Archive for the ‘The Kids’ Category
June 07 2010 ·
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The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
motherhood Yesterday was a miserable day. It was rainy and dark and the kids just wouldn’t stop even for a moment, Buzz leading the brigade. He slammed doors and emptied the entire contents of his toy box after I had just picked it all up and ran off with a number of things he wasn’t supposed to touch and he made his sister cry and threw a car at his brother resulting in a bump by his eye. The list, it goes on. Each instance I tried to sit down, 15 seconds later I was back up again. I was hanging on the verge of tears. He spilled a trail of milk and jumped on the couch and by the time the evening rolled around I had to lock myself in the shower just to keep my head from exploding.
When the time for bed came, it wasn’t soon enough.
In the dark of his room, just him and I. Tucking his growing body into bed, I wished for silence, a moment of calm, a chance to breathe after a horrible day. I don’t want to be mad at him. I hate when I’m mad at him. How can such a little boy cause so much frustration?
“You were a monster today”, I said, quietly, to myself more than him.
“I love you”, he replied, pointing from his heart to mine, the way I always say it to them.
“I love you”, I echoed, exhaling every negative emotion from the day. “Always.”
June 03 2010 ·
8 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
speech We were sitting at dinner, in a booth in the back of Denny’s for the sake of atmosphere. Most nights our dive close by is scattered, patrons dispersed in limited quantity. The place was pretty much ours and very few others.
After eating, Buzz climbed over his brother to sit in his father’s lap. This was a welcome break, since I was still in the middle of a sandwich. They sat together, looking out the window behind them, at the large office building across the parking lot.
Buzz called out a man that was walking past, a lightpost and cars. Then he pointed again and said what sounded like ‘mungus’.
Both J and I looked at each other. I tend to be the younger kids’ translator on most occasions, but even I was stumped. We surveyed the scene once more, turning away still clueless. So he said it again, clear as day, “Mungus”, this time motioning to the building directly. That’s when Jedi suggested, “I think he said humongous”.
“Humongous?”, we asked him as his face lit up with recognition.
“Hoomungus!”, Buzz repeated.
He surprises me daily. Two years late, but the words, they are right on the tip of his tongue. Humongous. Yes, the building was humongous. Especially to a little boy with a world finally opening wide right in front of him.
June 01 2010 ·
20 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
Jedi,
life,
trip I thought the “are we there yet?” repetition during roadtrips was a family comedy cliche, meant to garner laughs in movies starring Chevy Chase or Ice Cube but not lauded in a lot of real life truth. Like with most everything else, though, my 6 year old son has proven me wrong.
The entire way there, this is what we heard. “Mommy, how much longer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give me a number!”
“I can’t say an exact number. There’s traffic and a lot of things to consider.”
“Daddy, how much longer?”
And it went on like this for the two hours it took to get there, which could have been half a day for all the fuss from the backseat.
Then on the way home, “I want to go home! Why aren’t we home yet?”
“We’ll be home soon.”
“Mommy, how much longer?”
“Around 30 minutes or so.”
“Daddy, tell me exactly how much longer.”
Between Abby’s incessant blabbering and random ear-splitting attacks of crying, Buzz’s instigating, and Jedi’s neverending are we there yet? loop, peaceful and quiet scene-gazing car rides just aren’t what they used to be. Namely, they are anything but peaceful and quiet. Where’s Ice Cube when you need him?
May 28 2010 ·
15 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
boys,
family,
Jedi My parents were over the other day for awhile. Jedi happily ran around them, telling imaginative tales and wanting to share toys. He handed my dad one of his many plastic guns and they boom boom boomed for a few minutes from the comfort of our couch. The entire time I could practically hear my mother as she huffed and puffed and shook her head in disapproval.
My son likes guns.
He’s a boy, though. He likes pistols and tanks and Army men and semi-automatic weapons and camouflage and bombs and blood and stuff that blows up and zombies. All with lights! and live-action sounds! He’s not violent, he never pretends to shoot real people, just monsters and imaginary bad guys. Of course I would prefer that he took up cupcake decorating, but it goes without saying by now that I lost that battle. Instead, I let it go. I made sure that Jedi knows the difference between a REAL gun and a TOY gun and what might happen if he were to ever play with a REAL gun. I’ve said it over and over, and will continue to reiterate, you never ever play with a REAL gun. Ever.
There is no point in huffing and puffing and shaking your head in disapproval. I know where she’s coming from, I do, I was the same, but if I can let it go then she should, too. Or else I might have to remind her how my brother used to hide in trees and shoot people on a golf course with a BB gun they gave him. If she really wants to shake her head over something, shake it over that.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Abby is a tough little girl. I suppose growing up with two older brothers who aren’t really that much older and still like to drag you along will cause your skin to thicken. She can tumble with the best of them.
She is also very strong-willed, which is a very nice way to say stubborn. She is as stubborn as the sun. Everything is to be done her way or not at all, lest we all hear about it in a very high-pitched fashion.
For the most part, though, she loves to play with her brothers. She usually prefers Buzz to Jedi, but that’s because Jedi is stubborn, too. And bossy. And he complains a lot. And gets upset easily. Buzz is more pliable, but is also more prone to inadvertently hurt her.
Which is how it was going the other day when Jedi and Abby were playing together, and I use that term loosely. He was telling her what to do and she was doing it her way instead. When he decided that he didn’t want to participate anymore. She, however, failed to receive the memo and continued getting in his way. He tried to move her and she’d scratch him. I reprimanded him for pushing her and I reprimanded her for hurting him. It was persistent as Jedi began to whine, irked tears welling in his eyes, feet stomping, vexed beyond measure.
That’s when he turns to me and decries, “This is why we shouldn’t have a toddler!”.
