! Vamos con Dios, Charmandito, vamos con Dios...

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