Cool Blue

Parker was fixing himself an after-school snack.
As he waited for the water to boil for his three hot dogs, he commented on how "cool" the water looked.  I think his exact words were "That is the COOLEST boiling water EVER!"
I just kept folding laundry...unimpressed because he uses that sentence a lot.  Substitute the words "boiling water" with "car" "hat" "shoe" "spider" "scar"...you get the idea.
But he didn't stop there.
"I wonder what would happen if I put food coloring in there?" he mused, more to himself than to me.
To which I replied, "Do it and find out.  It won't hurt your food."
He broke into a broad grin and before you could say "experiment" he had my stash of food coloring out on the counter.  After a short debate with himself he chose blue and....voila!

I have to admit it WAS pretty cool.

The water was blue.  The hot dogs were not.  Photo not available as I couldn't find a way to take a picture of a hot dog without it being obscene.

Parker has always been a bit of a scientist.  This experiment reminded me of a similar one he performed 10 years ago when he boiled dandelions to see if the water would turn yellow.  He is always taking things apart, observing minute details, asking questions.  And I love it.  I could be the know-it-all who answers all his questions...but I'm not that kind of mom.  I would much rather watch him test things and find the answer for himself.  Plus, (and I'm loathe to admit this) I really DON'T know it all. So if he's willing to do the work, I'm willing to give him the time and tools.  

Who knows...he may grow up to be the COOLEST scientist EVER! 

Lost and Found

The specter of loss has been hovering in the air for the last few weeks.
The anniversary of a local teenage girl killed in a bus accident last year.
The death of a dear friend which left his wife (also my dear friend and Soul Sister) trying to comprehend the reality that in the morning her husband was there, and in the afternoon he was not.
And of course, all the remembering of September 11...the images, the sounds, the feelings all rushing back as though they never abated.
On a quiet Sunday evening, all this loss makes me pensive.
But it makes me do other things too.
It makes me aware of what I have.  It makes me take time for "I love you" even when I'm running late.  It makes me appreciate Hillary's art and music.  It makes me text Parker from the front seat to the back on the way home from family reunion to say "I'm so glad you were with us this weekend."  It makes me realize what a gift it is to have both children along on a grocery shopping trip...laughing at their mother and throwing Zebra cakes and cheesy hot dogs in the cart..creating more chaos than they ever did as toddlers.
It makes me more patient with my husband when he wants to talk in the morning.  And when we are at a social gathering and he catches me looking at him across the room and he gives me a little wink, it makes me say in my heart "Thank you God for a good man who loves me.  Thank you that I had this day...this wink."
And when Parker returns home at night after "driving around" with his newly licensed friend and comes in my room to let me see that he is all in one piece, it makes me breathe in his scent of four-wheeler and firework and memorize the feel of his hug and the sound of his voice.
The realization that these things could be lost makes them infinitely more valuable.
If I look closely, there are plenty of blessings to be found.

In Tune

A chill in the air...a pep assembly...a boy in uniform...

It all adds up to one thing...

Marching Band season!!

With a little football sprinkled between songs, of course ;)

I spent my Friday night cheering for my favorite trumpet player.

I sat dangerously close to the roped-off "band only" section of the bleachers...like any good groupie. And if you think that embarrasses my boy you'd be wrong.

He's part ham.

From his father's side, of course!

They played the National Anthem, and then short bursts of song during every timeout and touchdown.  With a few minutes left in the first quarter, Parker leaned over to me and said, "Check the weather on your phone.  I want to know if it's gonna rain." I assured him it would be fine, but he continued, "No, I WANT it to rain...preferably before halftime!"

I guess he wasn't too confident in their halftime show.

The much loved band director Parker has had since junior high left at the end of last year and the new girl is ambitious.  

But it didn't rain.

And they sounded great!

Hillary had to work, so I sent her play-by-play texts on how it was going.  And I sat by the girl who Drum Majored with Hillary during her senior year and we commiserated Hillary's absence.  

All in all it was a great first night on the Field.

And then halftime is over...which means I get to go home!

Parker hugged me goodbye, took my last two dollars, and went to hang with the other SuperCool Band Geeks.  Hubby kissed me bye and headed off to work the "chain gang".  And as I drove home, it started to rain.  I laughed out loud and texted Parker.  He got his rain, just a little late.

Now as I sit with my popcorn and think about the four of us in different places, but still connected, I smile.  It's good to be in tune.

Overtime

I am not a morning person.  And that's understating it.
But now that I am working in the same district where we live, I get an extra 15 min of sleep...and a chauffeur.  Parker, unlike his father, understands my need for silence in the morning and drives without any cheery chat or country music.  When we arrive, he carries in my ubiquitous school bag, gives me a quick hug, and he's off down the hall toward the high school.
But by 3:00 when he comes back down that same hallway, he's a different boy.  There's a pep in his step and he feels like TALKING.  Details of his day come flying at me in no logical order as he messes with my SmartBoard and rattles the "helper" sticks in their bucket and rolls around in my chair before adjusting the height up and down a bunch of times. So I give him jobs to do.  He grades papers, hangs up student work in the halls, cleans the whiteboard, and straightens desks.  And I listen with half my brain as I try to make sure things are prepared for the next day so I can get the heck outta there.
Yesterday, he didn't show up.  I vaguely wondered where he was, but figured he had decided to pester his dad for a change.  Then I got a text informing me he was hanging out in another teacher's classroom with her one-year-younger daughter. I smiled and texted him back that I was ready to GO and to meet me in the car in no more than 5 minutes.
This morning on the way to school, I reminded him that we had to pack and be ready to leave town when Dad got home from basketball try-outs, so I would be ready to leave school early and he better get down to my room right away.  His face fell a bit.
"Is there something you need to do after school?" I asked.
He shrugged.  "Me and Cute Girl (name has been changed to protect the innocent) were gonna hang out in your room after school."
I sighed.
And that's how I ended up staying 15 min later than I wanted to at work today.  My plans were all done, my copies all made.  I was ready to leave...but I shuffled papers and checked my email one more time so Boy and Girl could play a kiddie game on my SmartBoard, giggling and showing off and being teenagers.
Maybe it's because I launched into parenting before I was done being a kid myself, but I can't NOT remember how it feels to be a teenager.  How exciting it is to be with someone who thinks you're cute.  How you want to just hang out forever doing nothing.
As much as I may hate every minute spent at work, I love every minute spent watching my kid be happy.  Even if it means working overtime.