Category: self-discovery

children, parenting, self-discovery

Survival of the Fittest

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only one for you FrickFrack has them all

A while back our Nan turned ninety-three and we celebrated with pizza, cake and balloons. As parting gifts to the boys, they each received a lovely birthday balloon. As soon as we got home I tied two, plastic dinosaur spoons on the ends of them to prevent them from launching up into the highest peaks of our cathedral ceilings in our front room (this is considered no man’s land for balloons).

Works like a charm (mostly). A few days in one of the unfortunate balloons detaches from the spoon and creeps up to an unreachable ceiling crevice. The second balloon survives a long time.

Soon, this balloon detaches as well from its spoon and rises to the ceiling. Not the crazy, never-going-to-reach-it ceiling but the one in our family room. You know what? I don’t care. I’m too tired (from being sick all week) to stand on a chair and get it. The boys don’t seem to mind and I let it go. What goes up eventually must come down, right?

We are in the front room where they are playing Transformers (T.Puzzle is lucky to get one; Full Speed gets the rest in typical, big brother fashion). We hear a strange, repetitive hitting sound in the other room. Come to find out, the silly balloon is caught up in our ceiling fan and is being beat senseless. It takes me awhile to figure out how to get it down. Every time I position myself on a couch or chair to grab it, it is already long gone. Somehow, on one of its wild, bobbing turns I manage to grab it and pull seventeen muscles running along my rib cage in the process. Ouch.

I’m so annoyed with this balloon I toss it in our game room. I figure it’s off of the main living area, the boys won’t fiddle with it and I can regain a semblance of peace. Nope.

Guess what gets caught in the game room fan? Only this time to get down the unrelenting balloon I have to get a running start and leap for it. Try to picture me leaping. I know, funny right? I’m no ballerina that’s for damn sure. This time I pull one hundred and seventeen muscles all over my entire body. Ouch.

I now have the errant balloon in custody and have placed it in lockdown (really it’s the laundry room but there are zero fans in there). If an inanimate object can outsmart me for that length of time, how am I going to outwit, outplay, outlast (used to love Survivor) my boys? I have no idea. Unfortunately, I’m not made of helium. I can’t float away when I’m having a tough day. As a parent I’m going to have to be like a ceiling fan. I’ll have to keep coming at them over and over and over. I’m in it, to win it.

Frick and Frack at play

children, loss of parent, mommyhood, self-discovery, terrible twos

Stinky Socks

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At Full Speed’s mini-birthday celebration T.Puzzle fought tooth and nail when presented with the decorated eggless cupcakes. I wasn’t surprised. He likes to defy everything and anything that I want him to do. I didn’t fight him on it. If he didn’t want it, fine. Of course an hour later he decided he wanted it and ate the whole thing.pa183389

The next morning I woke up feeling incredibly achy from my head to the tips of my toes. At first I thought I was just old then I realized that I was coming down with something. Once the stomach distress set in (I will spare you the details) I knew that I was in for a long, long day.

As I attempted to get T.Puzzle ready for his school photo he threw a fit because I removed his socks from the night before. Heaven forbid that his Mom put on clean socks for him. I sent him screaming to his room. What. Ever.

After T.Puzzle’s drop-off (don’t ask me how I got him to school because I don’t remember) I had to take Full Speed to the Children’s Clinic. Again. Granted we are lucky to have such awesome care. Even so, I was feeling less than upbeat about another trek downtown Jacksonville (you know achy, old body and all). If you ever need to reach me and I’m not home, try the Children’s Clinic, Third Floor, Ophthalmology.

I think my life is catching up to me. The stresses of Full Speed’s surgeries and aftercare, T.Puzzle’s unrelenting terrible twoness and the ever present twinge of missing my Mom have converged on me all at once. My whole body hurts. My whole spirit hurts.

I’m in need of some rest in a major way. Unfortunately, in my line of work I haven’t accrued any vacation time. I guess that’s okay because ultimately I love my job no matter how much I might grumble at its challenges. However, I’m fairly certain my house, my personal hygiene and my overall disposition are going to be less than pleasing in the days to come. I may even forgo clean socks. T.Puzzle is on to something with that one….

children, gratitude, mommyhood, potty training, self-discovery, terrible twos

Through the Day

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Frickity

Our good friends down the street had a birthday party for their three year old daughter. I had to go to this party without Mad Dog because of his work commitments (I know, that’s a shocker). I have to do stuff with the boys by myself all the time so that isn’t my issue. My issue is that at birthday parties, my children lose all ability to control themselves and wind up dangerously close to clinical insanity (or maybe it’s me).

I’m not sure if it’s the new setting, the almost tangible party excitement or the fancy cupcakes that set them off. We were there for three hours and I think I had one, five minute intelligent conversation with another adult in that time frame. The rest of the time I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off meeting the needs of my children, making sure that the other children were safe from them and making sure my friends’ home and their many possessions remained unharmed. It was exhausting.

T.Puzzle of course was defiant and spewed out a few screaming ‘no!’ tantrums. He also managed to lock his teeth on his brother’s hand as they fought over some toy. As I placed him in time-out he threw himself on the floor in kinetic desperation. By the time the party was over and I corralled my boys home I was drained and openly hostile with Mad Dog (who had arrived home a few short moments before we did). My hostility multiplied when Mad Dog questioned its existence. I’m sorry but three solid hours of stress will tend to make a Mom cranky.

This evening and all its stress melted away and brought us to our morning. T.Puzzle had a dry diaper after almost twelve hours of slumber! As soon as I realized this I raced to get him to the potty. As soon as I put him down he starts protesting in screaming wails. How on earth could anyone after TWELVE hours not immediately pee when placed on a toilet? I argue with him for a couple minutes. Then I take a figurative step back and realize I don’t really want to be locked in a power struggle over the potty. Our day would start off pissy if we did. So, I give up and leave the bathroom to pick out his clothes for the day. No sooner than my foot crosses that threshold, he pees. He was being stubborn. No way was he going to pee in front of Mommy. That would make her too happy. He wasn’t having any of that.

Despite its frustrating beginning our day goes pretty well. The weather has finally shifted. It’s not the normal thousand degrees with a million percent humidity. There is an actual chill in the air. Who knows how long it will last but it is delicious.

Part of my project for this fall-like day is to make eggless cupcakes for Full Speed’s mini-birthday celebration tomorrow. I go to the bother of driving to the not-so-convenient store to get the eggless mix because I want little brother T.Puzzle to feel included. Who knows if he will even actually eat them?

Once they are baked and cooled (they smell awesome by the way), I ask Full Speed to help me decorate them. I frost them in chocolate and give him the bottle of colored, candied sprinkles. In a flash he has it open and dumps almost the entire contents on one cupcake. I lose it. Mad Dog intervenes which makes me lose it more. I’m upset that Full Speed is wasteful for sure, but ultimately I’m upset because I told him to stop when he first started the dumpage and as soon as I turn my back, he continues to dump it all on one, defenseless cupcake.

The tension subsides after the cupcakes are more or less decorated and then I offer to read a chapter of ‘Inkheart’ to Full Speed out on the lanai. He is happy to do so. We snuggle under a fluffy red, blanket and pick up the story where we left off from yesterday.

Soon we have an unexpected visitor bust through the door and jump up on the chaise with us. T.Puzzle beams a smile at us and shouts, “I BACK!” Full Speed and I crack up. I say, “Well, T.Puzzle, we didn’t even know you had left,” and the laughter continues. Then the laughter takes a life of its own and we giggle and guffaw over funny faces and who knows what else.

Sometimes the pendulum of motherhood swings in your favor, sometimes it swings against you. Your job is to hang on and coast with its motion and when the laughter of the small moments finds you, embrace it with everything you have. Sometimes that’s all a Mom gets to get her through the day.

Yum

life in pictures, mommyhood, self-discovery

Wait for It

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Patient Full Speed is home for the week. It’s not as an intimidating prospect as it used to be because he is much easier to manage. When I was pregnant with him years ago, I had these deluded fantasies that he would accompany me on all my errands throughout the week and we would laugh and giggle and have a grand ol’ time. That was before I understood the subtleties of childhood temperament and the level of movement needed to maintain an active baby’s contentment. In other words, I didn’t know a darn thing about raising a stubborn, hyperactive boy who was constantly in motion.

Almost from the moment I brought him home it was like an assault of shock and awe. He wasn’t fond of sleep, needed constant stimulation and he was a non-believer in staying in one place. My dreams of having pleasant company as I made my way through the mundane tasks of existence quickly evaporated in a hyperactive cloud of smoke. I soon learned to do more in less time and to always be moving when doing so. For example, I could make it through a run for groceries if I did just that. Run. I would literally have to move through the store at a slow and steady jog. If I paused for a moment, Full Speed would freak. Constant movement was the key to keeping him seated and quiet. I would get to the check-out and all hell would break loose because we would be at a standstill. Oh, the fond, fond memories.

Since his little brother has taken over the reigning crown of difficult small person in our home, I am now often surprised to find how much I enjoy my time with Full Speed these days. We have very similar senses of humor and can crack each other up just by a look or a word. He’s comical. He must have gotten the funny gene from my Mom. She was hilarious.

He has been accompanying me to my allergy shots and he loves it. Surprisingly, so do I (the company, not the shots). He is calm (mostly) and respectful (mostly). He can actually entertain himself so even if it takes a long time, there is not a meltdown in sight.

We did run in to a small catch today. An elderly woman came through the door of the allergy office with a walker and Full Speed loudly says, “What in the world is that thing?” He said it rather rudely, too.

Oh, you Moms out there know the feeling of awkward embarrassment a child’s curiosity and their inability to filter their thoughts can cause. Every Mom has a similar story (that is if your child can speak). The kind of story where your child states the obvious and the recipient of this obvious observation is less than pleased.

How did I handle it? I faced it head on. “Full Speed, it is called a walker that helps her to keep steady. It isn’t rude to wonder what it is, but the way you asked about it was disrespectful. I would like you to say, ‘sorry ma’am’.” He did and I’m not sure he totally understood what he was apologizing for but it seemed like the right thing. The woman seemed grateful that I openly acknowledged his comment and let it go after that. A situation concerning a walker or the like (glasses, a cane, etc.) is a little easier to handle than if your child comments on an actual physical, unchangeable characteristic of someone else. I am hoping I don’t have to blog about that anytime soon (fingers crossed!). Other than that (and it was relatively minor in the grand scheme), we had a fine time.

It took five, long years to get to the point with Full Speed that more often than not he is well-behaved and even pleasant on outings. If I do the math, and believe me math is not my strong suit, I have two years and some change for Frick to reach this behavioral/emotional milestone. I don’t know if I have what it takes to wait it out. I guess I have to. My only other alternative is to wait for my meds to kick in.

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humor, marital blissishness, mommyhood, self-discovery

Loose Change

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We are on our way out the door and Full Speed says, “I’ll hold the door for you, Mommy.” As I pass through he follows and I close the door behind us.

“Don’t forget to lock the door, Mom. We don’t want anyone to sneak in except for the Easter Bunny.” Then he proceeds to recount his glorious memories of Easter and how that magical bunny made his way into our home and left him lots of cool stuff.

I love the random things that come out of his mouth. twenty eight

When I picked up the boys from school they were wild with enthusiasm and not behaving in a calm manner (no surprise there!). We get to that door (oh, that darn, alarmed door) and Full Speed cocks back his leg and lets a swift kick go. Fortunately, his kick wasn’t strong enough to budge it open and everyone’s ears were saved from the piercing alarm sound.

I look down at him and say in my most exasperated Mommy-voice, “How many times do I need to tell you NOT to touch the door until I push the green button?”

He pauses and looks at me. “Twenty-eight.”

He says it like I’m suppose to know this number. Apparently, I was only at twenty-seven even though it feels like I have to remind him every single time NOT to touch the door. I hope we hit twenty-eight soon.

I decide to take them to Wendy’s for drive-thru cuisine (somehow it makes me feel like less of a slacker if I refer to it as cuisine) because Mad Dog is away on business and I am tired. When Mad Dog told me a few weeks back he would be gone for the four days leading up to Full Speed’s second surgery I was mostly calm. I told him that even though I was taking this bit of information calmly, that I would most likely be passively aggressive as his departure date approached. Then I said, who am I kidding? I’m going to be overtly aggressive. And true to form, I was (your welcome, my dear).

We get to the speaker-thing you order your stuff at and I tell the boys to stop fighting or Wendy’s won’t be able to hear me. This shuts T.Puzzle right up because the only thing he loves more than his Mommy are chicken nuggets.

I end up sounding like I have a screw loose. I awkwardly stumble through our order like it’s a complex math equation as opposed to a simple, fast food order. The man taking my order seems slightly perturbed as he has to ask several, qualifying questions because I’m not making a whole lot of sense. I’m frazzled. I have Full Speed asking me a million meaningless questions, I have about forty-seven more things to accomplish before bedtime and I wish my husband was home to lighten the load. The man tells me the total and I pull around to the second window to pay my $12.08. I thought to save the patient, Wendy’s employee some time that I will make exact change for him. So I hand him two tens and exactly eight cents. I’m proud of myself for doing it, too.

He returns shortly with my food and then hands me some cash and a heaping pile of change. I have no idea what the true total was but I know I had it totally wrong. This guy must think I’m an idiot to only give him eight cents towards whatever the amount was (which clearly was a whole lot more). So I’m making trouble instead of saving trouble. Now I see where my boys get it from.