Archive for the ‘of course’ Tag
January 10 2011
My oldest son has recently become accustomed to asking who it is whenever there’s a knock on the door. All well and good. This is a step up from his previous approach, which was just to drop whatever he was doing and run like a herd of elephants to get me in whatever room of the house I happened to be in. Either way, they’re going to know we’re home.
Though we don’t get many visitors. The only person who really knocks is J, and that’s when he’s running back inside really quick and left his key in the car ignition. Thus, “who is it?” has morphed into “Daddy, is that you?”.
Which has been fine, since it usually is.
Until it isn’t.
The other day, J had run out to the store or somewhere when shortly after Jedi heard a rustling at the door, like someone fumbling about. Thinking he would be nothing but helpful, he ran up to the door, expecting to turn the locks for his father.
“Daddy?”, he asked, his voice rising in implicated anticipation. “Is that you?”.
His question met by silence from the other side. And probably a quick scan of all the women he’s been with and any unknown children he may be responsible for.
Because it wasn’t.
And that’s why I’m now embarrassed to say hello to our mailman.
January 07 2011
For this past Christmas, I made the mistake of suggesting we buy Abby another stash of crayons. Her previous lot has been broken into pieces, chewed, and lost in every nook and cranny not even imaginable, and I don’t even let her play with them often. If you’ve been reading here long enough, you probably know my position on crayons. They’re an evil hassle more than anything. But she loves them, and who am I to deny that?
So we bought her a tower of crayons. From the moment she opened it on Christmas morning, that was all she wanted to play with. Not color, mind you. No, she does very little actual coloring. She just carried them around everywhere, transferring from one position to another. Until they were dumped out and spread around the house. Then we played pick-up.
We gathered most of them and I put them in their place out of her reach. This way, she’s only able to desecrate the house when I’m in the mood, or am desperate.
Even still, I’m finding crayons hiding under couches and tables. Like the other day, when Abby emerged with a very red, unused Crayola.
I didn’t get a chance to grab it from her, however, as she immediately darted away with it to the boys’ room, hoarding it away like her precious. Since it was time to make the kids’ lunches, I let her go, forgetting how much harm she could really do with one crayon.
It wasn’t until a few hours later that I looked in to realize she had scribbled bold red all over my son’s bed.
I spent the afternoon tediously scrubbing the pigment out of his white and blue comforter. When it was all said and done, most of it had been erased, or more smeared. A light pink-ish hint in its place. But it could be worse. 7 year old boys like pink, right?
November 26 2010
Oh, Thanksgiving. You’re supposed to be an easy holiday. Cook a meal, eat a meal, pass out. Why weren’t you that easy this year?
Jedi awoke yesterday morning in a mood. He was a whining mess from the start. Then, as I tried to make him eat breakfast (he has to have something since he takes insulin or else I would have let it go), he complained of a stomach ache. That migrated to a pain in his ear which he began to cry over. Great, I thought, so now he has an ear infection?
I was able to get him to eat a bit of breakfast, but he complained that his stomach hurt more with every bite. Having a stomach ache on Thanksgiving is kind of like a soccer player breaking their leg on the day of the World Cup. The worst possible time, is what I’m saying. I started to consider canceling.
“I don’t want to eat! I don’t want Thanksgiving!”, he told me between cries.
I gave it a little more time. The pain in his ear thankfully went away but he continued grumbling about his stomach and he looked really worn down. I went ahead and prepared the mashed potatoes I was supposed to make, but called my mom and canceled before they were finished.
Soon after, I gave Jedi a dose of fever reducer. Almost immediately he perked up.
“I want to go to Thanksgiving!”, he declared. Thus, the festivities were back on.
Upon return home, we all passed out in a tryptophan stupor. Before my husband, who was on the road home himself, called to say the transmission went kaput in our car still 3 hours out of town. It was like the Splenda-sweetened icing on an already difficult pumpkin pie.
November 16 2010
For his birthday, Jedi received the game Battleship. We’ve played it online together quite a few times. I had asked for the electronic version since I thought that might be easier for him, but my parents got the original setup instead. The one with the familiar little gray boats that need aligned with pegs just so lest they fall out. Whoever designed the new vertical stand that comes with the game needs a lesson in practicality for kids.
Suffice to say, it took 30 minutes for Jedi to position 5 little boats on his board, and those boats continued to fall out of place the duration of our battle. Our friendly game almost ended in a disgruntled tear-filled tantrum on more than one occasion.
After awhile, though, as naval war marched on and we were already immersed in strategy and boat-bombing, he became accustomed to simply putting his playing piece back on the board once it fell off. And fall off a lot they did. As was the theme of the game. I just assumed he was putting them back in the same location.
After striking 2 hits on one of his boats, then finding nothing else nearby, I crinkled my brow in confusion. “Did I sink your little submarine?”
“No, those are misses now”, he informed. “That one fell off so I put it somewhere else.”
My son, THE CHEATER, then had the audacity to mock me. “I think you’re going to lose”, he teased. Really? You think? He plays innocent, but he knew what he was doing. On that note, I wonder how he’d react if I just happened to drop his shelf of video games then hide them somewhere else? All is fair in love and Battleship, and it’s on now, kid.
November 03 2010
Last Thursday was my oldest son’s very first school picture day. This was a big deal to me, a bigger deal than I realized. I’ve taken plenty of digital photos of my kids over the years, but these are like a milestone. I remember back to my school portraits and while some of them can make me cringe, it’s like a timeline of my childhood. Some of which are still hanging on my parents’ walls in blaring 8×10 form.
The night before, in an effort to avoid the dreaded, if hilarious, “cheese face” distortion he exhibits when confronted with a camera, I went over with Jedi the proper way to smile. Like you’re laughing, I stressed, showing the gaps of teeth he’s lost recently.
That morning, I made sure he was dapperly dressed in a green and white polo shirt, to compliment the blue background we chose nicely. Both of his favorite colors represented. We even tamed the flyaways out of his hair. The envelope of money with our selected package option was placed securely in his backpack. I made sure he knew exactly where.
When he came home that afternoon, I was anxious to ask how his picture session went. “Good”, he said, a man of few words. I then had him illustrate the smile he posed with, which was more of a goofy grin. OK, not what we had practiced, but my excitement wasn’t thwarted. Until I dug through his backpack, retrieving his lunch box and pile of daily papers. And the envelope stuffed to the bottom, still full of money.
Oh, hell.
We get to try again in December, on my son’s very first picture re-take day. At least it gives me another month to teach him how to smile for the camera.
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...
