When Did He Start Calling Me Mom?

May 27 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Buzz, motherhood

When Buzz shattered the window last Friday, I assumed he kicked through it. He has a bad habit of kicking on the walls. I tell him to stop all the time, clearly without success. My first priority when it occurred was to make sure he wasn’t injured. I looked him over quickly without noticing even the tiniest of scratches, which then gave me the all clear to freak the hell out about the broken pane of glass.

“Oh good, I’m glad you’re OK because you’re going to need to be tip-top to WORK OFF HOW MUCH THAT WINDOW IS GOING TO COST, my GOD, kid.”

It wasn’t until later, when I had ceased hyperventilating, that he came up to me with blood on his finger. A small slice, but in need of attention. I cleaned it up, made sure there was no glass and put on an antibiotic, all the while assuring him that he would be OK. We would be OK. It’s OK. Things break. They get fixed. Breathe, it’s OK. I may have needed to hear it as much as he did.

Next and finally was the fix-all, a band-aid, which is the security blanket for any real or imaginary boo-boo. When my 5 year old Buzz looks to me, his finger securely wrapped, and says gratefully, “Thanks, Mom.”

I sent him on his way before it occurred to me what he had said. Mom? Where did that come from? When did he start calling me Mom?

Noticing my funny look, he repeated, “Thanks, Mom.”.

I exhaled in a small bout of laughter. Maybe I won’t have to sell him on Craigslist after all. This time. “You’re welcome, Buzz”, I said in turn. “But I still prefer Mommy.”

I Mowed the Grass

May 25 2011

Posted in: Me Myself · Tags: life, single parenting

I mowed the grass.

While this may not seem like a monumental achievement to those who do it and wish they never had to do it again, I had never done it before. There’s a lot of things I’ve done recently that I had never done before. Small things, all of them, but nonetheless. I’m figuring it out. Myself.

During our years together, the yard was always J’s area. He’d spend hours in the sun maintaining the grass, coming inside only when the sweat overtook his shirt. I would try to plant a few flowers at times, but I’ve never had much of a garden thumb. Thus, most of what happened outside was left to him.

Before that, I lived with my parents, who have a sprawling stretch of land with many dips and hills and it’s generally uneven. My dad never believed I could handle the mower. Unlike my brother, who had the chore of mowing the grass handed to him many times, he thought it would “get away from me”. That bit of intimidation has stuck with me all these years.

A lot has changed, however. Most notably, J is no longer here. While he does visit, and I know he would if I asked, it’s not his responsibility. It’s mine. And lest I want weeds tall enough to swallow Jedi, I had better mow the grass.

And even though my 78 year old father stood protectively on guard the entire time, I did it. I could. And I did. Myself.

I mowed the grass.

Now, who can I pay to mow it next time?

Clones

May 24 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: life, motherhood

Afternoons, when Jedi first arrives home from school, it’s hectic. A chaotic frenzy of hectic. It seems like that is the moment when all 3 kids want not just one thing, but everything from me. At the same time.

I’m making sure everyone has any rocks or sticks they collected on our walk out the door, then their shoes off and put up, which I always have to tell them to do at least twice. Jedi wants apple juice first thing and Abby wants milk along with Buzz. Then, they want a snack, but different snacks. I try to look through Jedi’s backpack and daily homework folder, while Abby’s grabbing quarters off the counter and Buzz is throwing toys in the fish tank. Abby then wants help putting on a shirt and Buzz wants help taking his off and then he runs off to the bathroom, the rest of his clothes tracking a path, where I have to follow or else he’ll play in the toilet water.

I haven’t even made it to Jedi’s homework folder yet.

Everyone is yelling at me. “Mommy help!”, implores Abby. “Mommy!”, Buzz screams from the bedroom, wanting a movie. “Mooommmy, get my homework!”, Jedi demands so he can get it over with and play on the computer. When I finally get around to handing him his sheet of math homework, “Mooommmy, help me with my homework!”. Inevitably, one kid ends up waiting.

“Jedi, you’re going to have to hold on a minute. There’s only 1 of me and 3 of you and I’m doing the best I can.”, I proclaim about at the end of my rope.

When he tells me, “You know what you need to do? You need to make 3 clones of you.”

That would solve a lot of our problems.

Broken Glass

May 23 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Buzz, this sucks, weekend

Friday nights, at one point, were a chance to erase all of the weekly stress. Let your hair down, dance the night away. Throw back a few drinks with some great friends, or complete strangers, whatever the case may be. Good food, slightly belligerent conversation. It was staying up too late and enjoying every minute of it because Monday comes soon enough.

Those were the days. Or that’s what I’ve heard. Even before kids, I preferred quiet to clubs. But it’s the possibilities of what it can be. And I’m pretty sure what it can be is a lot better than how it was this past Friday night.

When I called my parents in a panic.

“Buzz kicked through the actual window in the boys’ room and I don’t know what to do!”

I can’t recall how high-pitched my voice was, but I’d be surprised if I wasn’t shrieking. And sobbing.

I suppose this is where I should grow my hair in a mullet and lose a couple teeth, since I now have plastic and duct tape adorning my window after spending Friday night with my dad trying to cover up the shattered hole as best we could since it was also supposed to thunderstorm that night. Did I mention the window is right above where Jedi sleeps? And with thunderstorms come high winds and rain, of course, so I had to move his sleeping position to the foot of the bed just to alleviate my paranoia over falling glass. And I feel like the most terrible parent because first Buzz runs halfway around the block with me chasing him like a fool and now he kicks a hole in a freaking window and I’m glad he didn’t get hurt but why can’t I just control my kid, for crying out loud?

Suffice to say, my Friday night did not erase any stress. I’m still waiting for that. Any time now.

Potty-Training Success Has a Price

May 20 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Buzz, potty training, this sucks

“Would you like some chocolate milk?”, I asked Buzz, fully acknowledging it as a bribe.

He wasn’t taking the bait, however. “Go poopie!”

Here I am, running a mommyblog and posting about poop. Which I actually try to avoid. Though this isn’t about the act itself, but my son’s insistence that he must go when he clearly doesn’t have to. Because I’ve spent more time waiting at the bathroom door this past week than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s spent with his housekeeper. And we all know what happened there.

“How about a movie? Do you want to watch a movie?”, it’s an honest attempt, though not enough to alter his position.

“Go poopie!”

“We’ve just been in there for an hour. That’s a good boy going on the potty, but there’s no need to stay in there for so long. You do your thing, you come out. You do not go in, play for an hour, then go back in 5 minutes later. No one needs to spend that much time in the bathroom. Unless you’re Mommy and it’s the only chance you have for a break.”, I try my best to calmly explain.

“Go poopie! Go poopie! Go poooopie!”, morphing into an anthem.

Like every instance before, I oblige his need for the bathroom, just in case. After 20 minutes with nothing to show for it, I say enough, time to come out. I even offer up a pony. Buzz, however, is indignant.

“No! GO POOPIE!”

I thought having the kid out of diapers was supposed to be easier.