Dude, Where's My Car?

A little history - or a lot as it turns out:

When I met Jeff (in 1997, mind you) he was proudly driving a 1982 Toyota Supra. He took great care of that car (as all Rocks do; it's in their blood or something) and drove it until 2003. That's right. He drove it from California to Kansas to Arkansas to Florida to Oklahoma before choosing to move on. When he made that grand leap of faith into a new vehicle, he (we, I guess, but mostly he) did a ton of research to figure out exactly what he wanted and then haggled and bargained and walked out of negotiations on more than one occasion before coming to own a brand new 4Runner. He loves that truck. And I enjoy it, too, of course.

In all those pre-truck years we relied heavily on my then-new 1997 Camry, which was largely a graduation gift from my parents. We drove the Camry all over creation: Kansas to Arkansas to Florida to Oklahoma to Texas to Oklahoma then back and forth to Kansas so many times in 4 years that we wore ruts into I-70 and then finally to Florida (again) before accepting an assignment to Japan which meant selling and/or storing vehicles. The government pays for the storage of only one car per household (which, in hindsight, makes no sense but it's the gov'nment so what should I expect?) so our choice was easy. After 7 action-packed years, it was time to bid the Camry farewell and hold onto the 4Runner.

Only we didn't, courtesy of Jeff's parents who purchased our Camry from us before we left Florida (and incidentally they spent our three years overseas taking care of our 4Runner which we stored near them. They drove it, washed and waxed it approximately every 30 days. See previous mention of how Rocks take care of cars). So that was easy. And then we spent three years in Okinawa driving the Crapina (if you don't know about that beast of a car, check the archives) and an old 4Runner, aka Surf. Life was good. We spent those years wondering what kind of car we'd buy for me upon return. I visited the military Volvo sales on more than one occasion; my suggestions fell on deaf ears.

Then we moved home and Jeff's parents returned the Camry to us. Is that awesome or what? It was seriously awesome. So I drove the Camry and Jeff drove his 4Runner and all was well.

Until we had another kid and it turned out the Camry was annoyingly small for two carseats, a double stroller and Costco runs. Seriously, it was the Costco runs (oh, and the extra piece of furniture in our garage making it impossible to get an infant seat into the car) that made me lose my mind with that car. So somehow (uh, maybe it was my incessant griping and general crankiness on the matter) Jeff and I switched cars. That was about 8 months ago and I've enjoyed every minute of it. Yet I've also feel a tad bit guilty. For eight months.

So today, as I was leaving Costco with two kids and small items which have now become our standards and no stroller because we're past that stage, what with Natalie sitting in the cart and Wyatt walking or sitting next to her, I realized that my needs have changed again and I could be driving the Camry. I could give Jeff's car back to him. So I mentioned to Wyatt that we could trade cars with Daddy and he agreed. I told Wyatt he could surprise Jeff with that news at dinner. And then I forgot about that conversation.

Fast forward to dinner tonight with my elephant-minded son when he announced, "Daddy, we're going to start driving the Camry. You can have the truck again." Jeff looked baffled, but I quickly backed him up and said, "yeah, we talked about it and we're ready to trade back so you can have your car." Jeff was kind enough to suggest that we should keep things the way they are since the 4Runner is probably a safer car, so after a little back and forth between me and Jeff, it was settled. Wyatt was confused. So Jeff started explaining to Wyatt and it went a little like this:

J: Well I really appreciate the offer and that you guys would think of me, but I think you're safer in the 4Runner so I want you guys to stay in it. I mean, you'll probably drive the truck someday, Wyatt, if we can hold onto it that long. So I want you guys to be in it and...(cut off by Wyatt)

W: (interrupting) no, no, no, excuse me...excuse me....excuse me, Daddy?

J: What?

W: Um, Daddy? I'm going to drive the Camry.

And then I cracked up. And Jeff cracked up. And Wyatt cracked up because he's a social laugher if there ever was one, though he had no idea why we were laughing.

So in 13 years, when you cross paths with us and Wyatt is driving a 1997 Camry, don't feel sorry for him. It's what he wanted. And Wyatt, if you're sixteen and reading this, you did it to yourself, sweetie. We love you.

Merry Christmas

That was us, post-early-church, pre-early-gift-opening-madness. I'm happy to report that if tomorrow's haul is anything like tonight's for the young man, it's going to be CRAZY. The good news is that we're all having equal amounts of fun with the stomp rocket and the dart board. The better news is that our brilliant plan is working. Kids in bed, movie coming courtesy of pay-per-view and coffee brewing to accompany the Bailey's. And I should still be in bed at a reasonable hour.

I hope your Christmas is as lovely to you as mine is to me and that you, too, are struck by the glory of the season and the true meaning of it all. Merry Christmas!

She's Got Game

I have a sinking feeling that Natalie might be my challenging child. Those of you that know me well know that's not the best news. It's becoming clear to me that for all of Wyatt's willfulness, he's never been one to get into things he shouldn't. Natalie? Well, she really, really likes to get into things. Like Wyatt, she crawls as fast as she can toward an open dishwasher, but unlike Wyatt she also insists on pulling up rugs, yanking shoes out of my closet and playing in the pantry while emptying its shelves.

Today she started a new 'game' and I know she thinks of it that way by her little laugh upon getting caught. Over and over. It starts like this: we're both in the kitchen when she glances at me to see if I'm really paying attention. If she deems herself to have a headstart and/or a slightly distracted mom, she bolts toward the steps as fast as her little bottom will swagger. When she arrives at the large flight of stairs, she begins to climb. As I round the corner and see her she starts breathing in and out really fast, kind of snorting and smiling all at once, while simultaneously attempting to go faster. And then I grab her (usually before she's gotten anywhere) and she cracks up. Then we both head back to the kitchen where she waits for her next big break.

So I'm realizing that we might actually have to childproof this house. I'm thinking that cabinet locks, toilet locks and extra gates are probably in our future. But the upside to all of this? She's got a great laugh.

He Makes Me Laugh

Me: I have to go to Costco. Wyatt, do you want to go to Costco with me?

W: No.

Me: Really?

W: Nope.

Me: Okay. I'll go by myself.

W: Yeah. But will you bring me some samples?

Nine

Oh Natalie, sweet Natalie. You're good stuff, baby girl.

You cruise
you crawl with speed
you love an open dishwasher
you squirm with delight when you see your dad, your brother or even anticipate that you might see one of them.
you love feeding Millie from the table (that's a no-no, yet you do it then look at me and smile)
you have serious separation anxiety
you love Cheerios and puffs
you grunt until you get what you want
you babble now - all of a sudden - and I'm hearing a lot of dada, ada, baba, etc. but nothing that sounds like mama. Just like your brother.
you do not like avocados but I will not stop trying
you love bath and the anticipation of getting a bath
your laugh is a fantastic sound
you have survived your first visible injury, courtesy of your brother removing your hands from the table while pulling up
you still have only four teeth
you are a chunk
you are too tall for your 6-9 month sleepers
you refuse to hold your own bottle
you think sippy cups are for hitting the tray and not much else
you are not the best sleeper in the world
we love you anyway.

Who Needs a Sleigh?

Funny thing: all fighter pilots' kids will grow up wondering why Santa needs a magic sleigh when he can just hop in a jet. He chose the backseat of an F-15 today, arriving in time to visit our kids' Christmas party at the squadron. I wasn't sure how 'into' Santa Wyatt was until I watched him, awestruck, watching the big man in action.

Santa's jet delivered him right to the squadron's door, so all the kids watched from the DO's office, plastered up against the big window waving their little hearts out. Daddy made sure Wyatt was getting a good look at St. Nick.

Then all the kids piled out of the office, heading for the stairs so they could be the first to greet Santa when he came up. Wyatt was leading the charge until he came face to face with Santa, at which point he morphed from WYATT! to Wyatt, shy-boy-in-awe-of-greatness.

(Please note the hands behind the back posture.)

So then all the kids sat and waited for Santa to call their name. And for Wyatt, the wait just went on and on and on.

He finally looked over at me and said, "I don't think Santa has a present for me!" Right after I put my heart back together, I assured him Santa absolutely had a present for him but that he'd just have to be patient. After a couple more kids were called up, I watched my little boy fight back tears, trying so hard to believe. So that's when my friend went and found Wyatt's gift and handed it to Santa's elf, assuring that Wyatt would be next.

That's when WYATT! returned, bolted up for his gift and his candycane and then sat down again.

No, he couldn't be troubled with sitting on Santa's lap. Perhaps we should've explained it all a little better, since he brought his wrapped gift (a book, like all the other kids' gifts) to me and said in a slightly sad voice, "but I wanted a football." I told him this was just a really lucky pre-Christmas visit with Santa, and that this was a chance for him to tell Santa directly what he's really hoping for. He seemed pleased with that and promptly ditched the book in favor of his uber-cool blue candycane.

Meanwhile, Natalie held down the fort at the ops desk.

And did I mention that Grandpa and Grandma arrived last night?

So we're just really glad that Wyatt's head didn't explode with all the excitement (and sugar. so. much. frosting. and sprinkles. and cupcakes. and cookies. ) and that he's getting into the holiday spirit. I love this time of year!

Tagline

Wyatt's eating store-brand Crispy Rice for breakfast. Since it's not the real thing it sings a different tune. According to Wyatt, it says, "snickle, pepper, pop."

Now you know.

Natalie Says,

I LOVE CHRISTMAS TIME!

Carols by Wyatt

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse broken sleigh. HEY!"

and

"Rudolph the red deer nose...huh?"

And to anyone wondering, he is not really that worried about what our Elf on a Shelf has to say to Santa, or at least he's not acting as though he is. He does, however, repeatedly ask Froo (that's our elf's name, per Wyatt) to tell Santa that he'd like a real helmet and a real football. I have a sneaking suspicion that Santa will come through. And that there's some real tackling and real getting hurt to come in 2010.