Archive for the ‘Jedi’ Tag
February 16 2012
After weeping over how grown up my oldest is getting earlier last week, Jedi later came home with a stuffed zebra he acquired at his school’s Valentine shop. With all smiles, he literally skipped his way to me.
“I got to go to the school store!”, he exclaimed, the animal’s paws dancing behind my son’s bouncing back.
“What’d you get?”, I replied in turn, not able to see fully what he had at the time.
Bringing it to light from behind his back, he beamed, “A zebra! He was my bus buddy on the bus!”. It was a mohawked zebra at that, obviously in need of a wild handle to go along with his appearance.
The rest of the evening, he wouldn’t allow Bus Buddy, as it came to be referred, to leave his side. It sat next to him while he ate, it watched him play on the computer, he gave it a voice and put on a show with his sister and her bear. Thus, it was no surprise when he wanted to take Bus Buddy to bed with him. Alas, as we were ending the night, I decided that his zebra couldn’t go without a proper name any longer.
Now my kids have never been the outlandish sort with the monikers they choose. Still, I tried. “You know, Bus Buddy needs a name. We can’t just call him Bus Buddy forever. How about… Buster? Get it, Bus… ter?”. I thought it was rather creative suggestion. Jedi didn’t feel the same, however.
“No”, he refused flatly, clearly a better, crazier idea in mind. A zebra with a mohawk, the options were endless. Or as far as his imagination would take him.
“I know!”, he said. “I’ll call him Zebra Buddy!”
His imagination didn’t take him very far.
February 08 2012
“I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.” This is what my oldest told me as I was walking with him to bed the other night, my arm extended waiting for his typical response. Instead he pulled back, hiding both arms behind his back while walking with an intention of space between us.
I furrowed my expression into a disapproving pout before asking, “Why not?”.
“Because I’m too big for that”, he stated matter-of-factly.
“You will never be too big to hold my hand”, I insisted, though I knew that wasn’t true as I was saying it.
He’s at the age where I’m not sure how much to press. It’s a funny in between, one that gets pointed out to me on a regular basis. Like when we were at his school when I had dropped him off after an appointment and Jedi ran back to give me a quick hug goodbye. “Enjoy it now, because he’s not going to do that for much longer”, the secretary remarked. I’m sure she’s seen many growing kids alter in the course of elementary school, though I laughed it off. Ever tall and knowledgeable for his age, but still full of questions and fears. He’s not ready to distance himself, yet he takes more steps away every day. I still have years.
Those years that turn ever quickly to days.
“Can I still give you a kiss goodnight?”, I wondered.
“No.”
I did anyway.
February 03 2012
Walking to the bus stop one morning with Jedi tagging along beside me yammering on about something or other, as is his usual way, when he turns to me in mid-run-on-sentence with a request.
“Hey, Mom, can you teach me how to whistle?”
“I don’t know how to whistle”, I tell him. It’s true, I don’t know how to whistle. I’ve attempted, others have tried to impart their wisdom, but they all say I’m just blowing air out of mouth. Hot air, no surprise. To further blow his mind, I also offer this extra piece of information towards my inadequacies. “I don’t know how to swim, either.”
“You don’t know how to swim?”, he asks, shocked. It was as if I could have told him I was born with a tail. Though he doesn’t know how to swim, either.
That’s right, kid. Your mom has no idea what she’s doing on many fronts. So please don’t fall into a large body of water, because not only can I not swim, but I also can’t whistle for help.
A list of other select things I can’t do:
- understand a large part of his 2nd grade math
- crafts
- drive in Chicago, or any large city, without incurring an anxiety attack
- fall asleep without the television on
- properly accessorize
- roller skate
- read or write or talk about s.e.x. without blushing
So tell me, as that I may feel better about myself and everything that escapes my ability, what are some things that you can’t do?
January 26 2012
His number was 85.
Before bed, when I checked Jedi’s blood sugar last. His number was 85. I wasn’t too concerned at the time, because I know by now how it goes. I adjusted his insulin dose a notch lower, then dispensed a cup of apple juice and a cheesestick for a snack. Afterward, he headed to bed where we said our goodnight. If you need me, I reminded, you know where I am.
Passing by his door a short while later, I stopped to listen. His snores said he was asleep.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t sleep. That 85 that was of little concern at first continued to fester with what ifs. There I laid awake after midnight with that number like a neon sign bright on the ceiling above me. It’s always so hard to know for sure, even with a pattern of history to rely on. I had to check, to be certain. But I didn’t want to wake him. Especially so late.
I didn’t want to wake him.
Procuring a hand from where he had it placed under his pillow, I hesitated while it instinctively clenched then relaxed again. Fumbling through the dark with his diabetes supplies, while he was sleeping and oblivious, I poked the tip of his finger with a lancet. I drew what I needed. And the boy, so used to it by now. He didn’t even flinch.
The meter beeped and I tiptoed out of his room to the light, my little secret kept safe.
His number was 144. I returned to bed and was finally able to sleep.
January 24 2012
Jedi had just finished showing off his newest feat of awesomeness when he looked at me for recognition. Not offering it fast enough or with the required amount of enthusiasm, he took the matter into his own hands.
“Why didn’t you say anything about what I just did? Did you even pay attention?”, he interrogated, already perfecting his irritation and angst.
“Oh, sorry. It was awesome”, I praised half-heartedly, snapping out of whatever daydream I was finding myself in.
Clearly noticing my indolent disregard, a problem that he will most likely delve into during therapy sessions later in life along with the overwhelming confusion that can come with an ounce of fake praise, Jedi sulked before continuing. I swear I could see him kick his feet, “You didn’t mean that. You’re not supposed to say that, anyway.”
Pretending to be annoyed, I defended, “Yes, I did mean it. It was awesome. Wait, what am I not supposed to say?”.
“Awesome. You can’t say that word. You’re not allowed.”
“Why am I not allowed to say ‘awesome’?”
“Because it’s not a word for girls”, he said. And then, “Only boys can say awesome.”
That’s not awesome. Awesome is a descriptive word for so many occasions. I would be lost without awesome. Like Jedi, he’s awesome. And you know I’ve been saying awesome as much as possible, even more than usual. Because I’m a girl and girls are awesome. Awesome does not discriminate.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
