Before the Frost
This was the first year that I have ever grown anything from the ground up (aside from my kids). Since I’ve become awkwardly attached to these flowers, I wanted to document their existence before the cold weather strikes.
Archive for the ‘Daily’ Category
Like Pantyhose
My mother asked, some time ago, if there was anything my kids needed for school. Jedi could use some socks, I told her. And so one early morning before the boys left for the day, my mom stopped by a general convenience store and picked up a pack of socks.
Upon walking in, my mom handed me this pack of socks as if she were passing off something illicit and more mind-altering than footwear. In a secretive hush and dirty demeanor, she whispered, “I got these, but didn’t realize until I’d already paid. They’re girl socks.”
3 plain white pairs of socks, save for orange lettering on the toe. Which read No Nonsense. From the pantyhose brand.
“When he has shoes on, you won’t even be able to tell”, I brushed the situation off while thanking her. Which is true. I put a pair of the socks on him that morning, none the wiser. My mother, however, continued to feel bad until a week later when she was able to buy him the correct kind.
I have continued dressing Jedi in those socks when needed, though, because socks are socks. As long as they’re clean and match, an accomplishment unto itself. That is, until Jedi noticed.
“Why does it say No Nonsense on my socks?”, he asked.
Quickly, I blurted, “It’s to remind you what a strong boy you are”.
Strong, like pantyhose.
Setting the Scene
September 16 2011 The first day I took the boys to the bus stop in the morning, some weeks ago, there was another man there waiting with his son when along emerged a carful of kids just as the bus approached. Included in the car was a little girl who was clearly having a very bad start to her day. She stormed from the backseat and took off in the opposite direction from the bus, stomping, crying, and furiously throwing objects in her path.
It was a scene.
After she left, and the bus rolled on with our kids on board, the man who had been waiting with his son, a man who lives just a few doors down from us, turned to me. “Did you see that little girl? No way. Nuh-uh!”, he exclaimed. “If I ever acted like that, my mama would have whacked me upside the head.”
I nodded, “Tell me about it. I would never hit my kids, but they know better than to act like that.”
This, right there. Do you see that? That’s where I eat my words.
Yesterday, my daughter and I took a stroll around the neighborhood. As we neared home, however, it dawned on her where she was and it was not where she wanted to be. Abby didn’t want to go inside like I explained we needed to do. Her voice raised in sheer defiance, the rocks she had been saving in her hand were lobbed like angry baseballs. It was a scene. Right in front of that man’s house.
Um, well, my daughter will know better. Eventually. After she gets done being 3.
Detox
September 15 2011 Hello, my name is Crystal and I’m addicted to the internet.
There is no sense in denying it. Me and my computer are BFFs. It’s in me, my lifeblood. I have cried before at the loss of an internet connection. I have resorted to drastic measure to keep in touch. It’s hard to step away, to put down, to focus elsewhere. The web has been a major part of who I am for almost 15 years now. There are times when I have even preferred it to real life.
And that is where it’s gone wrong.
Jedi is my child in every sense. He is me, in little boy form. And he takes after my serious interest in all things online. He’s fascinated with games and wikis and silly YouTube clips. It’s all he wants to do. I knew it was getting to be a problem, but it didn’t fully sink in until the other night. Every day I ask who he plays with at school, and every day he’s been saying nobody. But the other night, I dug further. After many followup questions, it’s because he’d rather be home. Playing on the computer.
He’s shy in real life. Like me. It’s easier on the computer. I get that. Do I ever get that. But I’m not doing him any favors letting this go on. It’s become an unhealthy crutch, for both of us.
Starting that night, his screen access has been limited. As he so poignantly noted, however, “Why do I have to get off the computer and you can be on all day?”. Fair question, and I can’t. Not anymore. Thus, I’ve set a limit on my own access, as well.
Because my son, my kids, are my real world. Where things aren’t always easy, but they can be beautiful and touching and fleeting. It is better, here. Not to say that it will be a smooth transition, I’ve been a bit twitchy already. We’ll suffer through our withdrawals, though, together.
Spoon Mom
September 08 2011 “Here, Jedi, look at me!”
It was meant as a fun offer, from a mother to a son. I huffed on the concave side of the stainless steel, forming a nonslip surface, and applied the cold utensil against the tip of my nose. There was excitement in my voice as the spoon obeyed just as intended.
“How am I balancing the spoon on my nose, Jedi? Is it magic?”
I thought he’d be impressed, maybe he’d try to do the trick himself. It’s these simple moments between a mother and son that are most remembered. Once the beginning step was perfected, we could then proceed to the next level of difficulty; hanging multiple spoons all over our faces. It could be like a game. We could be a traveling freak show family of dangling forehead kitchen utensils. The dreams, they were aplenty.
“Isn’t this cool?”, I asked heartily, the spoon still resting on the ledge of my nose.
Instead, he rolled his eyes and crushed my dreams.
“Stop it, Mom”, he urged, completely deadpan.
Says the kid who finds anything fart-related hilarious. Yes, it’s these simple moments between a son rolling his eyes at his mother who’s trying too hard with a cold spoon dangling from the tip of her nose that I’ll cherish for always. It really is magic, I say.
