Dynamite

Is it bad, do you think, that the most often requested song in my house right now by my 6yr old and 2yr old is “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz?  I’d post a link to the video, but it’s all full of girls using metal grinders wearing tiny belly shirts.  Or are they bras…whatever.  My question is, is this bad?  Is it a bad song?  I’m not sure…but it cracks me up to hear Berry Boy singing (albeit somewhat tunelessly) “I throw my hands up in the air…gonna rock this club…like it’s DYNOMITE”.

I love the fact that Berry Baby cannot get into bed without performing one (or many) summersaults in order to get to his pillow.

I hate the fact that both the boys are running fevers today.

I’m running a trail race on Saturday with my friend Genine.  I signed up for the 21k, but I’m thinking it would be wise to drop down to the 10k, seeing as how my longest run lately has been 4miles.  The race is free, so I don’t think it will be a problem.  The problem will be waking up at 5am to run at 8am.  Big problem.  We both almost bailed on this race, but in the end I knew I had to do it – I’ve been psyched about it, and if I bail on this it will be one more thing in the long list of Things I’ve Had To Bail On running-wise this summer.  So I’m doing it.

Berry Boy asked me today “Mom, do you think that every time we go to the city you could go to Starbucks?” to which I said “uh, yeah” while thinking to myself, dude, we already do that.

Soccer

I’m very happy to be able to tell you that watching Berry Boy play soccer got much more entertaining as the season progressed.

I even took some pictures:

(he’s the cute blonde in the black shorts and the blue pinny over his jersey)

Little dude had some sweet moves…

and he wasn’t even too bad in goal…

Now, what cracks me up about that picture of him in goal is the expression on his face:

That is some serious Game-Face.  It kind of reminds me of this guy:

These pictures were taken at the last Church Picnic Sack Race Championship.  As you can see, this is serious competition. 

Observe:

I think there’s a strong family resemblance, don’t you?

Need for Speed

Last year we bought Berry Boy a tiny little dirt bike for helping out during berry season.  He liked riding it, but didn’t like riding it alone, so Berry Guy picked up another dirt bike for me (because, as you know, I have never in my life sat on a dirt bike I am totally a hard core dirt bike rider.

*cough cough*

This year, Berry Guy decided that Berry Boy needed a little more challenge, so he converted a portion of the field in front of our house into a dirt bike track.  With jumps.  And hills.  And it’s right out in full view of my living room picture window so that I can fully appreciate all the carnage from my couch.

Excellent.

Now, I have to confess, Berry Boy told me that he was totally getting *air* off this one little jump that they had made.  And I nodded and smiled and said “that’s great!” while totally thinking that *air* meant his front tire maybe cleared the ground by an inch or two for a second or so.

So when I finally went out with the camera and captured this…

and this…

and this…

I was, as you can well imagine, terrified surprised.  The kid totally wasn’t lying when he said he was getting *air*.

I’m going to need an AED.

Watching Paint Dry

That’s what you could call Berry Boy’s first soccer game of the season.  Nothing says “fun” like sitting in the freezing wind watching kids repeatedly kick the soccer ball out of bounds.

For 40 minutes.

In the freezing wind.

I tell you, it was spellbinding.  Those kids are going to be super good at throwing the ball in.  Because that’s about all they did.  The whole. Long. Game.

I had brought along a mug of decaf tea to keep me warm, because I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to make coffee.  And tea, FYI, doesn’t taste as good when you drink it out of your stainless steel coffee mug.  It ends up tasting like Earl Grey with a hint of Starbucks.

So I sipped my coffee-tea and watched the *game* and tried not to beat my head into the metal post beside me.

Highlights included:

- watching Berry Boy for the two shifts that he got to play, which were all of maybe 3 minutes in length.  He did a good job of stealing the ball from the opposing team, and he was fast.

- watching Berry Boy the rest of the time, as he sucked back the gatorade I had mixed him which, you know, he *totally* needed since it was 10 degrees outside, and he was playing so much (to be fair, he was running around a lot, just not on the field and absolutely when he was supposed to be sitting nicely on the sidelines cheering on his team and listening to his coach).

- watching one of the kids from our team run across the field to her parents.  In the middle of play.  And then watching her run back again.  Across the field.  In the middle of play.

- watching the bewildered look on most of the kids’ faces as our coach called out instructions, because we’ve had all of one practice so far this year, and more than half of the kids have no idea what they’re doing out on the field with a jersey and shin pads on.

- watching one of the kids on our team kick the ball directly at the opposing goalie and having it accidentally fly up and smack her right in the face.  Probably the most entertaining moment of the entire game.  I know.  I’m a horrible person.

I can’t wait until next week.  I’m bringing my camera so that I can document all the spine-tingling action.  I’ll *totally* be using my Sports setting.

Mushy Mondays

Berry Boy

I love watching you on your little dirt bike.  You have gained tons of confidence this year already and it’s so much fun to watch you beating across the field after your Dad.

I love hearing you sing to Berry Baby at night when he’s complaining after I’ve put you both to bed.  You do a good job taking care of him.

While I’m sorry (and sad) that you’re still having fears about your Dad & I dying, I did have to laugh when you asked “Mom, when you’re almost dead, then will you drive me over to Aunty Cheryl’s?”.  I keep praying for peace in your heart about this, and I will keep reassuring you as best I can.

 

Berry Baby

You’re becoming less of a baby every day – I’m going to have to think of a new name for you on this blog!

You have way too much fun riding the dirt bike with your Dad, and you always want him to go faster.  I keep hoping my heart doesn’t fail as I watch.

I love hearing you talk, and by far my favourite line right now is “how ‘bout Fugs Funny?” when you want to watch Looney Toons (Bug Bunny).  You’re too cute.

Mushy Mondays

Berry Baby

You are adorable when you come wandering out of your bedroom post-nap, all flush-cheeked and messy-haired, and say sleepily “Hi mom!  Had a good sleep!”  This is slightly less cute when you do it 10 minutes after being put down for your nap and come wandering out sans pants and pull-up but with your pyjama pants on backwards, obviously proud of yourself but also cautious and with your hands covering your bum.

Berry Boy

I love the way that you plan your birthdays well in advance of the actual event.  Like, years in advance.  You have planned out what we should buy you for your 7th birthday, and your 8th birthday, and your 9th birthday…

Wedded Bliss

Last weekend Berry Boy’s first baby sitter (and my good friend’s daughter) got married, and she asked Berry Boy to be the Ring Bearer.

At first he wasn’t very excited about it, but when I told him he would get to walk down with his good friend who was the Flower Girl (and who is about 3 years older than him) he was all for it. 

He figured he would probably have to kiss her.

She looked a little grossed out at that prospect.

Nevertheless, he was as cute this time as he was three years ago at his cousin’s wedding:

                      at 3yrs old                                           at 6yrs old

A little leaner, a little taller, but my goodness, he destroys me with his cuteness.

“Boy.  Berry Boy.”

I’m going to go cry into my latte now and wonder where all the years went.

Six

We’ve finally rounded the corner from Birthday Week – Berry Boy had a birthday last Monday, followed by Berry Baby on Saturday, and Berry Guy the following Monday.  In related news, I will be breaking out my maternity pants to accommodate my expanding hips and waistline.  And I’m not pregnant.

Anyway.  Somehow, Berry Boy has managed to get increasingly taller and older, in spite of numerous orders to stop growing already accompanied by many warnings as to what his getting older and bigger is going to do to his poor mother’s heart.

Kids these days.  They just don’t listen.

I find it remarkable that he can look so much older in one moment, and then still seem so small and cute the next.  When I watch him playing with his friends or his little brother, he seems so big.  And then I see him in his helmet and goggles on his little dirt bike, and he seems so little again.  I’m not so sure I’m going to survive this whole motherhood thing.

Berry Boy really wanted a Transformers birthday party, so we invited some friends over and played party games like Stomp The Balloon, and Transformer Tag…

Then he opened his gifts…

and ate his Transformers ice cream cake (because I was too lazy to figure out how to decorate a Transformers birthday cake, and let’s face it, there’s nothing like ice cream cake…)

   

I think a good time was had by all.  And the ice cream cake sure helps to ease the mother’s pain.

Sure isn’t helping my jeans fit though…

There Goes My Heart

Like it wasn’t enough that he was going off to Grade 1 tomorrow.

As a side note, his little brother had a total freaking out meltdown complete with shrieking and wailing, because he was not on “da Bie” [the bike].  And then he spent the next hour playing with a little toy “bie” [motorcycle] and *talking* about it.  With much angst.

Mushy Mondays (on Monday!)

Learning to say “I’m Sorry”…

 

doesn’t get much mushier than that.

Mushy Mondays (on Wednesday)

Faker

it’s a good effort

but it’s somehow lacking in genuineness.

sorry.

 

Loser

(of teeth)

I apologize.  Apparently, when you lose your top two teeth, you also lose your ability to smile normally.

Bike Gang

When you live on the farm, and you ask your Dad to make you a “bike track” with lots of “hills”…

your Mom ends up losing any garden space she might have previously had.

which is ok by her.

Thus is born the Berry Boys Bike Gang.  (that’s a nice little piece of alliteration for you all)

 

You just have to admire their lack of fear (except, of course, if there’s a bee in the vicinity, in which case they may or may not shriek like a little girl) 

their fierce determination

their daredevil ways

their girly broken premium equipment (sponsorship is clearly needed…)

the way that they never…uh…give…up…

Never mind.

Mushy Mondays

Berry Boy

I love that you beat the pants off of all the other boys in your Kindergarten class during your Track & Field 60m dash.  I hate that I wasn’t there to see it happen.  I can already feel the beginnings of “hockey mom syndrome” and I have a feeling it could get ugly for all the other moms out there…I apologize in advance for any obnoxious behavior….

 

 

I love the ways that you love your little brother, and that when he’s sick, you want to help him to feel better (I also find it hilarious how you are simultaneously wanting to comfort him but paranoid of his germs, asking me if it’s ok to touch his head/hand/etc, or will that give you The Puke?.  You kill me)

I also love that ridiculous cow-lick at the front of your hair, and how it will not stand down for anything.

 

 

I love the way you say “watch this Mom…no, that wasn’t it…watch this…no….watch this…no wait….” over and over (and over and over…)

   

well, at least you’re persistent…

 

 

I love how you’re afraid to dive into the pool but you will routinely go and dunk the top of your head in…like right before church…