Thank You...

Today, I want to say 'Thank You' to my precious kiddos. As of late, I've been suffering from a monstrous case of writer's block. Blog posts have eluded me, poems have escaped me, and musings have ceased.

My sweet sources of artistic expression have been unusually quiet the last several days. They've been engaging themselves in normal childish activity, far removed from their more outlandish comings and goings that would be of note on this little ole' blog (well, except for a minor incident involving dog poo). But, today, they've livened things up a little. Today, our household returned to normal (okay, normal for the Jackson's).

In preparation for the arrival of family, I feverishly began the process of tidying our home, to give off the impression that we never live amongst clutter, toys are in their proper place and surfaces are always dust-free. My sweet ones must have sensed an imbalance in the home atmosphere and chose to follow behind me and return items to their 'usual' place.

Yes, as I worked diligently in the dining room, the little Miss was hard at work in their shared bedroom:


And while I worked hard to return order to my little one's room, the little Mr. decided things weren't quite as they should be in the dining room...

Mr. Potato head and all his appendages made their way to their usual spot under the dining room table...

What? You don't keep a foam sword, canvas bag, Thomas backpack and a spare hoodie on your kitchen floor?


Thank you my sweet ones. This is just what I needed to bring clarity to my foggy brain and get back to blogging. This activity of 'undoing' is what we mom's all lament over but seems more like an urban legend as we rarely have proof.

Bang Your Head...

The Jackson genes are strong...very strong. My sweet kiddos look like their daddy. They have his eyes, his smile, and his curly hair. They even act like him, right down to twirling their hair around their fingers when they are tired. The only way I know I had any part in their arrival into this world is the fact I carried them for nine months and labored for ten hours and seven hours respectively. Yes, they are their father's children. Like their father (and the rest of the Jackson men) they have metal in their blood...heavy metal. We're talking head banging, mosh-pit loving, scream-0, ear-numbing metal; and my kiddos love it. They make their father proud and my ears bleed. Their daddy was so proud he filmed his sweet little ones in action (Uncle K.K. this one's for you...and, you can add Quiet Riot to your next set...please and thank you):



Exhibit A: My Innocent little Miss.




Exhibit B: The little Mr. showing us how it's done.

I rest my case...

Every Girl's Crazy 'Bout A Sharp Dressed Man...

Day two brought a couple of new adventures. "P" is for preschool...and pictures. Apparently today was school picture day, and like his mama, the little Mr. was in school picture angst. I get it...I sooooo get it, considering every one of my school pictures from ages 5-18 were of me with bad hair, closed eyes, awkward grin, weird glasses or a huge zit. Yes, I have self-esteem issues. So, I could totally relate to the little Mr.'s tantrum this morning over not wanting his photograph taken. We had a good 10 minutes of tears, until finally he relented and decided maybe, just maybe pictures would be okay.

He picked out a smashing grey and white H&M shirt, black jeans, his chuck taylors and even let me fuss over his hair a bit...but not too much. He was going for the, "Fashionable, without trying" look. Apparently it worked.

As we were headed into the building this morning a sweet little blonde girl in pigtails was ahead of us. Ethan whispered to me, "Mommy, she's in my class...what's her name?" (again, Mr. is not so great with names) I just happened to notice her name was stitched on her backpack. I whispered back, her name, and Ethan got a huge grin across his face as he said in a sing-song voice, "Hiiiiiiiiii________, it's me...Ethan!" She turned around and flashed her cute little grin and replied, "Hiiiiiiiii Ethan!" I couldn't believe it! I just aided my son in hitting on a girl! He's only four years old and it's only the second day of school! You've got to be kidding me!

I never imagined I would need to have the, "You should focus more on your education and less on girls," talk this soon. I'm so breaking out the Joshua Harris book I kissed Dating Good-bye, and reading it to him at bedtime in place of his usual bedtime story. That should do the trick.

I Made Imaginary Ice Cream And They Loved It...

Today my little bird flew out of the proverbial nest and into half-day preschool (four days a week *gulp*). I was a wreck...he was thrilled. We snapped pictures all along the way. This is what the camera captured:

(Please forgive my puffy eyes/face...not only was it a bad angle, but I had shed a few tears.)

(Seriously, A Locker?! I will add that he has already climbed in and tried to close the door...Twice.)

After looking at all these pictures...this was all I could see:

After the longest 3.5 hours of my life, we picked him up and were greeted with a huge smile! He loved it! We walked out of the room as he was saying bye to all of his new friends. One little boy even shouted, "Mommy, that's my new friend Ethan! Bye Ethan!" Unfortunately, E-man's not so good with names and shouted back, "Bye boy!" Then he whispered to me, "Mommy, I made imaginary ice cream for all my friends...and they loved it!" Preschool was a success. After all of that learning, friendship building, and imaginary play, this is how the little Mr. is spending the remainder of his afternoon:

Don't Grow Up...

I'm blogging late. I can't sleep and I can't help but peek in on my sweet little Mr. as he sleeps in his bed on the eve of his first day of preschool. He's so big. I sneak in and rock him in his sleep. He won't remember.

I keep picturing sweet baby toes that I kissed at three days old, asking him to promise me he wouldn't grow up. A little hand grasped around my finger. Listening to his little squeals at 6 months as he delighted in everything around him. First bath. First food. First steps. First words. Oh, those sweet first words that only I could decipher. I remember looking at him as a baby trying to picture the toddler he would become; the boy he would become.

I didn't realize it had come. It happened right under my nose and I barely noticed. He broke his promise, but I knew in my heart he would. He had to. It's okay. Tomorrow he'll wear his backpack. Tomorrow we'll take pictures. Tomorrow we'll walk him to his class.

I'll ask him again to promise me to never grow up, and he'll answer as he always does these days, "Mommy I have to get bigger, cause I'm going to be a grown-up man!" I'll ask him his favorite question, "Who's my favorite boy in the whole, wide, world?" And he'll answer with the same answer, "Ethan Davis Jackson!"

I want to freeze time.

Baby?...

If being surrounded by numerous adorable prego girls wasn't a good enough reason, here's another reason to convince Mr. B that we should become an official family of five:

That's right. Forever 21 now sells maternity clothing! I'm in love.