Rollercoasters, weddings and comb-overs

Busy, busy week and weekend. 

I shot a wedding on Friday.  It was beautiful, even if the weather almost gave me photography whiplash.  It went from raining, to hailing, to bright sun, to raining, back to bright sun so quickly, I couldn't meter fast enough.  I would literally meter the subject, and by the time I hit the shutter button, the light had changed.   Chalk that up to new experiences this Californian has never photographed before.  I kept thinking of Pacific Northwest photographers and all their rain.   How in the world do they ever take any pictures?  There's got to be a technique I'm missing. 

There were two little girls at the wedding who kept running away every time I looked at them.  They'd sneak and follow me around, and then scatter whenever I pointed my camera towards them.  Finally, the older of the two, dragged the little one over to me and insisted I tell the littler one that she wasn't famous.   I was momentarily confused, until the younger one said "Aren't you the paparazzi?"   Ah...I nodded my head sagely, and turned to the older girl.  "Didn't you know your sister is a movie star? "  Confusion, and vigorous head shaking from the bigger girl.  Because of course wise, grownup little girls want adults to be the voice of reason and pragmatism. No fun! and No pretending!  
"Oh, but it's true." I said "I'm definitely the paparazzi, and you two better run before I catch you and take your picture."   The smile on the littler girl's face was precious as she scampered away.  Plus, I provided them hours of entertainment while I shot the reception, and randomly pointed my camera in their direction.   Win win.

Jamie had opening day and pictures for baseball on Saturday.   I could barely stand all the adorableness!   All those little boys with their grass stained pants, and baseball caps were just too cute.   I totally underestimated baseball.  I grew up in a home that was pretty anti-sports (Hi dad), and I guess some of my father's pessimism rubbed off on me, because really...what is baseball except for a bunch of people running around in pajamas, waving wooden clubs and wearing clown sized gloves?  But Jim wanted his son to play baseball like he did as a kid, so I finally got Jamie signed up (apparently about 3 years too late, but who's counting?).    I had no idea it was going to be so good...and hard!  In a world that's completely dominated by woman teachers (for us preschool, speech therapy, music lessons, CC, and gymnastics are all women instructors) it's interesting to watch the coaches and all the dads out there on the ball field guiding the boys through pushups, sit ups, how to throw a ball...play the game...etc.   Those boys work hard.  Practice is at least an hour and a half long (and often longer) and there's not any standing around.  Jamie is pooped after it's done (hard to do), and that's just the physical side.  I can't even begin to count all the positive life skills Jamie is learning in baseball.  I feel like he's matured leaps and bounds in just a few weeks.   He still marches to the beat of his own drummer, but he's got a patient coach and great teammates.

 

 Jamie and Charlie got epic haircuts from Uncle Jeffy.  Now Robbie looks like a middle aged man with a comb-over in comparison.  

Robbie hates adrenalin rushes.  Hates them.  So different from Charlie, who would intentionally crawl off the side of the bed over and over again, just for the fun of it.  We went to Legoland on Thursday for a fieldtrip (I swear at least part of the day was educational), and Charlie laughed that sort of maniacally gleeful laugh every time the rollercoaster would drop or spin particularly fast.   Robbie on the other hand, gets totally terrified the moment he feels the least bit unsteady, which makes this picture hilarious, because apparently there's a pretty large range of things he feels perfectly comfortable doing. 

Last night I was brushing Charlie's teeth, and he sleepily asked me "Mom, promise me you won't ever become pure evil?"    Wha...?!?  I kissed his little button nose and promised him that I have an ever loving heavenly Father who will never let me stray into pure evil territory.  But thanks for making sure son.   I'll try not to wander even into partial evilness.  Ahem.

Dogpile

The things Jamie can build on mine-craft are insane.   I know it's technically a computer game, but it's so educational that when I let him build stuff while listening to his suzuki violin CD, I almost almost feel like we're masquerading as geniuses around here. 

The weather forecast betrayed me this week.  I have a wedding to shoot, Legoland to fieldtrip at, and a baseball game to cheer through with my might mom lungs.   Wouldn't you know it, all three of those days it's supposed to rain!  Gah.   Hopefully it will be the infamous Southern California storms of terror...i.e random sprinkles.

I'm used to boys.  I know first hand how hard it is for them to sit still.  How short their attention spans are.  How loud and sound effect-y they can be.   What I had never experienced before (until now), was a few hundred little boys hopped up on Pepsi, pizza and cupcakes, crammed into a school gymnasium for two hours with nothing to do.  Holy cow.  And the smell.  whoosh.   It was supposed to be caps night for our district's Little League (a fundraiser where we bid for our uniforms), but what it ended up being was somebody yelling incomprehensibly into a microphone while tons of tiny little man children bounced around like popcorn.  Jamie was suffering from sensory overload, but Charlie was in heaven.  I lost count of how many dogpiles I pulled his sweaty, smiling little body from.  They would just charge at each other, fists swinging, arms tackling.   A couple of (vastly outnumbered) girls wandered by to try and lecture some sense into the mosh pit of hooligans, but they would have had more luck arguing with the wind.   I'm not even sure the boys heard them.  In the end however, operation "get a uniform" was successful.   We won the navy blue and white ones.   I foresee lots of bleach in my future. 

We went to the awesomest birthday on Friday.   One of Robbie's friends turned one, and had a little man party!  It was so cute.   Jim was especially impressed with the chocolate cigars.

 

Violin lessons are on the polar opposite end from baseball.  Where baseball practice is loud, rough and dirty.  Violin is focused, careful and calm (except for the sound of dying cows).   Poor Jamie gets whiplash going straight from violin to baseball on Friday's.  He's doing really well though.  He no longer throws the ball backwards, and he even occasionally hits stuff and throws stuff where it's supposed to go.   With violin, he'd be perfectly happy making up tons of crappy music all day, instead of actually practicing his exercises like he's supposed to.   At this rate, Robbie will be counting "one-e-and-uh" before Jamie is.

Speaking of Robbie, he finally broke in his first teeth!  He's only been teething for the last six months (if the drooling and chewing were any indication), so it was about time. 

I will devour your soul

 

Robbie's doctor's appointment went well today... although working at a doctor's office and living next door to one, has forever spoiled me.   Waiting 45 min for a weight check feels like a collosal waste of time.  All in all it took us 2 hours out of our morning to find out that Robbie did indeed gain weight in the last six weeks!  Yay.

Just for kicks and giggles, I weighed Robbie before and after he ate (you know, because it's pretty boring sitting in those exam rooms waiting for the doctor.  So while Jamie was spinning around the room on the swiveling doctor chair, and Charlie was wrapping himself in tissue paper, I was playing with the baby scale.).  Robbie weighed 18lbs 4 oz before I fed him, and after ten minutes of him wiggling around...not eating well....being super distracted...and basically not interested.  I weighed him again and he weighed 18lbs 12 oz.     So for any other moms out there, who get discouraged their wiggly babies aren't getting enough breastmilk:  6-12 month old babies are eating machines.   You may think they're "weaning themselves" but really they've just mastered the art of downing 8 oz in 10 minutes.

The boys helped me clean the house today...really clean it.  Jamie scrubbed groat lines, Charlie wiped down the wood burning stove.  We didn't make it to the bedrooms, but a clean house always makes me want to take pictures.    I think (my own) messiness stresses me out so much, I can't think properly until it's at least somewhat orderly.

 

(Robbie 9 months) 

 

Jamie lost his front tooth today!  Charlie bumped it, and it was hanging by a thread.  Jim told him it would come out soon, and Jamie asked if it would fall out while he was asleep and then get stuck in his throat.   I paused a little too long, as I mulled that over.  And I had to admit, he maybe did have a point.   I forgot though, that at the point I agree with one of Jamie's concerns, Jamie kicks up the anxiety level from "mildly concerned" to "OMG  MY TOOTH IS GOING HOP OUT OF MY MOUTH AND KILL ME TONIGHT".   After all, it would be silly not to use every little thing as an excuse to go nuclear-ly freaked out.

Crocodile Soup

Robbie is staging a revolt to protest his naps.   When he cries, he looks like a cartoon character.  His mouth is so huge, you can almost see his tonsils when he throws his head back and wails.   The nap strike is my fault.  Poor kid doesn't get any naps on Tuesday because we're gone all day, so on Wednesday he glares at his crib like it's an alien from outer space.  He's in there crying right now.  I'd laugh, if he wasn't so pathetic, because every time I go in to check on him, he's standing without hanging onto anything...he's that mad.   Also, that little tinge of red in his hair must throw him full on into ginger territory, because he turns a brilliant tomato-ish shade every time he gets upset.   Hence his nickname:  Robster the Lobster.   Although he looks a little less lobster-y these days, and a little more like a vengeful nephilim with his kinda curly hair sticking straight up, and his face so red, his eyes blaze almost neon blue in comparison.  Adorably terrifying.

Jamie and Charlie are completely different.  Jamie is watching Babar on the iPad and Charlie is watching National Geographic Dinosaur shows on the apple TV.   The only common denominator is they're both using apple products to watch too much Netflix.   This will be the conundrum for my generation of parents.  How much to limit my kids electronic intake, and how much will I screw them up if I go too extreme one way or the other.  When I was a kid, my parents got rid of TV and that was that.  End of story.   So simple.   For me to do that, I would have to not only get rid of our phones, iPad, computer, laptop, but I would have to make sure they weren't around any friends who have phones, iPad's, computers, laptops or TV's.  Which would leave us with...no one.  Not that I even want to do that.  At this point, I try to make sure that netflix is just a low priority.  Something that can be done after school is over, violin has been practiced, and they've spent hours playing outside building Anasazi villages in the mud cliffs.   But even so, I feel guilty I'm ruining them for life.

Jamie is liking the violin...I think.  He definitely likes it a lot better than I do.  Irony's a bitch.  After hours and hours of listening to siblings screech away,  I swore to my mom that no child of mine would ever play the violin.  And yet here I am.  I don't even like the violin played well.  While I was listening to the Suzuki CD for the millionth time, I realized that I am probably going to be listening to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for at least a year.  Kill me now.
I made him a foot chart, in an attempt to help him stand still.  And while it worked somewhat, he still managed to destroy the poor thing with his wiggling, and at one point, he scrunched it up between his feet and hopped away (after all, I only specifically told him not to move off it).   He loves his bow most of all, and will happily play all kinds of bow games.  His favorite is to stir up some crocodile soup which has shoulder rests, frog tears, and rainbow drops in it. 

 Jim is working from home this afternoon, and I'm not sure I like it.   Normally, his arrival home is the carrot on the end of the stick...spurring me on to clean the house, get a tasty meal on the table, and finish all my projects up.   My goal is to be the happy, smiling wife every guy wants to come home to (peacefully and sincerely happy...not manic, hysterical, fake happy).   When he's already here, the incentive is poof...gone.  I hate not having a finish line.  If I'm going to motivated to do something (i.e. clean the house before my husband gets home), there has to be a decent chance I can WIN, otherwise I won't try at all.  Stupid firstborn tendencies. 

 We went to the symphony on Friday, and accidentally didn't pay for it.  Not just me...but I didn't pay for our whole school.  And I'm the one in charge of that.  Ho hum.   I really try to be a responsible person, but I don't have a naturally structured brain, so I have to tediously build warning systems and shelves in a brain that's like wet banana peels.   Sometimes (clearly) they fail.   Today I called the symphony education director and begged for forgiveness, she was truly sweet and understanding.  For what it's worth, The San Diego Symphony is awesome.  Everyone is super friendly.  The music is amazing.  And they couldn't be more agreeable to work with (and I thought that before they were so gracious about an entire school group attending for free... ((no worries though, I am sending them a check...which crap, I still need to do today))).   Sigh.

While I'm sitting here confessing my failings, I might as well get it all off my chest.   I lost my paycheck from CC too.  Where did I lose it?  In the bank.  Yes, I tore apart my whole house and car, pestered my director while she was on vacation, generally acted like a crazy person, and the whole time my check was in the bank.  Right where I deposited it.   Also, I accidentally triple booked my Friday, thanks to my google calendar not syncing between my computer and phone.  What was I saying earlier about relying too much on electronics?  Maybe I should apply it to myself and not just my kids.

Aunt Patti got a pony named Geronimo.  Jamie is learning how to saddle him, so he can go riding more often.  Pretty much the gentlest horse ever. 

Charlie's got a fever again.

Jamie's front tooth is about to fall out...but in the meantime he looks like a hillbilly.

Robbie has a weight check and shots tomorrow.   Ugh. And double ugh.

(also, notice he's at the stage where diaper changes are like trying to wrestle an orangutan)

  

Channeling Arrested Development

I am pooped.  For Classical Conversations I sometimes put on a huge rockband-esque wig, and a white lab coat.   Transforming me Clark Kent style from plain ol' Mrs. Ramsey into the incredibly crazy Professor Garfunkel.   Throw in a fake Russian accent, and some wild hand motions.... and you've got a hopefully non-boring way to learn science.  Up until today, Professor Garfunkel only made his appearance for five minutes occasionally.    But since we're gearing up for Memory Masters (where the kids try to recite ALL their lessons at one time...perfectly) I thought I'd go through and figure out they were getting stuck.  Turns out science is a weak spot in my student's recitations, so Professor Garfunkel had to make his appearance today for an extended amount of strict science instruction.  

Consequently I hopped around like an amphibian, roared like the mighty mitochondria, and threw myself against the wall every time I said "golgi bodies".  I felt like I was doing an aerobics workout, Jillian Michaels meets Albert Einstein. 

The kids have been really bad about getting in the car lately.   I tell them over and over to get in and buckle up, but they disobey.  They wander around or keep playing...each waiting for the other to obey mommy first.  It's a dangerous habit, because they have a tendency to meander in parking lots like the naive mountain boys they are.   It's hard to snatch them by the back of their t-shirt while I'm juggling a bag of potatoes, a cart, and Robbie.    So this morning I told them they had to listen and obey when I ask them to get in the car, or the next time they will find themselves without the continued nagging to get in the car, and I will just leave.    Jamie grinned, calling what he thought was my bluff, (he should know better by now).  

After CC today, they would not get in the car.  I was loaded down like a pack mule, trying to get everything off of me and into the trunk, and they were running around a tree collecting pine cones despite my frequent requests for them to get in the darn car.   The parking lot was safe and empty, so I got in the car and started off.    Pine cones went flying everywhere, as Jamie and Charlie let out unearthly caveman yells and came tearing after the car.    A mom dropped everything and came running...I'm not sure what she thought, but what she saw was a madwoman clutching the steering wheel with a gleeful grin on her face, with two little boys running behind hollering "I'm so sorry mommy, coooome baaacckk".    I stopped the car, and tried to give her an "it's all cool" hand wave.  She looked a little confused, but the boys climbed in and promised to always get in the car when I asked. 

We ran a few errands, and I must say...they learned their lesson well.   Let's hope it sticks. 

Daddy's boys

I saw this idea on pinterest, and on a whim, I asked Charlie the questions.  Then of course we had to do Jamie as well, to see if/how his answers were different.    After listening to their answers, Jim and I concluded that Charlie must think Jim is a giant, and Jamie thinks he's a 2x4 or something. ;-)

Daddy from Charlie’s Eyes.

What’s Daddy’s name?   Jim

How tall is he?  Big

How much does he weigh?  285

How old is he?  I don’t know

What color is his hair?  Black

What color are his eyes? Brown.  My eyes are brown too.

What does daddy like to watch on TV? Motorcycles and Daddy movies.

Where does he like to go? Work

What’s his favorite food?  Sour Cream

What does daddy like to drink?  Orange Juice

What does he do for fun?  Work on his motorcycle

What does your daddy do with you?  He tells me jokes

What’s your favorite thing about daddy?  Sometimes he gives me candy

Daddy from Jamie’s Eyes.

What’s Daddy’s name?   Jim Ramsey the Third

How tall is he?  20 feet

How much does he weigh?  30 lbs

How old is he?  Old

What color is his hair?  Black   

What color are his eyes?   Brown

What does daddy like to watch on TV?  Lord of the Rings  

Where does he like to go? To Fred’s Burgers

What’s his favorite food?  Hamburgers

What does daddy like to drink?  Rootbeer Freeze's

What does he do for fun?  Go to guys night

What does your daddy do with you?  He plays baseball with me

What’s your favorite thing about daddy?  He’s fun!  

One Short Day

I have been so glad Robbie doesn't have any teeth yet, that I freaked out a little when I realized the little nubs on the bottom are just starting to break through.  Noooo... Out of the three of my babies, he is the biter.   Although, I wouldn't call it biting necessarily, it's more like he doesn't realize his personal feeding apparatus is attached to a human, so when he clamps down and whips his head around to see what everyone is doing....physics don't allow my 100+ lb frame to "whip" around with him.  Yowch.   I can only imagine how much worse teeth will make it.  I worry that I could actually lose a nipple this way, but I'm afraid to google it to see if it's a valid concern. 

 

My sister Lydia was in a production called "A Taste Of Broadway" and Robbie, Liz and I went up for it last night.   Liz had her wisdom teeth taken out the day before, so I thought she was going to be comatose.  Instead she was totally back to normal within twelve hours of having them out.  No swelling.  No pain...nothing.  When I had my wisdom teeth out, I sat in the lazy-boy for days, in my sweats, sobbing, while blood and drool dribbled down my chin.  Life is just not fair.

I assumed Robbie would sleep through the performance.  Which goes to show you how naive I can be.  The word "assume" should be stricken from a parent's vocabulary.    I wasn't sure if they would allow babies in the theater, but there wasn't really anything I could do with him, so I wore him in the ergo, popped the hood over the top and wore a big jacket to disguise the fact I was smuggling in a human.  I ended up looking like a large shapeless woman with a very wriggly belly, and occasional eyeballs that glared out from the depths of my "outfit".   I finally gave up.   He was so tired, he would fall asleep in between numbers, only to sit bolt upright and become totally mesmerized by the next song.   If points were given for fascination and enthrallment, Robbie was the biggest fan there last night.  He doesn't quite have the coordination to clap yet, but he would have given a standing ovation if he could.

 

Jamie started violin and baseball this week.    I thought violin was going to go over like a lead brick, with baseball being the obvious winner, but no.   He cried during baseball practice and rocked his violin lesson.  He will definitely be eligible for "Most Improved Player" at the end of baseball season.  He's so bad right now it would be amusing, if he weren't so cut up about it.  The coach says "alligator" and Jamie picks up the ball with the wrong hand.  The coach says "eagle" and Jamie turns sideways the wrong way and spreads his arms out in the wrong direction.  Then the coach says "hop hop throw" and an entire line of 7 year olds hops forwards while Jamie hops backwards.  And they practice this over and over and over again, with Jamie doing it backwards every. single. time.  I think, just maybe we need to work on listening skills and following directions.   But hopefully in the end it will be good for him.  He still wants to go back, it just isn't as easy as he thought it was going to be.

Charlie hangs out on the playground and makes unlikely friends.   A kid who was a dead ringer for Harry Potter (I kept having to stop myself from looking for a lightening bolt scar under his hair), taught Charlie how to pump on the swings.  A couple of girls talked him into doing gymnastics with them, and some older boys played chase and hide-and-seek with him for ages.  As we were walking across the field to leave, we kept hearing "bye Charlie"  "see you tomorrow Charlie".    I'm glad someone is finding Charlie's antics charming these days, because I certainly am not.   He was fooling around on the kitchen stool yesterday, fell off and yelled "MOMMMMY, why did you push me?!?!" when I was standing ten feet away peeling potatoes.   Nothing I said, convinced him I hadn't somehow magically and intentionally pushed him off the kitchen stool.  Clearly he would never do that to himself.  It had to be someone else.  He thinks pretty highly of himself these days, Friday he told me "I wish there were two of me so we could play together."