Like Pantyhose

September 19 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: family, Jedi, of course

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

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Abby, life, motherhood

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

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Jedi, motherhood, this sucks

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.

Slip ‘n Slide

September 14 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Abby, of course, potty training

With 3 kids in this house, you would think I would own a step stool.

I do not.

It is now at the top of my need-to-get list.

Abby is 3 years old and showing interest in using the bathroom like a big girl. I’m sure she would be completely trained in that area by now if we gave it a couple days of just lounging about in her underwear. It’s I who is holding her back. Because didn’t I just do this with another kid?

So she’s taken the task upon herself.

The other night, a mere hour after she was scrubbed clean in a bath, she made mention of her need to relieve herself. Up until then, her bathroom use has been only for urinating. This time, however, called for the other. While we have a training potty, she’s never taken to it. So she climbed on top of the big girl commode, her feet dangling in mid-air, still too small to reach the floor. I faced the other direction to give her privacy until it sounded as though the deed was done, when I turned back to my daughter’s beaming smile.

I praised, like any proud mother. Until the situation turned dire. “You did awesome! Give me 5! That’s such a good gir…. What’s that? On the seat? What is that brown… Oh, Abby! Gross!”

Poo. Smeared. Everywhere. On the toilet. On her. Because her feet can’t reach the floor, she can’t lift herself up. And so she has to slide on and off. And did she ever slide. Like a slip ‘n slide. In poo.

Clearly, the time has come to buy a step stool. And sanitizer. Lots of sanitizer.

Which Problem are we Trying to Solve First?

September 13 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Buzz, FAIL, school, speech

I took the kids to school early since there was a Problem-Solving Meeting scheduled to discuss Buzz. It was a formal discussion with a table full of different teachers, their laptops open, ready to explain the many evaluations that were soon to take place as we forge ahead to the next stage of an IEP. All in an effort to obtain the additional help my son needs, since his speech delay can now safely be classified as a communication disorder.

It was difficult to get to the group, however, as my son had a grip around my leg and wouldn’t let go.

The time came for the meeting to begin, and as I peeked in on the room where it was to take place, I saw Buzz’s kindergarten teacher waving me in. I must have shot her a look, because she stepped out to evaluate the situation at hand.

Taking notice of what I was dealing with, the teacher instructed me to lead him into his classroom where one of her assistants were waiting. Which would have been a wonderful idea, he’s been there for 3 weeks now and it’s familiar with toys!, save for the fact that my child had removed himself from me and was now hunkered down under a cafeteria table, in tears.

Nope. Nothing to see here. Not at all.

“I see they marked ‘separation from parent’ as another problem”, the Life Skills Superintendent read when I finally made it in after literally dragging my son to his classroom by the hand, then turning my back without a second look while he cried for me to come back.

“Yeah”, I agreed. “I think we still need to work on that, too.”