The Warm-Up Period

 Hey, y'all -

It stinks that your dad's not here. The only thing I could think of that would stink more is if I told you we're not going to do all the fun things we usually do, just because your dad isn't here. So we've had some talks about being flexible and cooperative and working together so we can still go on outdoor adventures now that there's only one grown-up in the house.

Scratch that.

LANEY and I have had some talks about working together while Hagen stares off in the distance, because he couldn't give two toots about going outside ever. But that's okay. I've got his number.

Yesterday, we went sledding. Before the car was even in park, Laney grabbed her plastic sled and ran across the street to the top of the sledding hill and wasn't seen again for half an hour. I spent that 30 minutes getting Hagen into his snow pants and hat and gloves and coat while he yelled things like "WHY ARE WE EVEN HERE WHEN WE COULD JUST GO TO THE Y?!?" The Kid Room at the Y is Hagen's favorite place in the world, because it has buckets of Transformers just waiting to be sorted in a temperature-controlled room. Also: a ball pit.

But it wouldn't be fair to Laney who loves to "do stuff" if we spent every minute at the Y, so DAMMIT PUT ON THESE PANTS. This was - obviously - not my first Hagen rodeo. So here's what I did (judge me if you will, dear reader - I don't care):

I bundled him up, put him on a dry sled, wrapped him in extra coats, and gave him my iPhone to watch a few episodes of Dinobots, parked his butt in the corner, and ignored him.

One thing I will say about you, though, Hagen, is that you don't care one bit that all your best snow gear is pink and purple, courtesy of your older sister's hand-me-downs. Usually, I tell you something like "Wow! that's the same color as that Pokemon you love with all the combat power!" and you love it. But the hat: that's all you. Out of everything at REI, you picked that one. No one to blame but yourself.

Anyway... parked Hagen in the corner of the field and went off to watch Laney do her thing times a thousand, laughing all the way (ho, ho, ho) -

Laney, you're just so cool and fearless and fun and an absolute joy to watch.

When Laney decided to walk over to a steeper hill on the far side of the sledding area, I dragged Hagen in his sled so I could keep him close. That's when he started to come around to the idea of being outside in the snow. While I was watching Laney and her friends, Hagen got up out of the sled and started hiking to the horizon. I caught up with him way across the field and asked what he was up to. "This just seemed like the kind of thing Moana would do...go far away on an adventure."

Hagen, I led you back to our group, and asked, 'Before we leave, would you like to try sledding...just once?" "Sure!" you smiled. "I've always wanted to know what sledding is like!"

Me: "NO YOU HAVEN'T, YOU BIG LIAR!"

(Note to self: saying something like that to your child in front of a group of people who didn't also witness the breakdown in the car at the mere mention of outdoor activity makes YOU look like the bad guy.)

OF COURSE you loved it, and while everyone else was packing up and leaving, we stayed extra so you could sled your heart out.

Mother's day present. Big one. 

Love,

Mom

Teppanyaki Talky

Dear Hagen, 

Last night, I took you and your sister to the Kobe restaurant where the chef grills your food right in front of you, with a big dash of showmanship and a side of dad jokes. You LOVED it, even though you wouldn't eat a single thing on the menu because the only things you're into eating right now are variations on bread + cheese. 

When the waitress took our order, she asked if anyone had any allergies, and we assured her we're all allergy-free. Then, another family was seated at our grill table, and you yelled to them: "ANYBODY GOT ANY ALLERGIES?!?" 

You loved the fire. "CAN WE DO THE FIRE THING AGAIN?!?" "HOW 'BOUT ANOTHER VOLCANO?"

The funniest thing was that you'd recently been caught drawing all over your arms with a magic marker. I gave you the standard, "Let's keep our art on paper, okay?" speech, and you told me. "It's not art! It's tattoos! I only have a few now, but when I have more adventures, I will earn even more, and I will have some right here!" (as you pointed to your pectoral area).

That's when I figured out you were pretending to be Maui from Moana, who has lots of tattoos to commemorate all the victories he's won. Not sure that you can accomplish the same look with Crayola, but more power to you. 

When the teppanyaki chef appeared, you immediately noticed his right arm was covered in tattoos. "HEY!" you said, "WE HAVE THE SAME TATTOOS!" and held up your little red arms. 

"Yours are better," he said. 

We came home, and I was treated to some after-dinner entertainment as Laney belted out the power ballad from Moana through her karaoke machine as you worked the spotlights. I tried to take a picture of you - because you were so invested in your stage craft - but you yelled at me: "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING THE SHOW!!"

...And I went to bed thinking, "I somehow gave birth to a cranky lighting tech who wants to hang out at Benihana." Genetics are weird, man. 

Love,

Mom

Ho Ho Hot Mess

Hey, y'all -

We've made it a month without your dad. I'm proud of us. I put a lazy Susan on our dinner table with a little tripod for my phone so we can video call him at dinnertime and whirl him around so he can see everybody. I haven't been sleeping well, because you people want to sleep in the bed with me. When I occasionally say yes - because who doesn't like snuggling? - I immediately regret it, because y'all both have this habit of sleeping sideways and kicking and Laney likes to exorcise whatever emotional demons are left over from the day in her sleep and I'm often jerked awake at 2 a.m. by a shouted: "BUT THOSE ARE MY PENCILS, MARIAH!!!!!"  I have no idea who Mariah is, but I hope she returned your damn pencils. 

I had a brain-overload moment the other day when I was thinking about a work project that I hadn't finished, and the homework I needed to do with Laney, and worrying about Hagen walking around pretending to be a Pokemon all the time and wondering how I was ever going to make a dinner that all three of us would want to eat. And then I looked down and realized that as I was getting our meal plated up, I had accidentally poured two kiddie juice glasses of Chardonnay for y'all. Mom's losing it! Early bedtime for everyone!

Yesterday, Laney's drama club at school presented their play, and I took Hagen because I'm a single parent and I had no choice he promised to be a quiet and attentive audience member. 

When I was a drama major at UVa, I had a friend Jack who was a graduate instructor, and he had this running joke about what you could say to a friend who was in a play that was a real stinker. Basically, you have to clap enthusiastically and shout factual statements like "Woo, you were IN THAT PLAY!" or "Man! You were UP ON THAT STAGE!" So, Laney, with all the love in my heart, I can say: "There was a play! And you WORE THAT DRESS!! And girl, you SAID THOSE LINES!!"

The play's relative quality had nothing to do with you. But here's what it was like, for those who couldn't attend:

The six girls in the drama club got to scrounge around the costume closet and pick whatever they wanted to wear, even if it made no sense for this production of "Little Red Riding Hood." Hence, Little Red's mother looking like Jennifer Grey in the finale of Dirty Dancing, and you - Little Red's grandmother - looking like a Wednesday night clog dancer at the Opry.  

One girl (in blue, above) decided she wanted to play the role of "Snow." So she wadded up a bunch of white trash and stuffed it in a Priority Mail envelope. During the show, whenever her artistic internal clock told her it should be snowing, she'd reach into her little cardboard envelope, grab some paper scraps and throw them on the floor. She never announced "It's snowing!" but as an audience, we could feel it.  "Girl, you were UP THERE ON THAT STAGE, MAKING THAT SNOW HAPPEN!"

Let me tell you the best part of the show...this guy:

As the narrator read her lines ("Girl, you were READING that paper!") there was a moment when she said, "But it turned out it WASN'T Little Red's grandmother! It was a wolf!"

...And Hagen, in the audience, out loud, said "Dun dun dun!!!" like he was the vaudeville soundtrack. 

After the wolf "ate" Grandma, Laney crawled under the table to indicate being inside the wolf, and Hagen said, "Hi Laney! Good job in the play Laney!" And y'all waved to each other. No one seemed to care that you had broken the fourth wall. We were all still trying to decipher the meaning of the garbage on the floor (we didn't learn it was snow 'til curtain call).

You were great. You knew your lines, and you wore the hell out of that Appalachian pageant dress. 

Wish I'd brought one of those juice glasses of Chardonnay. 

Love,

Mom

Parade of Lights

Hey y'all - 

Yesterday was the Missoula Parade of Lights celebration, with free activities for kids spread throughout downtown. There were 30 activities to choose from; my friend Julie, who I'm convinced missed her true calling in life as the Activities Director on a cruise ship, always attempts to do them ALL. I printed out the list and gave it to Laney with instructions to CIRCLE THREE. 

Because I am a sucker - a sucker, I say - we ended up doing far more. Except for Hagen. At our very first stop, he said, "I think I'd rather just hang out at Finley's house instead of riding the carousel, making s'mores, stringing popcorn or meeting Santa." So he got in Finley's mom's car and that was the last we heard of him for the afternoon.

Laney and her friends plowed through one activity after another. 

With the parade starting at 6pm, I thought it would be smart to take a break and go home for dinner. Somehow, we ended up with multiple friends and kids at our house for an impromptu dinner. Julie asked me, "Do you think we should order something, or do you have enough for all of us?" Well, I clutched my imaginary pearls because of course I had enough for all of them. And their mamas and their second cousins. Because you can take the girl out of the South, but not the South out of the girl, I keep zombie apocalypse-levels of food in our house for just this sort of occasion. No, I will NOT need to order take-out food...no, nor any of my kin. 

^^ I just noticed that in the bottom-left corner of that picture, you can see a Thanksgiving turkey Hagen made in his class, which lists the things he's thankful for: Transformers, Mommy, Videos and Fun! When his teacher handed it to your dad, she smiled and said, "I'm sorry you're not on here." "Sure I am," said your dad. "I'm the fun!"

We went downtown for the Parade of Lights at 6p. I brought our wagon because it's always good for kid control. And also gives Hagen a controlled environment. Luckily, Julie's husband Jared was around to pull it. 

While Child #1 stood on the side of the parade route and waited patiently for Santa...

Child #2 hung out in the wagon and wondered why we'd leave our heated house to stand on the side of the road. 

There were all kinds of floats, including an appearance by the University of Montana mascot, Monty the Griz. I have probably already addressed my SEC snobbery on this blog, but allow me to say: Uga the bulldog from the University of Georgia would never appear in the back of some phone company plywood trailer.

The "Super Skippers" jumprope ream with their lighted jump ropes were especially cool:

...and even the downtown trolley got in on the act. 

As soon as the parade was over, we watched the official lighting of the tree downtown. Eat your heart out, Rockefeller Center. (I kid, I kid.)

Love,

Mom

My Three Powers

Dear Hagen,

According to what you told us the other night, you have three super powers:

In case you didn't catch that, your three superhero moves are:

1) Lasso Rope

2) Super Coyote Howl

3) Super Coyote Jump

I'm thinking I would choose something like Invisibility. Or Teleportation. Or Overactive Metabolism.

Ella is a good choice of sidekick, though. You wouldn't want your partner in crime to be too impressed with you, now would you?

Love,
Mom

A Christmas Cry For Help

Hey, y'all - 

Some concessions have been made in light of your dad's current absence. That's a lofty way of saying that with your dad gone, I am holding things together with a very thin string. 

No way was I going to tromp through the woods with you people, looking for the perfect tree, only to bring it down with my trusty hatchet and drag it back to the car. What I WAS willing to do was stop by the Lions Club tree sale over at the Fairgrounds and let y'all pick a tree from the $15 discount row. They had some big, stately, impressive trees there, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pay $80 to watch something die in my living room. 

True to form, y'all picked the ugliest tree in the building. The sweet volunteer asked if he could shape it for us with his chainsaw, but Hagen doesn't do loud noises. Then he asked if he could tie it up for us, and I said, "Naw, I'm just going to throw it in the passenger seat." He laughed like I was being SO FUNNY, and then he got to watch me do it.

Shut up and get in the car, tree:

I threw the tree in the living room, and climbed up our completely unstable ladder to the attic to look for the tree stand. I told Laney, "Stand by your phone and if you hear a big crash, dial 9-1-1." This is the kind of thing you have to think about when you don't have another adult in the house. 

Didn't take me long to discover that the trunk of the tree was so tiny, our tree stand wasn't going to be able to hold it up, even on its tightest setting. Honest to Betsy, if I had enough rocks to weigh it down, I would have put the scrawny thing in a damn vase. Instead, I built a wall of splints around the trunk and duct-taped the whole thing together. Looks like a picture on a "You might be a redneck..." slideshow, but works great. 

You two got busy decorating the tree. Our friend Tyler is famous for his flawless holiday decorating, where each light and ornament must be just-so, and a lifestyle magazine could drop by at any time and shoot a great layout of his decor. He barely lets Brian participate. So I enjoy texting Tyler pictures of our decorating process with messages like, "Step 1: Pick the ugliest tree on the lot. Step 2: Let small children throw random crap at it until they get bored and walk away. Isn't that how YOU do it?" Tyler texted back: "OMG. I would have a seizure."

Sometimes, we'll end up with three ornaments on the same branch because, as Hagen explains, 'They're all friends and they need to hang out together."

In the end, our tree looks like our trees always do...as if someone had too much egg nog and dragged a bush through the holiday section of Walmart where some stuff got stuck to it. 

O Christmas tree!, Oh Christmas tree!

Thou art a metaphor for my life.

Love,

Mom

His Inner Moana

Dear Hagen,

A few days, I took you and Laney to see the new Disney movie "Moana." You sat in my lap for most of the movie, and absorbed every frame of the film without squirming or wiggling; you LOVED it. I thought it was scary as hell, and at one point, I covered your eyes, thinking you must be terrified, but you hollered out, "I WANT TO SEE!" On the way home, you asked me to play your favorite song from the movie, so I downloaded it and we listened to it on repeat.

The next morning, I buzzed off your hair in exchange for a lollipop. We do this fairly often, because you don't like it when your hair doesn't lay perfectly flat. Speaking of, we were getting ready to leave for dinner once, and I heard you say, "My belly's big. My hair is flat. I look GOOD." Not really sure where you got those beauty standards, but okay. I finished buzzing your hair and helped you out of your clothes so I could take them outside and shake out the hair.

When I came back in, I heard "Moana" music blasting (Thanks, DJ Laney), and when I looked up the stairs....I witnessed this:

AloHA HA HA HA HA.

Love,

Mom

Bye