Archive for the ‘Jedi’ Tag
May 17 2011
You know that kid at the grocery store, face in a bag of junk food disguised as breakfast? He comes up for air smeared in powdered sugar crumbs. He could really use a napkin, along with a lesson on not eating like a pig in public. You’ve maybe snickered.
Have you seen him?
No? Then you weren’t at the store with us this weekend.
I try to never take all 3 kids to the grocery store. Up until last week, I never had. But my mom wasn’t feeling well, and I couldn’t wait another day. I was out of ice cream, it was a dire emergency.
Not only that, but we were also thrown off schedule. The only window of opportunity to make it to the store was when we normally start lunch. I try to have a routine in place so Jedi’s blood sugar doesn’t fluctuate anymore than it already does. I still thought we would have made it back with plenty of time before his morning dose of insulin really kicked in, however.
I thought wrong.
Towards the end of our trip, his mood shifted. Then, “I think I need a test”. Meaning his blood sugar test, which is how he tells me he’s low. Of course I came unprepared, so I grabbed the first thing I saw off the store shelves with enough quick carbs, stuffing his mouth full in front of an unwitting audience with giant, sloppy bites. Nothing discreet about it, it was as if a powdered donut exploded in aisle 9. Like I need to give people a legitimate reason to look at me in disapproval.
May 12 2011
“Do you play basketball a lot at school?”, I asked Jedi.
“Yeah, but I have to use the funnel basket, because I’m not very good.”, he replied.
“I guess we won’t be signing you up for basketball any time soon then, huh?”
“No, but what about baseball? Wait, is that ball hard?”
“Yes, the ball is hard.”
“No baseball, then. Unless I can just be the batter and run around the bases. What about softball? Is that ball hard?”, he wondered hopefully.
“That ball is bigger, and still hard.”
“How about golf? Oh, no! I couldn’t do golf! That ball is hard, too. When I hit it I’d have to yell FOUR! then duck like this and run away.” Jedi said while demonstrating his best crouch.
“You’d probably like soccer. That’s mostly kicking.”
“I could be a goalie!”, he exclaimed. “What does the goalie do again?”
Sensing a pattern here, I cut to the chase. “He blocks the ball. Which means he might get hit with the ball.”
“Oh, hmmm…”, he thought, our options dwindling.
“Well, there’s always track. That’s running. You like to run.”
“Yeah, I’m really good at running!”
May 05 2011
Was today’s activity helpful or interesting? This was the top question on a survey handed out Wednesday during the family luncheon at Jedi’s school. Along with getting to sit in a loud cafeteria and eat a rather bland turkey and cheese wrap with my son, we were also assigned a stretch of land in their garden to dig for planting and seeds.
Does that seem like just an excuse for free labor to anyone else?
Now, I’m not a big garden person. I don’t mind getting dirty, but I don’t really know what I’m doing. We walked in front of a plot of land, though, with a packet of magnolias and some kind of fragile leafy concoction in a container. All the while, Jedi’s complaining because the sun was in his face. “I want to go back to class”, he even whined.
“No, I came here for this. We are going to plant flowers and have fun”, I hushed sharply.
“It’s too hot and the sun is too bright. Maybe I can go back to speech class”, he wondered as I knelt over with a small hand trowel, which is the class they called him out of when I arrived. He pronounces some of his r’s like w’s. I used to do the same.
“No, you’re here with me”, I kept insisting, trying not to take his resistance personally.
“Where’s Miss Cassidy? I want to go with Miss Cassidy”, he looked around, still whining. When we were finally done, he couldn’t bolt for the door fast enough.
So was today’s activity helpful or interesting? Not in the way intended, no. We’re not going to rush home to begin a family garden anytime soon. But it did make my son appreciate his fluorescent light and temperature-controlled classrooms more, so that’s kind of helpful, right?
April 21 2011
Jedi is growing in leaps. If his rising stature didn’t make this blatantly obvious, it’s his attitude. He has picked up all sorts of new phrases since going to school. For every question I ask him anymore, I am sure to be met with a “duh!” or “you already know the answer, so I’m not telling you!” or he just ignores me. He grumbles. He’s defiant. He’s a 7 year old. I’m not thrilled with this change, but I understand there’s a need to assert some separation and independence.
But underneath that thicker exterior still lies bursts of my little boy.
When Jedi was smaller, and still an only child, I would lay with him until he fell asleep each night. Just the two of us in quiet. I could listen as he’d babble himself to sleep and bask in the wonder of my growing son. Some nights, he couldn’t shut his eyes without my arm tightly wrapped around him. He was such a beautiful little boy, full of light and love. Time and additions eventually took over and he began to not need me in the same capacity anymore.
Then the other night, I rested next to Jedi in bed. I put my arm around him as he untucked himself just enough to place his around me. It was like old times, except heavier. He is three times longer, his limbs ganglier and stronger, his babbles now real paragraphs. There are gaps of teeth that he’s lost and fingernails that hold proof of friends at play. Like flashes of 7 years worth of stars bursting right before my eyes.
I laid there with my oldest son, arms around each other and our foreheads touching. My beautiful little boy, who’s more likely to talk back these days than to listen. But there are still those bursts, full of light and love.
“I could stay like this forever”, he whispered.
“Me, too”, I said. Me, too.
April 08 2011
Whatever happened to 7 year old boys thinking girls had cooties? Isn’t that the norm anymore? If not, I feel I should start that rumor mill back up again. Cooties were nice. I miss cooties. Instead, my 7 year old boy is turning into Romeo.
“What’s a Romeo?”, he asked after I gently chided.
“It’s a guy who likes a lot of girls”, I replied in the simplest way.
“Oh, then yeah, that’s me”, he agreed with a skip in his step and two notes in his school folder for two different girls in his class. The night previous he asked for 2 pieces of paper, a red crayon, and a pencil. Very specifically, very seriously, but without further explanation. Except I kept forgetting his request until numerous reminders later. Only when I finally retrieved his exact supplies did he let me in on his intentions and what the outpouring of affections should read. All with only the slightest blush on his cheeks.
Dear ______
<3 (a large heart colored in red crayon)
Sincerely Jedi
Which made me feel as if I should construct my own letter. After I ceased hyperventilating long enough to hold a pencil, that is. To look out for his best interest and all.
Dear Jedi
COOTIES! (picture of a black widow spider)
Love, Mom
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...
