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.
There’s only one thing I love more than bedtime. It’s when they wake up in the morning. The day is going to be as hectic as ever but there’s that short pause where their brains take a while to kick all systems into action.
It’s those first few minutes as they rub the sleep from their eyes, stretch and yawn. They take a little while to properly adjust to being up. There’s no words. They just blink and try to focus.
I love you in wake up mode.
Image from: here.
I love you when you are playing using your imagination.
I love those moments when you think no-one’s watching and your toys that don’t have batteries talk and move with your help. At the moment I know you love Power Rangers. They’ve been your favourite now for over a year. Before that it was Lightning McQueen. Prior to Cars came Chuggington. Preceding that it was construction vehicles and Thomas the Tank Engine. It won’t be long before Mike, Emily and the rest of the Super Samurai crew take a back seat for the next craze you’ll move onto.
Each one of these ‘fads’ costs Dad and I a small fortune. We could probably have bought our own island off the coast by now if we hadn’t allowed you, and your brother, the indulgences of playing with the latest toys available. It’s all worth it though when I see your imagination at work. Don’t grow up too fast, kiddo! Those action figures will be a distant memory all too soon.
Until then, remember to love your toys to infinity and beyond, like I love you.
Photo from: here.
Why is it that my boys love the fridge almost as much as I love them?
As we transition to another stockpiling phase at my place, I may entertain the notion of placing my youngest’s pillow on the 2nd shelf of the fridge. He needs to eat within minutes of waking, is in the fridge or pantry on a continuous basis throughout the day and is then placing his 3 course breakfast order as he closes his eyes at night time. He’s even been caught red handed with the contents of the biscuit jar under the dining room table. Like I won’t see him under there!
I know this phase will come to an end soon enough and then I’ll be worried as he rejects every food related substance. He’ll be busy growing then so I guess I’ll be able to rethink the child locks on all food storage items.
I know future eating frenzies will become longer and I should be thankful I’m not up to the teenage stage yet. I’ll love my boys through thick and thin even when the fridge is empty the day after shopping.
There is no end to the love I feel for my boys.
Completing the task for this photo had me reminiscing about high school days. On the odd occasion that I got into trouble, writing lines was the given punishment. Unlike times gone by, this time was not a chore (I did have a cramp in my hand by the last few lines though).
I would write ‘I love you’ a squillion times if my kids asked me to. I would hire a plane with a banner trailing behind if money were no consideration. I’d climb the highest mountain even though I’m afraid of heights. I would step in front of a bus to save my child’s life.
My love knows no end, no boundary, no limits!
Today I taught my eldest to say ‘I Love You’ in German.
He started learning German this year at school and knows numbers, colours and some songs in German already. I thought it would be great if he could return to school and show his German teacher that he has learnt something new over the school holidays.
I also thought that because he hears the words ‘I love you’ so frequently it might make a nice change to be able to say it so it means the same but sounds different. After he learnt how to say it he asked how it was spelt so that he could write it down. After that we made a poster together that he wants to take to school to show his teacher when he goes back.
I really enjoyed this simple but fun activity that we did together. Now we can say ‘I love you’ to each other in a new way. I might teach him how to say ‘I love you’ in some other languages and that way we can learn some new things together.
There’s something about a squeaky clean body that reminds me how much I love you.
I know you have great fun in the process of getting clean: the nudie run after stripping, bubbles on your chin and in your hair, water splashed up the walls and on the floor and numerous bath toys floating around to complete the ritual.
The routine of bathing isn’t as much fun for me but the outcome is what I love. Your hair is shiny and smells clean. The texta, glue, dirt and other foreign particles are gone until tomorrow. You are just you. You are the same as the day you were born, naked, but just bigger. It reminds me that I was clever and lucky enough to have made you. ‘I made that bum,’ is one of my favourite comments.
I love your bum and every other part of you when you’re squeaky clean.
It’s only natural that I loved you from the moment you were born. I do, however, like to constanly reinforce this fact with you everyday of your life.
Love begets love. You know you are loved and give love in return. Even amidst tears, tantrums and tiredness I ask, ‘you do know I love you, don’t you?’ The answer is always ‘yes and I love you too’. I’ll deal with the day that you turn to me and say ‘no’ if/when we get there.
Until then the writing’s on the wall….or in this case, blackboard!
The amount I love my kids cannot be meausured by a single word or number. It is something that is indescribable. When they smile, give me a hug, kiss me or hold my hand it is magnified to a point that defies explanation. I take great delight in the little things that they do everyday of their lives. The way my 2 y.o. reacts to a tree chopping truck driving down the road to the response from my 5 y.o. when he receives a letter in the post. Those microscopic details are the ones that I hope I can hold onto as they grow.