Not Yet a Man

October 20 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: boys, conversation, Jedi

It was bedtime, and I was busy turning down Jedi’s covers as he finished his business in the bathroom. This included tucking in his stuffed teddy bear and lion on the pillow next to where he lays. When the door opened and he urged me in.

“Hey, Mommy, come in here”, Jedi ordered. “Lean in close to the mirror, like this”, he instructed, his body hunched over the bathroom counter.

Following directions while standing over his curls and mouth full of mixed-age teeth, I asked, “OK, what am I looking for?”.

My 7 year old son began to wipe across his top lip with his fingers, as if straightening a mustache. “Do you see this?”, he wondered earnestly. “Do I have facial hair?”

“What?”, because really.

“I think I have facial hair”, he repeated.

“No, you do not. Not yet. Maybe a little bit of fuzz, like on your arm.”, I told him, referring to the baby fine wisps that you have to strain to see.

“Yep, facial hair”, he declared brightly. Then, in what I can only describe as his best Austin Powers impersonation, he pronounced, “I’m a man!”.

A man who still needs his mommy to tuck him in at night and sleep with his stuffed animals to keep him safe. I don’t think I have anything to worry about just yet. We’ll deal with it sooner than I’d like, though. So my little boy, slow down. There’s no need to grow up too fast.

Milk and Toilet Paper

October 19 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Abby, life, of course

“I’m almost out of milk and toilet paper. Hmm…”

I said this to myself, since it was just Abby and I. The boys were already at school. I really didn’t want to go to the grocery store, though. I thought that maybe I could put it off until the next day. After looking through my kitchen, however, I realized that what I wanted to make for dinner required milk. And we didn’t have enough. And Buzz will be upset if he can’t have his cereal in the morning.

I really didn’t want to drive to the grocery store for two items, though. Pros and cons. Advantages to disadvantages. Milk and toilet paper.

“Abby, let’s get your shoes on”, I decided. “We’re going for a walk.”

We have a convenience store not far from where we live. A 5 minute walk, if that. Especially on such a cloudy, cool autumn morning. Everything is exceptionally more expensive than a supermarket, but it makes due for a few necessary items. Plus, it’s like an adventure. To a gas station.

“Where we going?”, Abby asked as we were making our way.

“We need milk and toilet paper”, I told her.

“Milk and toilet paper”, she repeated. “And pudding!”

I’m afraid we’re not walking to the convenience store to buy pudding, but I’m glad she has her priorities straight.

Drawn Together

October 18 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Buzz, single parenting

The thing with single parenting, is that it’s not the end of the world. When confronted with the reality of it at first, it seems like it might be. But then, it gets easier. Of course it would be nicer with daily help. And I’m slowly going insane from lack of adult interaction. The daily grind isn’t much different from before, though. In fact, I kind of like being able to do what I want without having to answer to anyone.

My kids, however. They miss their dad. They’ve been to his place a few times since he’s moved about an hour out of town. This last visit happened a few weeks ago. They must have had a great time, because it’s been a prevalent topic of conversation since. Especially from my younger two.

“Draw daddy’s house!”, Buzz ordered, handing me a magna-doodle.

“But… but I don’t even know what it looks like. Why don’t we draw our house?”, I tried to decline. It was no use. He’s in our house every day, it’s boring. He wanted me to draw daddy’s house.

So I did.

No, that’s not awkward at all. Nor was how I had to draw Buzz holding his dad’s hand. Then Jedi, then Abby. Then myself. He wanted us all there. Like a happy family. At daddy’s house. I obliged, swirling in stick figures, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Maybe it shouldn’t have been awkward. Months later and we’re all still getting used to a new normalcy of things as they are. With more time, I’m sure none of this will be. But for now, it is.

Grateful for Tomorrows

October 17 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: motherhood

Some days, they wake up bad. You feel cranky before you even open your eyes. Every breath exhaled sounds like a freight truck and makes you want to scream. On those days, I’m the farthest from present. Here’s a donut for breakfast. A cookie for lunch. It’s whatever is easiest and satiates the demands quickest. Don’t sit on my lap. I’m busy, just go play. I need some space, a quiet escape. I should have just stayed in bed.

They deserve more. Some days, I’m just not able to give it.

When those days happen, I apologize to my kids for not giving my all. I hold them extra tight when I can and hope that tomorrow will be better.

Then the next day comes and with any luck, you get out of bed with a bit more bounce. Instead of dreading what it brings, you wish your children good morning, and mean it.

On those days, I am present and aware. I play outside with my daughter. I pretend to fly to the moon with her, making silly sounds and faces, running in circles as if we’re ascending into space. We take a walk to dig for rocks without checking my watch every minute. When we come back indoors, Abby asks for markers and we sit and color together. Drawing flowers and learning letters. I don’t even care if she accidentally marks the shirt she’s wearing. After the boys come home from school, I listen intently as Jedi remarks about his day. I applaud the attempt Buzz is making. We skate across the smooth kitchen floor. I laugh instead of cry. I’m still thankful for bedtime, but I do it feeling full instead of empty.

Those days are better. They are good. I wish I knew their secret.

You Damn Dear Dog

October 13 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: letters, life

Dear Dog,

Maybe dear is too intimate a greeting here. You’re not my dog, after all. And even if you were, I’m not sure I’d reference you with such affection. Though you did follow me home, much to my chagrin. I’m just glad I didn’t have any kibble available, because I know I would have fed you and then you would have never left.

Because while I may talk a big game, I’m really a softie. Just ask my parents. They were left with a batch of strays I couldn’t help but offer a home when I moved out.

Which isn’t to say you’re not cute. You’re very cute. With your pointy black ears and enthusiastic tail, I want to scratch your scruffy belly. It’s just, you see, you’re a puppy with a lot of energy. Too much for me to handle right now, to be honest. Just the thought of you is exhausting. Though, admittedly, that isn’t a terrible feat with 3 kids who run circles around me. I could barely muster the gumption to take care of our cat, and he just slept all day.

This is what I’m asking of you, then. I know it’s not fun to be restrained. You want to run! And chase squirrels! And kids! Must tackle the kids! But I worry about you when you’re out there, alone. I mean, there are cars and the bad things that could happen make me want to look out for you. You damn dog.

So if you could just stay in your own yard. Or at least stop excitedly lunging for us at lightning speed from out of nowhere as we shuffle to the bus stop. You’re scaring the crap out of my daughter and making my already sucktastic mornings even more difficult. That much would be appreciated.

I hope we have an understanding,
The one with your eager dirty paw prints on her pants