Valentine's Day

Let me start by saying, I am not a huge "Valentine's Day" fan. I mean really, if you have to work to show me "love" on that ONE day, I don't want it. However, the older I get any excuse to go on a date works for me! Typically Valentine's Day comes and goes at our house (because in case you didn't know - it falls during Tax Season). Last month, Ryan and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary (which, yes falls during tax season as well - I married him BEFORE our life revolved around tax season). We had the usual "dinner and a movie". Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind dinner and a movie as a general rule. But on special occasions, I like a little more forethought; I little unpredictableness; I little more pizazz.
On said above anniversary, as Ryan's gift, I gave him a book of all the cards, letters, and poems he had written me over the years (all 19 of them). When we first met, Ryan was quite the poet. I have all sorts of poems; love poems, sad poems, mad poems, forever poems. So, for Valentine's Day he wrote me a poem. All of the kids, (except Alexa, of course) were disgusted by its "mushiness". Here it is, his first "published" work:

"An Ode to Love"
When I think back through the years,
I have to hold back my tears,
As I remember the joy that I felt,
At the first time I saw you, you made my heart melt,
You didn't know it at the time,
That you would very soon be mine,
Even though you didn't know my name,
You let me in just the same,
Now it is many years down the road,
We are together in our humble abode,
I am thankful that we were brought together,
To be in love forever and ever,
Even though the years have past,
Our love I know will surely last,
We have many more years to look forward to,
I am glad I will be spending them with you,
I want to shower you with my love,
As it given to me from God above,
I hope you know how much you mean to me,
You fill my life with so much glee,
Thank you for choosing me to spend the rest of your life,
I love You very much, thanks for being my wife.

Isn't forethought such a wonderful thing?

The trauma of Haircuts

Last week, on very short notice, we needed to go to my brother's church for Teagan's baby dedication. I decided Ian's hair was a bit unruly and I wanted just a trim. His hair has been an item of dissension in our house in that I say (within reason) he should have a say and Ryan says it should be short. From my perspective, Ian has some very big shoes to fill. He has Owen's old toys, some of Owen's old clothes, we affectionately call him OJ (Owen junior). However, he does not share Owen's distaste of grooming. Owen likes his hair in a crew cut year round because of its low maintenance factor. So, based on a few agreements (can't be in his eyes, not below his collar) we have decided to let Ian be the hair guide. So, like I said, we were going to this church where there would be lots of people I hadn't seen in years, and few of them had seen all my children, I wanted his hair to at least looked groomed. I had been keeping his bangs trimmed but the back was getting a little unruly. Ryan decided he needed a haircut as well so the three of us set off. (I didn't trust Ryan to take him alone!) We went to the local "beside the grocery store" type hair place. It was sort of crowded but we put our name on the list and waited. They called Ian first. I was already deciding I was a little unsure about this lady. First of all, she looked at Ian like he had the plague, she looked like her face would crack if she tried to smile and she looked at me like I was speaking another language when I was telling her what we wanted. I wanted to take him out of the chair and run. He was looking at me with "don't you dare leave me eyes." So she starts to cut and cut and cut. She gets finished, Ian literally jumps out of the chair. We are standing over waiting for Ryan to get done and I am examining his hair thinking, "I cannot believe we have to pay for this and I wonder if I am going to be able to fix it or am I going to have to take him someplace else, is he going to have to end up with a short do anyway." The lady can tell I am not pleased. She comes over and messes with his hair again commenting on his "natural curl" making it harder to style. It wasn't harder to style until she cut it CROOKED! This girl (about 19) got in the chair after Ian. She had been waiting in the lobby about 25-30 minutes. She was trying to explain to the lady what she wanted when the lady louder than necessary says "I hear what you are saying but it is not clear what you want me to do." I was undecided as to whether I wanted to tell the girl to run or tell the lady she needed to take a break. Ryan was giving me his "stay out of it, be nice, hurry let's go" look. So, we paid and left. Then I had to come home and do what I could to fix it. I still don't like it nearly a week later. We have finally gotten most of it even but if I had wanted to chop on it myself, I could have saved the $11. Ryan has decided Ian can no longer go to the corner shop, he needs a "stylist". I thought that is what they all claim to be. I have decided that getting your haircut is like playing the lottery. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, big time!

I knew it was coming

Something big happened at our house tonight. Actually, it started last night (after torturing my children the past 3 days watching North and South), we told them that tonight after dinner we would all play a board game. It is very rare that we are all home on a Tuesday night so I promised if they would suffer through the last in a four part series, we would play a game tonight. We all knew the game would be Quelf. This rediculous game that all the kids love. Anyway, we were dividing the teams and Ian decided he didn't want to be anyone's partner but wanted to play alone. We were a little skeptical but decided to go ahead. You see, up until tonight, he had still decided he couldn't read. We have been listening to him read books for several months but if you were to ask him if he could "read" his answer would be "no". Well, tonight that all changed. With a few exceptions, and a few made up words, he faithfully read and acted out his cards. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I wanted to laugh because I have had to fight with him almost daily to have a "reading" lesson all this year. At this point, he just doesn't see the "need". I wanted to cry because that is my baby and babies don't read! Yet, I look at him and I see him growing before my very eyes. Owen was born a boy - all boy - rough, loud, oblivious to the world around him. Ian was born a boy as well, just a more sensitive, soft-spoken, observant boy. Tonight, when he was going to bed I asked him if he would always be my baby even now that he could "read". He gave me this crazy look and said "of course I will but NOW will you believe me that I don't need anymore READING lessons?" He laughed....tonight - However; tomorrow may be a different story!