Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day

Getting my ears pierced at age nine is still a vivid memory for me. I can still remember the layout of the jewelry store in the mall, the tall chair I sat on, and the sound of the piercing gun right next to my ear. Perhaps the most poignant of memories was knowing that I wasn't yet a teenager, but there I sat at age nine, getting my ears pierced, a rite of passage specifically reserved for a thirteen year old.

A few years before her passing, mom told me that when she was diagnosed with leukemia, she wanted to experience all of the milestones in my adolescent journey, and getting my ears pierced was one of those steps along the way. I was in third grade, just nine years old, when she was given six months to three years to live. It was then that mom decided that breaking her rule of "only teenagers should have their ears pierced" was meant to be broken.

A funny thing happened along the way, though. She beat the odds... big time. It wasn't until 22 years later that she succumbed to her disease.

She witnessed things that she was pretty much guaranteed to miss in her children's lives... summer vacations at the beach, first dates (well, at least for my brother), high school graduations, college graduations, weddings, and the birth of her first grandchild.

Of course, her survival could merely be her placement along the bell curve. But, I also think her zeal and desire for just one more moment gave her the impetus to hang on through some serious complications of leukemia for just one more minute, hour, day, week, year.

Of course I miss my mom. She had a gift of making everyone laugh. We argued A LOT, but nothing more than what is expected from moms and daughters. Now that I have two children of my own, I want to try and keep her memory alive by truly living not just for those years or weeks, but for the days, hours, and seconds. None of us is guaranteed our next breath. Goodness knows, I don't advocate carelessness. If you know me at all, I am nothing but cautious. But, I should try and take stock of things that matter... playing outside with my boys, when I'd much rather be inside reading a book... spending money at the zoo when I really need (okay "want") a new pair of shoes.

I know that I will be successful as a mom if my kids love me only half as much as I loved my mom. And as much as I miss just picking up the phone and hearing her voice, I am so thankful for the time I had with her. I always think of the line, "better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all." I was very fortunate to have such a healthy parent-child relationship, and although our time together was cut short, it was full of wonderful, loving memories. What better legacy to leave your children?

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Spring is in the air!

Sunday, March 28, 2010

A Weston Funny

Picture this:

Toy Section of Target.

Me:   I want that.

Mama:  That's too expensive, honey.

Me:  But, I like expensive things!

Yep, Mama's in big, big trouble.

Love,

Weston

Hippity Hoppity Easter's on its Way


Insert your own entertaining commentary here... I'm all out of ideas.

Love,

Weston

Monday, March 15, 2010

Just a little eye candy...




Monday, March 8, 2010

Sous-Chef




I got to help make daddy's birthday cake yesterday! His birthday isn't until tomorrow, but we made his birthday cake a few days early. Who needs a birthday when you can have a birthweekend? I thought he would enjoy chocolate cake with sprinkles and that's exactly what he got.

It wasn't the prettiest cake in the world, but tasty trumps pretty any day. And, boy was it tasty!!

Even Davis enjoyed the festivities. That boy can eat some cake!

Only six more months until my birthday... I can hardly wait!

Love,

Weston

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Flying Pigs



News flash: Hell has frozen over and pigs are flying overhead. Impossible? Not nearly as impossible as 12 inches of snow in Richardson, TX. And not just the icy, sleety wintry mix that curses our terrain... we got big, huge fluffy snowflakes, as if God decided to shake a feather pillow.

A good time was had by all. Chances are, I'll remember the Great Texas Blizzard of 2010, but poor Davis may never see snow again. Poor thing.

By the way, after a 40ish degree weekend, the snowman has seen better days. I think he lost his head today. Sorry Frosty...

Love,

Weston

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

One of these things does not belong...

Mama: So, what do you want Santa to bring you this year for Christmas?
Me: Trains, train tracks... oh, and some telephone poles and some dirt... and some signs.
Mama: Well, what does Davis want from Santa?
Me: Baby food.
Mama: No toys?
Me: Yeah, he wants a rattle.

I better get a telephone pole this year or I will have a MAJOR freak out. Major.

Love,

Weston

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Mmmmmm... cupcakes!



My brother, Davis, has never met a food he hasn't liked. For him, it's not eating... it's a full contact sport. What a little piggy. I'm much more delicate when eating a cupcake...





Monday, September 14, 2009

11 Months




Little Brother is 11 months old today. Time flies...

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Three

Someone once said that whoever coined the phrase "Terrible Twos" never had a three-year old. As of yesterday, I made my official entrance into the "Trying Threes."

try⋅ing

–adjective: extremely annoying, difficult, or the like; straining one's patience and goodwill to the limit: a trying day; a trying experience.

Enough said.

My post-birthday celebration has involved a series of nuclear-style meltdowns, including screaming, kicking, biting, and foaming at the mouth. I am serious about the foam.

In spite of the massive temper tantrums, I've had a wonderful three years. How does one describe my three-year existence? Outdoor enthusiast. Stand-up comedian. Master orator. Candy connoisseur. Imagination Mover. Book worm. Big brother. Independent thinker. Amateur fire fighter. Truck savant. Unrivaled debater. Certified goofball. Cat nemesis. Charming friend.

Apple of mama's eye? Most definitely.

Happy Birthday Me!

Love,

Weston

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Au contraire

At what age does one begin knowing more than one's parents? From my own experience, I think it happens around 34 months. Yes, it finally happened. I have acquired more knowledge in my nearly three-year existence than my parents' combined 71 years. Master's degrees be darned... I know everything.

This realization of my sponge-like ability to absorb knowledge is exhilarating. I wake every morning with renewed zeal to contradict what my parents say. For instance:

Mama- "You need to go potty."
Me- "No, I not need to go potty." (all the while squirming and crossing my legs)

Mama- "Those are the fire truck's lights."
Me- "Those are the sirens."
Mama- "No, those are the lights."
Me- "NO THEY NOT. Those are the sirens."

And, of course mama's personal favorite dialogue of late:

Mama- "That's the red truck."
Me- "No, it's a tow truck."
Mama- "No, it's a red truck."
Me- "No, it's a tow truck."
Mama (turning page to discover it is indeed a tow truck which happens to be red)- "Oh, it's a tow truck."

Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

I'm sure it is a logical fallacy to defend your argument regardless of it's accuracy. Who cares! It sure is fun to watch mama steam as she tries to contain her anger over my irritating persistence. When they got married, daddy told mama that she was always right and that he was never wrong. They never considered the unstable THIRD variable of an obstinate, strong-willed child... ME! Regardless of what mama and daddy think, I am always right... never wrong... my ideas, conclusions, and interests trump those of said parental authority!

All I can say is that, mama, you were warned long ago that payback is H3LL!

Love,

Weston

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Oh Cr@p!


It was weigh-in day at the Holm house (except for Mama, but that's a given. Mama insists that some things are better left unsaid). I stepped on the scale first only to find out that I am 27 pounds soaking wet. Did I happen to mention that I will be three in September? (I don't think I've mentioned that yet. I'm into all sorts of emergency vehicles, power tools, musical instruments, and books... but I digress.) Mama thinks I'm like a colt-- long and lanky.

Next comes Davis-- and that is the reason for my title. He's not even 9 months and he scares me. Drum roll please...

...

...

...

The kid weighs 18 pounds. Did I mention that I only weigh 27 pounds? For those of you who flunked math, that is a 9 pound difference. Mama always said that I'd be in the band and now my brother is going to be a linebacker. This is not fair. Now I really have to be nice to him because from what I understand, hell hath no fury like a little brother scorned. Perhaps I shall learn to outdo him with rapier wit, devilish charm, and stunning good looks. On second thought, maybe I'll just run and hide any time I hear him thundering through the house.

Seriously, what good is it being the big brother when your little brother can bench press you with his pinky finger?

*sigh*

Much love,

Weston

Monday, July 6, 2009

The Competition is on the Move...


It is with sincere sadness (and yes, a little jealousy) that I report that my sole source of competition is now on the move. That other kid who lives in my house and has the audacity to share my bedroom (the parents call him Davis... I refuse to acknowledge his existence) is crawling. He's not very good at it at all, but he's on the move nonetheless. Mama and daddy seem excited, but I'm devastated. Once upon a time all of my beloved toys were safely kept out of reach of his sticky little hands. But now, he takes my toys and I'm expected to share... the horror! "Share" is just not a part of my vocabulary (but apparently "anemone" is... I managed to impress the parents with that one yesterday).

Why do babies have to grow so fast? I miss the days when Davis would just lie around and dare not infringe upon my territory. At least he's not talking yet. Mama might have to institutionalize herself if Davis is as verbose as I am.

Much love,

Weston

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Holden Beach


A good time was had by all... 'nuff said. (Except for the fact that I'm still working on my sand collection. I have sand WHERE???)

Love,

Weston

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Packing


Hi, it's Davis. I decided to log on while brother was napping.

Here I am getting ready to go see Papa. This is not how I intended to travel. I get the feeling brother had something to do with this.

Love,

Davis

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Mama here...

I hope that you all have figured this out by now, but I actually write Weston's blogs. I know, I know... hard to believe. I'm Weston's mama, so I think he's a smart cookie, but I must admit, he's just too active to actually sit down and type out his blog posts himself. I usually transcribe them and yes, interject a few ideas here and there.

But sometimes I have thoughts that I want to write out, and sometimes it's difficult to do through the mind of a toddler.

Today is one of those days. I'm watching the D-Day remarks right now. When I graduated from high school, I was fortunate enough to take a trip to England and France. We toured through Mont St. Michel, the Louvre, Versailles, all the London hot spots, and even Monet's home. That was fifteen years ago and many of those memories are fading. But the most poignant part of my trip, the one memory that is forever imprinted in my rapidly fading mind (thanks, kids), is walking along the beaches of Normandy.

Have you ever seen Band of Brothers or Saving Private Ryan? Then you know just how impressionable of an experience being on the beaches of Normandy can be. I have to admit that I didn't quite "get it" as an eighteen year old. But, when I witnessed my father shedding a tear while scooping up film canisters of sand from the beach, I just begin to understand the gravity of what happened that day, so many years ago (and when my dad was only two). (By the way, I've only really remember two times when my dad has cried-- other than when mom passed-- once at Normandy and once at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Does that tell you what kind of man he is?)

It's days like today when I can't fathom how fortunate I am to be free. I have two beautiful and brilliant children (a mama can brag, right) and with each of their passing days, I appreciate my freedoms and liberties more and more each day. For I believe that those who made sacrifices that day, were thinking about their children and MY children.

I tend to get bogged down by the little things... losing pregnancy weight, taming tantrums, fixing dinner... but today it will be the big picture, and what a big picture it is.

Thanks men and women of the armed forces for what you do. Thanks dad for showing me the importance of sacrifice (see you on Monday, by the way).

Much love,

Mama

Monday, June 1, 2009

All Aboard!

All aboard the potty train... choo choo! At least mama thinks this is a good idea. The truth is that I LIKE wearing diapers. In fact, I think they're quite fashionable.

Here's some math for you: stubborn toddler + delusional mama = train wreck.

I enjoyed a nice, relaxing weekend at the lake house, even though I spent the majority of my waking hours sitting on a creepy looking plastic frog potty, waiting for mama to "cheer" for the occurrence of what I typically deem "natural bodily functions." Adults are so weird.

At least I got to go swimming and go deer watching during the off time.

During the long car rides to and from the lake house, you tend to notice things.

While looking at the moon:

Me: I see the moon. Is it broken?

Mama: No, it's just a crescent moon. It's supposed to look like that.

Me: Will it be fixed?

Mama: (silence)

While looking at the clouds:

Me: The clouds are moving?

Mama: Yes, the clouds are moving.

Me: Are they going to the moon?

Mama: (silence)

Why are my questions so difficult to answer? Isn't it funny how two-year olds are often much smarter than their parents?

Love,

Weston

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Words Mama must use a lot


It's a good thing mama doesn't swear (at least within my range of hearing). I've really been imitating her recently. Well, her AND the Imagination Movers. Here are some words/phrases I've been using lately:

  • "I guess."
  • "Actually..."
  • "Just a minute."
  • "Oh, I'm doing nothing."
  • "What else?"
Today, I asked for a "bad hair day," courtesy of Scott from the Imagination Movers. Mom got out her mousse and hairspray and did my hair all Truvy from Steel Magnolias style. Davis even got his own bad hair day, but it didn't stay very long.

I'm heading off to the beach to see Papa Waller soon. I'll be gone for two whole weeks and I plan to return with a tan that rivals George Hamilton's. I can. not. wait.

(Mama, who ARE these people you keep making me reference.)

Peace out,
Weston

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Daddy smart... Mama, not so much

Mama took Davis and me to Central Market today while the piano tuner was at the house. Davis spilled tortilla soup all over mama (but that's another story).

I got my green balloon from Central Market and when we got home, mama decided to tie it to a cow bell toy, so it wouldn't blow away. I've been walking around the house jangling the cow bell all day. I'm sure mama doesn't have the heart to take it away from because she knows I'll scream if she does. Why on earth would mama tie my balloon to the noisiest toy in the house... she's not so smart.

Here's hoping I get daddy's brains...

Love,

Weston

PS- Mema, if you read this, I promise the balloon will be totally deflated by the time you visit... no popping!