I’ve been MIA since last Thursday… And, in all honesty, it’s all Justin’s fault (as are most things in his life). We actually got to have a family weekend, and I got so caught up in actually living my life that I forgot to write about it. It probably won’t sound like it was anything that fabulous, but Justin hasn’t been home for a full weekend in a month. In the past two months, I’ve only actually had him home two weekends.

Friday night we took Robbie to his first high school football game. It was the first high school football game Justin and I have been to since we moved to Massachusetts. And, let me tell you, it disappointed. High school football in Massachusetts cannot, in anyway, compare to high school football in Georgia – or even Kentucky. When we lived in Georgia, it was an event. The entire town came. Teachers went. Students went. Parents went. Alumni went. The stands were packed, especially if it was an in-town game. At Lawrence? Not so much in regards to attendance. There is a beautiful facility, and it was mostly empty. The visiting team had more fans at the game.

It wasn’t just the attendance that made it so different; it was the whole atmosphere. We’re used to football and cheerleaders and marching bands. Sure, there was football. Mediocre football that no one actually paid any attention to. And there were cheerleaders who could barely do toe-touches and took five girls to put one girl up in the air. You would have thought I was there coach (and, in the shocking revelation of the day, I actually was a cheerleading “coach” for the freshmen at Houston County). And the band? Oh, the band. How disappointing it was for Justin, who was most excited about the band. They played once, between the first and second quarters. There were no uniforms. There was no marching.

I’m still glad we went, though. Robbie actually tried to run away from me (surprise, surprise!). When I got to him, I heard someone yell, “Mrs. Manna!” When I turned around, it was one of my favorite students who pointed to the guy standing next to me and said, “That’s my dad!” I got to meet my first parent (to my teacher friends out there, I haven’t gotten any emails or phone calls complaining about my performance as a teacher – A.Mah.Zing!). It was nice to be able talk to a parent, especially when I had so many good things to say.

Last night, Justin and I had a date. Not the pathetic excuse for a date we had last time (massage – not pathetic – followed by rushed grocery shopping – pathetic). We went all out last night after Justin got home from class (so we missed him for Saturday). We went to get massages and then out to Tango for a nice dinner together. It was so strange to sit and talk over a leisurely dinner. We had a pitcher of sangria. We slowly ate our meal (what I wouldn’t give for another filet…) without moving the plate from groping fingers. There was no rush to leave because someone got antsy. There was no mess to pick up under the table. Well, other than the mess Justin left… We even had time for dessert. And, you know what? We still like each other! There are still fun things to talk about. Every now and then I worry that we will run out of things to talk about. And one day we might. But, thankfully, that wasn’t last night.

Today involved a failed attempt at church. We had to make a break for it after the homily when Robert melted down. And then it was chore time. Major chore time. I’m talking shampooing the upholstery. I’m talking raking leaves. And bagging them. Thirteen bags worth. We even swept. It looks like fall never even happened at our house! Justin and I got it knocked out in about two hours. Yard work is so much more tolerable when there’s someone doing it with you. It also helps when a certain baby takes a nearly four hour nap…

I told you it wouldn’t sound like anything super fabulous. Of course, I left out some parts. Like that I’ve taught Robbie how to give hugs and play “cuddle baby”. He’ll throw his head on my shoulder and laugh. Since Robbie isn’t really a cuddler (or affectionate beyond blowing kisses), this is a big step. I’m hoping at some point he’ll move to spontaneously giving hugs and not trying to wriggle his way out of them after five seconds.

And now I need to go. After all, family weekend isn’t over yet. There’s still dinner with the Sillettos and bath time. Oh, and laundry to put away and the house to get picked up before it gets cleaned tomorrow. And then a clean couch to lounge on while I work on finishing the Christmas stocking I started making for myself five years ago…

I arrived at daycare to a very concerned Zhining. I could tell she had something to tell me, but it didn’t occur to me what it could possibly be. And then she showed me Robbie’s hand, which was covered in teeth marks. From Addie, the two-year-old girl at daycare. Apparently, young Robert decided that he wanted the toy Addie was playing with. It’s actually a battle we’ve been fighting at home, dealing with temper tantrums when Robbie doesn’t get the item he wants. Well, Addie figured out how to deal with Robbie when he wants something that isn’t his. Just bite him.

Being the good mother that I am, I couldn’t help but laugh, much to Zhining’s relief. I’m not sure how she thought that I would react. She had Addie apologize to both of us, and I had Robbie apologize (as well as he could with his limited vocabulary) for stealing Addie’s toy. Then they gave each other kisses, which nearly melted my heart.

Zhining and I spent a few minutes discussing the situation. She told me QiQi had “big song” when Addie bit him. Shockingly, he didn’t recover well… I guess he gave quite a performance. While we were talking, I looked over to see that Addie had picked up a car to play with at the table. And Robbie was in the midst of trying to pry it from her fingers. All of a sudden, I saw a gleam in Addie’s eye as she opened her mouth wide and leaned in to teach Robbie a lesson about stealing toys.

I’m not really a big fan of my kid getting bitten, but I’m even less of a fan of him stealing toys from other kids. I can’t really go around biting my kid every time he steals a toy or throws a tantrum. And hopefully I won’t have to. After all, he sees Addie at daycare every day.

Justin has been gone since early Sunday morning, and, while I’ve actually enjoyed having some downtime to myself, I am so ready for him to come home tomorrow. I miss having someone to talk to in the mornings when I get ready for work and to recap the day before we fall asleep. With Justin being in California, there’s the three-hour time difference, too. So we don’t get to talk until 3:30, and even then it’s only for a few minutes. Robbie hasn’t actually gotten to talk to Justin on the phone for the past five days because he’s asleep by the time Justin’s finished with the trade show and we get to catch up with each other.

Justin called last night and left a message for Robbie. I wish I could have taped his face when he heard Justin’s voice on the phone. It was a full body smile, from his eyes right down to his toes. He was so tickled to hear Justin talking just to him on the phone that it made me melt a little. I’m not sure who misses Justin more because Robbie keeps running around saying, “Dada! Dada!” But, we made it through (hopefully!) the last trade show of the season. I think we’re both ready for some family time with Justin.

Robbie celebrated tonight by organizing his shoes before bedtime. It was a pretty detailed operation he had going on, but I’m not really sure what the madness to his method was. Or, for that matter, what the method to his madness was. But he was determined to move every single one of his shoes from under his rocking horse to, get this, the Diaper Champ. He piled them up on top and then around the base. And then started taking them back to the rocking horse. Not having time for the whole process again, I interrupted him with a hug and tickle session distracting him from the shoes. What in the world am I going to do when zerberts don’t do the trick?

I’ve had over 48 hours to get used to this whole time change thing. But it isn’t working. I think the problem is that we do the time change over a weekend. You know why they do that right? It lulls us into a false sense of security. We sleep an hour later than normal. We think it’s a little cozy to curl up on the couch Sunday night when it gets dark later. It’s a good excuse to get to bed a little earlier. Maybe we’ll get up earlier in the mornings to enjoy the sunlight then. And then Monday hits. And Tuesday.

Yesterday was much rougher than I anticipated. There was the faculty meeting that went until 4:20. There was the pouring rain. There was the pitch black. And it was only 4:38. Pair that with not having glasses, and it was like driving in a fish bowl. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that it wasn’t 7:30, as I rushed to daycare. I was no later than I’d told Zhining I would be, but I felt like I was hours behind.

And then there was today. I got out of work on time. I picked up Robbie on time. We went to the gym. And, of course, it was pitch black when we left. “Taps” hadn’t even played yet. Of course, there were still two errands to run before Robbie and I could get home. It wasn’t terribly late, but I still had that horrible feeling of being late. I just really hope this doesn’t last all winter.

In Robbie news… I put him to bed easily, but he started screaming about ten minutes later. It sounded a little distant, so I went upstairs to investigate. His door was still shut, which seemed odd. Usually, when he gets upset, the first thing he does is open the door. It turns out that was exactly why he was screaming. The door was stuck shut, and he couldn’t open it to see what was going on out in the hall. As soon as the door was open? Happy baby! And off to sleep he went. Thank goodness for easy fixes!

Not with Roberto in the house. I’l be honest; I always do a double-check when the alarm goes off on Monday mornings. I love my job, but I also love my weekends with my family. And I hate to see that time end. Needless to say, I was caught a little off guard with Robbie’s approach to Monday morning.

I first heard him at 5:52, even though my alarm doesn’t go off until 5:55. Today, though, I didn’t mind. Robbie was cheering, “Yay!” and clapping. Then he waited a few seconds and started all over again. He kept it up for thirty minutes until I went in to get him dressed.

I don’t think I’ve ever had someone cheer me awake, but I’m hoping it happens again tomorrow!

At least that was the plan today… Get a head start on the Christmas shopping. Maybe get a few decorations. Leisurely stroll the Boston Christmas Festival. And that’s exactly how it would have been. Except my friend Amy and I took our little boys. And nothing is ever leisurely with one little boy. Two of them? Ha.

It started out well enough, the two of us managing to maneuver the crazed shoppers with ease. After all, we have over a year’s worth of experience. Three years if you combine us. We made a few key purchases early on, and, as much as I would love to, they cannot be disclosed here. There’s always the off-chance that my Godmother and father-in-law might read this… We smartly made our way to the gourmet food aisle, ripe with samples. The boys devoured them with such gusto that we decided it must be time to get lunch, which is where all hell broke lose.

The boys were done with their strollers. They batted away any food that was offered to them. They spilled their drinks down their fronts. My child fussed and carried on so loudly that I’m sure the people who let us share their table were regretting the decision. And, yes, I let Rob drink Diet Pepsi. From the bottle. In public. It was the only thing he would ingest. And then the crowning blow, so to speak. A blown out diaper. In the stroller. And no wipes.

Thank God it wasn’t my kid because he would have been forced to ride back to the car in a clean diaper (I did remember to bring two of those) and his coat. Fortunately, Amy is a much better prepared Mom than I am, and her child was able to make it back to the car in a completely clean set of clothes. It was mothering at its finest.

When I was little, my dad built a rocking horse for me. It’s one of the only things I have from him, and Justin and I have had it in our bedroom since we got married. I’m not sure why it’s been in our bedroom. But, that’s where it’s lived. It’s been in the corner more often than not, occasionally with a stray shirt over its back. For years, the rocking horse has just been an oversight.

Rocking horses, in my mind, defined my father when I was little. He had an amazing workshop in the basement, and it seems like he must have spent weeks making rocking horses. There was tracing the patterns, cutting out the pieces, sanding them down, staining them, and shellacking them. I loved when he would give me the chance to help. I remember the feel of the sponge brush in my hand. He made ten of them to donate to our school’s fair when I was in the first or second grade. One of my favorite pictures is him standing next to the stacked horses with my sister and me each sitting on one in our pajamas.

Later, when we moved to Delong Road, he still had the workshop in the basement. He didn’t build horses as often, but all the equipment was still there. I got to build a rocking horse of my own out of a “mistake” horse. When I was finished, my mom helped me donate it to The Nest, a nonprofit that helped women and children leaving abusive home situations. Even now, I can remember taking the horse to the center with my mom. It was worth all the effort to see the kids run to play with it.

And so, thirty years later, Robbie is old enough to appreciate this piece of my childhood. In the past few days, he’s figured out how to make himself rock back and forth. He’s even started to work on his dismount, although they haven’t all been successful. I keep assuring him that real riders get thrown all the time, but that doesn’t do much to dissolve his tears. Fortunately, pretzels continue to do the trick.http://www.youtube.com/get_player

As many of you know, Robbie goes to Chinese daycare. I guess Justin and I never gave much thought to the Chinese culture, although we regularly appreciate the food. However, seeing Zhining every day has given us a glimpse into Chinese culture (and a son who thought his name was QiQi – his Chinese name – and not Robbie for the first six months of his life). And last night was no exception. Which is why I didn’t get to write last night…

Zhining sings with the Boston Beijing Opera Association, and last night was their annual performance. I had planned to go see a former student’s play, but Zhining presented me with tickets as a gift, and I just couldn’t say no to her. She was so excited that we were finally going to come see her (we also saw her perform at the Dragonboat Festival in the spring, and Robbie burst into tears when she held him in full costume, as pictured).

Justin and I made a night out of it, with the help of Micah and Allie who watched Robbie for us. We took the T down to Central Square and ate at an Ethiopian restaurant we like. It was so nice to sit, relaxed, at a restaurant. Of course, the people with the three extremely loud children didn’t add much to the ambiance. Especially when the mother busted out the Obama picture book and opened with “What does Obama say?” and then proceeded to loudly talk about how “Obama is in charge of everybody in the United States.” I thought Justin was going to die!

And then it was off to the Chinese opera. Justin and I weren’t quite sure what to expect, and we found the sixteen acts in the program a little daunting. But, they opened with a drum corps performing the Chinese Opera Overture, which was incredible. Zhining was amazing. And the 75-year-old woman who sang two numbers? She gave me chills. The orchestra that performed two numbers? Incredible.

I have to be honest; I was not looking forward to a night at the opera. It didn’t really strike me as a fun thing to do on a Friday night, particularly when I knew that Justin would be in class all day today and that he leaves for San Diego for five days early tomorrow morning. But, it wound up being a fun date, despite the horribly uncomfortable chairs that we sat in for two and a half hours. I do wish I could have understood what the host was saying. He seemed to be really funny… But, like the descriptions of the songs in the programs, it might have lost something in translation. Did you know that the Chinese army has a head coach? And that “oftentimes” is a popular word? That might have been the best part. Except for when Zhining saw us after the performance. What did she have to say? “You came! But where is QiQi?”

When Robbie was first born, I remember talking to my older (and wiser) cousins at my Aunt Barb’s house. They were talking about the stages their kids went through and talked about what their favorite stages were. I couldn’t wait to experience all the different stages. But, I have to be honest, I thought the stage with the baby who loves to cuddle and needs me for everything was the best stage. I couldn’t imaging life being any better than that.

And then Robbie started hitting new stages. The smiling stage. The sleeping through the night stage (still an all-time favorite!). The sitting stage (this freed up so much time!). The holding-your-own-bottle stage. The crawling stage (still not a big fan). The talking stage. The walking stage. And I’ve loved them all (except, as noted, the crawling stage), always convinced that the current stage is my favorite. But this time, it’s really true. I’m sure of it.

Robbie is like my partner in crime. We do everything together: shopping, going to the gym, school dances, visit garage sales. And he gets it. He knows that he’s on an adventure, and he seems to get a kick out of it. He’s also in the stage where he’s putting everything together. The other day, he tried to put the leash on Barkley, not that the dog was happy about it. He’s figuring out new words and actions every day. Today, it was how to jump and say the word jump in Mandarin (it sounds like “bomb” and he kept saying it and saying it and saying it). I love the participate-in-life-and-laugh-all-the-time stage. And I hope this one lasts for the rest of his life.

In the fall, Justin and I don’t get a lot of time together, so I relish whatever I can get. Today is the first night we’ve had together without travel plans, class, or company in nearly two weeks. We met up at Wilson Farm to shop for tonight’s dinner (and tomorrow’s lunch). Sure, Justin could have gone on his own. Or Robbie and I could have stopped by on our way from the base (I finally got new glasses – all for just $183.15!). But it wouldn’t have been something fun to do as a family. We get into so much of a routine that it’s nice to do something other than dinner, bath for Robbie, and story time.

We all ate dinner together and enjoyed playing with Robbie while he took a bath. Actually, my pants did not enjoy it. Rob soaked them. Twice. And thought it was hysterical. It was nice to just sit and talk and play. No work. No school. Just a boy and his bubbles.

We’re currently sitting on the couch, watching Survivor, as Justin rubs my feet. That’s right. I don’t think he’s rubbed them since I was nine months pregnant. Of course, I’m not so sure that I’ve asked. It’s not an exciting night. It’s probably not one that we’ll even remember in a week. But it feels so nice to just be. To sit quietly on the couch with Justin, not saying a word. With all the time I spend alone while Justin travels or is class, it’s nice to have another adult. Especially my husband.