Mr. Fredricksen

My youngest son, age 4, has changed his name to "Mr. Fredricksen" (he got it from the movie, "UP")...so for the last week and a half, instead of calling him Josh, we call him Mr. Fredricksen.  In fact, he even refers to himself as Mr. Fredricksen...so he will correct me if I make a mistake and call him by his given name.  This makes me laugh, partly because when I was pregnant with Mr. Fredricksen, my daughter (age 4 at the time) wanted me to name him Mr. Whiskers. :)

So, Mr, Fredricksen gave me a present for my birthday last weekend.  He had wrapped the gift in beautiful green leaves and pink flowers he had found in the front yard.  I opened it slowly...wondering what treasure he could have found for me.  Inside, I found a cat food coupon for 50 cents off Whisker Lickin's.  Stifling my giggles, I thanked him immensely and told him how much I loved and appreciated the gift.  Mr. Fredricksen just shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal as he walked away and responded, "I found it in the garage."

Dear Grandma

This week marks the year anniversary of my Grandma being "Promoted to Glory." So much has happened in the past year - both good and bad - in a way it seems hard to believe it's been a year already, but in another way it seems like a lifetime ago. I thought it would be fitting to post the letter I wrote to her for her memorial service last year. I really miss her, but know I will see her again someday:)

May 2009

Dear Grandma,

We love you and we all miss you so much already. I struggled with how to begin this tribute and then it occurred to me…I needed to just write you a letter and thank you for everything you did for us and everything we learned from you as your grandchildren.

Thank you for showing us love and the importance of family.

Thank you for being such a strong woman, and raising your daughters to be such strong women, so they could raise us to be strong individuals.

Thank you for making the most fabulous marionberry pie, raspberry jam, and creamed onions that anyone could ever make. No matter how hard we will try, we know that our versions will pale in comparison.

Thank you for taking care of us on days that we were home sick from school and for bringing things over to share with us on those days to get our minds off feeling so bad.

Thank you for Saturday hamburger night.

Thank you for teaching us that everything and anything could be fixed with the help of the tattered, little red screwdriver kept in the kitchen drawer…and I mean anything.

Thank you for all of the music programs, graduations, birthday parties and other events you attended for every single one of us.

Thank you for all the years we attended the “Ladies and Lassies” brunch together for Mother’s Day at Temple. Mother’s Day is definitely going to be different this year.

Thank you for always having homemade cookies and for always giving us a baggie of them for the long ride home from Black Butte.

Speaking of Black Butte, thank you for teaching us patience by serving us just one pancake at a time for breakfast.

Thank you for teaching us the ABC’s by way of the spice wallpaper in the kitchen…”C” is for Coriander, Cumin, Celery Salt…

Thank you for having us over for sleepovers when we were kids and waking us up by saying “well don’t YOU have a good in America” if we slept in late.

Thank you for always walking us out when we’d leave your house. Whether it was walking us to our car and waving until we were no longer in sight…or later on, walking us to the elevator in your apartment. That made an impression on me. I loved you so much for that.

Thank you for our late-night phone conversations after I was an adult. If I felt like talking to someone at 11:00 at night, I always knew you would be up to answer the call.

Thank you for teaching us to love the Lord and to look to Him for strength. I am especially thankful for that this week as we all look to Him for peace.

I know I speak for all of the grandkids when I say I feel so blessed to have known you for my whole life. My life was better because of you, because of the love you gave us and for the lessons you taught us. Thank you, for showing us we had “a good in America”…

Love, Kristin

Happy Birthday to "My Tim"

Our youngest son, Josh (age 2-1/2), for some reason never calls my husband "Daddy"...he insists on calling him by his first name. Now, believe me - there is no doubt that this kid is his Daddy's boy...he is a spittin' image of the man, only pint-sized. But, alas, when he calls to him from across the house, it's, "TIM! C'MERE!" or when his Dad gets home he says, "Tim's home!" We don't really know why...and it doesn't seem to bother Tim all that much...or at least he doesn't let on that it bugs him.

So when Joshy found out it was Daddy's birthday today, he has been telling everyone all weekend that "It's my Tim's birthday!" It's been cracking me up for days, and Josh can't seem to figure out why I think it's so funny. After all, that's his NAME, isn't it?

So, to my husband...the coolest guy I know, my best friend, the one who chose me and loves me no matter what (and believe you me I'm not the easiest gal to live with), and the best "Daddy" to our children even when they choose not to call him that...Happy Birthday to MY Tim.:) Thanks for being born, Fishhead!

Bird is the word

This morning as we were leaving for school, the kids and I found a GYNORMOUS feather from some sort of bird on our front porch.

"What kind of bird do you think it's from??" we all wondered.

"I think it's from a hawk," Zach said matter-of-factly.

"I don't know, it's pretty big. Maybe it's from a pterodactyl!" I offered with a grin, to see what they would say.

"Mom," Zach retorted, rolling his eyes. "Pterodactyls don't have feathers."

Silly me.

Do as I say, not as I do - Example #1

We all have these moments as parents (I hope more people do than just me!) where we say something and then our kids repeat it...or have something to say about what we just said...and then we (sort of) regret saying it.

First case scenerio: We are doing "MadLibs" in the car tonight.

Katie, age (almost) 8, says, "Mom, what is a plural noun?"

Me: "Well, a noun is a person, place or thing. And a plural noun is, like, more than one of those. So, instead of a "butt" it would be "butts." I giggle. (Am I five years old?)

My son, Zach, age 9, in a disgusted voice says, "Mom, that was inappropriate."

Geez, tough crowd.

Don't worry, there will be a lot more of these...I tend to have a potty mouth. Good thing my kids are there to keep me in line.