“Get off my grass.” Ah…Toddlers. (A Blog Revisited…)

A friend’s Facebook Status reminded me of this post and I thought I would share it again. An oldie but a goodie.



Oh, dear.

How do I approach this one?

I wish I could say that my malicious, trouble-seeking neighbor said this to me. I would even settle for admitting I uttered these words to the determined teenager at my door selling magazines last week.

But, no.

These words, now infamous in my household, were spoken by my 2-year old son, Jack.

Jack Get Off My Grass

And he meant them. Every last one of them.

The recipient of such rude talk, you ask?

My nephews. And, here’s the really sad part. They were there to see if Jack wanted to play. These boys were actually willing to give upa part of their Saturday to spend it with a toddler.

I bore the kid and I’ll barely do that.

So, here goes the story. My daughter, Avery, and Jack were in the front yard playing. My nephews, Matt and Bryan,walk on up and say, “Hey Jack, do you want to play?”

Jack replies, “Get off my grass.”


Matt says, “Now, Jack, if you’re not nice we’re going to leave and not play with you.”

Jack’s response? “Buh bye,” as he shoves Bryan squarely in the chest.


What a little jerk. And, yes, I realize that I am calling my son a jerk. But, come on.

Have you ever wondered, “Where have I gone wrong?” Has the thought crossed your mind that maybe, just maybe, you are raising a child bound for a future of prison life? I’ve got to be honest here. The thought definitely crossed my mind after this little episode.

Jack Get Off My Grass 2

And then he shoots one of these at me…an innocent, almost cherub-like, you-light-up-my-life kind of look. He follows up with a kiss and a hug, the words “I love you, mommy” spilling from his baby-pink lips. And I think to myself, “Oh, lighten up. Your sweet boy is just being 2. They all do it.”And then I’m ripped from my musingsby the pernicious sounds ofwood hacking at leaves. Jack has moved on. His new target? A fig tree. He’s chopping it down with his hobby horse.Hmm. I wonder if moms have their own visiting hours at the State Pen?

So, I will conclude with this thought…

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jones

Man, this dude has got it right.

Love to all, Mindy

Snow…it’s about durned time!

I woke up this morning to a beautiful sight. And let me tell you in advance that the snoring man lying next to me with his opened mouth resting against my newly washed pillowcase was NOT it.

Nay, I woke up to a tiny version of a Winter Wonderland. Delicate little ice crystals dancing in the trees, pillows of white fluff lining the tops of fences and scattered amongst the frozen blades of grass. Nowhere near enough to build a decent snowman but plenty to look at and adore.

I love snow.

There is something about the white stuff that makes my heart palpitate (although the 4 cups of coffee I’ve inhaled could also have something to do with that.) I’m not sure if it’s the memories of days long gone by, sitting by the window, hoping and praying that enough snow would accumulate to keep the school doors closed. Or if it’s remembering frozen fingers and toes tingling back to life in front of the wood stove, gloves and wool socks hanging to dry, while mom whipped up some quick batches of hot cocoa. Or it could be, as a mom, witnessing my kid’s giggle with excitement at the potential activities of the day should we experience even more of this delightful frozen precipitation.

For all the reasons above and more, snow is magical.

I live in the Pacific Northwest where rain reigns supreme (some alliteration…take that 11th grade English teacher!). It is not uncommon for our December and January months to be full of soggy mornings, afternoons and evenings. But our mountains, we are kind of known for our beautiful mountains. And they have been begging for more snow. We’ve had somewhat unseasonably cold weather and clear days as of late which has sparked up the “man I hope it snows” mantra in most of us. And until this morning we’ve been sorely disappointed.

But this morning Mother Nature has blessed us with a skiff of a promise. There just may be some real snow in our future. And I need to head to the grocery store to stock up on some hot cocoa!

Happy Monday!



Holy Shrimp! It’s 2012!

To borrow from my 5 year-old’s ever growing vocabulary, Holy Shrimp! Can anyone believe that it is now the 12th year in the 21st millennium? I mean, come on! 2012?!?

I remember growing up in the 80s and getting my jam on to Prince’s “1999″ while trying to imagine what the world would look like near the turn of the century. I pictured rockets for cars, dishwashers that spoke to you, fully prepared meals ejected out of kitchen machines. Granted, I had what some might call a “vivid imagination” and was obviously giving GE and Whirlpool way too much credit but the visions were endless. Fast forward twenty-something years and although I’m a bit disappointed that I am still having to use my own legs to walk to the mail box, each and every January 1st I’m excited to see what our year will be bringing.

And along with New Year’s celebratory hangovers and swollen ankles, a totally unachievable resolution will typically follow. But not this year I, ahem, resolve. This year will be different.

This is the year of Mindy. 2012 is about doing whatever I dilly-dang feel like doing. If I choose to obsess over my ever-stretching yoga pants, so be it. If I choose to ignore those ever-stretching yoga pants (definitely more likely), so be it. If I choose to catch up on all 22 episodes of Days of Our Lives currently sitting tight on my DVR, so be it. If I choose to continue to watch Jersey Shore (new season starts 1/5/12), so be it. Although, I should add, I routinely complete a Sudoku puzzle after watching that Godforsaken show with the hopes of replenishing any brain cells vicariously burned through visuals of Snooki.

Poor TV choices notwithstanding, I am excited to see what 2012 has to offer. Avery will be turning 9 years old next month and is maturing by leaps and bounds. Her glorious little attitude never fails to deepen my pride. Jack turned 5 in October and keeps his dad, sister and I in stitches. His personality is definitely one for the books and I wait with eager anticipation to see what he’ll contribute this year. It’s going to be a fantastic run of 365 mornings, afternoons and evenings. I have no doubt.

And from my humble little family to yours, Happy New Years!