Archive for the ‘motherhood’ Tag
January 14 2010 ·
1 CommentPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
motherhood The kids’ bedroom door was closed. This isn’t anything unusual. They sometimes like to shut themselves off from the rest of the world. I think nothing of it for a minute or two, it’s quiet, nice. Buzz knows how to let himself out just fine, but I always worry that Abby may be trapped inside. So I get up to open the door, for her.
This time, though, the door wouldn’t open except for a sliver. There was a heavy plastic bin full of toys directly behind it. The room is smaller than some closets, so that bin didn’t have any room to move until it pushed up against the bed frame. I couldn’t even get my hand through.
In those few seconds of thought, panic swept over me. What if I couldn’t get the door open? What if they were trapped? Buzz was in there, sure, but what if he didn’t understand? Or what if he just decided not to listen and be difficult? He is 3, it wouldn’t be the first time. Oh God, I’ll have to call the fire department? Bust in their window? But how would I even get in their window? We don’t have a ladder. Could I kick their door in? Abby’s going to start crying soon. I’m going to start crying soon. What do I do?
“Buzz, you need to move that please.”
Without even hesitating, he scooted the bin back, but not enough.
“You need to move it a little bit more.”
Which he did. Just like that.
Clearly, I do not give the boy enough credit.
January 12 2010 ·
7 CommentsPosted in:
Daily · Tags:
life,
motherhood Morning: 7:30, slow to wake up. Groggy eyes. An hour to catch up with the internet while the kids watch cartoons. Jedi is always last to get out of bed. Check on his loose tooth. Diaper changes. Nursing. An easy breakfast. Wipe off messy faces. Dishes washed, dishes dirtied. Trip over stuffed animals. Fighting over toys. Bowling in the hallway. Magna Doodle sketches. Cries. Screams. Tantrums. Laughs.
Afternoon: Jedi picks up toys so he can play video games. Abby naps for an hour. Shhh! Buzz watches Up!. Check mailbox. Lunch is made. Caffeine. Milk refills. When Abby wakes, spaghetti o’s. Spill spaghetti o’s on the floor. All My Children. Food Network. Buzz runs in with his pants off. “Do you have to go potty?” More diaper changes. More nursing. More screaming. More crying over toys. Milk refills. Jumping on beds. Prying off the kitchen counters. Work with Buzz on his ABC’s. Trim Abby’s sharp as knives toenails. 3 o’clock munchies. Eat a few grapes instead of scarfing down a couple donuts like I want. More caffeine. Take 5 minute spurts to compose an entry. Mom calls. Pick up toys, again.
Evening: Is it bedtime yet? More milk refills. More diaper changes. More nursing. Count minutes until J comes home. Cook dinner. Hi, Daddy! Eat. Kids go nuts. I’m exasperated. And exhausted. Try to watch a movie. More screaming. More fighting. More laughing. More prying off the kitchen counters. No Abby, don’t bite your brother. No Buzz, don’t sit on your sister. No one pays attention, as usual. More cries. Pick up toys a final time. Baths. Chaos. Dry off. Jedi runs in with underwear on his head. Teeth brushed. Cat and fish fed. Kisses goodnight at 9. Quick shower. Calm. Breathe. Unwind. Bed. Watch mindless late night TV until it puts me to sleep. To start all over again tomorrow.
December 29 2009 ·
3 CommentsPosted in:
Daily · Tags:
Christmas,
family,
motherhood The kids have had many toys over the years. Every now and then, I pack away a few they no longer play with or that are especially irritating or that we have simply run out of room for. 3 kids’ worth of toys can quickly take over a house.
One such example were the mega blocks Jedi acquired when he was little(er). He didn’t creatively build much with them, preferring the momentary cheap thrill of dumping out all hundred pieces day after day then leave them be. And there they would lay, lifeless, with nothing more than a passing poke in the foot. I never liked these blocks. I didn’t want to deal with picking them up any longer. Thus began a gradual easing out process. And when the blocks were finally all stored away, no one gave a second glance. Good riddance.
I’m a horrible mother, I know. I don’t let my kids play with childhood essentials. First, crayons. Now, blocks. It’s a wonder I let them believe in Santa.
I haven’t had a block in my house for 2 years. Many, many other irritating toys, but free of blocks.
Until now.
When my mother bought Buzz a brand new set of mega blocks for Christmas.
There is a pile of them simply littering the floor, waiting to be stepped on. They’re just as much fun to pick up now as they were then.
Thanks, Mom.
December 17 2009 ·
5 CommentsPosted in:
Daily · Tags:
life,
motherhood There was a whistle that had slid underneath the stove. Abby was pointing at it, in an obvious plea for help. I winced at the darkness, feeling crumbs on my palm, but it was just out of my grasp. At which point, I reached for my Brave Cape. Finding a thin piece of broken molding, I swept it’s stolen contents and held my breath.
I didn’t know the last time that stove had been moved. You see, we rent. Not only did I not know when it was last moved, but I have no idea of who lived in this house before us. What I could possibly find underneath these large appliances really, truly scared me.
But I had on my Brave Cape, so I tried as best I could to mentally prepare for the worst. I swept. Out flew a few alphabet magnets I hadn’t seen since we first moved in more than 2 years ago. I swept again. More long lost magnets, as well as mutant dust bunnies the size of Mexico.
I was pleasantly shocked to find nothing inherently gross. There were no used condoms circa 2002, nor were there any unidentified bones. These were just a few of the many disgusting scenarios I was half expecting. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Since I was still smugly decked in my Brave Cape, I decided to take a sweep under the refrigerator. More magnets, a soy sauce pack, and an old bottle top. Except, I thought I could feel something. That was it. I was done. We’ve had enough brevity for a day, anyway.
And look kids! Magnets! It’s like brand new toys! Just let me wash them off first.
For the rest of the day, Buzz and Abby fought relentlessly over those stupid magnets. No good deed goes unpunished. As for the whistle, it’s still trapped somewhere under the stove.
I heard him in the hallway, wondering where I went. If Jedi has a question, I’m the person he seeks. I was idly drying off after a shower, however, so he had to settle for J. Why he decided to respect my privacy for once is beyond me.
“Ok, um, Daddy? What does ‘radioactive’ mean?”
He should have just referred to the Incredible Hulk right here and been done with it. I mean, he glows green! How much more radioactive can you get? Instead, J fumbled for a few seconds, trying to find his own definition that a 6 year old could understand. I guess he couldn’t think of one, because he replied, “Um… uh… radioactive waves.”
“What are radioactive waves?”
“Umm… hmm…. it’s like… like a nuclear bomb.”
Even from the bathroom, I could see the next challenge coming from a mile away. As Jedi asked, I mouthed the words with him in unison. “What’s a nuclear bomb?”
Being the parent of a young child is a constant pop quiz, teetering on the brink of my mediocre education. Some days you pass, some days you fail, and some days your head is clogged and you wish you could call in sick. For now, I hold a slipping grasp on the answer key. Stories of superheroes aren’t going to suffice forever, though, but I’ll gladly take it while I can.
