houpley

This is it. This is the moment. I am sitting on the far corner of the couch and you are curled up like a kitten on my chest. Still sleepy. Fresh from your afternoon nap, your mop of bedhead rests just under my chin, your arms at my sides. It is silent. We say nothing. There is just holding. There is just being held. Suddenly from the right, the setting sun bursts forth with its last call. In its slow fall toward the horizon, it has slipped a step and stretches between the tree branches and through the blinds. Its last breath casts a warm glow across the whole room. It catches the top of your head. It cuffs you on the ear. It holds my hand on your back. It has captured something. Something I know that in seconds will disappear behind the tree branches. The ones already turning black in their Sunday-evening silhouettes. And I realize this is it. I am still, but my heart races. I run my fingers through your hair, quickly before we lose the light. I watch the sun rifle through it like late...

Jackson discovered his piggy bank. He has also discovered an amazing ability to find loose change all over our house. Dimes, pennies, apparently they are hiding everywhere. At least in hidden places a three-year-old frequents. We explained that he may save his change and at the end of each month he may take one dollar from his treasure to purchase any item he would like from the Dollar Store. The rest will go into his own savings account at the bank. Each month it will start all over again. He agreed to the deal and finally at the end of the month he carefully placed his quarters into a zip lock bag and carried them into the Dollar Store. You would have thought he had won a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. He was practically giddy and could only just contain himself. He danced into the store and right away he latched onto a bag of jelly beans before even glancing around and I had to intervene. We decided to do a little browsing before making any heavy decisions. Ev...

Truly enjoys reviewing his cards over and over. It's good for the self-esteem. I choo-choo-choose you.

(warning! spoiler alert!) With nary a single contraction in the colorful dialogue, the movie stays so true to the book, we felt we had read the original piece afterwards. The Dude skillfully brings it home one-eyed-Rooster style like nobody's business, and the Arkansas references made us smile even causing one audience member (not us) to audibly provide a Hogs shout out. The horse dies; I sobbed. We give this movie four out of five apostrophes.

Daddy? You should listen to a three-year-old sometimes.

While I was folding laundry, Jackson wandered into the room playing with his toy airplane. I asked him to take a pair of Eric's rolled up socks to the sock drawer for me. He said, "No, mama. I'm playing with my airplane right now." So I playfully tossed the socks to him anyway. Apparently during the time the socks left my hand and landed in Jackson's general direction, he became 13 years old. He looked down at the socks now resting at his feet, then up at me and said: "Really, mama? You're going to throw those socks at me? Really?" -

Mama, do you know what is 'dramatic'? This is dramatic: WAAAAA! WAAAAAA! That's dramatic.

Mama? Can I have some of my Skittles? Yes, you can have a few. (quietly munching) Mama? How can I get these Skittles out of my belly? Out? Yes, how will they get out of my belly? Well, I guess ... when ... you ... go to the bathroom? (I immediately regretted my answer as I instantly foresaw unsanitary fact-finding missions in the bathroom. But it was too late. The damage was done.) There are Skittles in my poop! No! I mean ... no. Not really. They are kind of ... well ... Oh mama! I know! They're melted in my poop? Right. Melted. - If I can't even handle a poop talk, how will I handle the birds and bees?

Jackson, can you hear me? No. Can you hear me like this? No. Can you hear this? No. How about this? No, mama. I can't hear that. Right. -

Mama, I am all about construction. Yes, I know. When I grow up, can I be a construction man? (sigh) Of course you can. Mama, I want to be an engineer. Oh yes, let's be that. I want to be an engineer AND a giant excavator man. Well, you can always have a double major. -

We are in the process of remodeling the hall bathroom. Something that we have divided into four phases. Phase two was last weekend and involved putting in a new vanity and then realizing we needed a new toilet as well. I'm sure we made more than 15 trips to Lowe's during this ordeal. While Eric and his friend worked on installing, uninstalling and re-installing things, Jackson was in a frenzied state. He loves nothing more then helping, observing and working with Daddy during home projects. And whenever safety allows, Eric is always willing to let him participate. But there were a few stages of the project - specifically when it came time to use the saw - that meant Jackson had to stand back. Not one to consider this restriction a set back, Jackson set to work on his own project. I gave him a few of the big pieces from the giant cardboard box the new vanity came in and explained that we needed several holes put into it. Jackson agreed to the task. I left the room having no idea...

Jackson has been reviewing his collection of Valentine's from his friends. He takes them all out of his little bag and studies them over and over again. He really enjoys looking at the pictures and discussing their various features. The other night while perusing the tiny cards, he slowly started to examine one in particular. I thought he was inspecting the mermaid floating across the top but instead he was studying the letters below. "Mama!" he shouted. "This one is from Kelsey. Look it says 'Kelsey'." "Let me see," I examine the pink and blue Valentine. "Why yes, it is from her. Jackson! Do you know what you just did?" "What?" "You just READ her name," I shout, practically jumping up and down. "You were READING!" There was a long pause while Jackson processed this new piece of information. Or at least I thought that's what he was doing, when he finally lifted his head from inspecting the card and wi...

It's official. We are grown-ups. Eric and I now have yearly appointments to a dermatologist. Being pale and freckled, I started going two years ago. With weekends at the lake, visits to Gulf Shores, Ocean City, hanging at the pool and maybe even a few tanning beds (like maybe once before prom...ok twice...seven times....) I've collected plenty of sunburns in my portfolio of skin damage. I stopped sunning ages ago, slap on the SPF and am as pale as the piles of snow we are still digging out of. I've tried to learn to embrace my paleness. But those rays from bygone days are catching up with me. So much so I had to have a few freckles removed. While they weren't unsightly, they were something to catch early. But did it have to be Valentine’s Day weekend? So for our romantic dinner that same night, we made reservations for three: Eric, Me and the band-aid slapped across my face. And I'm not sure if it was the sheer thrill of being able to go to a restaurant that didn...

Not sure if you remember our previous adventures with Peter Rabbit?( http://houpley.blogspot.com/2010/04/stop-leaf.html ) But with this outrageously cold weather we have been having, I was getting a little worried about him and his home underneath the deck. And while he and Eric may disagree about who is actually in charge of the tomato garden during the summer months, it has been below zero for days and blizzard conditions for weeks now and I hated to think of him hungry and cold. So the other afternoon I sprinkled a little bit of bird food on the mound of snow that is currently our deck. We waited. And waited. I started getting nervous. I could see the greedy, beady eyes of the squirrels starting to eye the sprinkling of seeds from the corners of our yard. You know how they always beat everyone to the buffet. So, were was Peter? Was he a rabbit-icicle? Were we too late? Sure enough, just after sunset, Peter was very grateful.

Jackson, don't chase the dog with your balloon. Ok. Jackson, don't chase Elvis with your book. Ok. Jackson, do not chase the dog with your truck. Ooooo-kay. Mama? Yes. Can I chase him with my feet?

Yes, it is the saddest little sled you ever did see. However, he had a blast. We have no proper sledding devices. So, I sprayed Pam on the bottom of an old cookie sheet. Turns out we had no rope or twine either so I folded up some duct tape and threaded it through the hole. I pulled the boy down the street in this ridiculous homemade ride. But to him it was a chariot fit for a snow-king. And it also made a perfect batch of snow cookies. Mandatory snow angel pic:

Jackson got a camera for Christmas. Ever wandered what the world looked like from a three-year-old's perspective? Check it out: http://www.flickr.com/photos/73102019@N00/sets/72157625813349627/

You are so very clever. No, mama. I'm not clever. I'm Jackson. I know. I meant you are clever. Clever means intelligent. I am not intelligent. I'm Jackson. I am your son. You know this.

Hey Mama? Yes. When I was a baby, I was in your tummy. That's right. And when I was in there, it smelled good in there. It did? Uh ... What did it smell like? It smelled like cookies.