Archive for the ‘life’ Tag

An Experimental Approach When All Else Fails

July 20 2010 · comment 10 Comments
Posted in: The Kids · Tags: , ,

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.

Squirrel!

July 16 2010 · comment 12 Comments
Posted in: The Kids · Tags: , ,

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.

Gussied

July 13 2010 · comment 10 Comments
Posted in: Me Myself · Tags: ,

I’m usually last to get ready when we go out. Our strategy has always been that I get the kids dressed first, then J takes over. He’ll squeeze 6 successively smaller feet into socks and shoes while I’m fretting over finding something suitable to wear without holes or stains. When his task is completed, I’m expected to be done as well. In other words, I don’t have a lot of time.

Since the window blinds in my bedroom are kept open during the day, I change in the bathroom. Before the first piece of clothing is slipped on, there’s a knock on the door. “Come on!”, Buzz calls.

I slide and button appropriate articles. Deodorant is applied hurriedly. I think about fixing the mop on top of my head. A few drawers are opened and scoured through in search of a hair clip before I catch the tiny patter of footsteps pacing down the hall.

“Are we going yet?”, I hear Jedi ask J.

“As soon as Mommy’s done”, I hear J sigh in return.

“How long until she’s done?”, he gripes impatiently.

“I’m almost done!”, I yell back.

Forget doing my hair, I just slip it back in the usual ponytail. I’ve given up on makeup. If I remember, I’ll swipe some chapstick on my lips in the car later. I barely have time to brush my teeth before Abby’s banging on the door again. “Come on, Mommy!”, Buzz repeats with more urgency. “I need to pee!”, Jedi whines. Fine, I’m done. 10 minutes, tops, from start to finish. It’s a good thing I’m not high maintenance.

Master Mosquito Killer

July 05 2010 · comment 5 Comments
Posted in: Daily · Tags: , ,

While buckling everyone into their respective seats for a trip to watch 4th of July festivities, I noticed a couple summer mosquitoes buzzing about the car. They were of the fairly large variety and I knew Jedi wouldn’t be pleased if he caught sight of them. I tried to coax these bugs out before I closed the door and thought I had succeeded. However, it would seem I missed one.

Barely minutes into our drive to see fireworks, right before it started pouring rain, Jedi succumbed to a full-on freak-out like I’ve never witnessed from him before. His hands were flailing, his voice pitched, his mouth quivered. He was petrified. All because the pesky mosquito had landed on his knuckle. I reached back to shoo it away, but it was staunchly attracted to him and didn’t want to leave him alone.

“It landed on my finger and it’s gonna suck ALL MY BLOOD!”, he trembled in fright as his hands continued to flail and flap.

The pest finally made it’s way to the front of the car, where it was promptly obliterated into a napkin. Upon hearing of the mosquito’s demise, Jedi’s brevity not only returned but multiplied.

With eyes still red and cheeks not yet dry of tears, he mocked the dead mosquito, “Oh yeah! Don’t mess with me, I’m the Master Mosquito Killer!”.

You could have fooled me.

I Hate Shopping

June 29 2010 · comment 13 Comments
Posted in: Daily · Tags: , ,

I hate shopping. Not all of it, mind you. I like perusing shoes or finds for the kids and house. When it comes to clothes shopping for myself, however, I’d rather stab myself in the thigh with a fork.

It wasn’t always like this. I was actually in the best body shape I had ever been in before I gained 50 dogged pounds with my last pregnancy. I was wearing size 6 jeans. I’m not saying what size I am now, but I laugh in the face of my former size 6. The thing is, the majority of my extra weight is located across my middle. It’s not proportioned whatsoever. Finding pants that fit right is about impossible and aggravating. What slides past my knees won’t button around my waist. What does button is like a potato sack everywhere else.

My mom wanted to take me shopping for my birthday, though. That’s how horrendous my wardrobe had become, apparently. So I had to bite the bullet. Because what says happy birthday better than a day of wallowing depression.

I skimmed through racks. I fondled fabric. I looked at sizes. I felt defeated.

We spent 2 hours walking around a single store and I almost came away with nothing. I wanted to quit. I wanted to cry.

I finally found a few things, but I had to wander into the plus-size department to do it. Which leads me to think if my mom wants to take me shopping for clothes while I’m still carrying this extra weight (can I still blame the baby? no?), I’ll tell her to buy me a fork to stab myself with instead.