Archive for the ‘motherhood’ Tag
August 24 2010
“Mommy watch!”
Abby’s positioned on the couch, one of our decorative pillows in hand. I’m trying to do some work on the computer from the chair across from her, but she’s having none of it. If I take my eyes away for a second, she barks even louder, her face in a pout.
“Mommy watch!”
She takes the pillow and pretends to eat it, stuffing a piece in her mouth. Then takes it out, smiling, to do it again. I act briefly impressed at her latest benign talent as I attempt returning to more pertinent matters at hand.
“Mommy watch!”
I look over to find the pillow balancing atop her head now, a smirk resting across her lips. I laugh, saying another few words of strained encouragement before I try to continue working, getting nothing more than a few letters typed.
“Mommy watch!”
She runs to the center of the room before she starts off clumsily spinning. Small actions that to her seem huge. I dart my view away for a moment, when she files to me directly, capturing my cheeks with both hands and wrinkling her tender nose.
“Mommy watch!”
I get it, finally. Whatever I was working on can certainly wait. There’s dances and tricks and funny faces. Matters much more pressing that need my full attention.
August 20 2010
We had a tea party. I’m sorry you weren’t invited, it was a simple affair. A table set for two, mother and daughter. A few minutes of the morning, a small moment in time. No boys allowed even, though it didn’t stop them from trying to intervene.
I’m afraid I forgot to dress up for the occasion. I’ll try to remember to wear my pearls next time. Abby adorned in striped pink pants and blue Flower Power shirt. Dainty ceramic teacups, her Fisher-Price musical teapot. A vessel in my lap with hers clinging against the table. Pinky extended.
She’d fill my cup then walk to hers. Pour. Again and again, I’d pretend to slurp the best tea I’ve ever tasted. If I believe it’s real, and she believes it’s real, then it must be.
“Mmmm… that’s good!”, I exclaimed.
“Some more?”, she asked in a knowing tone, my daughter’s vocabulary expanding every day. What she can say, what she understands.
“Oh, yes please!”, I declared.
Motioning to the pink play teapot, Jedi nudged his way through to ask, “Are you really drinking anything?”
It all depends on what you choose to believe. Love, air, happiness, forgiveness, imagination, even the most delicious tea for two. Some matters might seem mythical, but you don’t have to taste it to know what’s real.
August 16 2010
The start of school approaching has kicked my butt in gear on a number of tasks I’ve been avoiding. Such as taking Jedi on his first trip to the dentist. I’ve had it in mind that there would be plenty of screaming and kicking and maybe a punch or two. Surprisingly, there was none of that. There was only poop.
While we were waiting in a packed area filled with other kids and families, Jedi remarked boisterously, “I’ve gotta go potty! Oh, no! I think I’ve gotta go STINKY!”.
I motioned him over amidst chuckles from the other waiting room patrons and explained with the slightest whisper, “When they call you back, let her know that you have to go potty. Don’t say stinky, just potty. Nobody else has to know you have to take a poop.”
He told me he understood and went back to sit again. Soon, his name was called and he promptly informed her of his need to potty like I told him to. I wasn’t allowed back with him, but I could hear him clear as day from outside the thin door. He seemed to occupy that bathroom for many, many minutes. Long enough for the dental assistant to take a couple phone calls. I then realized I forgot to remind him to flush the toilet.
Finally, I heard the door open and his little voice declare, “I’m all done.”
What I didn’t hear was a gush of water.
“I hope he flushed the toilet”, I whispered to myself, out loud, into my hand.
The things you never thought you’d worry about before you have kids.
August 12 2010
I say this with only a touch of obnoxiousness, because it’s mostly none of my doing, but Jedi is very smart. The majority of his information has been picked up on his own or from the computer. For instance, he’s had an interest in countries and state capitals for as long as I can remember. Noticing his exuberance, we bought him a globe, tacked a map in his room, and let him do the rest. He now knows more about the world around us than I do.
The other afternoon, after searching the internet, Jedi asked, “Mommy, can you help me find M-A-L-E on the globe?”
“I don’t think that’s a place, sweetie. You spelled male, and that’s a boy. You know, like you. You’re a male, and girls, like me, are female. OK?”, I replied with a condescending pat on his head and a silly sweep away. Kids are so funny, I thought.
“But here, on Google Maps, it shows M-A-L-E,” he continued, undaunted by my dismissal.
It appears it did. Surely Google Maps is funny, too, I thought. I tried to be supportive, however, and had him zoom out to it’s exact location.
“There it is!”, Jedi exclaimed. A tiny speck in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Malé, the capital city in the Republic of the Maldives. Obviously an island and not a boy. I learn something new every day, now courtesy of my 6 year old. I’m still trying to teach him, but more often than not he teaches me instead. Funny how that happens.
July 29 2010
“Hi!”, I eagerly called to Buzz as he strolled in from playing with his toys.
“Hi!”, he happily offered in return before bending down to rest his head in my lap.
This is lovely, I thought. It’s not very often that I can think that with him. He’s always either on the go or into something and when he does sit with me, I end up with a concussion or bruised rib. Being his parent can be a full contact sport. But here we were, gazing contentedly into each other’s eyes.
He then took his hand and tenderly stroked the side of my face. How sweet of him, I continued to think. It’s moments like this that make all my hard work as a mother worth it. I’m definitely going to have to remember this for later. I could almost eat him up right now except, what’s that smell?
I look at his hand. The hand he seconds ago caressed my cheek with. Is that…?
It couldn’t be. But there’s a lot of it.
I’m sure it’s chocolate or crayon or dirt. I’ll be glad to go with dirt.
Maybe I should smell it? There’s no other way to know for sure.
KID, YOU WIPED MY FACE WITH POOP ON YOUR HANDS?!
All my hard work as a mother goes right back to this moment, indeed.
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...
