French was on the language menu for my eldest today.
It was quite hot so we spent the better part of it inside. We did numerous jobs interspersed with fun activities. My daily post is always at the back of my mind and I was contemplating what to write today when I decided that my son and I could use the laptop for something other than blogging or playing games.
I thought it might be interesting to learn ‘I love you’ in another language. I chose French for obvious reasons-it’s the language of love and Paris is supposed to be one of the most love-filled cities in the world. We’ve already covered German so I thought we wouldn’t travel too far from there.
We looked at where France is on an interactive globe we have here at home. We listened to the pronunciation and wrote it down once we’d looked it up on Google. We practised drawing heart shapes and then coloured them in. We used it in conversation throughout the day instead of our customary ‘I love you’s’.
It was fairly basic stuff but he really seemed to enjoy it. I enjoyed it too-connecting with my No. 1 today and learning something together.
Un grand ‘baiser français de air sur les deux joues de moi à vous (A big French ‘mwah’ air kiss on both cheeks from me to you).
Je T’aime my beautiful boy.
Image from: here.
I love watching you at Thursday afternoon soccer practice.
We’ve just broken the land speed record to get here straight from school but now I get to sit and relax for a bit while you do your stuff.
Your eyes are on the coach the moment he blows the whistle. Your ears are ready to listen to instructions. Your feet can’t keep still in anticipation of kicking the first goal. You can almost taste victory. And this is just practice!
First comes the warm up and your competitiveness is evident right from the get-go. You want to ‘win’ just doing laps of the field. Next in the ritual is stretching. Your serious face makes me laugh as does your version of push ups and sit ups. Drills complete the pre-game action. I watch you pass, dribble and take shots at the goal with such concentration.
Finally it’s the business end of the session, your favourite part. You and the other boys are broken into two teams. I know you need to learn about team work but not much team playing happens during the game. Your main aim seems to be to get the ball and kick a goal. There’s sometimes tears if your team doesn’t win and pure excitement if you do. I can’t wait until you actually play a proper match against another team.
The passion and determination you show for this sport at such a tender age is admirable. I love watching you at soccer practice.
I love my little Aussie champions on Australia day.
On this day each year I always think about how lucky we are and try to impart some of the reasons why to my boys. I believe it’s important for them to have a sense of what it means to be an Aussie. Aside from the lamb chops on the barbie and lamingtons for dessert, I’d like my kids to have a deeper understanding as they grow of the importance of this day.
Normally we would spend Australia Day with family as we have done every year for quite some time as my sister-in-law’s birthday is the same day. This year her birthday celebrations are being held on Monday. When we’re with family I chat with my eldest about the fact that they have family on both sides who were born in other countries. My husband was born in the U.K so on his side our kids are first generation Australians.
This year we were invited to friends of ours for a BBQ. They also have two young children who were sporting temporary tattoos like the boys were. I had expected that my husband’s Australian flag thongs would make an appearance today but they were a no-show. The bucket hat was, however, worn with pride. Others had donned tshirts and shorts bearing various symbols we associate with our country. Triple J’s hottest 100 countdown played in the background. The highlight of the day for me though was hearing my 2 y.o. chant his first; ‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi!’
I love spending Australia day with family, friends and my little Aussie champs.
I love it when you ‘help’ me with the dishes.
As I run the water you are already asking me if you can help do the dishes. Without waiting for an answer you have grabbed your step (an upturned plastic milk crate covered with cardboard and material) and are zooming over.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer. The last thing I want to do is quell your enthusiasm for such a routine task that I’m sure you’ll grow to dislike. Fighting tooth and nail is one expression that comes to mind when I think of you donning the rubber gloves once you reach maybe 4, 5 or 6. The novelty will wear off and you’ll find it a chore, I’m just not sure when. You’ll turn to me and say, ‘can’t we just put them in the dishwasher?’
So you are assigned to the rinsing sink. Your role is simple-to remove the bubbles off the dishes and then put them in the drainer. Instead you enjoy pouring water from cups into bowls and containers into plastic bottles. In the meantime, as you assist me, we end up with more water on the floor than in the sink. You try and steal my bubbles and put them in your side or on your face to make a beard. Not many items leave your side and go into the dish drainer so I remind you or just do it myself. That means I need to go around you or over your head to reach. When you do put some in I need to rearrange them after otherwise they’d still be full of water in the morning. I’ll give you one thing in all of this. You’re an expert plug puller-outerer. Your face gets ‘that look’ if I forget and you don’t get to do it.
When we’re done I’ll mop up the water from the floor, rearrange the drainer, change your top and we’re done. Phew! Dishes used to be an easy task.
But it’s special time that I get to share with you that makes it worth the effort. I love you when we’re doing the dishes together.
Yes, it’s no secret. By now it’s pretty obvious. I love my little guys.
So what lengths would I go to so the world knows how I feel?
- participate in a one-woman march through the centre of town with my placard and megaphone chanting, ‘I love my boys’.
- paint the roof of my house so the planes that travel their flight path over our home can see my proclamation.
- post a letter to our local member of parliament asking that it be declared at the next caucus meeting
- I could just sit here in my pj’s blogging for those of you who care to drop in and have a look-see.
Yes that sounds like the best alternative. I’ve always been more of a spectator than participant in demonstrations. I’d probably fall off the roof and I don’t think my bill would get to the House of Representatives. That megaphone might come in handy when I’d like to be heard over the noise of my three fellas though.
So the secret’s ‘out there’ folks. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my message to the masses without needing a megaphone.
Photo from imagerymajestic at: here.
There isn’t a single part of either of my boys that I don’t love. Let’s face it-they’re a product or combination of myself and their dad so why shouldn’t I?
As adults we may find fault with ourselves or gently point out not-for-the-better changes in our partners. By the time we’ve reached parenthood though, it’s not so much about physical appearance. It’s more to do with health and ensuring you have enough energy to chase around, or after, your kids.
My childern are not perfect but I love them as much as if they were. Right from the tips of their fingers all the way down to their toes.
My eldest has freckles. They’re sporadically placed all over his body. He may end up with moles like me. He’s olive skinned and has tan lines where his socks stop. When he takes off his socks it looks like he’s still got a pair on. He’s a perfectionist (where’d he inherit that from?) and looks like he’s growing some warts at the moment on his feet.
My youngest has coarser hair and blue eyes unlike his brother’s which are brown. He’s stockier and will be taller I’d say which will go down well with the older sibling. There’s a bit of a wingnut characteristic to his ears which is more obvious when he’s had a haircut. Talking to anyone who will listen is commonplace at the moment and he has had numerous minor accidents resulting in blood and doctor’s visits.
Although all these things about them are noticeable I don’t ‘see’ them. I love them just as they are, from their fingers all the way to their toes.
Ever since my 5 y.o. son was born my husband and I have said ‘I love you’ to him everyday. The same rules applied with our second son. By the time he came along though we had started a new tradition in our home.
Every now and again one of us would ask our eldest (he was nearly 3 by then) ‘guess what I found out today?’ In the beginning he would say, ‘what?’ The more times we did this routine the more he got used to it and would reply ‘I love you.’ Then it became a race to see whether his dad or I could finish the question before he would reply.
We love being able to convey our love for our kids in different ways. It doesn’t always have to be mushy, just known is all we care.
Photo from: here.