Say it Ain't Snow!

To know me is to know I hate snow.

Here's the thing: I grew up in South Carolina.  There, the very threat of snow means the entire town shuts down and is paralyzed for a really, really unreasonably long amount of time. I don't like that one iota. My inner go bug does NOT like to have her wings clipped. And driving in "the elements" is not a possibility for me. Just ask Leslie Bell, who's rescued me more than once during a weather "event."

Here in Canton, snow is handled a little differently.  For instance, the town owns a snow plow. Plus, I rarely have anywhere to go here, so getting there is never a problem. That's probably why I wasn't sad at all to see about five inches on the ground when I got up this morning.

It started - just as they'd predicted - around 5:30 last nite. Jones and I stood at the den window, him with his lips pressed to the glass and me shaking my hips and singing, "Let it Snow!" as we watched it fall. By the time day broke, there was a thick, fluffy, beautiful blanket of powdery white.

I immediately took Jones to the window to show him this morning. He started running from the window towards the hall and back to the window in a seemingly endless loop of puppy-like excitement. A little later in the morning, I sat his crib by the window, so he could sit in it, "reading" his tractor books. Instead, he stood the entire time, leaning on the railing, mouth agape at the late-Winter wonderland laid out before him.

For convenience's sake, I left Freddie inside with Jeremy when I took Jones outside. As he did on Tuesday, Jones stood still on the sidewalk, just checking stuff out for a few minutes. Then, he started digging in the snow with the slotted spoon I'd given him for harvesting snow for snow cream.

While he did that, I (attempted to) built a snowman. It seemed like the parental thing to do. Refer to the part about my being from South Carolina if you wonder why I had no idea how to make said snowman any bigger than he was. Our buddy - I decided to name him "Doc," because of all of the carrots used in his creation - didn't last long. As soon as construction was completed, I proudly brought Jones over to see him. Recognizing his glasses, Jones immediately went to get them; that was the end of poor Doc's head.

By mid-morning, I'd thought we'd done our "snow play" for the day. Then, Jeremy's dad came over with a snow plow and a four wheeler (remember what I said about having such generous in-laws?), and Jones said he wanted to go for a ride, so back we went into the snow paraphernalia. As it turns out, when given the chance to actually ride the four wheeler, Jones was totally uninterested.  This time, however, I also brought Freddie out; he was more than happy to go for a spin.

By then, the temps were in the mid-40s; the "blanket" was quickly becoming like a scrunched up dishrag tossed out on the lawn, so the boys took their naps - Jones's lasting for an unusually long three and a half hours - and later tonite, cousins Ellery and Evan (both "E" to Jones) and Aunt "DahDah" came over for sledding down our back hill. For all the fun Jones had playing in the snow (snow "balls" are his favorite), the best part of his day was probably the end of it, as he played with E1 and 2 in our den.

After two weather events in one week, I am officially ready for the Masters.

Bring it, Spring.

Focus: Freddie

I sometimes feel like JonesandFreddie.com is a little more focused on the former than the latter. In an effort to even things out, here's a post dedicated entirely to Freddie Bear, who is increasingly called "Freckle," though I have absolutely no idea why. He has exactly ZERO freckles.

The first picture posted below shows Freddie sitting in one of his favorite places - on the step stool that Jeremy bought me at the Hayesville Festival on the Square when we were engaged. I'm going to stop a minute to focus on the fact that, in spite of today's snow, trips to Hayesville are just a few weeks ago away.

I.can't.wait.

Back to Freckle (as I told you ...):

He sits on this stool all the time. Generally, he sits on it after he's stood on it to bang that green sign against the wall, so that the sign goes cock-eyed. Ditto that for the picture beside it. He then has a habit of pulling pieces of the (mercifully, plastic) frame on the end entirely off and waving them around like they're a conductor's baton. Or a magician's wand.

I was excited to get a picture of him sitting on the stool before Jones and I went out to play in the snow this morning (Freddie and Jeremy stayed in until later in the day). When I came in later, I caught him in the act of playing with the frame on the end. I was excited about that, too, though I'm not at all looking forward to putting that thing together - AGAIN - when it's time to "tidy up the nursery" later tonite (I think of Mary Poppins every nite when I say to Jones, "Let's go clean the playroom!").

After he got up from his nap, he was playing in the playroom when I walked in, and he'd gotten himself in to the little red wagon the Pressleys gave him for his birthday. He looked at me, like, "Push me!"

So I did.

Mostly because this kid is kinda irresistible.

Case in point:

I love this video for a couple of reasons. First of all, you can hear him saying, "Go!" He doesn't do the little pause he does when he says it on the train, for some reason.  Guess he's more ready to GO than usual? Secondly, you can hear his little giggle.  Thirdly, you can see his sweet smiles and happy eyes, and finally, you can hear him giving his little grunt-y whine, as well as the "tssss" sound he makes when he wants something. 

After he climbed out of the wagon, he eventually made it over to his books. I've mentioned before how hard it is to get him to read anything. Lately, though, I've seen him flipping through them (often upside down; see below) quite a bit.  He still won't sit on my lap to listen to a story, though. 

Baby steps.

Speaking of, maybe the NEXT all-Freddie post will be because of THOSE?!

See that little white train beside
the little white helicopter?
That train is Freddie!
He was sent to me by my friend
Elisabeth when I was pregnant with Freddie.
He's a friend of Thomas the Train.
You can probably imagine how
much I love the fact that
Thomas has a friend Frederick.

"Cuckle" Bug

As usual, Freddie went to bed around 7:15.

Jones, however, got to stay up a little late tonite.

After the boys finished their dessert, I went to turn on the SEC Network for UK's 7 p.m. ballgame at Mississippi State. Jones saw the basketball uniforms on tv and, as he always does anytime he sees anyone in a uniform, said, "Buuueeeee!"

Typically, I'd have ignored his "request" to watch the game and rushed to get them both him and Freddie in bed by tip time, but tonite, the Pressleys were here, so I let the boys stay up a little to visit with their wonderful grandparents. Jones, of course, wanted to "cuckle" with his Nan on the inflatable "guest bed" I'd blown up for the boys to bounce on earlier today.

Soon enough, though, Nan and Pop had to go - they were rushing home to get up the hill to their house before it was completely covered in snow. Then Jones asked ME to "cuckle," and if Jones has ever asked you to cuckle, while giving you the "come here" gesture, you wouldn't care about bedtime, either. Especially if the Cats were off to a hot start in Starkville.

So Jeremy put poor Freddie Bear to bed. Jones and I laid on the blow up bed, our heads resting on a ginormous stuffed puppy, and we "cuckled," and we cheered for the Cats, and when the "Somethin's Got Ahold on Me" SEC Network Commercial came on, Jones's little hips started gyrating, and when it came on again, they did it again.

We watched the entire first half that way. Then I put him to bed, as usual. It was pretty much the most amazing 47 minutes of the entire day ... no, week.

Video Replay

One of my favorite new phrases in Jones's growing vocabulary is "Come on, Mama, Daddy, Baby, Pop, etc." The way he says it is made all the cuter by the fact that he motions with his little pointer finger when he says it.

One nite earlier this week, he'd said, "Come on, Mama" to me a couple of times, trying to get me from his room into the den.  Of course, as soon as I turned on the camera to record him doing it, he quit, but here's a video of him repeating it to me on my request. You can get the gist.

At the start of the video, he's saying, "CHEESE," because he saw my phone up in camera mode and assumed I was snapping a still shot (I guess you could say he knows the drill). At the end, as he's closing the door, he's repeating to me, "I LOOOOOOOOOVE you, Ma-ma" (just in case you need help cracking the Jones code).

 

The boys are playing so nicely and quietly in the playroom right now. Thank God for our unused dining room - and lots of Patch the Pirate on my iPod. In addition to learning to play really well - both together and on their own - Freddie is getting WAY more verbal, too. For instance, he'll (sometimes; definitely not always) wave and say, "Hi" and "Bye." When you say, "Ready, set ...," he'll say, "... Go!" It's always in that syntax, too. There's a little pause before "Go!" And he's mastered the sign for "Thank You," if you consider "mastering" putting both hands over his mouth and then extending them forward. He's also started gesturing when he talks, exactly like Jones does.  It is hilarious how much he looks like Jones when he does it.

It's not hard to see why he's communicating so well when you see the good help he has in this next video.  Well, you can kinda see it. They were sitting in the kitchen, eating dinner and laughing together last nite.  Jones was saying, "Ma-ma...Da-da...," trying to get Brother to copy him. It was adorable and another one of those times when I tried to sneakily flip on my camera, so I could capture the moment. As is always the case, as soon as the camera was handy, the moment was gone.

But you can at least you can see the tail end of it.  You can also see Freddie Bear's really righteous table dance. Oh, and when Jones says, "No, no, Baby" after Freddie hits the table, it's because Jones got in trouble once, because he hit the table in anger when I'd told him, "No" to something, so he now assumes that ALL hitting of the table is off limits, and he is, if nothing else, perfectly capable of being sure Freddie does NOTHING that is "off limits."



One final video (because I honestly can't remember if I've posted it before, and it's a doozy). Lest you think they ALWAYS play as well together as they are right now ...

... think again (in fact, when the bickering gets to be too much, we often put one in the den and the other in the playroom).

 

Oh, Snow!

He didn't want to wear gloves ...
until he caught a snowball bare-handed.
He changed his tune REALLY quickly.

A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of thinking to myself, "you know: we've really made it through Winter without any major 'episodes.'" I wasn't stupid enough to say it out loud, but I'll admit that I did think it.

That's what thinking will get me.

Between last week and this week, Winter has more than made up for its late arrival. We had an ice "event" last week, and Jeremy woke up around 5:30 this morning and came back to bed, saying, "We've got a couple inches of snow."

Say what?!?

I'll tell you this, Friends: wishful thinking is not nearly enough to keep Old Man Winter on the northern side of the Mason-Dixon. I was too lazy to get up when Jeremy said it, but at 7:30, when the boys and I finally did rouse out of bed, I saw it all ... 2 inches of snow.

Not long after feeding the boys breakfast, Jeremy and I decided that we, as dutiful parents, were bound to take them out in the snow. I then spent no fewer than 45 minutes, trying to distract Jones from the snowsuit suspenders that were making him crazy and trying to fit a size 6-12 month jumpsuit on a baby who's way more comfortable in something 12-18 month (pardon me for assuming it'd snow EARLIER IN THE SEASON).

After fighting with Jones to put on his boots, I finally handed him to Jeremy and said, "YOU get shoes on him. I'll take Freddie outside."

So out we went.

I sat Freddie in the snow - his first time to experience it (it snowed once in November, but we took just Jones out while Brother took his morning nap). He didn't freak out, just touched it and looked a little puzzled by the powder and a little curious as to why he could barely bend at the waist for the tightness in his too-tiny snowsuit (Brooke, it's all AJ's as soon as I get to Nashville next month).

Then Jones and Jeremy came out (we gave up on the boots, by the way. He ended up in his little loafers, which held up GREAT). Jones took a few minutes warming up to it - he just stood on the sidewalk trying to figure it all out - but all in all, he did great. Mostly, he just walked around kicking up the snow, looking for "balls" (snowballs), and laughing when his daddy'd hit him with one. He must've had a good time, because when I asked if he wanted to go in, he said, "No."

From the sounds of Mr. Wallace Weatherman, he'll get another shot at those snowsuit suspenders later this week ... on the same day the green shorts he'll wear on Masters Sunday are scheduled to arrive.

Ironic?

I should say "snow."

"I just can't tell which of his parents
Freddie Pressley looks like,"
said No One Ever.

Handsome, huh?

ready to catch a "ball"

Due to his mama's poor aim,
he caught it with his face
but was all laughs about it.

I was here, too!  Here's proof.

Build-a-Buddy

I used to think my family was the most generous in the world. Then I met Jeremy's family. Now, I think that, between my family and Jeremy's family, we are surrounded by the most generous people in the whole wide world.

Though generosity is by no means measured only by the gifts they give my boys, it sure was manifest in the boys' Valentines presents - they got candy and cards and toys.  Their Great Aunt Nancy and Great Uncle Ronnie even gave them some gift certificates to Build-a-Bear.

So that's where we headed today.

I'll say this for the Asheville Mall - 10:30 on a Monday morning must be the time to shop. There was next to NO ONE there. We were the only family in Build-a-Bear at the time that we went.

Jones picked a bulldog, and Freddie picked a puppy dog ... well, they "picked" them in as much as they hugged them more tightly than they hugged any other animal we handed them.

If you've been around the Build-a-Bear block, you know that the next step is hugging and kissing all over your bear ... or, in our case, dog ... and putting in his little red gingham heart.  Jones did great at this. He's a lover, that one - not a fighter ... unless Freddie is trying to steal his Reese's Cereal.

When the stuffing of the animals started,  Jones cautiously backed away but didn't pitch the fit of fear I'd kind of expected he would.  He just stood there watching and letting MY foot work the pedal instead of his. I can live with that.

Once his dog - and Brother's puppy - were stuffed, Jones took immeasurable pleasure in brushing both of them, which is no surprise, because both he and Freddie can kill HOURS working their daddy's comb through their hair.

We then entered the "upgrade" phase of our visit where the Bear Builders try to convince us that the newest members of our family need little plastic shoes or even a soccer uniform. They had two types of Tarheel t-shirts. Jeremy and I agreed that one of each kind on the two dogs would be good (well, I agreed to this after confirming I could order coordinating UK shirts online), but after I put it on the bulldog, Jones tried to take it off. So we took that as a sign that he was not interested in the upgrades and gratefully got out of there without buying a single article of stuffed animal clothing.

Just when I thought I couldn't love Jones any more than I already do.

The final component of our visit was the creating of the birth certificate. Banging on the indestructible computer keyboard was, far and away, Jones's favorite part ... until he had the chance to carry his bulldog in a box from Build-a-Bear all the way to the far away Chick-fil-A where we ate lunch. I kept expecting him to drop the box or at least hand it to me.

He never did. He carried it the entire way - and proceeded to play at putting the dog in and out of the box, while we waited for Jeremy and Freddie to show up with our lunch order.

After eating, the boys played on the little playground inside the Food Court. I told Jones before he started playing, "Be kind to the other children, and when Mama says it's time to go, you say, 'Yes, Ma'am.'" That's exactly what he did, even when the other (neanderthal) children repeatedly cut the slide line without being reprimanded by their (neanderthal) parents (gnashing of teeth). I was so, so proud of his outstanding behavior during our entire morning out. Both he and Freddie were absolutely awesome.

When we got home, it was nap time. Jones, who never, ever, EVER wants anything to sleep with him (this probably goes back to when he was an infant, and I wouldn't allow anything - not even a blanket - in his crib with him (he always slept in this blanket sleeper things)), but today, he took his snooze with little James Woody.

By the way, Woody got his name from Tarheel great James Worthy and Woody Durham, long-time UNC broadcaster. Freddie's puppy "Cawood" is "Hayes Cawood," named for Wildcat great Chuck Hayes and Cawood Ledford, long-time UK broadcaster.

Because you honestly didn't think we'd let them give them a name that didn't have a meaning, did you?!?

As we left the mall, I thanked God. There are some not-so-great parts of Jeremy's present unemployment, but the fact that we can hang out as a family on a random Monday morning like that is definitely not one of them.  I absolutely love having Jeremy home. Much as I look forward to his going back to work (see those "not-so-great parts") I'm gonna miss having him all to myself!

Thank you so much, Ronnie and Nancy, for giving me and my boys such a great day!

love how they're both sucking their
"drug" of choice

Once he'd freshly brushed Cawood,
Jones handed him to Freddie.

This is the face he makes when
he says, "COOOOOOOOOOL,"
which is what he was saying when
the picture was taken.

I don't even know how to describe the distance that
he carried a box that is nearly bigger than he is.

Brother at the playground 

Standing Man! 

Apparently, Woody wanted some tea, too.