All I Want For Chrithmath

Yesterday as I was on my way out of the office for lunch, the receptionist yelled after me “Hey Lisa, your son is on 14.”

I wasn’t really sure why he would be calling me, because I forgot that it was a holiday and thought he should be in school.  I got a little panicked wondering why he’d be calling me from school, and hurried back in.  Before I picked up the pone, the receptionist informed me that he sounded pretty excited. “I answered and he goes ‘MOM! GUESS WHAT?!’ and I was like ‘who is this?’ and he goes ‘Uh its your son, CADEN?!’  He sounds pretty excited to talk to you.”  I just laughed as I picked up the phone to say hello.

CJ:  Mom?  Hey guess what?!
Me:  What babe?
CJ:  My TOOTH CAME OUT TODAY!!
Me:  Oh wow, alright dude!
CJ:  Do you know what was keeping my tooth hanging on, mom?  Just a little piece of my gum.  And then it came right off!
Me:  Yep, I told you it would be any time now.
CJ:  You know what this means mom?
Me:  That the—
CJ:  It means the TOOTH FAIRY IS GONNA COME!!!!!
Me:  Yep, that’s right! You just have to remember to put your tooth under your pillow.
CJ:  Oh, I will mom!  This is gonna be great!

We said our “I love you’s” and our “see you laters” and as I was hanging up the phone, and for the rest of the day, all I heard in my head was...

All I want for Chrithmath is my two front teeth… my two front teeth… 



One down, one to go — and then it’s on!

Chicken Boobs

Mom, can I save my boob for later?  Cuz it's a really big boob!"

Trysten asking to save his piece of chicken for later.

Poof

And like that... he was five.  *sigh*  Only one more week.

Someone, anyone, I need a time machine. Stat!

Truth

Each of my boys had complications with their births requiring slightly extended stays for both them and me. Caden was upside down with the cord around his neck (breach & born blue), and Trysten was pushing his way into this world so hard through mommy’s half-dilated cervix, his little heart rate dropped and they had to take him via emergency c-section before he killed himself trying to tear through me. It’s almost comical the way each of their births are such a symbolic representation of their individual personalities. Caden, the over dramatic, extremely sensitive, emotional “blue” one, and Trysten, the stubborn, determined, emotionally explosive independent little terrorist.

For each of them, we stayed for five days and it really wasn’t so bad. The birthing center of our local hospital is one of the best around. I had a huge room all to myself, a jacuzzi tub, TV, a day bed/couch for visitors, and, once the baby was out of ICU, they got to stay in the room with the family/parents as opposed to a large baby viewing room with a bunch of other newborns. Even the food wasn’t so bad.

However, the one thing I remember absolutely hating was the crappy hospital gowns. There were two options on gowns: the ass-bearing standard, or the breast-feeding-friendly boob-bearer, and I hated them both equally.

So, my grandma, being as awesome and intuitive as she is, went and got me three long pastel nightgowns covered in flowers that unbuttoned from the neck to below the boobs — aka granny gowns — complete with matching zip-up robes. And I will tell you, I LOVED my granny gowns! They completely covered my ass, and because of the button front, I could whip out a boob when needed and put it away discreetly when not — all without worrying something would fall out and give random family members a sneak peek of my naughty bits if I moved wrong.

And, for the truth part of this whole story: It’s been almost five years since I’ve been in a hospital and those gowns are still my favorite pajama of choice.

But hey, if nothing else, at least I can say they work great as a backup to birth control, right?

Frozen

There are times, like tonight, that I am awakened by my worst and most prevalent fear that there is someone lurking in the shadows of my room, waiting and watching as I sleep. I have dreams of this intruder that are so lucid that when I wake, they render me crippled to the point that I can not move. And I feel that it’s at this time that the real nightmare begins. My body lies still, writhed with tension as I struggle to catch my breath against the crushing weight of my own fear; my mind begins to take over and play cruel tricks, running through an endless que of possible scenarios as I try to anticipate what’s to come. And all the while I am frozen — incapable of even bringing myself to move to check on the boys as they sleep.

Every time I have to fight to convince myself it isn’t real, that no one is there, and the boys are fine. Finally, after the irrational thoughts pass and I talk myself down, I’m able to relax and fall asleep again. But not without the knowledge that when I wake, my body will be sore from the tension and I will be exhausted.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

My Kind Of Monsters

November 8, 2010

realmacgruber asked: Exactly what type of "monsters" do you have? Are they more of an "Eddie Munster", cute-Dracula-type, a PIXAR "Mike Wazowski" cartoonish monster-type, or are they full-blown zombies?

Do you need protection? Were they born in monster form or did they have their monsterdom thrust upon them, like being bitten by a werewolf or the walking undead?

Should I worry about your safety?

It depends on the day, really.  Their moods swing worse than mine sometimes.  Most of the time, they’re totally a Monsters-Inc/Kids-Say-The-Darnedest-Things combo.  Sometimes though, I wonder if I’m really just a modern-day Rosemary.  I find I usually have those thoughts when they’re tired, hungry, or grounded from video games — you know, basic needs and all that.

As far as zombies, I think sometimes they wish they were zombies.  However, we’re not really talking zombies a la Night of the Living Dead or Zombieland.  They run around with make-shift traffic cones and orange sand buckets on their heads defending their territories with imaginary plants that wield different offensive/defensive capabilities.  Yes, my little zombies prefer to eat plants most of the time.  Which is perfectly fine by me, actually.  I don’t think I’m ready for them to be too terribly interested in the logistics of death and flesh consumption.

My mom wrote a little poem (which I can’t seem to find now) about her grandmonsters and illustrated it with a pic she found and edited to fit.  I think, given both of our limited knowledge and expertise with photo editing software, its a pretty perfect graphic representation of the two of them.



And as far as safety goes, well, lets just say we haven’t seen MY monster graphic representation yet. *wink*

Why, Oh Why? You Broke Mama's Heart With Your Little Lie

My son lied to me tonight.  I’m so disappointed and so heartbroken.  I realize that all kids lie at some point or another, and I’m used to the little “instant reaction” kind of lies they tell to keep out of trouble where you ask them something, they answer, you know they’re lying and you say “you better not be lying, this is your only chance to tell the truth” and they immediately fess up.  I expect that.  But this, tonight, was different.  I think the hardest part about it is the length he went to to lie to me, and how many times I can think of before now that it has actually worked.

He wanted to get on the computer tonight and do his spelling words.  I told him once he finished the rest of his homework and after his shower, he could.  I got it all set up for him so that he could just jump on and play his spelling game while I was reading stories and putting his little brother to bed.  He planned on taking the quickest shower of his life, and to do so, was apparently thinking he could cut a few steps.  Everything would have went over smoothly and he would have been out of the shower in record time, but his plan hit a little snag.  Since we are out of the “tearless” shampoo, the boys have been using mine for the last couple of nights, which means I have to assist with the washing and rinsing process to keep it from getting in their eyes.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with not washing his hair, because I’d know something was up when he didn’t ask for help, so he called for me to come help him and told me that was the only thing he had left to do.  So of course, I went in there thinking it would be a quick wash and rinse and Trysten and I could get back to our story.  But while I was in there, I decided to ask if he’d washed the rest of his body with soap?  And did he wash his wee-wee really good?

CJ:  Yep mom, I used the soap and washed.
Me: (noticing there is no soap in the tub because it is on the sink) Oh really?  What soap?  I don’t see any anywhere?
CJ:  (pointing to the DRY bar of soap on the sink) Oh, the soap over there on the sink.  I did it really fast.
Me:  Huh.  Well that’s funny because that bar of soap is dry.  And you’ve still got some dirt on your arm.  Are you sure you washed with soap?  Because if you’re lying to me right now, you’re not playing the word game.  You have one last shot to redeem yourself and tell the truth.

Now, typically this is where he will tell me the truth and I will cut him a little slack.  But not tonight.  Tonight went down totally different.

CJ:  I really did mom.  I promise.  I really, really did.
Me:  Caden, I KNOW you didn’t and I KNOW you’re lying to me right now.
CJ: (starting to cry REAL TEARS, as if I’ve just hurt his feelings beyond comprehension by accusing him of such a thing and HOW DARE I) I swear mom!  I really did!  Why won’t you believe me?!
Me:  Caden!  Seriously dude!  I KNOW that you didn’t.  The soap on the sink is dry, so how could you have washed yourself with soap?
CJ:  (tears running down his face and snot dripping from his nose as he cries in disbelief that I don’t believe him)  I did mom! I washed my whole body with soap like I said.  I just did it fast.  It’s not fair!  I promise that I did.  Can’t you just believe me?! I really, really did!

At this point I’m somewhat second guessing myself, thinking maybe he really did wash himself with a different bar of soap that I’m just not seeing.  My kid wouldn’t lie to me like this, right?  I mean, if he’s crying like this and putting up this much of a fight, he has to be telling the truth, right?  I decide to give him one last test.

Me:  OK, fine.  You know what, I’m going to smell your wee wee then.  And that will tell me if you’re lying to me or telling me the truth whether you like it or not, so you better tell me.

Like clockwork he instantly stopped crying, looked at me with huge eyes, and just stared at me blankly.  I could see the wheels turning as he was asking himself is she crazy enough to really do that?  What if she is?  Uh oh.

CJ: (sighing heavily in defeat, then looking at the ground shamefully) OK I didn’t really.
Me:  I know you didn’t, Caden.  Now get out of the shower.  You’re done.  No computer, no stories, no anything.  I’m so disappointed in you right now.  All those times I KNEW you were lying, but I believed you because you cried and swore you were telling the truth.  I don’t even know what to say to you right now.  Just get out and get your pajamas on while I finish reading to your brother.  Then brush your teeth and get ready for bed and I’ll be out in a minute.
CJ: (still looking at the floor in shame and sounding slightly like Eeyore) Oh-kay.

I feel like I’ve been completely duped by the kid.  It would be one thing if this was the first time he’d ever manipulated, taken advantage of, and lied to me like this.  But it isn’t.  Saturday night he did the same thing around bed time.  He was on the couch relaxing with his dad while he was here visiting for the weekend, wide awake and playing.  Five minutes before it was time for bed, I gave both boys the five minute warning.  At this point, I watched him close his eyes and pretend for the next five minutes he was asleep.  After the five was up, I told them both it was bed time.  He laid there and pretended to be asleep.  Not a huge deal, except for when he finally got up he said “what? I was asleep!”  To which his dad and I both replied, “Caden, we know you weren’t.”  And he did the same crying act then.  “But I really was!  I did fall asleep!  I promise!  I really did for a few minutes.  I swear I did.  Why won’t you just believe me?  I promise I did mom.”  So I thought, okay, maybe he was just really tired and drifted for a few minutes.  I let it go, and said “OK then you’re obviously super tired and you need to go to bed anyway.  Let’s stop arguing about it, because it’s clear you need to get to sleep as soon as possible.” And that was that.

But tonight, again, the same thing - and obviously an outright lie.

I’m so furious and so disappointed - for tonight, for Saturday night, and for all the other times he may have used this tactic knowing I would give him the benefit of the doubt, and that I actually did.  I want to yell and shake him and get SO mad and ask him WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!  WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?! And then there’s the guilt.  What did I do wrong?  Is he scared to tell me the truth?  Am I creating an environment that he feels he can’t be honest with me?  What do I do to fix this?  I don’t want my kids to be scared to talk to me.  But this wasn’t like he did something wrong and he was scared to tell me about it for fear he’d get in trouble.  This was a completely selfish, manipulative tactic to get what he wanted.  I’m so so hurt right now.


Am I wrong in feeling this way?  Am I overreacting?  I’m not sure at all how to handle this.  How DO I fix it?  How do I punish him so that he knows I mean business when I say NO LIES!  I told him he’s grounded all weekend - he isn’t going to grandma’s or anywhere else for that matter, no video games, no computer, no cartoons, AND he will spend his free time by writing “I will not lie” 100 times before the weekend is over.  I honestly even feel like that isn’t enough to stress how important it is that he not lie to me.  We are the most important people we have.  Him, me, and his brother - that is our family.  It’s the three of us whether he likes it or not.  And we DO NOT LIE to each other.  Period.  End of story.

I’m supposed to defend my son through anything and believe that he would never lie to me.  So what do I do when I know he is capable, and even worse, he has?