Archive for the ‘life’ Tag
August 09 2010
I would have gladly taken a getaway to New York City this past weekend.
But instead of a plush hotel bed all to myself, I was shoved to the edge of ours by small feet in the back after finally getting all 3 kids to sleep without assistance, which required more maneuvering and luck than I can adequately express. Instead of drinks and belly laughs past 2 a.m. with a circle of good friends that I could have so desperately used, I was hoping that no one would wake up crying or barfing. Instead of days spent taking in the sights and sounds of a bustling city, I spent those days as the only referee stuck within these walls listening to repetitive demands and high pitched screaming and nonstop bickering. Instead of feeling revitalized, I’ve just about lost my mind.
Instead of taking some well deserved time for myself away from it all like so many blog-minded women were able to enjoy this past weekend, I was stuck in the middle of it. I spent Thursday through Sunday parenting solo while J was out of town for work.
I’m used to being the main parent for the majority of the day. However, we have a routine. There are a number of tasks J helps with that I normally take for granted, such as bedtimes and teeth brushing and baths and corralling everyone for dinner. I did buckle down and ask my parents to just give me a break already, but still. 3 kids by myself for over 3 days is exhausting.
Someone got screwed in this deal.
That someone was me. Though the kids haven’t fared so well, either.
August 04 2010
I’m sorry if you read this yesterday. I hit publish instead of save draft by accident.
My daughter is now 2 years old and it still gives me heart palpitations every time she climbs on the couch. I immediately worry that she’ll fall. Abby’s just so tiny and her balance still isn’t completely up to par and that’s my baby, darn it. Don’t hurt my baby.
I’ve been trying to let it go, however. Because now, I have greater worries. She’s been following in her brother’s footsteps again, right on top of tables.
I was on the phone with my mother a few days back when she not only scaled the living room table, but then began jumping on top of it. With phone in hand, I immediately sprang into action, swooping her off the slippery surface. “No, Abby! No, no, no!”, I scolded. Right in my mother’s ear. “Don’t do that again, you’ll get boo-boo’s!”
My mom has to love our phone conversations these days. Though it’s her fault for not understanding email.
No sooner did I put her down than Abby runs for the couch. I try to breathe and let it go, continuing our conversation. When I glance again, my daughter’s hopping from cushion to cushion on all four’s. Then bounces herself off with a splat to the floor. I screeched and lurched as fast as I could, but she still came away with her first fat lip. “Boo-boo’s, Abby! BOO-BOO’S!” Right in my mother’s ear.
If I could circle a moment in bold red marker it would be that, right there, that is why I should just invest in a toddler-sized bodysuit of bubble wrap.
July 21 2010
At first, she was like MacGuyver with a minimally damp wet wipe and a green crayon. It took me a few minutes to realize what exactly Abby was doing. Then I noticed her clumsy hands fumbling to wrap the cloth around the colorful stick. When that didn’t go as intended, she carried her items to me in earnest. “Baby!”, she shrieked.
All of the dolls sitting untouched and she’s babying a crayon.
I played along and swaddled it convincingly enough. She then held the crayola stick tenderly by her face. Until her “baby” fell out of it’s enclosure.
Maybe her father could do better, I’m sure she expected, so she tried to get him involved in the game next. She walked up to him and demanded, “Daddy! Baby!”.
Clearly not paying attention, he wondered, “What?”.
“She wants you to wrap the crayon up like a baby”, I told him flippantly.
“Why would I wrap a crayon up like a baby?”, he asked, bewildered.
Why is the sky blue? Why does ice cream taste so good? Why do the kids go batcrap insane an hour before bedtime? Why ask questions? It is what it is. “Because she wants you to.” He should’ve known that answer by now. What more of a reason do you need?
Though I don’t know what he was complaining about. I’m the one who was later forced to snuggle the “baby”. All he had to do was wrap it once in a wet wipe.
July 20 2010
Buzz has a tendency to run amok. He is high energy, that kid. I was hoping it was something that would miraculously fix itself at daybreak on his 4th birthday, but he’s still going strong. He finds any opportunity he can to dart away, out of arm’s length, and simply laughs when I try to call him back. He keeps me on my exhausted toes.
He has speech class on Thursday afternoons. We sit in the waiting room and while he can be antsy, he’s usually patient enough. This last time, though, he was everywhere. Trying to run out the door or weave between chairs. Or simply anywhere away from me. I’d get up to chase him when all other options failed and immediately felt as if I transformed into “that” parent. The one who doesn’t have a handle on anything. The one who should give a call to Nanny 911. It’s bad enough when he’s on his worst behavior at home, but it’s so much worse out in public.
I could have focused on this and been upset, with him and my inabilities. It wouldn’t have been unheard of. Instead, I’ve been making a more conscientious effort to say please and thank you. Positive reinforcement in lieu of negative admonishment. There in the waiting room, after holding him back yet again, I forced myself full of affirmation. Because God knows the alternative wasn’t working.
Thank you for turning around. Thank you for keeping me on my toes. Thank you for your energy. Thank you for your smile. Thank you for showing me a different way. Thank you for those brief moments to catch my breath. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for being my son.
Now, PLEASE, sit down and stop it.
July 16 2010
Buzz has an utter fascination with animals. From penguins to turtles to bears, oh my! Even when those animals are tree-climbing, garden-wrecking rodents. Thus, when I looked out the window and saw a squirrel, standing still as a statue on its hind legs perched in our direction, I tempted fate by calling Buzz over. I hoped for the best case scenario, which involved a cute little critter and a giddy little boy, but knew deep down as soon as I announced a word the nut-hoarder would most likely move.
“Buzz! Come see the squirrel! He’s so cute! Aw… look!”, I naively proclaimed.
It was a simple few feet jaunt, but of course by the time he made his way the squirrel was seeking it’s next land to conquer, ready to run. Buzz caught a quick glimpse of a bushy tail before it hopped itself out of view. Consequently, my son’s faced turned down. His lips began to pout. Tears welled in his eyes. The cries burst forth.
“Squirrel, get back here!”, he called after.
I tried to turn his attention elsewhere. We have blocks, we have books, we have movies. None of it mattered without a squirrel friend. The squirrel I hyped so adamantly.
“Where’d it go?”, he demanded in sobs, distressed.
And then, just like that, he mentioned something about a bunny.
I can’t help you there, kid. Though I’ve learned my lesson. If I do happen to see a bunny, I’m not going to tell him unless it’s trapped inside a cage.
