In Which I Ramble

I have to confess, I was ready to quit this crazy train. Most of the weekend I was pretty sure my next post was going to be "Siyanora Senoritas".

Because I'm trilingual.

It isn't you, it's me.

I hoped we could still be friends.

I just feel like there are so many things in my life that I need to be focusing on and improving on and implementing into my daily routine, and I can't seem to get it all done. And it seems that reducing my blogging time would help. But that's just crazy talk, isn't it?

I don't spend nearly the same amount of time blogging or reading blogs that I used to. There simply aren't enough hours in the day, and no other reason.

I realize I depend on this outlet to approach life in a more positive way. I can laugh about things my kids do, because it's all potential blog fodder. I can look at the world a little differently, because every experience is a potential post. I like the lens that blogging has given me. So, I'm not stopping. But I think it will be more sparse, just until I get this whole juggling act of day to day life down a little more.

Plus I'm trying to potty train Avee. Need I say more? I bought M&Ms, I've made a chart, I pulled out the stickers, I've got the super-duper-big-girl-potty-dance routine down, I can cheer over a toilet bowl like you have never seen a person cheer, plastic pants-check, incessant talk about going potty in the toilet-check...

Only thing missing is Avee. She's not on board. She can't be bothered. And cleaning up a puddle of pee off the bathroom floor is kind of fun for her. She told me yesterday she was "broken" when I told her to try to go to the bathroom. Terribly sorry ma, but I'm broken, there will be no toilet usage today, please pass me a diaper...

That's really all I had to say. "I wuz gonna quit, but now I ain't, and I'm tired of buying diapers." Fascinating, I know.

Bo started playing basketball on Saturday. He's not quite 4 and a half. He hasn't ever really showed a whole lot of interest in athletic-type things, so I was curious how it would go.

Without a doubt the single most entertaining hour of my week. Month. Possibly year. He's the adorable boy in the too-big jersey doing pirouettes on the court. He managed a decent dribble (left-handed, interestingly enough) but the one time he had the ball to take down the court, he tucked it and ran. His defense stance was to put his hands on his head like horns. When the ball changed teams and everyone ran to the other basket, he thought it was a race and ran accordingly. He ran over and gave me a hug twice in the middle of his game. I'm certain that at least half of the game he was pretending he was Mario in his head, hopping, zipping, leaping, dodging, all a good three feet away from the game he was supposed to be playing.

I loved every second of it. He loved it too. Afterwards we went to the store to buy him some new tennis shoes. It was fun to spend time with just him, he often gets talked over by Avee, and I had forgotten how talkative and random he can be.

On our way to the store he brought up the topic of moms and dads having children. He was curious about who has children and when they have children. I explained that his dad and I used to be kids, but we grew up and became adults and got married and then we had him and Avee and Danyo. He seemed satisfied with my explanation about the origins of children.

An hour and a half later, driving home, this conversation took place.

Me: I think Dad's going to really like your new shoes, they are pretty cool.
Bo: Yeah, I think Dad's going to kiss them when he sees them because they are probably just like what he used to have in high school.
Me: Oh my goodness you are funny.
Bo: (sounding somewhat concerned and troubled) I just don't know who's going to be my kids when I grow up!

I guess he wasn't done with that conversation. Socially he seems to be going through a lot and trying to figure a lot of things out. He's dealing with kids at school who don't want to be his friend or he doesn't want to be friends with and probably has a bit of anxiety about rejection---the first time he's really faced it or felt it.

So, the poor kid is sitting in the back of my minivan, in his booster seat, having anxiety about who will agree to be his children when he grows up and gets married.

I didn't tell him finding a cute redhead to marry him would be the hard part. The cute redhaired children come waaaaaaaaaaay easier.