HuJo

I have always been a nickname girl, so when Chris told me our first son's name would be Hunter Joseph, I racked my brain for a nickname. When Hunter was few months old, Chris and I came up with HuJo (pronounced Hoo-Joe) for HUnter JOseph. We called him that for awhile, then it kinda faded, but lately we've started using it again. The other day, I was talking to him about something, and I called him Hunter. He looked at me and said "Mo-om, call me HuJo". So, I guess that means he likes it.... ;)

Up

I took the kids to see Up last Thursday. It's the first time Grace has been to the theater. It was a lot of fun. The movie was great! Perfect for a 3 and 4 year old, so there wasn't too many scary parts! I admit, I cried a few times, but I dare you to see it and not tear up. I had a really good time, it reminded me of going to the Garland with my mom when I was little. We got a large popcorn and pop to share, and I brought little brown bags so they could hold their own popcorn. I love that my kids are getting old enough to do these kind of things, now. The only bad thing was the price, but we went to the matinee, which helped a little. It was worth the $25, though.

Gracie May, What can I say?

Once upon a time, on a Monday long, long, ago (or just last Monday), I decided to mow the lawn. We had a Root Beer tasting party (totally fun group fhe idea) to go to that evening, so I started about 3 to give me plenty of time to shower and get the kids ready after I was done. About one round into it, Hunter comes running over to me, Grace close behind, with a worried look on his face. I stop and ask if everything is OK, and he says "No, Grace locked us out of the house". Grace immediately says "sorry I do that Mama". I think, OK the back door is unlocked, and the garage door is probably unlocked as well. I go check them out, and surprise, surprise, she, in fact, locked all of them. On to the windows I go. All are locked except (look for the irony) Grace's. I pop out her screen, slide open her window, and shove Hunter through to be our hero and unlock the doors. I start to head around front, when I hear his panicked "Mommy!!" I run back over to the window and he proceeds to tell me that Grace's door is locked from the hallway (we have latches to keep them out or in depending on the crime). At this point, I give up hope of making the party, and start wondering how I can hitch a ride with my 2 kids (without car seats) (or money) into town to pick up Chris' keys. I ask to borrow our neighbor's phone, and make the call to Chris. He asks one of his co workers who gets off at 4:30 if she would mind bringing me the key. She said that would be fine, so I decided to finish mowing the lawn while I waited. The only problem was, I was upset and used less caution than normal and ran over part of a stump, which bent my blade. I have no clue about lawn mowers, so I thought I had broken the whole thing. So now I'm close to tears, sweaty, with a 4 yr old asking how come I broke the lawn mower and a 3 yr old saying she's sorry she locked us out. Enter neighbor: He asks if there's anything he can do, and I'm about to ask for either a shot of whisky or a shot in the head, but his son chimes in and says how he's locked his parents out lots of times, and his dad is an expert on taking off hinges. So in goes Justin (my neighbor) into Grace's (messy) room. He takes off the hinges, and Hunter squeezes through the crack (because the door can't come completely off due to the hook on the outside), and unlocks the front door for us. Justin also informs me that you can buy replacement blades for the lawn mower, and that I'm more than welcome to use theirs to finish the job. And we also made the party. The end.

Something Tony Alluded To....

So after reading one of Tony's blogs, I realized something I miss about the climates of places I used to live. I miss being able to take good weather for granted. If I wanted to waste a beautiful day inside, or had to work, or catch up on housework, it didn't matter. Tomorrow was just as likely to be nice. But here, if it's sunny, I feel like I have to drop everything and go outside. If I'm at work, it's worse, because I can't go outside, I just have to stare at the sunshine out the window and wish... Last Monday was my day off, my "day off" actually means my "laundry day". But, it was nice, so I had to go outside or die from lack of sunshine. Did the laundry get done? Well, what's your definition of done? Clean? yes. Folded and put away? no.

Preschool

We registered Hunter for preschool the other day. It's in a private Christian school K-12. Hunter is so excited, he asks me every day if it's time to go to his new school, yet. I'm not sure how I feel. On one hand, I'm ready to see Hunter blossom and grow. On the other hand (and, by the way, there could be six or seven hands), I WANT MY BABIES BACK. I haven't reached the point where I want to run down the street, chasing the bus, but I'm getting there. We'll see how I feel in the fall...

Imagine That!

Ok, I don't have enough to write about under the other name, so I'm switching gears. We finally had another "first" in our parenting. Hunter got really scared last night. I was in our bedroom reading when I heard him let out a screech. He ran in crying and said something scary had "poked" him in the back and made him sit up. I had just checked in on him 10 minutes before that and he was sound asleep, so I knew it must have been a very vivid dream. I hugged him and let him come lay in bed with me until he fell back asleep, then I went and put him back to bed. I can't believe that I'm the adult now. Instead of being comforted, I'm the one comforting. It looks like Hunter must have gotten my vivid imagination. From the stories Grace tells, she's got it, too. Poor Chris!

My Children's "Shoebox"

I have a shoebox on top of my closet that I've had for 12 years and at least 10 moves. It's full of old letters that my friends wrote to me at various times in my youth. Every now and then,I'll be feeling sentimental, and I'll drag that box off the corner top shelf, and reread them. They show me a little bit of what I was like back then. Since I am not the writer, only the receiver, of these letters, I also see what my friends were like. Some of the letters I remember. I remember what I was doing when I read them. There is one from my childhood best friend that I remember reading in the kitchen when I lived in Arizona. I remember it because it filled me with disappointment in the choices she was making, and made me realize we were drifting apart. Another is from my "cousin". I remember reading it sitting in my room in Washington. She is a few years older that me, so I remember feeling somewhat honored that she, a mature high school student, would be associating with me, a lowly 8th grader! There was email when I received these letters, but we weren't quite comfortable using it. There were cell phones, but we didn't own them. These letters are a snapshot of my youth, a piece that I would've forgotten over time if not for them. I've had my current email address for over five years, but not one of my saved emails is older that a year. Does this mean that when I hit 50, I won't remember, nor have any way of remembering, little pieces of my life? And what of my children? They will probably never hand write a letter to any of their friends. Sure, they can save their emails and texts, but will they? What will be my children's "shoebox"?