Transcendentalism

My brain hurts. I just spent 35 minutes with a student who wanted me to explain a quote from an American transcendentalist and which element of transcendentalism dominates that particular quote "in simple terms." Have you ever read Thoreau? Emerson? Whitman? Are you familiar AT ALL with American transcendentalism? "Simple terms" hardly apply. Ever. Ouch...I need some tylenol. And chocolate. Maybe just chocolate.

Day of Rest

For the past half hour or so, Nicco has been climbing up onto the arm of the couch, whistling (but since he can't actually whistle, he puts his two fingers in his mouth and screeches) to get his daddy's attention, then jumping onto the daddy, lying vulnerable on the couch below. Apparently, this is exhausting. After several repetitions, Nicco brought all his stuff to me on the other couch and asked "Is this the rest store?"

If only such a store existed. Then again, in true need of rest, I would be entirely too tired (read: lazy) to go to a store to buy some rest.

Bouncy House

When I asked Nicco what he wanted to do today and he said "play a game on the computer, or two, or three, or seven or more, or....whatever." I decided to get him out of the house for some unplugged fun. The bouncy house has drop-in play three days a week for an hour and a half, so we took a little drive to bounce and slide. The boy released plenty of energy in that hour and a half and was ready for puzzles and books when we came back home.

He mimicked the olympic sliders at the start. I giggled as he pushed himself down the slide. A couple of times he got up enough speed to propel himself over the barrier at the bottom! I think it was $7 well spent.

Arbitrary Thoughts and Miscellaneous Moments

• This is my new trick to get Nicco to practice writing his name:
  

It's that game you play where you make dots on a page then take turns connecting the dots to make squares...whoever completes a square marks it with their initials. He started out making me hold his hand to write his "N" but after we played several games, he filled in his squares with the consecutive letters in his name. He had no idea he was practicing writing! HA!

• Nicco asks his daddy if he "brought [me] a surprise today" when he comes home from work probably 3 days a week. Once in a while, the answer is yes. The other day, the surprise was this crown from the Renaissance Festival. He wore it most of the following day and got mad at me if I called him King Nicco, promptly informing me that he is not a king, "this is for my birthday!" Now he thinks his birthday is just around the corner.
  
  
• Nicco got his hands on the camera again. This Penguins DVD was his surprise/reward from his daddy for being such a good big boy at the doctor. I think I like the Penguins of Madagascar better than he does. With lines like "Private! You know how I feel about the metric system; we go with feet, and inches!" and "Kowalski, intelligence..." "...Significantly above average, but I don't like to brag." and "You'll find sarcasm is more effective when you don't giggle it out like a naughtly little school girl." and with lobster warriors who have New England accents, can you blame me?
• I love the Olympics. I get nostalgic and almost weepy listening to the music. I get emotional and weepy when I see parents in the stand. I know I will most likely not (but possibly...who knows?) be the mother of an Olympian, but I just think how proud and nervous and excited those mamas and papas must be! I get sick to my stomach sometimes thinking about how much I love my little boy.
• I think Canadians are jerks. It's Diana's fault. She told me that they are being stingy with ice time (and she knows, because she and her family have interacted with the Olympic team and coordinators at the Salt Lake Oval) and I have heard 2 different broadcasts that mention other teams complaining about not getting enough practice time. Could that poor sportsmanship have contibuted to the death of the Georgian luger? Hmm? Maybe. Big jerks. So I was glad to see Jenn "The Real Deal" Heil lose dramatically to our own charming and delightful Hannah Kearney in the women's moguls.
• I HATE sports where winners are judged. I thought it was pretty crappy that the French guy got 6th place in the men's moguls when he was soooo fast. I realize that he didn't perfectly execute his second jump, but 6th? Really? I think it was a conspiracy to let the Canadian win. Big jerks.
• I also hate cocky athletes. I much prefer humble athletes and non-attention seeking athletes, like the Canadian-turned-Australian guy whom everyone in the media thinks is a big jerk because he doesn't do press conferences. I think he's a super cool dude for defecting to a country that lets HIM decide for himself whether he can be a successful businessman and world class athlete. Again, demonstrating Canada's big jerkiness. Oh, and by the way, Apolo Anton Ohno, you did.not.win. You got second place. And you were lucky the two skaters in front of you screwed up big time so you could get a medal by default. So, good for you, Mr. Ohno, but save the champion of the world celebration for an undisputed singular gold medal winning effort, when you are actually champion of the world. Blech.
• Back to the weepy-mom syndrome I suffer from, did anyone else cry at the Tide commercial Lucy's friend was in? You know, the one that says "To their moms, they'll always be kids." Win for whoever came up with that one!
• Our Relief Society Birthday Dinner is tomorrow night. Don't these women know it is LOST night?
• I saw picture of a guy wearing a jacket over an Obama t-shirt that presumably said "progress" but his jacket cut off the "pr" and the "ss" on either end, so it looked like it said "ogre." HA!

Check-Up

I finally got a new pediatrician and took my kid to the doctor for his annual well-child visit. I didn't tell him ahead of time because frankly, any time I can put off whining/fighting/crying, I will put it off. I had to wake him up this morning (as opposed to just letting him move to his own circadian rhythms) and break the doctor visit news. He was not pleased and expressed that displeasure with a loud and emphatic "I AM NOT SIIIIICCCKKKK!!!!" To which I responded "We need to go to the doctor to make sure we don't get sick and so we can be healthy and strong." To which he responded by flexing his awesomely developed musculature and grunting in a very macho-manly manner, thereby proving that he is healthy and strong. (Appropriately, perhaps, I accidentally went to the MENTAL health office next door to the MEDICAL health office.)

Nicco asked all sorts of questions about what would happen during the visit and was confident that the doctor would see that all his parts are just fine, and said that he changed his mind, he's not scared after all. We had a student doctor come check him out first (I had a student doctor at my delivery too...are we destined to be practice people?) The student doctor was kind and pleasant enough, did all the requisite reflex checks, eye, ear, and nose inspections, etc. However, he wasn't sure whether Nicco would need shots or not because he said they didn't have his medical records from Littleton. But he reassured me that it would be fine, as soon as they get the records, they will be happy to give me a call and I can bring my kid (and another $20 copay) back to get his shots. I suggested he check the file again, perhaps even go to the front desk, because I called and confirmed that the records arrived before I made the appointment. Lo and behold, there they were, tucked behind the other papers on the clipboard, ominously revealing that Nicco is indeed due for a couple more shots.

After the student doctor left, the REAL doctor came in and basically repeated the battery of tests and checks, and pronounced our name correctly without hesitating and even said "That's a nice strong French name."

When he left, Nicco casually informed me that he would "jump and say ow" when he got his shots. He didn't jump, but he did say ow. He did not cry though! He earned his lollipop.

And now for a completely random side note:

This is a submarine.

Chocolate Cake or Elephant's Knees?

Yesterday I pulled weeds. I think it is completely unfair that we can't enjoy a lush lawn and still have to deal with weeds!

Today, I took Nicco to our neighborhood pool. It is February 6 and it is an outdoor pool. I guess I will quit complaining about the weeds.

That's What I Learned at My School

I realize that by writing this post I am opening myself to edits from the grammar police.

I also realize that everyone makes mistakes when they write e-mails, notes to self and others, memos, lists, letters...virtually any form of writing can be butchered on any given day by any given person, including (gasp) me.

That being said,

Really?

Hello? Hello? Are You There?

Nicco loves talking on the phone. Almost daily he will tell me that he wants to call someone, usually Grandpa and Grandma or Daddy. This evening he called his daddy both on his cell and on his office phone and got the machine both times. The cell phone voicemail goes to a robo-female voice with instructions on what to do after the beep. Nicco whispered hoarsely "Mommy, it's not him!" and hung up. When we got the voicemail on the office phone, Nicco mumbled "DaddyIloveyouit'smeBoo" Then said "Well, I guess he's not home. He's probably out for a walk or somethin'."