Who's smarter than whom?

So, unlike how I usually operate at Christmas, which is to run around like a chicken with my head cut off the last couple of weeks before Christmas madly collecting gifts, I've actually tried to be semi in control this year. So in control as a matter of fact that I even had the forethought to buy one of Ian's gifts BEFORE Thanksgiving. It was a truck that he had eyed a couple of times when we were in Target. Okay, well I say "eyed" but it really wasn't as casual as that. It was more like begged for.

But anyhooskie, so I picked up this truck for him about a month ago when it was on sale. And when I got it home, I put it where anyone would - under the guest bed upstairs thinking, "He'll never look under this bed in a million years!" I mean, he's not even old enough to understand the whole concept of looking for Christmas gifts yet, and why would he ever have cause to poke his head underneath a bed in a room he barely ever goes into? Clearly this was the perfect spot.

Enter this past Monday. Ian was upstairs playing in his room while I was sitting at the kitchen table typing on the computer when suddenly I hear, "Mom, I need to open this! I need to open this!" Then I can tell that's he's coming down the stairs. Again: "Mommy, I need to open this truck!" So I get up to go around the corner to see what he needs, of course thinking, "What the hell is he talking about? What truck?" I said as much, too: "What truck, Ian?" By now he's reached the bottom of the stairs. He shoves the box in my face and says, "This one, mommy. I need to open this truck right now!" I know I clearly had some sort of startled, thrown-off look on my face as before me was the very truck I had hidden under the bed a few weeks ago. So, my quick-thinking self said, "Oh, well you can't have that because it's not for you," and snatched it out of his hands. This did not go over well. In fact, there may have been some tears involved. And guilt immediately fell over me as I realized I had just lied to my two-year-old's face and then made him cry. Great. But there was no time for bad feelings because I had to throw him off somehow - so I decided in that moment that it was time for him to go up for his afternoon "rest time" which went over even better, by the way.

Once Ian was cleared of the scene and upstairs in his room, I moved quickly to find a new hiding place. I went into the den and looked up to all the empty space way up high in the cabinets over the desk. Sure, they have glass doors on them but A) He barely goes in that room and B) If he does go in, he'll never think to look up into the cabinet a million years. Perfect! So in it went - with the box turned backwards for good measure. After naptime, not another word was uttered about the truck, so clearly the crisis had been averted and I was in the clear.

Enter today. I picked up Ian from preschool as usual and we headed home. Though I'll add, not before he threw a complete fit when I attempted to pull him away from his teacher. In fact, once I corraled him into the car it was only after I told him that Aunt Brianne and Uncle Zach were coming over to visit him tonight that he was able to compose himself. Not that I felt like chopped liver or anything. But, I digress. So, we weren't home five minutes and he started in on, "Mom, I need to play with my truck. I need my truck, right now." (Everything is "need" and "right now" these days, by the way. I mean, I understand that we all have our needs. Like, I "need" a million dollars "right now" but I'm probably not going to get it. Sheesh.) So, immediately I started to get a little nervous but thought, "I'm not going to panic. I'm not going to panic. He could be talking about something else." So I said, "Oh, what truck are you talking about? I don't know where it is so maybe you can help tell me what it looks like." "The blue truck, mommy. I need my blue truck. " Hmmm...well this Christmas truck does happen to be blue. Now I'm starting to panic. Again, "I don't know what you're talking about Ian..." Until he suddenly turns and starts heading toward the den and says, "This one!" pointing up right here:

Score: Ian, two; Mom, zero.

Until I write again.

Tales of a sunny December day

Well, now I feel like I need to start taking back all that talk about the nonstop rainy winter weather here because on the whole it's been really nice lately (which means that starting tomorrow it will be pouring nonstop since I just said that). In fact, now people are starting to complain because the ski resorts haven't even opened yet due to lack of snow. Apparently this messed up how many people like to spend their Thanksgiving in these here parts of the country. Poor Mother Nature can't win for losin', I tell ya.

Anyway, today has been a particularly beautiful and chilly early December day with bright, sparkling sunshine. This morning I went in to get Ian up about 7:15 a.m., and as he has taken to doing recently, he quickly buried his face and shut his eyes as soon as I walked in. He likes to pretend that he is still asleep - so we go through this thing where I say something like, "Oh, where's Ian? I guess he's not here this morning!" while he's trying to keep quiet with a big smile on his face. This goes on for about a minute until I say, "Well, I guess he won't be able to go school/sports class/whatever today!", at which point he springs up proclaiming that he's ready to get down now.

This morning he jumped up holding Grover and announced that Grover was his baby. (Personally, I think it's related to all the talk around the house recently of his soon-to-be-arriving new baby cousin.) But here was essentially the conversation:

Me: Oh, you have a baby! What is your baby's name?

Ian: Oh, baby's name is Cats.

Me: I see. That's an interesting name for a baby. Is your baby a boy or a girl?

Ian: My baby is a person! (Yesterday I was trying to explain the difference between people and animals and that Zach and Catalina are animals, for example.)

Me: That's right - babies are people. But people can either be boys or girls. Is your baby a boy or a girl?

Ian: It's a baby!

Okay, apparently he wasn't interested in assigning a sex to his baby, which is fine. However, he was very concerned with Baby/Grover being treated well (I had to hold him/her while Ian sat on the potty) until we got downstairs for breakfast and poor Baby was tossed on the floor and left to fend for him/herself for the rest of the day. Anyway, Thursday is the one day of the week when we do not have a pre-planned activity for the morning. And for some reason I was feeling quite exhausted and low energy on this particular Thursday morning. Plus, I had a few phone calls to make and things to do. So, needless to say we were a little slow in getting started. By 10ish the natives were getting very restless so I was forced to turn to the power of Sesame Street. Man, I can see why parents get addicted to TV. That stuff is like magic. At first Ian was running all around me like a mad man, not leaving me alone for two seconds and all I had to say was, "Ian, do you want to watch some Sesame Street?" and it was like he disappeared into thin air, leaving me free to finish up my things and get us ready to leave the house. Awesome. And any guilt I had about using the television as my babysitter instantly went away when I came downstairs to turn it off and witnessed him following along with the program in counting out loud to 18 for the first time (that I've heard, at least). I mean, now I'm thinking maybe the whole importance of parent involvement in early childhood education thing is highly overstated when all we really need is Sesame Street 24/7, right?

So, finally I decided that our morning activity would be to go out and pick out a few toys for donation. Jeff's holiday party is coming up next Saturday eve and there will be a Toys for Tots donation there and the local NBC affiliate also does a big toy donation drive that we wanted to participate in this year - so I thought it would be a good idea to take Ian out to a toy store and have him help me pick out a couple of things and then participate in dropping them off. So, out we went. Once we got to the store, he was very good about making toy suggestions, which were of course all things he wanted and thought were for him. I explained what we were doing about 50 times though and I think he somewhat got the concept because he very willingly helped me put the toy and books into the donation drop box at our local tire store on our way home. I thought about taking a picture of this as it was happening to include in this post, but I decided it was a little much to be whipping out my camera in the middle of the tire store to capture my kid putting a toy in the box. I didn't want people to think I was some overly obsessed parent or anything like that.

On the way back to the car I took note that it was such a great day outside that I decided to offer Ian the option of either going home or going to the park. Can you guess which one he chose? So, we went over to Raleigh Park (which somewhat to my surprise was completely deserted) and put in some time on the swings, then slides, then swings and then more swings before heading home for lunch and nap.

All in all, a nice day here in Beaverton!

Until I write again.

Cat for sale

Actually, she's not even for sale. She's FREE to a great home. And that's exactly what I said on the craiglist ad I just posted for her today. This is not the first time that I've put her on craigslist. The first time was about six months ago and I got exactly zero responses. Which is pretty amazing considering that you can put a pile of dirt on craiglist for $1 and get about a million responses in the first 30 seconds. But for our adorable Catalina: Zilch. Zero. Nada.

Now, even though it might appear that we only like to threaten parting ways with our dear kitty cat - I have to say that this is becoming an increasingly difficult and serious issue for us. Yet, we do take our kitty parental responsibilities seriously and have never really considered it an option to drop her off at a shelter. We wouldn't do that to our child (which I'm sure you're all relieved to hear) and we feel we can't do that with our cat who we agreed six(ish) years ago - with our signature on paper - to adopt and love through good and bad.

Why all the frustration for a kitty cat who, on the surface, seems only loving and adorable? Well, first of all, she is adorable and loving. Which is what makes everything even more difficult. She has a very good heart and would cuddle on your lap 24/7 if you let her. But those of us who live with her see other, not so good traits. First of all, she comes from West Virginia (not that I'm judging W. Va. cats, but I bet you can get a picture in your head) where, before adoption, we believe that she was on her own and was forced to become a scavenger kitty. This part of her personality has never left her. She is obsessive about food. Many have heard the story of the time we chased her around the house with a steak in her mouth or when she ate raw chicken from the kitchen counter. And don't even bother coming anywhere close to the kitchen after 3:30pm or you'll be hounded with nonstop painfully annoying meows until you feed her. As a result of her obsession, we have a whole procedure that involves feeding the cats in separate rooms so that Catalina doesn't steal all of Zach's food after she inhales her own portion.

Second, she is ruining our things. The newest trend is that, despite placing several scratching items throughout the house, she has taken to scratching places where we would like her not to - including most recently, our leather chairs. Yesterday I caught her scratching one of the legs of our leather dining chairs. I flipped it over and saw that the leg is all torn up. But she's also doing it to our leather sitting chairs in the living room. Today, Ian and I arrived home and Ian walked in the living area and said, "Uh oh, mommy" pointing at the arm of the chair. I walked over and saw that she had torn holes all up and down the arm of the chair while lying on her blanket in the chair. Double ugh.

Third, and here's the most serious one - she is a safety issue with Ian. While she was great with him as a baby, she's not so great with him as a toddler. This is because she's so obsessed with being close to people that, unlike Zach who runs the other way when Ian starts to get too close, she doesn't know when to leave. So, Ian inevitably does his toddler thing and she gets frustrated, and on three or four occasions has swiped at him and scratched his face just barely missing his eye. One time I watched her do this unprovoked by Ian.

There are other things, too, like the fact that she has to eat special diet food (which isn't cheap) or she throws up all over the house and gets urinary tract infections. Or, the fact that she clucks like a chicken when she scratches her ears (yes, very weird but true). Or, that she quite often goes into crazy howling fits in the middle of the night that wake us up. Or, that she does just about everything very loudly. She eats loudly (SLURP, SLURP). She bathes herself loudly (LICK, LICK). She even sleeps loudly because she snores. That's right, have you ever heard of a cat that snores before? Because we have one. Sometimes I have to nudge her to make her wake up because I can't hear myself think if I'm sitting next to her on the sofa. Also, she's a complete drama queen. If Zach even attempts to play with her (which is often), she squeals and screeches like an attempt has just been made on her life. No fun for sure.

So, what do you do when you have a beloved member of the family who you realize is becoming increasingly difficult to live with? Well, for now we are stepping up efforts to try and find her a new home. We are also going to explore some new avenues such as calling around to retirement homes (she would be wonderful with an elderly person or as a group home cat of some sort), talking to the vet about the option of declawing her, talking to our wonderful cat sitter who may know someone, and potentially having her become an indoor/outdoor cat to make her happier (?). But in the meantime, if anyone wants to adopt an adorable, loveable and FREE cat, we have one we'd love to give you. Sigh.

Until I write again.

A chip off the old block

I'm back! (From Thanksgiving break, that is.) We happily skipped town for a few days and traveled down to Klamath Falls in southern Oregon for the first time to spend the holiday with my Mom and Barry in their future and sometimes-current home at the beautiful Running Y Ranch there. (If it sounds confusing, it is, which is why I won't bother explaining.) Though the trip isn't exactly a hop, skip and a jump from Portland (driving time is about 5.5 hours), Jeff and I both noted on the way home what a blessing it feels like to have some family that is a car drive away (or will be at some point). For me, the last time I could say that was about 15 years ago.

But rather than spend this post-Thanksgiving post talking turkeys, let's talk sport. As in, the sport of ice skating. First, some of you may recall that I've taken a turn or two around an ice rink in my time. (Back in the days when not only could I drive to my family's home, but I still actually lived there - which means about a gazillion years ago now.) So, of course it goes without saying that one of us in the Burpo parental unit has been very excited about getting Ian on ice skates. And that someone is, of course, Jeff. Yes, it's true. I never said a word but one day - I think when Ian was about three months old - he started saying, "We gotta get this kid on ice skates." And he kept at it, too. Especially when we moved to Portland, for some reason. Maybe he was inspired by the super fancy rink in the Lloyd Center where that infamous Portlander Tonya Harding made her mark. And if you ever visit the Lloyd Center (which is a shopping mall), let's just say you won't be surprised that this was her home-away-from-home. (For the record, it actually is a nice ice rink that just happens to be located in the middle of a really bad mall.) Or, maybe it's the fact that Jeff gave up his dream of being a star hockey player to pursue management consulting instead, and is now passing along his unfulfilled fantasy to his son.

I'm not sure which, but anyhooskie, when my Mom called us up just as we were about to leave town last Wednesday and said, "Bring your skates - our ice rink is open!", you-know-who got very excited. I mean, he was upstairs grabbing his hockey skates (which I noticed are Nikes, by the way - very appropriate) and flinging them in the car faster than Sarah Palin can say Hockey mom's are pitbulls with lipstick! I, however, was a little more skeptical. Granted, I had never been to Klamath Falls before or the Running Y, but I'm thinking the "ice rink" there probably makes the Lloyd Center rink look like an Olympic venue. Plus, I wasn't sure that I was up for all the potential drama that might come with putting Ian on the ice for the first time while traveling for Thanksgiving. Still, I played along and put my skates in the car, too.

Now, fast forward about 6.5 hours (driving time plus one bakery stop to pick up the T-Day goodies plus one Golden Arches lunch stop). Just as night had fallen, we were pulling into the main entrance to the community when what to my wondering eyes should appear (yes, I'm getting into holiday mode) but one of the most grandiose outdoor skating rinks I've ever seen, sparkling in the night with holiday lights. Clearly I had underestimated the potential of the Klamath Falls skating community. Suddenly, I was intrigued. Maybe this whole skating thing wasn't such a bad idea after all. So, Thanksgiving morning on our way back from our big trip into town to check out the local Fred Meyer (which, by the way is about the best thing that Klamath Falls appears to have going for it in terms of shopping venues), we stopped at the rink to check out the schedule. There were a few people hanging around waiting for the rink to open. And from the looks of things, they were going to be waiting a while. Hmmm...okay so perhaps Ian's big skating debut would have to wait until Friday.

And Friday, it was. We showed up around 1:30 p.m. for the big event. The rink was already packed with locals who clearly were not out taking advantage of Black Friday specials at Freddie's. And not only were they not into bargain shopping, but they weren't the most graceful bunch either. So, at first I was little anxious about putting our son out there amidst a scene that more resembled Bang Up Derby (I just made that up, by the way) than Stars on Ice with Kristi Yamaguchi and Friends. But we decided to go for it anyway. And I must say, I was also nervous that this little adventure was going to be a big flop. Meaning, I thought for sure he'd be in tears before we could even get his skates fully laced up. But no sirree, Ian. Hands were flapping with excitement and exclamations of, "We go icing! We go icing!" He clearly couldn't wait to hit the ice. And if his first experience walking in ice skates on the floor was any indication of his skill level, he's bound for stardom because much to our surprise, he barely missed a beat when he stood up for the first time. No tipping over or anything funny like that.

After a slight Zamboni delay, we let the crowd disperse and then slowly made our way toward the entrance to the ice. I stepped out first and then Jeff lifted Ian out to me and came behind us. We held him tight between us while we very slowly pushed him along. I kept waiting for tears, but nothing. At first he stood there with his feet frozen in place (perhaps, literally?). He was like a little robot on steel runners. Except, he did occasionally lean backwards so we'd have to hold him up straight. Pleas to stand straight and bend his knees fell on deaf ears. Hmmm...perhaps two-year-olds are not as flexible as we first thought. Still, we made it around one full lap! At the end when we asked, "Ian, do you want to stop or keep going?" it was met with a resounding, "Keep going!" Okie dokie. The second time, he even started to move his feet a little. Not really a gliding or pushing motion, but more like a walking on ice motion. But hey, it was a start. We took one small break and went back out for another few rounds or so. And by the end, we were really flying! I think he even threw in a couple of split jumps while we weren't looking. Finally, after about the 50th time of asking him if he was okay and wanted to stop or keep going, he proclaimed that he was ready to get off. Which, thank God, because frankly, my feet were killing me!

And so our first ice skating adventure came to an end with a trip to the outdoor fire pit with Grandma Charla to warm hands and feet. A few days later, he's still asking, "We going icing today?" so I think it's safe to say that we'll be visiting the Lloyd Center soon - which I'm super excited about. I guess the only question now is - do we have the next Wayne Gretzky or Scott Hamilton on our hands? Only time will tell...

Until I write again.