four year old problems

We spent this morning at the doctor because my sidekick has decided to make a snack of his toenails.  Yep.  His toenails. He's pretty much given himself an ingrown toenail which combined with tball cleats makes for a nasty combination.

Four year old boys are gross, y'all.

Stinky and dirty, but still full of hugs and snuggles.  It's an endearing mix, I suppose.

While at the doctor we discussed sleeping issues.  Specifically the lack of sleep we've been receiving.  Last night Reese was up-- for various reasons-- until 11:00.  Then he was awake for the day at 5:15.  A wake up time somewhere between five fifteen and five thirty has been the norm all summer.  I'm exhausted today.  And my buddy needs some sleep.

{various reasons being that he was hot, needed medicine on his two week old bug bites, wanted to clarify that I was safely across the hall, was hot again, and then he needed someone to snuggle- I said no}

Our new plan is bedtime around 7:45.  That obviously won't work on nights when we have tball at 7:00, but all other nights it should.   His school year bedtime is 8:00, but we've been somewhat lax this summer and let him stay up until 8:30.  Evidently we are in a sleep drought and it's time for some rain. I'm willing to offer gifts of ninja turtles and cash, if necessary.

will of steel

Swimming is over.  Cue the celebration choir.

Thursday's lesson was a disaster of epic proportions.  In fact, had I not witnessed it with my own eyes I would never have believed the screams I heard were from Reese.  Reese is many things, but screamer is not one of them.  Until Thursday when he had to swim where he couldn't touch. 

It was bad, y'all.  And so we reassessed and Friday didn't push so hard.  After lessons Friday, Reese and I met Haley {intern extraordinaire} at her dad's house so Reese could swim in his pool.  Little Nemo was perfectly content to swim and splash were he could touch, barely leaving the safety of the stairs.

Sigh.

Saturday we went to the lake for Sally's birthday.  Reese had already told us that he didn't care if Brenan and Analee were swimming in the deep {with life jackets, of course}, he wasn't going to.  And for the first half of the day he didn't.  He played right were he could touch.  But as the afternoon went on he slowly got braver and began inching into deeper water.  Anytime he swam deeper, we told him he was brave, but we kind of left it at that.

The other kiddos were jumping off the dock and as the day wore on Reese decided he would, too.  It took a long time.  Full of lots of walking onto the dock and changing his mind.  But finally he jumped.  And then he didn't want to stop.

The lesson in all of this is that Reese has to do things in his own time, when he wants to.  No amount of bribery or peer pressure works.  We learned that last year at the dentist, too.  And with riding his bike.  Which actually he decided last week he was ready to ride.  And so he did.  Eight months after we gave it to him.  

This child of mine, I love him so.

swimming progress

This morning we head for our fourth day of swim lessons.  I would definitely characterize Reese as progressing. He rocked lessons Monday and Tuesday, but once he had to venture into deeper water yesterday he slammed on the brakes.

Evidently he doesn't ever want to swim in water where he can't touch the bottom.  Which would be fine if we were taking swim lessons for fun, but we're not.

Lofton and I are firmly in the camp of swim lessons are for survival skills, not for fun.  We want to know that if Reese were to fall in a pool, or off the dock at the lake {even though he still wears his life jacket 24/7 at the lake}, that he could swim to the side.  

With that in mind, practicing his skills in the deeper part of the water in a necessity.  So he got a little frustrated yesterday.  And the maddening thing about our child is that it's almost impossible to convince him to do something he doesn't want to do.  He is so strong willed.  And not in an annoying pitch a fit way, more in a silent but resolved way.  Remember the dentist?

But I think {maybe I hope} that when we explained to him yesterday why we needed him to practice in deeper water that he understood.  And this morning he told me he would try really hard four times.  

We shall see...

strep throat and swim lessons

You know what's really great about the summer?  You aren't living for the weekend.  And if your weekend is a bust because you have a horrible case of strep throat it isn't the end of the world because work on Monday is a non-issue.

That's me.  The girl with strep throat.  And my tango with this hellacious infection probably wouldn't have been so bad if I had gone to the doctor Thursday afternoon when my throat started hurting.  Or even Friday at some point.  But that didn't happen.  Thursday I convinced myself that it was my allergies, and Friday morning Reese and I had eight million errands to accomplish, and so late Friday afternoon I was ready to concede that I was dying but no doctor was open.

And Friday night was long.  And full of feverish tears, sweatshirts, and pain.  And Lofton suggested we go to the pediatric clinic and ask them to see me.  Which in hindsight is kind of funny, but at the time was not funny at all.

Saturday morning Lofton had to work, so Reese and I managed to make it to urgent care in Auburn.  Where it took all of five minutes for the doctor to conclude I had a very severe case of strep throat.  I got an extremely large shot in my hip, which Reese found to be highly entertaining, and a lecture from the doctor on the dangers of letting strep throat go untreated.  Thanks Doc, the fact that I can't swallow or talk due to the swelling was my first indication that maybe I misjudged my allergy issue.

And then I took Reese to the lumber yard to stay with Lofton and went home to bed.  Where I stayed all day.  And the boys brought me a Chick Fil A milkshake and horse sized antibiotic pills.  Yesterday was marginally better.  And by marginally I mean I didn't entertain thoughts of death and I moved from the bed to the couch.

But this morning I feel almost normal.  Kind of like my throat hurts from my allergies.

That's good news because we have swim lessons this week.  Every single day.  And a plan of action.  This year Mama is going to sit in the car.  I think that will help things to go a little smoother.  For some reason I bring out Reese's dramatic side. 

And because, as you know, we believe in incentives there is a pet goldfish waiting at the end of the swimming lesson rainbow.  Reese wants a pet fish and we told him he'd have to earn it.  By being a fish himself.

See how clever we are? We basically could write a parenting book.

t ball

Our first t ball practice was yesterday.  One in the bag, eight thousand more to go.  Pardon my negative attitude, but I don't believe t ball is my jam.

Truthfully, we weren't certain Reese was going to play.  We vacillated back and forth over whether we were going to let him because of his allergies, but those seem to be in control for now.  Then he wasn't really sure he wanted to play because he likes soccer so much better.  In the end, though, I paid the forty five dollars.  

Which was a joke in itself.

Silly me thought forty five dollars would be the extent of our commitment.  Nope.  One trip to Academy for a bat, glove, ball, pants, cleats, and a helmet did that assumption in.  And now Lofton tells me we need a tee for the yard.

All that to say, our first practice was last night.  And it should be noted that with the exception of the thirty minutes we spent in the yard practicing Monday, Reese has never played t ball in his life.  This would not be true of approximately half his team.  In fact, I heard one mother mention professional batting lessons last night.  

Yep.  She really did.  

And another mama wanted to argue about the height of the tee because her child is short.  To be fair, our preacher is our coach {and Lofton is the assistant} and he's really great.  As are his two boys.  But the fact remains that parents can be crazy.  I know this because I teach the children of these crazy baseball fanatics.  The ones who can't do homework because of baseball practice. 

And so it's possible at some point this season we might need to have a dose of perspective on Team Bats. Because, dang it, if I'm going to spend three days a week at the ball field this is going to be fun. 

And also dirty.  Reese had nasty dirt sweat dripping down his face last night.  Cue the laundry.

bookworm

Last week we made our first trip to the public library for this summer.

We went last summer, as well, but I primarily picked his books.  The bookmobile visited Reese's class at school on weekly basis this year, though, so he was extra excited to check out books himself and bring them home. 

I had asked a friend for a suggestion on introductory chapter books to read this summer.  I wanted a book series, not just picture books, so Reese could follow a character progression over the summer.  I know, I'm a teacher.  At her suggestion, we chose to start with Henry and Mudge.  It's a series about a dog, Mudge, and his owner, Henry, by Cynthia Rylant.  She writes some of my favorite picture books of all time.  I read The Relatives Came on the first day of school every year.  

We picked two to read together and home we went.  That was Wednesday.

By Thursday he had them memorized.  I know this because I took "artistic license" to change a few words or cut some time and Reese immediately stopped me and told me I read the page wrong.  I naively said something like oh I did to which he replied yes the page says.... and he repeated the whole thing word for word. Shoot.

Today we went back and checked out four more.  There are only twenty so at this rate I'll need a new plan in a few weeks.  I'm open to suggestions, if you have any!