We interrupt this spring day...

To bring you a terrorist attack...

Two bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon today...

But I want to tell you a couple of better stories...

- Last week, Katy's parents were here and ran the boys around like thoroughbred animals.  Sometimes they were so tired that at dinner their eyes would drift to one side and their heads drift to another and they would almost fall over (I'm speaking of the boys, but the grannies were also similarly, joyfully worn out).

- Saturday was Gram'ma Bella's 89th birthday party (at the local Italian place we've nicknamed: 'Spooch").  We dressed our boys up in their cute, cute, cute 4 piece suits and had such a wonderful meal with the extended family.  During that time, my great aunt approached both Katy and me separately to let us know that friends of hers were complaining that "no one dresses their kids up any more" and then she added: "But I tell them, my nieces- they dress their boys up so nice!"  Katy and I were tickled.  I love it so much when older relatives get it... "my nieces" (sigh).

- After Gram's party, Jake went to a Karate-themed birthday party and was so Thrilled when he broke a board in half with his bare hand.  He said to Katy: "Maybe there was some kind of little line in it that I can't see that made it easier to break".  She replied: "I think you just aimed right through it and broke it all yourself." And then he kind of beamed.

- Later that night, my sister and I took all our kids to see the Croods.  It was Milo's first time in a movie theater and when he walked into the lobby he gasped like he was little orphan Annie seeing the Warbuck's mansion for the first time, and told us, "I've never been HERE before."  We sat all through the long, loud, cute movie and about 5 minutes before the end a VERY TIRED Milo turned to me and whispered/whined: "When do we get to pick out a movie?"
Me: Sweetie, this is the Movie... we are AT the movie.
Milo: NO, the REAL movie
Me: (laughing with love and empathy) no.  really... this is LITERALLY a "real" movie

- Sunday, we hiked up sleeping Giant park Tower Trail (3.2 miles round trip).  Both boys did AWESOME.  Jake did the entire hike- up and down all on his own two feet (it's probably his 6th time on the trail- first time that he walked all on his own without being carried even ONE INCH!).  Milo did ALL THE WAY UP and MORE than HALF the way down only getting carried on my shoulders for about 10 minutes.  I was seriously, so proud.

Keeping me on my game

The other day, I'm buckling Jake into the car seat (seriously, every other kindergartner we know can buckle themselves in) and he holds up his hands in a full shrug:

"So, what's a 'Husband' anyway?"

I can't help feeling like I'm walking into a trap.  I know he knows what a "husband" is, after all.
I think he's pretty much asking me why we don't have one, but I don't want to over-blow it.
I take a deep breath, knowing I have 15 seconds to figure out how to play this and I lead with my inner goof-ball.

"You KNOW what a HUSBAND is?!?" I say in my best, exaggerated, game-show host voice.

"No," he says with a convincing earnestness.

"A husband," I say matter of factly, "Is a man who is married.  If a man is married, he's a husband.  If a woman is married, she's a wife."

Jake contemplates his fingernails, while I continue, "When a man and a women get married, they are a husband and a wife." I employ a sillier voice at this point, "HUSBANDS and wives. Husbands AND wives.  Husbands and WIVES...  But SOMETIMES, there's a..." I pause for dramatic effect "WIFE and a WIFE..."

"Like in our house!" We say it in unison and he smiles.

I let it hang in the air like a "Ta-Da!!!"

"And SOMETIMES," my voice is full of drama and mischief, "There is a HUSBAND and a HUSBAND...  But USUALLY..." I borrow the cadence of that dog food commercial from the 80's.  "Usually... it's husbands and wives, husbands and wives, husbands and wives." (Kibbles and bits, Kibbles and bits, kibbles and bits).

Jake all but yawns.  "Yeah," he says completely unimpressed with the theatrics, "I guess you just have to decide who you love..."

(sigh.)

Yeah...

(Nearly) Midnight Ramblings

It's 11:30 pm and I should have gone to bed 2 hours ago with Katy.

I'm totally wiped out.  Watching BS television and working on work emails and schedules that I can't get to during the day.  There is a lot of stuff in me that I want to wiggle it's way out - onto the pages of this blog and/or some other writing space.  But there are so many attention and time demands.

I'm working too hard at work to feel this behind the 8 ball.  It's just a 60 hour job that I'm trying to do in 45-50 hours a week.  and the time with the kids... it is so short and fleeting (except the middle of the night crying jags that we have been blessed with on and off these last few weeks- those don't seem so short)

These boys are so cute and happy and loved.
Jake is reading and learning about space in kindergarten.  He's gotten really good at drawing and coloring.  He likes wrestling and story-telling (or having stories told to him).  Jake is solid and occasionally anxious.  He likes patterns and predictability, but still asks me at night to "Sing me a song I've never heard before").  He vacillates between stoicism and complete intolerance of discomfort and hyperbolic expression of pain.  Tonight, he banged his shins and when i told him it would be okay and he would feel better soon, he told me "I WILL NOT BE OKAY...THEY WILL NEVER FEEL BETTER... "  After his bath when I absentmindedly pointed out to him that his underwear were ripping in the backside's seam, he burst into tears: "THEY'RE MY FAVORITE PAIR!" He wailed. I tried to express empathy for my softhearted, exhausted boy. But when it went on too long I had to walk away before I did something that would incite him. (Like try not to laugh hysterically while ripping the underwear in half.)

I notice him yawning when asked to recite prayers and songs or poems that I know he has memorized.  The yawns are so predictable that I've come to recognize them as a form of avoidance and/or nervousness.  The top 2 reasons he receives a reprimand these days are: for "talking baby-talk" (also usually happens when he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be or when he's afraid he might be wrong or in trouble - ie "nervousness") and not heeding the warning: "Be nice to your brother."

Milo is about 2 weeks off the binki (a story about that to follow) and still the happiest of us all.  He will give you every version of toddler "F.U." if you try to get him to do something he doesn't want to, but oh, the laugh on that kid.  as much as he gets labeled our "frat boy", Milo is also a sensitive soul.  Usually rushing to us (and always his brother) to see if we're okay.  Today, he took off his underwear, balled them up, handed them to me and said, "Here, smell these and you'll get a big surprise!!!"
Milo, hates hats and gloves and going to bed.  He wants to go potty and wants a drink of water and ine more kiss and a song and a song and a song, and then he will place a tiny protective arm around the neck of the parent putting him to bed and give a pleading whine: "I want you."  He is our little musician and tonight, he whipped through about 6 different songs that are in our bedtime ritual, but we've never really heard him sing before.  He knew EVERY WORD. it was touching and startling in an "other worldly" kind of way. It turns out (as Katy pointed out) he ACTUALLY IS... a good listener.

They are my heart.  My love.  My pride and joy.  These boys make me wish for more hours in the day, week, year.

Falling asleep... more to come

First wake

My dad's Uncle George died the day before Thanksgiving (last week).  As I prepared to go to the wake on Sunday, Jake asked where I was going. 

Me: Papa's uncle died and TT and I are going with Gram'ma Bella to the wake.
Jake: What's a wake?
Me: Well, when someone dies, there is usually a wake and a funeral... Or some kind of ceremony where you can go say goodbye, and go hug the family and tell them that you are sorry about losing the person they loved.
Jake: Who did they lose?
Me: Well, Papa's uncle George died.  So Papa's cousins lost their dad, and Papa's aunt lost her husband.  When someone dies, we say we "lost" them.
Jake: Oh.

I absentmindedly asked Jake if he wanted to go.  It wasn't an accident exactly.  He seemed interested and there is something I want to try to teach these boys early on about life being special and about death being a part of life. And about what it means to belong to a clan of people- that you have respect and are generous with your time, and sometimes you stop what you are doing to show up and bare witness at these events. 

Jake: Maybe... I have to think about it.
Me: okay (In my head: "ut oh")

(I never thought he'd agree...
After a few minutes, I thought of a way to deter my 'soft pants' loving boy...)

Me: You know, if you go, you have to put some dress clothes on.
Jake: What do you mean?
Me: I mean, I am going to put work clothes on and you will have to dress up.
J: Like, in what?
Me: Like a sweater, or a shirt and tie, and church pants and shoes.
J: What sweater?
Me: I don't know... like the new one that TT bought you...

(After a few more minutes...)

Jake: I'll wear a tie.

Me: Oh... Okay. (pause)  So, we should talk about what it will be like...  At a wake, there is usually a box called a coffin that the person who has died will be laying in.  And there will be flowers and pictures and his family will be there and we will go through and hug all of his family- Papa's aunts and uncles and cousins.
Jake: Okay.
Me: And at some wakes the coffin is closed and you can't see the person inside but sometimes the coffin is open and you will see the person.
Jake:  LIKE A SKELETON?!?
Me: Oh, no... He will look like he's sleeping.  He will have his clothes on and of course all his hair and his skin... Maybe his eyeglasses...
Jake: (interrupting) HE HAS EYEGLASSES?!?  (The idea that he might see eye glasses seemed as shocking to him as the idea that me might see a skeleton.)
Me: (giggling) I don't know... maybe he does or maybe he doesn't...  The coffin might be closed, but it might be open.  And he will look like he is sleeping, but he won't be sleeping because he isn't alive anymore; remember how we talked about what happens when a person dies?
Jake: Yes.
Me: Their heart doesn't beat anymore, and they don't breathe, and their body is still there, but their spirit isn't inside their body...  ?
Jake: Yes.
Me: Do you still want to go?

Jake: Yeah, but I want to wear the red tie...

Katy likes to tell people that before she met me, she had never been to a wake or funeral.  And now she never stops going to them.  She is gracious about this and says that if it weren't for me, she would have had no idea how to conduct herself at her grandmother's funeral.  I almost skipped Uncle George's wake, but it was at her "it's the right thing to do" urging that I was getting dressed to go.  As a former ICU nurse, I'm more confortable than the average bear with corpses.  I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that these things can upset "lay people".  There are some funerals that children should NOT attend.  Very tragic, unexpected deaths... funerals where the adults are generally falling apart and so grief stricken that they are not able to look out for the emotional well being of kids in the room...

When our friend Liz's husband died leaving her widowed with 4 children (3 of the 4 were grade school age and younger), of all of the things she did that impressed me, none impressed me more than her plan for the kids.  After a brief appearance at the wake, she had them brought back to the house where Katy and I played with them and fed them dinner and got them to bed.  Of course they had to go to their dad's wake, but the emotions were too intense and the line at the funeral home too long to subject them to the entire event.

When my friend John died, I have this stark memory of his nieces a few feet from the coffin only 6 or 7 or 8 years old and my brain was forming the judgemental thought, "What are these parents doing letting their kids just hang around here near the casket all night?!?" when their kiddie conversation came into auditory focus:

Munchkin 1: Do you know why he doesn't look like himself?
Munchkin 2: No?  Do you?
Munchkin 1: I think it's because his soul has left his body
Munchkin 2: Yeah, so it isn't really him anymore... just his body.

I had the urge to stoop down to eye level and grip their shoulders gently and tell them that he didn't look like himself because the mortician in this joint isn't worth shit and has clearly never heard of blush or hair gel... but as I exhaled, the psycho urge passed and I realized that (of course) these children were wiser and more balanced than I.  Truthfully, kids just don't have the baggage that we do.  They don't usually bring their accumulated insecurities and fears into the room; or if they do, their accumulation is miniscule as not to even register.

When my mom saw Jake at the funeral home, she tried to hide from me that she was a little freaked out, asking several times, "Aren't you worried that he will have nightmares?"

And here's the thing.  Jake already has nightmares.  He's just like his freakin' moms.  A few weeks ago he crawled into our bed and told us he dreampt that there was a fire and he was trying to save Milo.  [A FIRE?!?! Seriously?  Where did that fear come from, Disney?!? I promise, we've never talked about fires around the dinner table...]  And last week, he was crying because he dreamed that his grandparents left without saying goodbye.  Some kids have more bad dreams than others.  I've got to try to find some books to see if there's a way to teach or talk your kids out of bad dreams, because I was one of those kids.  At a very early age, I dreamed scary, stressful things.  I still think that is part of the reason I stay up so late- Some of those dreams are sad and exhausting- maybe it's better just to stay awake.

Anyway, I've come to believe that 1) My dreams are not necessarily premonitions.  2) Bad dreams are not something that always happens because of unrest in your conscious life.  It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with your perception of safety or security.  I know this because I was a very safe, protected, nurtured, sheltered child.  And so are our boys. 

Jake is a thinker and he reasons things out.  He likes to be prepared.  And even though Milo is comparitively our "spontaneous frat boy"... He also is a thinker, and a dreamer. 

"You are not quite right" is what I've heard in response to the explanation that this first wake was a "dry run" for Jake.  He will have to see some people he loves in coffins in the coming years and decades and this was his first.  I'm sure we will have follow up conversations and clarifications, but he came through the event without a flinch or twitch or question.  This was just an experience to him.  Not positive.  Not negative.  Not even that big of a deal.  Just something to stash away in his mental filing cabinet.

My working theory is sometimes (maybe) the sheltering and protecting that we do for kids is unnecessary. Sometimes (maybe) that "protecting" contributes to anxiety and unsettled emotions.  (Emotions like, "What if I am not good enough? What if I can't handle all that I am asked to handle?") Trying to pad the sharp corners of the world isn't what I want to accomplish as a parent.  Life is full of struggle and sadness, disappointment and grief.  Our job is to teach them how to deal with downsides, show them that they can handle uncomfortable situations.  Create a time and space where they can safely learn to be vulnerable and successful in struggle.  I kind of believe that is the only way to fully appreciate joy and love.

Uncle George's wake was the perfect opportunity for Jake to see death. To see a body that was without it's spirit. Someone that he didn't know. An event that had no personal sadness or confusion attached to it.  He observed a portion of the ritual without experiencing the associated loss/discomfort.

And when a kid that cries in the morning trying to decide what pants to wear (because he sometimes has trouble making decisions). When that kid tells me he wants to put on a tie and come with me to a wake, I'll go ahead and take him at his word.  I won't tell him he can't handle it.  I will stand next to him and let him see one way death can look.  Because I trust Jake.  Even at this young age, he is so trustworthy.

And I trust myself.  I know if we stumble into a room or situation that upsets him, I will be able to talk him through that discomfort.  I know Katy will always help me with that.  I know she and I will resist the urge to remove painful obstacles so that our boys can learn to overcome difficulties (at least a bit) on their own.  It won't always be easy.  Sometimes we will fail by doing too much for them and protecting them too vigilantly and either forgetting to let them struggle or losing our steel when confronted by the reality of their discomfort.  But we're lucky...

These boys already have the minds and hearts of strong, wise men.  I'm so proud of them.

First day of Kindergarten: Hopes and Dreams

During orientation today, the principal at Jake's school encouraged us to "get to know" her and share with her our "hopes and dreams for his kindergarten year."  Kate and I sat side by side in a humid basement that they call the "gym/auditorium" and even though I was closer to bursting into a puddle of sweat vs. tears, that line did make me shrug away an emotional shudder.  Maybe I hadn't realized I did have hopes and dreams for him at this early stage in the game, maybe i was shocked in these first few seconds of contemplation how basic they were.

Perhaps to a fault, I don't give a shit where he is with his reading or math.  The kid is smart and a "pleaser" with two academic-minded moms, he will excel in school and be reading like a champ in no time...

I hope he has fun and learns to love those put in charge of his learning.
I dream that what happens this year sets him up to trust the people we call "teachers" and to feel safe in the buildings we call "schools".

I hope he makes friends and learns how to be good and generous to other kids.
I dream he has the experience of acceptance and friendship without learning to crave and chase the "high" of feeling popular.

I hope he somehow learns to appreciate the special qualities of others without feeling jealous.
I dream he learns to appreciate the special qualities in himself without feeling superior.

***************
In the middle of the first 1/2 hour in his class room, Jake pulled at my pocket and said, "I have to go potty."  His teacher showed him the room and he was in there for several minutes before the motion sensor light went out.  Over the din of the classroom, I heard quiet yelling, "Anyone... Hey, Anyone... Anyone out there..." it was soft at first and grew louder.  I realized what must have happened and the lights flew on as I opened the door and rushed in.

He shrugged at me, "Hey," he said, not quite embarrassed.
"Hey, buddy!" I said laughing in a way that I'd hoped would reassure him.  "If that ever happens again, you just have to wave your arms around to get the lights back on again."  I offered several more sentences in the way of explanation.  And then I noticed his red face and watering eyes...
He was about to cry, and I didn't want that to happen...  All these emotions rushed to me: he is way more nervous than we realized... He's afraid.  And he was literally left in the dark, oh no...

And then I heard the splash as he dropped (what I later realized was the third) rather large turd in the tiny "to scale" toilet. Misty eyes, cleared and the normal color replaced the red in his cheeks.

Here's my kid!  First thing he does at kindergarten is take a huge dump!!  When I told the story to Katy later, she mocked me with her mind-reading skills: "Oh MY GOD... it's like when you go into a book store and the info overload sends you running to the public restroom!!!"

It's funny because it's true.

I couldn't help it. I reached down and planted a kiss on the top of that kid's head.  "I love you so much, Jakey."

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly contemplating the status of his bowels.  The absurdity of the situation hit a peak as he obviously bared down one last time.  He relaxed his abdomen, shifted on the seat, took a short breath in and out, and I easily identified the cues- he had completed his business.

Looking up at me, he shrugged: "Can you believe I'm in kindergarten?!?" He asked excitedly.

Brief, awkward silence.

"Yes, baby.  I'm so proud of you," was the only thing I could think to say.

I've admitted it before, and I'll say it again, this kid is weird.  His moms are fine with it.  In fact his brand of quirky, honest sweetness is probably less weird than we are.  I'll sometimes tell him he's weird so he recognizes that word doesn't have to hurt: everybody is weird in some way(s).  I dread the day when someone makes him feel bad or insecure about the amazing things inside of him.

I hope that doesn't happen to him in Kindergarten.
I dream for him that when that does happen he has a good friend near him to reassure him that he doesn't need to make apologies for who he is.

Jake has a bunch of friends that he's gone to day care with for several years.  Today, KK shouted to him in the parking lot, "Thank you, Jacob!"

"You're welcome," he spouted over his shoulder as we all walked away from the bus.  When I asked him what he did that she was thanking him for he looked at me as if to say, "What the fuck are you talking about?"  It became crystal clear in that moment that this is just the beginning of me asking what I think is a perfectly legitimate question and him acting like I'm blind, deaf, and dumb.

Colin is Jake's BFF since he was 6 months old.  It's because of Jake and Colin that we are friends with Col's parents.  Now those kids are stuck with each other at least through high school, because Katy and I have really grown to love those dirtbags (Private joke).  When Jake asked us what a "kindred spirit" was recently (after the term came up in Puss in Boots) hearing the definition prompted him to report to us that Colin was his kindred spirit.  Sometimes the two boys greet each other with this term of endearment (sigh).

Life can be hard, even for kindergarteners.
I hope that he hits some bumps (even at this tender age) so he can start to grow confident in his ability to overcome challenges and obstables
I dream he'll have some good little peeps by his side reassuring him and giving him sound toddler advice.


***************
A few weeks ago, katy and I both picked Jake up from day care.  When the kids saw us come in together, it set off a sewing circle of banter among 4 four-year old girls.  They were working on some craft at a low-to-the-ground, circular table and the image in my peripheral vision was oddly similar to a group of old ladies gossiping while shucking peas- heads bent together, hands busy, absentminded familiarity with one another.  While I tried to get Jake to gather his things, I started to catch the content of their conversation:

Girl 1: Yeah, that's how it is.
Girl 2: He has two moms...
Girl 3: No dads...
Girl 1: No, he didn't come with one.
Girl 4: Not a dad in sight.
Girl 2: Nope, just only moms

Jake was oblivious and I realized that the arrival of the two moms simultaneously (when we usually took turns picking up our boys) likely prompted some solidification of the concepts that these little girls have been well aware of for a long time.

They weren't questioning the legitimacy of our family structure.  They weren't trash-talking.  Just hammering the points home to each other in a way that old friends might discuss the inevitability of an impending summer shower:

"Looks like rain"
"yessir, there's no way we're getting out of this one..."
"I guess we better bring the laundry in"
"These rains come and go"
"The sky is sure dark"
"It's been dry- we could really use the rain."

I hope that it will be sometime before Jake is exposed to a conversation where he realizes there are people in the world that have a problem with his family.
I hope if someone indicates there is something wrong with his family structure, there is a teacher (or one of those pea shuckers) right there on hand to immediately correct that lie
I dream we have a few years of solidifying his confidence before he gets a wiff of this part of the world from anywhere.


I didn't cry today. If it hasn't happened yet, I've probably avoided it.  But I wouldn't be surprised if it hit me later in the week or month.  Putting this kid out into the world,  further out of the sphere of our protective capabilities is humbling.  It makes me feel the intense weight of human vulnerability.    It makes me want to grab the break and slow down time a bit.  It makes me want to pray more.

Okay... there.  A few tears dripped down...
Is everyone happy now?

Check your list twice...

While discussing gift-giving, and gift-receiving etiquette, something goes awry...

Jake: I hope Santa keeps a list... Because if I, like, ask for a Batman gift and he brings me, say, a Dora thing, I'll be like, "dude, I didn't ask for Dora..."

On exceeding expectations...

Jake: (As Katy is offering him a sandwich) I. DON'T. WANT. IT!!!

Katy: Try again, Jake, we don't talk like that.

Jake: (instantaneously) Um, Mama, thank you for offering that to me, but I don't really want it right now.

Me: Ten points for Griffindor!

Katy (Under her breath to me) Way to set the future bar higher for yourself, dude... It makes more sense now why he keeps getting all those stickers at school...

Halloween

There was a big snow storm 2 days before Halloween, so it really screwed things up for that holiday. Somehow, we had our costumes all worked out- well in advance... a miracle for these two somewhat-behind-schedule moms. Then it started to snow about 11am on Saturday. Big, wet flakes that accumulated to about a foot of heavy snow and took out a lot of trees and branches. We were out of power for 5 days- no heat, no electricity, and trick or treating was officially cancelled in our town. But we did dress them up: First from my sister's box of "extra dress up" Jake found his cousin, Cam's witch costume from 2 years ago.

(Jake and Cam are the same age- so that's why he looks a little too sexy for his clothes)

Man, he is Purr-dee... isn't he?!? I think he's very handsome, but he also makes a beautiful princess boy when he wants to!!!

Then, not to be outdone, Milo wanted to wear a dress. So, I couldn't resist putting him into this tiny-dog costume I found. It seemed cruel to undress him for it- we're not raising strippers here, after-all! So I put it on him OVER his clothes!

Awwwwww!

Then the main event... we dressed our boys in their "real costumes" and my sister's girls in the play things of their choice and headed out to the THREE houses in the dark that had candles in their windows.

These were taken at school this week...

The cutest panda ever!!!

Sweet-smile, slouchin' Superman...

Jake as "Clark Kent"

Brothers:

BONUS PIC:

I borrowed my dad's leaf blower and it dangled over the back seat a little. When I looked into the back, Jake had grabbed onto the handle. At the next glance, Milo was imitating him. The image made me laugh- as if they were human bungee cords, keeping the thing from rolling out of the hatchback.

:)

Today in creepy kid wisdom...

I have become increasingly amazed at the introspective power of children in general, but also toddlers in particular.

It's more than that thing that will make a child look at someone with bad acne and say,
"why do you have all those red dots on your face?"

Or size up a person of small stature and inquire,
"So, are you a midget or something?"

I'm talking about when a kid is trying to label and understand the world and they come up with an explanation that is at once S-I-M-P-L-E and COMPLETELY profound. Jake does this over and over again, with such frequency and such little fanfare that I can never even remember the examples or conversations. But I have witnessed him capture the essence of "human fears" and "economics" and "relationships" with dialogue that was not parroting of adult explanations but instead an application of some previously internalized concept to a different or more abstract situation...

Boy: We take good care of our friends right?
Mom: yes!
Boy: And we share with them...
Mom: yes...
Boy: But people we don't know might be our friends?
Mom: yes...
Boy: And we should be nice even if they aren't our friends...
Mom: Yes!
Boy: I would share my snack with anyone that needed it. But if my friends needed more snack, I would have to save some for them and me- and not just strangers...
Mom: well...
Boy: What if people take our stuff and then we can't share with friends
Mom: Um...
Boy: Sometimes people that are mean are just sad...
Mom: huh? (wondering if I ever told him this or if he is coming up with this on his own)
Boy: Like Doc Hudson was in Cars... about his accident...
Mom: (sigh) yes
Boy: He wasn't Lightning's friend, but then he was after...
Mom: Yup.
Boy: Sometimes, it's like everybody is our friend, but also, everybody is not our friend.
Mom: (holy shit!) yes... essentially.

That is a compilation and not an actual conversation, but people wonder why I say things like, "yes... essentially" to my kids. It's because if you are going to give me some Gandhi-esque sound bite, I'm not going to reply, "You're so silly, boo-boo-bear!"

This morning it was a slightly different twist...

First of all, Milo AVOIDED ALL THE PUDDLES IN THE DRIVEWAY!!! Katy and I have been working on this, with (occasionally) painstaking patience. We've tried to teach and show him that there is a time for PUDDLE JUMPING and a time for NOT puddle jumping. This morning, we implored, "Please AVOID the puddles, Milo!" and he did a soft shoe around them walking carefully as if solving a puzzle.

Both moms were thrilled and tripping over ourselves to take credit for teaching him to be this amazing and then we quickly swapped saying, "No, it was you honey... You are the reason he is so wonderful!!!"

At that point while we were giggling with each other near the front of the car, we overheard some absent-minded muttering in the back seat:
Moms: What, Jakey?
J: You know what Syndrome says on the Incredibles?
Moms: No, what?
J: "When everyone is super... no one will be."
Moms: huh?
J: Syndrome says, (with more emphasis on each word) "When everyone is super, no one will be"
Moms: (blinking at each other silently)
T: (to katy) Of 115 minutes of movie, THAT's the line that sticks with him on an average morning on his way to school?!? (laughter)
K: (to me) You're the one that planted your creepy "dark" poignancy in him...

Conversations with kids: Birthday edition

Today is Milo's 2nd birthday.

We've been prepping him for several days:

Moms: Who's bday is tomorrow?
ML: Noooo
Moms: Milo's birthday is tomorrow!!!
ML: No, Mommy... Mama
Moms: Not our b-day... Milo's birthday

This morning, we snuck into his room before his brother was awake and with quiet enthusiasm sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He actually acted shy, smiling but sort of hiding his head with his arm; and then pointing to us and saying, "No... YOU... Mama... Mommy." It was some combination of:
"Why are you guys singing to me? I don't want a birthday, YOU have one..." and
"I'm not completely comfortable with this attention and recognition."

It was cute but confusing- this patten is a few days in the making. Milo, embarrassed?!? Could that be right? What does it all mean? But just so we know were we stand in the order of things, when Jake woke up, he approached Milo. In a sleepy (almost like an over-tired teenager) voice with a vaguest modicum of excitement, he scratched out a single (non-musical) phrase:
"Happy Birthday, Milo."

The response came without any hesitation. Completely pleased with his brother's acknowledgment, Milo gave a full grin, "Thank you, Jake-Jake".

(sigh)

***Doff thy initials

*** Some of you may note, this is the first time I have used the boys' names on the blog.

The truth is, it is just too hard to write about them now using the sterile initials. In real life, they are so 3D and vibrant and textured... AND so much of who they are starts with what we call them.

At least Jake, on occasion, gets called "JB" by me, outside of the sphere of the GSO. But Milo is Milo and writing "ML" instead of "Milo" feels like a big lie. It feels a little too much like creating a clumsy alias "He-who-must-not-be-named"... It feels like having to watch the entire Wizard of Oz in black and white... At this point in time, using only their initials feels like I'm putting a veil or blanket over the heads of 2 of my most favorite people in the whole world.

When they were first born, using initials for the boys seemed like the right way to "protect" them and give them some anonymity. But that does not seem necessary now. These boys are so far from anonymous (especially to the readers of this blog). Continuing to use their initials in place of their names is like trying to explain their personalities without words. Katy and I love the boys' names so much and we think each has grown into their name, enriched the name we gave them beyond even what we hoped it might mean. Each has filled his name with depth and definition and also bent like a moon into the pull of his name. I agree with Shakespeare, that a being would likely be unchanged if it had been given another name. Yet, our boys cannot be separated from their names in my mind. The essence of who they are is entirely intertwined with their names.

We call Jacob- "Jacob", "Jake", "Jakey", "J", "JB", "Jacob Brian". He answers to all of those, but ALWAYS introduces himself as "Jacob". One time, I asked him if he wanted me to call him "Jacob", if he minded that we called him Jake (I held my breath, knowing that this would break my heart a little, if he asked me not to call him Jake. But the first rule of caring for someone in nursing is you ask what s/he wants to be called. If you respect someone, you let him define himself and not impose or omit his name or title... Even if you are the people that named him.) Jake replied, "no, you can call me Jake... or Jacob". He was nonchalant and steadfast. And I felt so relieved that he seemed to really be comfortable with the options we offered him when we named him.

Milo is Michael Logan (yes... like J-Lo). When we named him, we figured, he wouldn't be tied to a "trendy" name if he didn't like or "fit into" Milo. But I would be shocked if he grew to be called anything else. He is "Milo" as much as tree is "tree". "ML" is just off-putting and lame compared to this dynamic little force of light and life and willful opinions and giggles and sweet kisses and musical prowess and hypnotizing stares that we call "Milo".

I love these boys!
I love who they are more than what we call them.
But I do also really love their names.

I'm on the edge of Glory

For those of you that don't know, that is a Lady Gaga song... Edge of Glory - a song that our family is a bit obsessed with right now. I have an entire essay (vaguely outlined) inside me about how much I respect and adore Lady Gaga, and how if I can feel this way (as an older, mature, fairly "formed" female) I imagine you can multiply that by a million and barely score the surface of the desperate adoration experienced by millions of 12-20 year old women.

But that's a story for another day. Currently, I live with a (3-days-shy of) 2 year old who may simultaneously be Lady Gaga's biggest, youngest fan... and the ruin of her in my eyes. Milo*** won't let it go. He loves her. Her NEEDS her. And the little monster drives a hard bargain. When it comes to nagging us to play her music, he has the attention span and tenacity of Jane Goodall in the jungle. All he cares to listen to is Lady Gaga. And he is insistent. And I know you are thinking, "How can he know??? What does he really know about it???" But he does and he gets pissed if we try to listen to any other music. He acts heartbroken as if all other music is a compilation of dissonant chords and harmful to his dance-party way of life. For now, his parents are equally stubborn, and when we can't take another 50 rounds or 50 miles of Lady Gaga at the audio helm, we are getting used to listening to all other music with Milo screaming in the background:
LADY GAGA... LADY GAGA... PLEASE, MOMMY, MAMA... NO... NOW... GAGA...GAGA...WAAAAAAAAAHHH

(It goes on and on).

So, the title of the post also relates to my mood these days. I'm a little off-kilter; not sleeping enough; doing my best to balance. Finding myself needing to write more, but not writing. Finding myself needing to eat less, but eating like cRaZy. Finding myself wanting to exercise, but not turning the machine into high gear.

Despite what you just read, I'm pretty damn content with this life we are living right now. I am full of gratitude. I am amazed by my wife and our sons and basking in their glow. BUT... I am experiencing a fog of apprehension, and that familiar angst that comes with waiting too intently for the other shoe to drop.

The summer is fading, but it has been quite wonderful. Despite the fact that we experienced an earthquake (my first) and a tropical storm in the span of 5 days, we've had tremendous weather.

We’ve spent a lot of time this summer swimming and playing (and eating food) with friends and family… Some of that food has been seasonally fresh and healthy, and some of it char-grilled, processed, fried, and yummy (but very much the opposite of “good for you”- unless you are counting the “good for the soul” excuse that I keep coming back to.) We've had some terrific vacations: Ohio in July, Rhode Island in August...

This last week, though has found me in a bit of an angst-y, Don't-look-down-you've got-too far to fall melancholy.

To be fair, it's about to be autumn and I have a history of angst-y autumns at various times in my life. At this latitude, in this hemisphere in September and October, there is a very specific change in the angle of sunlight. The time of sunset sprints back toward the afternoon. It is still “summer” during the day, but the temperature plummets 20 degrees by a few hours after dark. You can close your eyes and smell the air (before more than a dozen leaves have changed color) and know you are breathing the first breaths of autumn. You could be in 80 degree sunshine, but know that shifting glare on the horizon means that the summer warmth will dissipate after dark.

Today is September 11th. I just finished watching the season finale of True Blood (a totally f'd up TV show that I can't quit) and about 2 hours of 9/11 "never forget" coverage. And I can't help but wonder, who is that slogan for? Isn't forgetting required a little in order to heal. I got my first glimpse of the WTC memorial and I just sort of burst into tears- it was the visual of the pools- water plunging down into the footprint of the original towers. I couldn't help but think of those people that jumped. I'm not one to get overly sentimental, but something about firefighters dying will always cause me to come a little unglued I think.

It's not just Sept 11th...

Last week, a 4 1/2 year old boy (a friend of a friend's kid) drowned in a neighbor's pool. The parents are a lesbian couple. The kids were with a sitter at the time of the accident. Feel the weight of that devastation for a moment.

Next week, the trial is about to begin for the second man who was caught in the act of, and then confessed to, robbing, pummeling, sexually assaulting, and murdering our friends one summer night in their own home FOUR years ago. But until the end of this trial we have to keep saying he "allegedly" did these things. His team of lawyers seems even more desperate and untrustworthy as he has shown himself to be. I know they have their job to do. But this guy is the one that is going show himself to be some kind of real SOB and I know you are going to have to put up with a little ranting from me in the coming weeks...

Then, there's Jake*** and Milo*** with their impressive, end-of-summer tan lines, and their ever-expansive brains and sharp observations of the world, and their little perfect bodies growing out of toddler-hood and baby-hood respectively. I know they are still young, but they are already growing up. And it's hard to imagine how we will continue to keep them safe when we know so much about how things can go wrong in the world.

There was a festival in town this weekend- food, fun, crafts, music (sorry, Milo, that the Marching Band, did NOT have any Gaga). One tent set up by a local insurance company was producing "kid ID kits". While you waited there, they took photos and fingerprinted your children. I wanted to do this because I can't imagine anything scarier than needing this data and not actually having it available. The entire time I was under this tent (probably 20 minutes for both boys) I felt like I might burst into tears. It was so anxiety producing to complete a kit that would help us if one of the boys disappeared, that it was actually hard not to mutter "never mind" and just run away from there. I felt as if someone was choking me and telling me a really sad story at the same time.

But you should see Milo*** in gymnastics class... and you should see Jake*** in ballet and tap and t-ball. It's a trick of the mind to worry about what bad might happen, when there is so much good happening all around. And I think it's a fool's choice to give into worry, when there is so much celebrating to do. These are the heroic lives we lead- planning a little for the worst, but doubting it will ever come and doing so with such loving intention that, that you make your kids feel all the safety the world may or may not offer.

Brothers at play

Katy took this video of the boys at the park last night.
I just love it!
I love the way it is shot at their level...
I love that it is just them...
This is exactly how they are right now-
JB is at his best when he is running with, entertaining, and/or coaching his brother.
ML (as he has since he first learned to laugh) reserves his most genuine, heartfelt laugh for his brother.

I have this joke that I tell when people ask what the boys are like:
"In the worst case scenario," I say, "JB will grow up jealous and sullen that his brother doesn't follow the rules, and gets to have so much fun... And ML," there I pause for dramatic effect, "Will end in prison... But, if all goes well, they will keep each other in balance."




I love ML's sheer joy.
And I love the part where JB says, "Get up here, Mi..."

I think this video clearly shows how well the balancing act works so far.
(sigh)

Every day is Mothers' Day

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.

By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...

You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?

That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have considered my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...

The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).

I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.

Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...



JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.

Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.

We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."

Srsly?



I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"

Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!

I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)

JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."

[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.



ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.





I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"

ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...

That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.

Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.

This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.

The eyes have it

Getting ready to leave the house this AM was a typically hectic dance. The boys were up and down, running around. I put JB's coat on and when I turned to put ML's on, JB had taken his off. The climax of anxiety for me came when we stepped outside and a dump truck driving by commanded both boys' thorough attention. I didn't know if ML was going to run into the road after it, or tear off for the largest puddle in the driveway. Puddle-jumping is one of his favorite past times and after 3 days of rain, this mother-loving puddle would have necessitated a complete costume change.

I ran after them and wrassled them into their car seats; the tiny and unpredictable Senór Destruction always gets restrained before the elder. I strapped in ML, handed him a plush puppy, and moved around to the other side of the car.

While I buckled in JB there was some insistent yapping coming from Senór. I effectively ignored him and buckled myself in before I looked back at him...

ML: EYE! EYE! EYE!

In my defense, it sounded like gibberish. But when I looked at him, he was pointing at his puppy's EYE, and shouting the word with perfect diction: "EYE! EYE! EYE!"

Me: YAY!!! ML!!! GREAT JOB!!! ML said the word 'Eye'!!! Everyone cheer for ML!!!

JB: (Not to be outdone and in a neutral tone that will either make him a lot of friends some day, or get him labeled a teacher's-pet-know-it-all) Mom, does he mean like an "I" like you write with? Or an eye that you see with?!?

I wanted to roll my eyes, but that is pretty smart and pretty funny, right? Except that ML was poking the dog right in the eye... so if you are a "smart" three and 1/2 year old, you shouldn't have to ask this...

Also, it is sneaking up on us, but ML is starting to talk!!!
Hooray!!!

My kids are cute

...And loyal blog watchers should not have to see the Title "ARMED GUNMAN" every time they check the GSO.

I am working on a few posts
(including Part 2)

But for now, this is how my boys looked on St Patrick's day:


JB at 41 months old:




ML at 17 months old:

The last 3 hours of your day

Sometimes I think I write a highly idealized version of what life with little kids is like. I mean, all the cute conversations, all the "Life is good" tags, all sweet photos and some of the other bullshit...
I think we are hitting a rough patch with JB- he is talking back, rolling his eyes, and acting like he just learned the word "no" and we just took the keys to his car away all at the same time.

Tonight was a night that I'd like to erase from the books. It went something like this:

5:23pm - Arrive home from work. Kate is at the stove. ML is running around, JB sees me when I open the door. He stops cutting construction paper and looks at me with a 1/2 crooked smile. I have no idea what is coming, and I assume he is going to break into a grin, run up to me, and throw his arms around me (like he does on most nights). Instead, he holds his dull, kid-scissors up in front of his eyes and says, "If you come any closer, I'll cut you." When I get over my shock, give him a low-key reprimand, and convinced him to give me a hug, he brings his knees up high and kicks me in the chest a couple of times.
5:25 - JB is in time out.
5:26 - With the sweet sounds of JB SCREAMING in the background, I attempt to wrangle ML into a greeting, but he's marching around like that kid from parenthood (the movie) without the bucket on his head


"He likes to bonk things with his head"


5:28 - Time out is over, but JB is still SCREAMING AND SOBBING, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!RIGHT NOW!!!" So we have to determine if we are going to give the kid another 3 minutes. I try a different tactic and I go to him and lay down on the floor next to JB so that we are face to face. I stroke his face to dry his tears...
Me: Did you have a bad day?
Him: no
Me: Do you need any help?
Him: no
Me: Can you stop crying so that you can come out of time out--OUFFFFF



(ML has jumped on my back making the same noise with his body that you hear in a Mission Impossible movie, when a short Scientologist throws his body from the top of a tractor trailer onto the roof of another moving vehicle)

5:32 - ML marches over to the stove and attempts to stir the pots that are simmering over his head up there. To get closer to the danger, he tries to pull the oven door open. It doesn't matter that Katy and I are standing right there, we can barely stop him. He starts WAILING.

5:34 - Strapped into his high chair, ML is finally quieted when an appetizer of raw avocado is placed in front of him. JB takes a butter knife and starts to stab at the pages of a book that is on the table. I tell him to stop.

5:35 - JB has picked the knife up again and is stabbing at the pages of a book again. I raise my voice and then take the knife away

5:40 - Dinner is served. We all sit down "Taco dinner"

5: 42 - ML throws his plate of taco meat onto the floor. While we are down picking it up, he showers pieces of taco shell on us. Katy reminds him, "Only six more months before I get to put you into time out."

5:45 - We have been offering ML other food: cheese stick? JB wants one too. Applesauce? JB wants one too... ML shoves 1/2 a cheese stick into his mouth and laughs when Katy tries to get him to spit out the too-big piece. He finally spits it out and while never breaking eye contact with his mama, he dangles it over the side of his high chair tray. We bark, threaten, and scold... He smiles and let's it fly...

5:48 - ML gets put into the corner for "Baby time out".

5:52 - After gagging his way through 2 sugarsnap peas, JB had "earned" the applesauce he requested. ML's tray has been cleared of food.
6:16 - ML is crying because Katy is washing his face with a soft, soft wash cloth. Mommy and the boys roll around of the floor for a while. Until ML drops a load in his diaper.
6:52 - After chasing him around for all this time, ML finally consents to a diaper change. JB demands a "SHOWER, NOT A BATH" (Even though he shouldn't get his way based on how he is acting and how he is speaking to us, both parents agree: "whatever... It's not worth making a federal case") We act like we intended to make him take a shower all along.
7:07 - the bath was fun and pleasant, and a clean ML, acts as if the world's softest sleeper contains some type of chemical that will kill him if he allows himself to be clothed in it...

7:15 - Baby ML is only half dressed
7:22 - Both kids are dressed for bed. Humidifier is filled.
7:25 - Teeth are brushed, hair is combed, baby is finally calm and happy; ML wiggles out of a mom's arms and bangs his head on the floor (Cue screaming).

7:40 - ML is calmed, has been soothed, watched a little TV with his brother, and accepts that it is bedtime

7:45 - our hero, Handy Manny is there for us in "The big race"

8:15 - JB goes to bed

(sigh)

W.
T.
F.

Valentine's Day pics

We bought our boys love-themed t-shirts for V-Day.
I barely remembered to take photos this AM, but it caused more chaos than one would think:


ML- 17 months old TODAY.
He is modeling his "All you need is love" T-shirt.
He's got his morning face on, hair is high, and he doesn't like it one bit that I am holding an iphone and he is not.



JB- spelling out his "M-O-M" shirt for the camera...

Last week when he was wearing it, he told me,
"That says 'Mom'. It's not for you, it's for Mama."
"Thanks for the clarification," I replied dryly. And then, "You know, you don't have to pick. The 'Mom' on your shirt could stand for both of us... for Mama AND for Mommy."
(pause)
Allowing this concession: "Okay, it can be for both of you."
"Thanks." (eye roll)


JB, putting his arms out as his little brother runs to him.


Heart-bendingly adorable display of brotherly love.


ML (backed up by JB) allowing a pic to be taken because he can see himself in the frame. Note the upper lip wound he sustained in the driveway last week.



It seems like he's smiling here, but he's in the middle of a fit related to me holding an electronic device.


And this is how every photo session ends these days, with one or both of them screaming and crying because they want to control the camera!

But can you believe how big they are getting? And they are so (mostly) sweet, that I have to work every day not to EAT them up!!!

Conversations with kids

JB (looking through a see-and-learn book): That's a submarine...
Me: What is a submarine?
JB: A submarine is a thing that goes under water.
Me: What kind of thing?
JB: A boat. A boat that people live on that goes under water... (turns page and points) That's a fire station.
Me: What happens at a fire station?
JB: A fire station is where the firemen are and where the trucks are waiting for an emergency. (Turns page.) That's a space shuttle...
Me: What's a space shuttle do?
JB: That's a rocketship... Like an airplane that goes into space and stuff.
Me: (nodding, totally impressed with this display, but trying to keep my cool)
JB: (turns page and points for me) That's a movie set...
Me: What's a movie set? (I'm truly curious how he's going to explain this one...)
JB: That's where they fire up movies...

I lose it!
Hilarious!

Today's construction book observation

JB: Mommy, wanna see something NOT cool?
Me: sure.
JB: (pointing toward 2 men standing in the middle of a construction site in one of his board books) These two guys are not wearing helmets. They are at a construction site, but they do not have helmets on.
Me: oh, wow.
Katy: What?
JB: (pointing emphatically) These two guys, standing next to each other at a CONSTRUCTION site, are not wearing helmets! (as an afterthought, said mostly to himself...) That is not cool.

He makes a good point... Those guys clearly think they are above the rules!

Not cool.