On Running, Taking Responsibility, and Putting Mama in her Place:
This week, we have awaken to a few mornings wrapped like gifts: warm and dressed in bright colors. Eager to partake in such a present, we have donned our tennis shoes and spent our days running: with the jogging stroller; through parks; and on Thursday, sprinting down a cubicle-lined hallway at Jason's office. Audrey has yet to go to a corn maze, but each time I take her to the library, I imagine she feels as if we've transported ourselves to a mythical labyrinth of aluminum and bound-paper walls. I can only assume that somewhere hidden amongst the stacked volumes, is a long-lost treasure that Audrey is determined to find. I have no other explanation for the banshee-style running and screaming between aisles that occurs during most outings to the library. Of course, Jason had not yet witnessed this phenomenon. And I had not realized that there was a place quieter than the library where such an event could occur. Until Thursday.
Thursday was Take Your Child To Work Day at Jason's office. Jason works on the first floor, but when we saw the bathroom on that floor was closed for cleaning, we made a beeline up the stairs, where it appeared that they were not participating in Take Your Child to Work Day. No sooner was Audrey out of the bathroom, when she noticed an open cubicle-lined hallway and made a run for it, screaming as she realized that Jason was on her tail. At first, hearing no noise other than screaming, I assumed everyone was still at lunch. Then, I heard a snicker. Then I looked right and left. All the cubes were full of working people glued to their computers. Silent working people. Information Technology people. The quietest workers on Earth - descendants of silent orders of monks, I'm sure. And our little blond, dressed in brilliant yellow, screaming like a shining firecracker flash down the grid before we were able to trap her halfway down the second aisle.
As much as we've been stretching our legs this week, the most memorable moments have come when Audrey decides to give her two cents worth:
While at the kitchen table Monday morning, Audrey looked at me very solemnly and said, "I'm sorry, mama, it's my fault." I have no idea what she was taking the blame for, but apparently, she felt the only way to atone for the sin was to repeat this phrase mantra-style throughout breakfast.
Monday night, Jason asked her if she had wished me a Happy Birthday. Realizing that she hadn't, (and always willing to let me know where I stand on the totem pole) she came over and said, "Happy Easter!"
Thursday night, she bumped her right eye while playing. At dinner, I noticed a red bump below the eye and mentioned it to Jason. She hadn't seemed to be bothered by the fall and we had assumed that she must not have hit hard. Catching onto what we were saying, Audrey started to whine, shriveled her face into a wince and said, "this eye hurt," as she pointed to her left eye.
This afternoon, I was trying to send a quick birthday email. As I typed, Audrey was giving me a detailed description about something she planned on doing. I heard her say that she was going to get in the water, I was going to get in the water, and dinosaurs were going to get into the water. Then I heard her say, "I'm talking to you." Oops. I guess mamas should know when a little eye contact is in order.
And, since I never got a decent birthday email completed, I want to say a very late-in-the-day Happy Birthday to my big sister! I hope you had a good day, with little running, few responsibilities, and several people putting you in a well-deserved, relaxing place (preferably one with great dessert and gifts). Love you!
A Happy Weekend to all!
This week, we have awaken to a few mornings wrapped like gifts: warm and dressed in bright colors. Eager to partake in such a present, we have donned our tennis shoes and spent our days running: with the jogging stroller; through parks; and on Thursday, sprinting down a cubicle-lined hallway at Jason's office. Audrey has yet to go to a corn maze, but each time I take her to the library, I imagine she feels as if we've transported ourselves to a mythical labyrinth of aluminum and bound-paper walls. I can only assume that somewhere hidden amongst the stacked volumes, is a long-lost treasure that Audrey is determined to find. I have no other explanation for the banshee-style running and screaming between aisles that occurs during most outings to the library. Of course, Jason had not yet witnessed this phenomenon. And I had not realized that there was a place quieter than the library where such an event could occur. Until Thursday.
Thursday was Take Your Child To Work Day at Jason's office. Jason works on the first floor, but when we saw the bathroom on that floor was closed for cleaning, we made a beeline up the stairs, where it appeared that they were not participating in Take Your Child to Work Day. No sooner was Audrey out of the bathroom, when she noticed an open cubicle-lined hallway and made a run for it, screaming as she realized that Jason was on her tail. At first, hearing no noise other than screaming, I assumed everyone was still at lunch. Then, I heard a snicker. Then I looked right and left. All the cubes were full of working people glued to their computers. Silent working people. Information Technology people. The quietest workers on Earth - descendants of silent orders of monks, I'm sure. And our little blond, dressed in brilliant yellow, screaming like a shining firecracker flash down the grid before we were able to trap her halfway down the second aisle.
As much as we've been stretching our legs this week, the most memorable moments have come when Audrey decides to give her two cents worth:
While at the kitchen table Monday morning, Audrey looked at me very solemnly and said, "I'm sorry, mama, it's my fault." I have no idea what she was taking the blame for, but apparently, she felt the only way to atone for the sin was to repeat this phrase mantra-style throughout breakfast.
Monday night, Jason asked her if she had wished me a Happy Birthday. Realizing that she hadn't, (and always willing to let me know where I stand on the totem pole) she came over and said, "Happy Easter!"
Thursday night, she bumped her right eye while playing. At dinner, I noticed a red bump below the eye and mentioned it to Jason. She hadn't seemed to be bothered by the fall and we had assumed that she must not have hit hard. Catching onto what we were saying, Audrey started to whine, shriveled her face into a wince and said, "this eye hurt," as she pointed to her left eye.
This afternoon, I was trying to send a quick birthday email. As I typed, Audrey was giving me a detailed description about something she planned on doing. I heard her say that she was going to get in the water, I was going to get in the water, and dinosaurs were going to get into the water. Then I heard her say, "I'm talking to you." Oops. I guess mamas should know when a little eye contact is in order.
And, since I never got a decent birthday email completed, I want to say a very late-in-the-day Happy Birthday to my big sister! I hope you had a good day, with little running, few responsibilities, and several people putting you in a well-deserved, relaxing place (preferably one with great dessert and gifts). Love you!
A Happy Weekend to all!
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