Tag: Frack

children, good grief, loss of parent, mommyhood

That’s My Boy

WFAM

It is time for our annual termite inspection. The man responsible for this shows up unannounced at my doorstep. He tried to call but all he had on record was our previous, Wisconsin phone number. The boys are home and it will be an adventure for all of us.

The bug inspector is quite affable and is a Buckeye fan. He remembers that we are a home of Buckeyes and makes chit chat about the impending Ohio State vs. Michigan game (this is a big time rivalry). He also asks about my Mom. Seems the last time he was here inspecting, was the last time she was here, ever. I don’t want to get too personal but he keeps talking about her and eventually I have to disclose that she passed away in March. Full Speed is hanging on our every word.

“Grandma’s up in heaven,” he says. His eyes are wide and he comes up to me and grabs my hand. He tries to be such a little man sometimes.

The bug man says his apologies and comments on what a nice lady she was. He continues the job at hand. Once we get the all clear and payment is signed, I wish him a good day and hope that there isn’t a need for him to visit us until our next annual inspection.

As the day progresses into late afternoon, Full Speed drops a bit of a shocker on me.

“Mom, who is your Mommy going to be now that Grandma is up in heaven?”

I knew he had probably been thinking about that question since the bug man’s inquiry about my Mom. A lump forms in my throat because I miss my Mom and Full Speed’s obvious concern for me makes me feel proud and slightly in awe of him.

“Well, Full Speed, Grandma is still my Mom even though she is in heaven. She will always be my Mom and I am lucky to have her,” I say. I try to say it without breaking down. I mostly succeed.

He kind of accepts what I say but isn’t entirely convinced. I can see the wheels turning in his head. I imagine that when he’s a bit older, he may have a full-out campaign to find me a Mom. Get your resumes ready ladies; I imagine this kid is going to be a tough one to impress.

children, mommyhood, rock and a hard place, self-image/self-acceptance

Hair Trouble

WFAM

I saw ‘The Color Purple’ at the theater last night. It was a girls’ night by all means. My sister-in-law and mother-in-law had purchased a series of musical theater tickets for my birthday and this was the first show. We managed to arrive in enough time to enjoy an excellent dinner at the Omni Hotel and still get to our seats. It was glorious to sit back, enjoy a glass of wine, good conversation with adults and a child-free evening.

We weren’t sure what to expect with the show. We knew the book and movie were pretty intense and weren’t sure how that would play out on a musical stage. It was a pleasant and entertaining surprise. The level of talent was very good and there was much more humor in it than we anticipated.

Once I had returned home and tucked myself in for the night, Full Speed came into our bedroom sometime in the early morning hours. Mad Dog and I sent him hastily back to his room. He was hyper-emotional about this which is completely out of character. In the morning, he looked peaked, had a temp and had no appetite to speak of. Looks like I was going to have company for the day.

Mad Dog escorted a very unwilling T.Puzzle to school (apparently he screamed and cried the whole ride over there) and I was faced with the task of keeping Full Speed hydrated and happy.

Soon we are alone and he looks up at me with the saddest, puppy dog eyes and says, “Why aren’t you coming to my Thanksgiving Feast on Friday?”

I know, I know, I seem like a highly inconsiderate parent. There is more to the story. Way back in mid-October I called my salon and set up hair appointments for the remainder of the year as it gets booked solid with the approaching holidays. Of course when I made the appointment for November, I was unaware of the impending feast at Full Speed’s school. I figured it was no big deal to miss. I had attended his Halloween luncheon with Mad Dog and only three other parents had shown up. Therefore, I signed up to bring in a fruit tray (ordered from the grocery of course) and thought nothing of it.

Yesterday at school as I had cleaned out Full Speed’s ‘mailbox’, I came across a Thanksgiving Feast reminder paper. It said ‘please note that we have 36 people attending Friday’s feast’. I did the math. Full Speed has nineteen kids in his class. That means almost every, single kid will have a parent present.

Guess who is skipping the salon and will have bad hair for the holidays? This year I will be thankful that my kids love me for who I am and not what I look like. Otherwise, I would be in serious trouble.

children, humor, mommyhood

Like Father, Like Son

WFAM

like father like sonFull Speed is essentially a mini-Mad Dog. For those of my dear readers that know Mad Dog personally, this means I have my work cut out for me. Like his Dad he is incredibly assertive and a no-nonsense negotiator. They also look eerily similar.

Full Speed is five years old going on fifty. He speaks and sometimes acts like a little, old man. Mostly it is sweetly fun. Sometimes, well…, it crosses a line.

Not only is Full Speed an adult trapped in a child’s body, he is slightly OCD (obsessive-compulsive). He likes order in everything. He prefers all drawers and doors shut at all times. He likes everything in its place.

This morning, as the boys had their morning ritual of watching ‘Dinosaur Train’ before school, Full Speed asked to be covered up. T.Puzzle wanted to be included (you know Pete and Re-Pete and all that) so I grab a blanket and threw it over him as well. A pile of mess began to expand from the center of our family room to its outer perimeter. There were pillows, another blanket and an assortment of cars and Transformers strewn about.

Full Speed came over to me and said, “Mom, while I’m at school, you need to clean up this mess before I get home.” Really? You want to go THERE, little man? He said it with complete deadpan as if I’m to jump at the chance to follow his command. I suppose it doesn’t help that when Mad Dog leaves the house he says to Full Speed, “When I’m not here, you’re the boss.” I now know Full Speed believes this. Every Mom in the world, including myself, knows that Moms are the boss no matter who is or isn’t on the premises.

I took a deep breath and sighed (a trait inherited from my Mother). “I appreciate your feedback, sir. However, why don’t YOU clean up the family room before YOU leave for school?” I said this as more of a statement than a question. Actually more like a you-better-do-it-now-or-I’ll-really-show-you-who’s-boss sort of statement.

He got right on board, hopped to it and started in on the mess. Apparently, he’s a little bit scared of me. He really is just like his Dad.

life in pictures, mommyhood, self-discovery

Wait for It

WFAM

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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