Poor Biscuit!

Biscuit spent the past week at my parents' house. We drove down early Saturday to pick him up, and headed back home Sunday.

He was pretty quiet in the car, so I turned around to check in him. 

I found two things:

1. Biscuit was sound asleep. Completely worn out by his cousins.

2. He was being mauled by tigers!!

Faulty post

A couple of people have said that they couldn't get the videos to play on the Jazz Man post I wrote recently. The problem is fixed, so feel free to check out Biscuit's musical stylings by clicking here.

Biscuit-less

Biscuit is spending the week with my parents, so Jeff and I are Biscuit-less.

We met my parents halfway between our house and theirs, as usual, to trade off the boy. The swap-off is always hard for me. My parents are perfectly capable of taking care of Biscuit. Plus, he'll get to spend time in the country and with his cousins. All good stuff. 

But regardless of who it is, somebody is taking my boy home, and it's not me!

Before Biscuit left, I asked him if he would mess me.

"Of course I will, Mom," Biscuit said.

"Well if you miss me, just call me," I told him. "You know my number."

"I want you to call me 10 times a day, Mom," Biscuit said.

"If I call you that many times a day, I won't have time to do my work," I said. "Can we come up with a compromise?"

"What if you call me five times a day?" he asked.

"Hmm" I said like I was thinking. "How about I call you twice a day and send you one text to Grandmama's phone."

Jeff and I went to a baseball game last night. So my text to Biscuit was this picture with the words, "Look at the sign in the middle of the picture and guess where we are."

The sign is for a local construction company, and Biscuit loves it, obviously, because it includes his name.

So he guessed right away, and I sent him a pictures of the baseball team's mascot in his patriotic duds.

This morning, Mama and my sister-in-law texted me several patriotic pictures of Biscuit. He was going to ride a four-wheeler with my brother in this little community parade. It's funny. Mama said that the parade is just tractors, four-wheelers, classic cars, horses and stuff like that, but tons of people turn out for it. I told her I think sometimes people are just looking for old-fashioned and simple.

Anyway, here are the pictures of Biscuit. Happy Fourth of July, everybody!

Jazz Man

A couple of months ago, I noticed that Biscuit's piano teacher was keeping him longer than his usual 30 minutes.

One lesson lasted about 35 minutes. The next one was about 40. Then he finally did two lessons in a row that were 45 minutes.

I thought it was odd because we only pay for 30 minutes, but hey, I wasn't going to complain.

Then a few weeks ago, he said that he thought Biscuit was ready for 45-minute lessons. The cost isn't that much more, and they're going to use the extra time for theory, something I never got when I was a student. So Biscuit will be learning about how songs are put together and why composers do things the way they do them.

So far, Biscuit seems to be taking to the 45-minute lessons. His teacher makes sure to keep things active. He plays some, then they do written work, then he plays some more. I think switching things up like that will help keep him interested.

One of Biscuit's first assignments was to take a song that he's been playing straight and change it up to more of a jazzy timing. It's funny to watch him play it because you can see a difference in his body movements for each style.

Check him out:

Straight -

Jazz -

Mom time

I went on my annual girls' trip last weekend, and it took too long to arrive and went by way to quickly!

There are three of us. Two of us live about 45 minutes apart, and the other one lives three states away. So we meet at a beach that's almost halfway between us.

There was good food, good talks, good shopping and good beach lounging. And I wish it could've lasted about four more days!

A cool place we like to eat breakfast. And of course, they play 1980s music!

Cute little sago palm tree.

Just remember, it is illegal to mess with the Spanish moss.

I took this from the backseat. I asked my friend what caused the smears on the rear windows. Yeah, it's dog snot!

We went to a good little pizza place, and I got us a cheesecake stromboli for dessert.

This is interesting. Do you see the white water in front of the lighthouse?

And the white water is still there.

And the white water is STILL there.

And then it's gone. I also took these from the backseat, and I didn't see the weird water until I got home and looked more closely at the picture. I took it with my phone. I wish I could've shot it with my good camera so we could see what it is!

We were not the only ones enjoying the beach.

I enjoyed the time I could just sit and stare at the ocean.

This guy looked like he was having fun. I just lived vicariously.

Sunset over the dunes.

Cute little candy shop we visited. She had all kinds of candy from our childhood - candy cigarettes, Pop Rocks and more.

At high tide, these marshes are soaked in water. But when the tide goes down, you just see mud.

More Spanish moss. 

It was a really good trip. Now, I just have to (im)patiently wait 'til next year.

Happy Father's Day

Let's talk for a minute about parental sacrifice. 

I know that Red Sox hat was burning his Yankee-loving head, but did that stop him from wearing it? Nope. He wore it at every practice and at every game. Jeff has never shied away from whatever it takes to be an active part of Griffin's life. I admire him as a man and a father, and I know Griffin does, too.

Out of the mouth of my babe

A few things Biscuit has said recently: 


Ah, Grasshopper: Biscuit's class learned how to order food in Spanish, so he was trying out his new words with our server one evening at dinner.

I don't remember what word he used, but Jeff said, "What did you say?"

Biscuit repeated it, and Jeff said, "I don't know that word."

And Biscuit replied, "Aha! The child has become the parent."

I think he meant the student has become the master, but he got his point across anyway.


Know the names: Biscuit started summer camp this week. On the ride home after his first day, I asked him the names of his group leaders.

"Um, I know one of them, but I don't know the others," he said.

"You need to find out and use their names when you talk to them," I told him. "It's important and respectful."

"I guess you're right," Biscuit said. "I mean, like at times when I experience harshness."

"What do you mean 'experience harshness,'" I asked him.

He said, "Well, you know, like if I fall down and get hurt, it wouldn't be that nice to yell out, 'Hey you! I need some help!' But if I knew their names, I could say, 'Excuse me, John, can you help me?'"

"Yes," I said, "it would be nice to call them by name if you should happen to 'experience harshness.'"


It ain't me: Biscuit, Jeff and I were in the car yesterday, and I was fussing at Jeff for something he had done or had not done - I don't really remember. But I had a headache and a thousand things to do, and everything was jumping up and down on my last nerve.

I felt this little hand pat my shoulder a couple of times, then Biscuit said, "Mom, I just want you to remember that I'm not the one annoying you. It's Dad. He's the one annoying you. I just want you to remember that I'm not in it."

"I know, baby," I said, "and I appreciate it."

Catching up with Biscuit

Here's what's been going on with Biscuit:

School festival: Biscuit's school had a spring festival a few weeks ago. They had a DJ for music and dancing, food, games, bounce houses, and of course, facepainting.

When Biscuit was little, he wouldn't ever get his face painted. I finally asked him why he never wanted to do it.

"Because I like my face the way it is, Mom," he told me. He thought that once you got your face painted, it stayed that way. 

I wanted to ask him, "How many kids have you seen walking around with Spider-Man or butterfly faces?!"

Since his favorite animal is a tiger, that's what he asked for at the facepainting table. They had college kids doing the painting, so I've definitely seen better designs, but the kids loved it, and that's what mattered.

Lack of seating: You know how those building block kits come with diagrams about how to put them together? Well, I LOVE to put them together.

And Biscuit loves to tear them apart!

He has taken a bunch of the kits and put them together with other kits, and he has epic battles on the couch. Always on the couch.

It's kind of funny because you might see Harry Potter fighting with Indiana Jones and Luke Skywalker against storm troopers and random unnamed characters. But in Biscuit's battle, they're all good guys against bad guys. None of them are who they're supposed to be. And then he has these elaborate back stories and battle strategies, and he wants me to play with him.

Of course I like to play with him, but I swear, the characters and storylines are so dang confusing, I can't seem to keep up.

But just know that if you come to our house, unless you want to get stuck in the middle of a war, you can't sit on the couch!

Improve your handwriting: I'm constantly getting on to Biscuit about writing neatly. He would rather be done with his work than make sure it looks nice and neat.

Last week, he brought home a memory book from his afterschool program. They listed their favorite activities of the year, what they played outside, what they liked about their group leaders, etc.

And then there's a space to list friends' names. And here's where the bad handwriting comes in. Biscuit's best friend's name is Dennis. 

Regrets

Remember Mother's Day?

Biscuit came up to me the other day, and said, "Mom, I have to tell you something."

"Okay," I said. "Whatcha got?"

"Well, I just wanted to say that I regret the Mother's Day gift I gave you," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You wish you hadn't given me the necklace?"

"No, no, no," Biscuit said. "Not that. What I mean is, you know, when I ... you know ... said 'Happy Mother's Day, blech!' 'Happy Mother's Day, blech!'" And he was making throwing up motions.

"Well, I'm just glad you're feeling better now," I said. "And I do love my necklace."

A long trip with good company

Where did last week go?! Biscuit's illness (and fever) carried on through Monday and finally went away late Tuesday evening. And lucky Jeff picked it up late Sunday evening.

I worked from home Monday so I could take care of my boys. On Tuesday, I left them home on their own.

I got news Tuesday that my uncle had died. He had a stroke 17 years ago, and my aunt has been taking care of him since then. I can't imagine the strength and patience it has taken for her to be a 24/7 caretaker.

I didn't want Biscuit to miss anymore school. And I didn't want Jeff to miss anymore work, either. So I called my brother to see what he was planning to do. It's 2 1/2 hours from my house to my brother's. Then it's another 5 1/2 hours to my aunt's house.

The funeral home visitation was from 6 to 8 p.m. Wednesday, and the funeral was at 2 p.m. Thursday. After we talked about it, my brother and I decided to drive down for the visitation Wednesday evening, then drive back Thursday.

It was an exhausting journey, but it was good to see our family.

I have to admit though, my favorite part was getting to spend that much time with my brother. Ever since we got married and had children, we don't have much opportunity to hang out together. So this trip gave us 10-plus hours in the car together.

We ate lunch on the way down, and arrived just in time to get our clothes changed and head to the funeral home. We were planning to get a hotel room, but our uncle said we could stay at his house. We saved money and got to spend time with more family.

We didn't have time to eat dinner before the visitation, so we got some breakfast food after. I was chowing down on a waffle, and I said, "When's the last time you and I had two meals alone together in one day?"

He immediately answered, "When Aunt Joyce died."

"You answered that pretty quickly," I said.

"I was just sitting here thinking the same thing," he said.

I laughed and said, "So what you're telling me is that somebody has to die for us to get to spend some time together?!"

We're not ones to say mushy things to each other, so when I texted him to say I had made it back to my house, he texted back, "I hate somebody died, but I had fun."

"Me, too," I texted back to him.

Happy Mother's Day!

On Mother's Day, I got to sleep late. That would've been present enough, but when I came out of the bedroom, Biscuit was sitting at the kitchen table grinning.

"Are you ready, Mom?" Biscuit asked.

"What's this?" I asked him.

"Happy Mother's Day!" he said.

Biscuit made me a bookmark at school, and he filled out a paper about what he thinks about me. It was very sweet. 

Jeff had taken him shopping, and Biscuit picked out a Mom necklace for me.

Biscuit took this picture of me (in my pajamas) to show off my gifts. I was pretty groggy from getting to sleep late, so it might be good that the picture was a bit blurry!

Then Jeff surprised me with French toast. He's very good at French toast. And you can see that I hated it!

They asked me if I wanted to go somewhere or do something, but I told them I was perfectly content to stay home and hang out with them.

And it was a good thing because about an hour later, as we were chilling in the living room, Biscuit stood up and projectile vomited onto the living room carpet, on my rocking chair and on ME!

Throw in a fever, and that was the rest of my Sunday. 

Jeff went out and got some food for our dinner, and by the time he got back, I could tell he wasn't feeling well, either. And sure enough, he had a fever and belly problems, too.

Oh joy!

I worked from home today to kept Biscuit home from school and Jeff recover. Hopefully, I will stay healthy, and they'll get well soon.

I hope all you other Moms had a better day!

Good service

Jeff and I ended up eating out twice last Tuesday. And both times, we got really good service.

For lunch, Jeff said he'd like a hamburger, and since we needed to drop some stuff in the mail, we went to a burger place right beside the post office. They have peanuts you can eat while you wait on your food, and they have good hamburgers that you can customize to your liking. The fries are really good, too. They have a white board at the counter where they write the town and state that the potatoes came from. Jeff and I usually share a small order. They fill up a cup and put it in the bag. Then it's like they grab an extra handful and toss them in there, too.

Jeff went to the bathroom, so I opened up the tin foil around the burgers and divvied up the fries. On his way back to the table, Jeff grabbed a bottle of vinegar.

"Eeew," I said. "No kisses for you!"

Jeff was going to turn his food around so the fries (and icky vinegar) would be away from me. But in the process, he spilled about half his fries.

There was an employee sweeping up the dining room. "Excuse me," I said to her. "He has made a mess. Can we use your broom?"

"Of course not!" she said, and she started sweeping up the fries.

I looked at Jeff and said (like I was talking to a little kid), "Now you tell her thank you and don't let that happen again."

She laughed and went on about her cleaning.

A few minutes later, she walked over to our table with a cup of french fries for Jeff. We thanked her and enjoyed the rest of our meal.

Biscuit has piano lessons on Tuesday. If he behaves himself and does well at his lessons, he gets to pick a restaurant for dinner. He chose Mexican. Biscuit's Spanish teacher has been teaching them about food words and how to order in restaurants. So Biscuit asked for his dinner in Spanish. And the server immediately launched into a whole Spanish conversation. And Biscuit just stared at him.

"I only know a little bit," Biscuit said.

He ordered a quesadilla with black beans, and since it was 99-cent taco night, I told him he could add on a taco. 

So the server said, "So you had a quesadilla and a taco for dinner? It was good?"

"No," Biscuit said. "I haven't HAD dinner yet. I WANT a quesadilla and a taco."

I don't know if Biscuit is hitting a growth spurt or what, but he asked me to put some of the black beans on his quesadilla and ate every bite of it. Then he ate his taco. Then he used some of the chips to scoop up the leftover black beans.

When the server came back to check on us, he saw Biscuit's plate and said, "You cleaned your plate."

As Biscuit grabbed a chip and scooped up the last five or six black beans on his plate, he looked up at the server and said, "NOW, I've cleaned my plate."

I asked for a box to take home the food I couldn't eat, and when the server came back, he had a box and a bag of chips and salsa for us to take home. Then when he came back to leave the bill, he brought Biscuit a sopapilla (a fried tortilla with cinnamon and honey). It was decorated with whipped cream, sprinkles and chocolate syrup. And he shared a few bites with Jeff and me.

Let's discuss Biscuit's shirt. You can't tell by looking at it from this angle, but it's actually the "Jaws" theme song and has a big ol' shark at the bottom. It's very funny, and of course, Jeff picked it out.

The drama king

It's probably in bad parenting form to laugh at your child's pain, but sometimes they're just so dang dramatic that you can't help it!

Biscuit has guided reading at school. It's basically reading comprehension, but you know they have the change the names of everything every few years. 

They get either "books," which are photocopies stapled together, or what they call passages, which are just one sheet front and back with a story or non-fiction information. The levels are lettered so they can keep up with where the kids are in their reading. Biscuit is supposed to be at the letter N by the end of the school year. Right now, he's already at R, so he's doing really well. But he puts a lot of pressure on himself.

It's hard because I want to push him and encourage him to do the best he can, but I don't want him getting all stressed out about it. He has this weird mix of being a perfectionist but also wanting to be done with his work more than wanting to be right. So he hurries through things and is then upset when he doesn't do as well as he wanted to do.

So, on to the part where I wanted to laugh ...

When they get their books or passages, they also get sheets with four reading comprehension questions. In addition to the reading and questions, they also have math homework every night. So the idea is for the kids to answer one question each night, making it all more manageable.

Biscuit has piano lessons on Tuesday evenings, so he usually does two questions on Monday or Wednesday. This week was kind of crazy, then Biscuit picked up a nasty cold and had to miss school Wednesday. And somehow, he ended up with three questions to answer Thursday evening.

He does his homework at the kitchen table, and if I sit there with him, he'll ask me a thousand questions and will depend on me too much to help. So I stay in the living room, then when he's done, he brings his answers to me and we go over them.

I was in my rocking chair when Biscuit rounded the corner crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"I ... I ... I'm doomed," Biscuit said with full drama!

"You're doomed?" I asked him. "Why do you say that?"

"Um, because I can't find my guided reading booooook," he said with more tears falling. "It's no use. I'm going to flunk second grade. I just can't flunk second grade, Mom."

It had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I shouldn't admit it because he was so upset, but he was just SO dramatic. But he was completely serious. He was that worried about losing his book. And remember, this so-called book is some photocopies stapled together.

He had the question sheet, so I said, "You've read the passage several times. See if you can remember enough to answer the questions."

I sat with him at the kitchen table, and sure enough, he remembered enough to give decent decent answers to two of the questions.

Once he got those answers down, I could tell he was calming down. So then I lit in with the responsibility / keeping-up-with-your-stuff lecture.

"Your best course of action is to go straight to the teacher and tell her what's going on," I told Biscuit.

"Okay," he said, and I could tell he was dreading it.

I wrote his teacher an email to tell her what was going on and how upset he was about it.

She wrote back later and said that as soon as Biscuit walked in the classroom, he went straight to her desk and stuttered and stumbled all over himself and told her he lost his book.

"Okay, let's problem solve," she told him. "Pick up another book and go do your last question right now."

And that's all he needed to hear. She said he got his last question done in no time.

And it's safe to say that he won't flunk second grade!

Baseball Biscuit

Okay, so here are the real baseball photos!

Biscuit won't be a pro baseball player, but he's gotten a lot better, and he seems to enjoy it. He got two good hits Saturday, and he made a really nice out at third base.

When the Angels are in the field, the coach asks them in between batters how many outs there are and where the play is (in other words, which base to throw it to for an out). Last seasons, it took Biscuit a few seconds to figure it out. But this season, he's one of the first kids to answer. 

And he has the same coach this year, so there's been some continuity in his learning.

The season is only eight games, and it seems like just as we're getting into a routine with practice and games, it's over. We only have three games left.

The kids will get to run onto the field with our local minor league baseball team again this year - sometime later in May, I think - so the kids are excited about that.

So here's my Angel Biscuit (sorry, I had to say it):

Baseball faces

Biscuit will probably want to kill me for this, but as I looked through the pictures I took at last Saturday's baseball game, I kept noticing his odd and funny faces. So I'll post the whole pictures later, but you need to see these faces and have a good laugh at my boy.

Fake smiling for the group photo. He doesn't like to show his teeth when he smiles because he's still missing some.

Not exactly a face, but still pretty funny. See the dirt flying behind him?

Baseball is serious business.

He swung hard, and he hit it pretty far.

"I can hit the ball that far?" he's asking himself.

"Now I have to start running," he's thinking.

I have no idea what the pointing or the face is about.

Swinging hard again.

"I'm hitting it! I'm hitting it!"

"Whoa! I gotta run!"