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?

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?

Princess Who?

Last night after dinner the boys wanted some of their Halloween candy for dessert.  The deal is, as long as they eat all of their dinner, then they can have a piece of candy.  Trysten’s choice last night was a mini box of purple Nerds.

Ever the efficient one, I sat him down at the dinner table with his treat to keep him occupied so that I would be free to head to the bathroom to assist Caden in getting all set up for bath time.  I should have known better than to leave a four-year-old alone with candy, because on my way out of the bathroom, I noticed a creepy dwarf-like figure hanging out in my room with the lights out.  And low and behold, no Trysten at the table.

Obviously something was up, because the kid only goes in my room if he’s A) wanting to wrestle on the bed, B) looking for me (which he clearly was not), or C) up to no good.  My mommy instinct was screaming C.

Me:  Hey, what are you doing in my room?
TJ: (looking surprised and hiding something behind his back) Oh nothing, mommy.  Just… hanging out.
Me:  Uh huh, right.  You have three seconds to tell me what you’re doing in here.  Three… two…
TJ:  (holding up one of his small purple Nerds) OK, I was just trying to hide this under your bed! 
Me:  Um, why would you want to hide your candy under my bed?  You know that food and candy stays in the kitchen, dude.
TJ:  Well I already put a pea under there a few days ago.  So now I was trying to put this—

Wait, what?  Did he just say he put a pea under my bed?  Where the hell did he get peas?  I HATE peas!  The only food I’ve made in the last week with any form of peas in it was a couple of days ago.  So if what he just said held any truth at all, that meant I have had a little pea rotting under my bed for the last couple of days.  At this point my head is spinning.  Remember that post the other night about bed-bug paranoia?  If so, you can probably guess that this is right about when the big neon sign in my mind lit up with the words “WELCOME TO HELL.”

Me:  You put a PEA under my bed?  Are you kidding right now or are you serious?
TJ:  (grinning from ear to ear and stating rather proudly) Yeah, I put it under there the other night mom.
Me:  (trying keep the Hulk-like Crazy Mom from rearing her ugly head)  Show me.
TJ:  (prancing over to the side of my bed, still with the grin)  I think right here, mommy.  Right in there.

He pointed to a spot between the mattress and box spring, so I lifted the mattress and pushed it over.  And there it was - a lonely, dried, shriveled, green little pea that he had somehow wedged between the mattress and box spring and left for God only knows why.  Upon seeing this little pea, I only recall two things crossing my mind: OMG thank you there are no bed bugs! and WHY THE F—- is there a pea under my mattress?!

Me:  (still trying desperately to keep my cool) Trysten, what on EARTH would possess you to put a pea under my mattress?  Since when do you put FOOD under mommy’s mattress?  What the heck, dude?

He looked up at me with his little pouty face and puppy-dog eyes and said quietly “Well mommy, I just wanted to see if you were a princess.”  Then bashfully looked down at the floor before flashing me the eyes again.

And then it clicked.  The Princess and the Pea. Right now your heart is probably breaking while you shame me silently in your mind, right?  How do I know?  Because that is exactly what was happening to me.
So, being completely dumbfounded and not knowing what to say, I just stared at him blankly while I tried to come up with something to possibly redeem myself.  Just then I watched as a small smile started working its way across his lips.  I laughed at him and said “you’re so silly!  you little goof!” and he laughed  back at me.  “OK, come on.  Let’s go finish your candy.  And no more putting food under mommy’s mattress, OK?” I said as I took his hand and we headed out the door.  “OK, mom,” he said back.

Talk about feeling like a real jerk, though.  The poor kid just wanted to reassure himself that mommy really IS a beautiful princess, and all I did was secure myself the title of Wicked Witch.

Inner Self:  Way to go, mommy.  Halloween was over two days ago, so how about you put the attitude away with the costume, mmmkay?
Me:  Deal.

Tadpole's Promise

The other night my son brought home a library book called Tadpole's Promise by Jeanne Willis.
I was kind of excited to read this story at first, thinking it was about a romantic young love, portraying how even those that are the most different can find love in unusual circumstances.  A love that will blossom if given enough time and faith, etc.  Even though I give off somewhat of a cynical vibe at times, I really am a total optimist at heart, and a complete sucker for romance.  So, you can imagine my disappointment when that is not at all how this story ends (story transcribed in italics below for anyone that hasn't read it and may be intrigued).

I'm not really sure how to feel about this story, or, in particular, the ending. And to make matters worse, it is quickly becoming one of CJ's favorite stories. Part of me thinks "well, it's pretty realistic, right?" and another part of me can't let go of what a disappointment it is.  I mean, I can understand reading a book as an adult full of reality and not so happy endings.  I totally get that.  But in a kids book?  Aren't they supposed to be full of happy endings and messages of hope in all circumstances in an effort to preserve their innocence and the vast amount of possibilities, hopes, and dreams still contained within their hearts and minds?  Aren't we supposed to still be sending the message 'anything is possible if you put your heart and mind to it' at this stage? 

I don't know.  I'm lost on this one.  Maybe I'm not really interpreting the metaphor correctly?  I thought about it from the standpoint of a woman, or anyone really, in a relationship that has been lied to and/or abused.  The woman being the caterpillar, and the man being the tadpole.  They start out young, full of hope and promise.  But inevitably, he changes in ways that may or may not be beyond his control.  There is always the promise that things will be better, things will be different, or things will go back to the way they were.  But more often than not, it never turns out that way.  The one that has been betrayed goes away, blossoms to become a beautiful butterfly, but still can't seem to let go of the relationship and the hope that it can be what she dreams it to be.  So she goes back, and is consumed by the relationship to the point where she no longer even exists as what she once was or as the butterfly she became - and the one in the relationship doing so much damage remains completely oblivious to their destruction and wonders where it all went wrong and where the girl he fell in love with went.

 It's the only explanation that seems understandable, or even relateable to me (can you tell I have some issues), but I still don't understand the ever daunting question:  Why a kid's book?  As in, let's take away hope, replace it with the harsh realities of the world in an effort to protect against broken hearts?  What is the point of having a heart if it's too hard to break anyway? Seems to be kind of a paradox to the age old saying "Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

Reading too far into it?  Looney tunes?  I won't blame you if you say yes.  Just curious as to what others have to say about it, and looking for a little insight other than my own.

(It's a fairly short story, so if you are intrigued, the story follows below).

"Where the willow meets the water, a tadpole met a caterpillar. They gazed into each other's tiny eyes... and fell in love. She was his beautiful rainbow, and he was her shiny black pearl. 
'I love everything about you,' said the tadpole.
'I love everything about you,' said the caterpillar. 'Promise you'll never change.'
'I promise,' he said.
But as sure as the weather changes, the tadpole could not keep his promise.  Next time they met, he had grown two legs.
'You've broken your promise,' said the caterpillar.
'Forgive me,' begged the tadpole.  'I couldn't help it.  I don't want these legs... All I want is my beautiful rainbow.'
'All I want is my shiny black pearl.  Promise me you'll never change,' said the caterpillar.
'I promise,' he said.
But sure as the seasons change, the next time they met, he had grown arms.
'That's twice you've broken your promise,' cried the caterpillar.
'Forgive me,' begged the tadpole. 'I could not help it.  I do not want these arms... All I want is my beautiful rainbow.'
'And all I want is my shiny black pearl.  I will give you one last chance,' said the caterpillar.
But as sure as the world changes, the tadpole could not keep his promise.  The next time they met, he had no tail.
'You have broken your promise three times, and now you have broken my heart,' said the caterpillar.
'But you are my beautiful rainbow,' said the tadpole.
'Yes, but you are not my shiny black pearl.  Good-bye.'  She crawled up the willow branch and cried herself to sleep.
One warm moonlit night, she woke up.  The sky had changed.  The trees had changed.  Everything had changed... except for her love for the tadpole.  Even though he'd broken his promise, she decided to forgive him.
She dried her wings and fluttered down to look for him.  Where the willow meets the water, a frog was sitting on a lily pad.
'Excuse me,' she said. 'Have you seen my shiny black...'
But faster than she could say 'pearl,' the frog leapt up and swallowed her in one great gulp.
And there he waits...
thinking fondly of his beautiful rainbow...
... wondering where she went." - Jeanne Willis

What do you think?

Weekend Overview

WHEW!  I didn’t lose any followers due to lack of posting… thanks for hangin’ in there guys!
I had one of the busiest, most productive weekends I’ve had in a long time (well, with regard to domestication and gettin’ my Betty Crocker on).  I apologize in advance for the lengthy post, but I have to document all of the awesomeness because it NEVER happens.  Most of my weekends lately have been spent lazing around, watching movies and catching up on weekly TV shows, and rekindling my relationship with the couch.

Friday night the boys wanted to spend the night at my grandma’s, so I took the opportunity for some quiet time and hung out with my fave friends Dexter, Callie, and Charlotte.  I also made some awesome home-made crock-pot potato soup, which I’ve never made but actually turned out so well that it was gone by Sunday and I had to make another batch to have for dinner sometime this week.  Yay for successful new recipes and for planning ahead!

Saturday I got up and shampooed the carpets.  Nothing really fun or spectacular about that, although I did notice that instead of the carpets feeling much fresher and softer as I had expected, they feel a little more matted and starchier.  Whats up with that?  I thought it was supposed to be a whole rejuvenating experience for the carpets, like when I take a shower - I know I always feel fresher and softer, so what gives?  Me and my high expectations.

After that I went and did a butt-ton of grocery, decoration, and craft shopping.  I most likely overdid it on the budget (haven’t looked - too scared), but I know I got a lot of the supplies I need to be able to get to a few projects I’ve had in mind for a while now.  Plus I got what I needed to make some more salsa, and, for some reason, salsa has been making me happy lately.

So after the salsa was done cookin’, I sent some home with my mama for her Halloween Party, and went and picked up the boys from grams.  They were kind of reluctant to go, which, who wouldn’t be when you get the run of the house, all kinds of candy and sweets, and cartoons available pretty much all day?  It’s like a little kids dream there. So, it took a little bribing on my part, but they came home and were ready to decorate the house.  We made some spooky hanging ghosts out of cheese-cloth and some foam balls I had leftover from a Christmas Snowman craft I did a couple of years ago, and they turned out pretty cute.  They drew on eyes and mouths with sharpies and we hung them in the living room.  We put up the cob-webs, lights, jack-o-lamp and other random scaries.  The living room looks really cute, and when its dark and the lights are lit, the ambiance in the room is incredibly tranquil and relaxing.  Since the most prominent colors of Halloween are orange and black, everything gives off this wonderful amber glow.  I tried I tried to take pictures and capture it for you guys, but my camera is pretty lame (or it could be operator error, but I prefer to blame the camera).  I may still try to borrow my mom’s camera and get in some shots to upload before Halloween, though.

After decorations were up, the boys chilled out and watched “The Rescuers,” because I love Disney movies and am exposing them to the pre-pixar era.  Plus we just read the read-along book from a set that came with - get this - TAPES that I had when I was a kid.  Don’t have the tapes anymore, but we still enjoy the books together.  So having only read the shortened book version of the story, they were pretty stoked to finally watch the cartoon.  And “The Rescuers” - talk about a story that makes me want to adopt 50 more kids.  I’ve given some serious thought to fostering, but have come to the conclusion that while the kids are so young, and it’s just me with them, it probably isn’t the best idea.  I think they really need all the time that I have, and the time they don’t occupy, I need for myself.  Plus I don’t really have the space for it.  But any movie about orphans or stories about kids needing a good home always makes me reconsider my decision.  I’m sure that I will foster and/or adopt eventually, it’s just hard to be patient when I know there are so many that need what I could provide. Anyway, I’m getting completely off track here, so, back to the weekend -

Sunday morning the boys let me sleep in until 9.  This was truly appreciated for a couple of reasons:  1) the boys never let me sleep in.  As soon as they are up, they are in my room asking me a million questions, or screaming like banshees through the house over the blaring cartoons and I’m begging please just let mommy sleep a little longer… please…I’ll give you anything you want… which is usually just for me to turn the XBox on, let them play my iPod, or get them cereal; and 2)  I had gone to bed late Saturday, but for some reason was wide awake at 5:30, which is WAY TOO EARLY FOR A WEEKEND!  So I did a little laundry before going back to bed around 7, and the extra couple of hours they let me sleep was G-R-E-A-T.  When I woke up, I was certain I’d find messes all over, the Halloween candy gone, or some other form of mayhem that ensues only when it’s that quiet that would cause me to regret sleeping in, but, to my surprise, they were both just sitting in their rooms, watching cartoons and being quiet.  When they saw me up, they both sprang up and declared “Mom, you’re awake!  Mommy’s up! Yay! Mom’s up!”  It was so sweet and I was so happy with them, I couldn’t say no when they asked for a piece of the Halloween candy.  I know, candy before breakfast - sue me.  To my credit though, I did then go make them an awesome breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and OJ as requested.  It was a good morning, and the day went just as well.

After breakfast, we all sat down together and played a new video game for a couple hours.  Some may criticize this, but I don’t care.  I love these times with the kids.  They love playing, and love that I can play with them.  I remember being a kid when my grandma used to play Super Mario 3 with us on the NES, it was just the bees-knees.  Or when we could actually convince our technology challenged (and that’s being nice) dad to play the original Mario.  Those memories are so fond to me because my family was participating with me in the things I enjoyed.  Just as fond as the times we all sat around the table playing Yahtzee, or Scrabble or Monopoly, or when we’d all play volleyball, badminton, or tag, or just throw a ball around.  I don’t think that video games really take anything from your kid, and playing with them will make memories just as fond as any not involving a TV and a controller.  So we played, and once we were done, I relinquished my control and let them have run of the XBox for a while.  The deal is no gaming during the weekday (except the learning games on the iPod), so on weekends like this one where we’re hanging out inside, I pretty much let them go to town on the games.  It’s kind of their reward for sticking to the schedule all week, getting all their homework done and on time, being good in and out of class, etc.

While they were playing, I did some more crafting, made caramel-candy apples and prepped the NACHOS for dinner!  I love nachos, and I was looking for an excuse to use my homemade pico, so this was perfect.  Then they took a break for a while for some quiet time in their rooms to play or read, and I cleaned up the kitchen.  When their break was over, we carved another pumpkin, played the game a little longer, and they took their baths.  Once dinner was done, it was time for stories and bed, and I was ready!  I went to bed at the same time they did last night.

All in all, though, it was a really great weekend.  I got a lot of things done that I wanted to do, had fun doing it, and spent some great time with the boys.  Who can ask for more?!

Score One For The Little Guy

Every morning when I drop the little one off at his gram’s, before I’m on my way to work, we have a little goodbye routine.

Once I pull up to the house, I say “OK babe, we’re here.”  He then gets out and walks to the driver’s side door, which I’ve typically already opened in anticipation of my hugs and kisses,  and every morning, before the hugs and kisses, he has to get in a good stretch once he’s out of the car.

This morning, while he was in the middle of his stretch, groaning and yawning with his arms reaching to the sky and wrangled with that mid-stretch-face, I noticed his little belly exposed in the gap between his pants and the bottom of his shirt -  and as anyone knows, an exposed belly is automatic grounds for tickling. So, I did what anyone in that situation would do and seized the opportunity.  He giggled and I laughed, and he looked at me with his “you-better-not-do-it-again-but-I-really-want-you-to-do-it-again-because-I-like-to-be-tickled-even-though-I-will-never-admit-it” face while raising his hands quickly.  Naturally I responded with my “I’m-gonna-get-you-because-I-know-you-love-it-even-though-you-pretend-not-to” face as I moved my hands toward his tummy.  He laughed as he jerked his hands down and shielded his belly with his arms.

Now, I imagine this tickly-interruption of his stretch and yawn must have been somewhat frustrating (even though he was laughing) because he then turned around, walked about ten feet away from me, raised his arms, and brought them back down as quickly as they went up.  Still buckled and obviously outwitted, I sat and waited for him to finish his stretch and walk back to me.

He was grinning from ear to ear on the way back and I automatically thought he was just happy to finish his stretch and hug me.  But as he leaned in to put his arms around me, he looked me in the eye and with a little weave of his neck said, “How you like me now?!”

I couldn’t do anything but laugh and grab him up for my hugs and kisses.

There’s no better way to start the day than with laughter, tickles, hugs, kisses, and giggles.

Surprise Visit

Caden’s dad came over for a surprise visit this weekend.  While the two of them were on the phone for their nightly call, there was a knock at the door.  Caden had absolutely no clue it could possibly be HIS dad.  Imagine his surprise when that’s exactly who walked through the door!  Actually, you don’t have to imagine it, because I took pictures!  Yay!  

"Hold on dad, someone is at the door."

"Hey wait, who -- wait, is that..."

"It's MY DAD!!"

"Dad, you're on the phone AND here!"

"You tricked me dad! I missed you!!"

(Let’s not pay attention to the picture quality though - I obviously shouldn’t quit my day job to become a sports/action photographer any time soon.  It’s the moment that counts, people!) 

Shame On You, Mommy

So, I got this mole on my lower calf removed about a week ago.  In order to remove the mole, they had to remove a chunk of flesh about the size, shape, and thickness of a nickel.  So now where the mole used to be, there is just an ugly, flesh-exposed hole in my leg.  And I have to be honest - it looks real gross.  I usually keep it covered, but last night I had treated it and wanted to let it air out a bit.

So last night at story time, Caden was laying in my bed as we were wrapping up the last of his book.  When I told him the story was over and it was time for bed, he did what he usually does and pretended he was asleep.  I always know he isn’t and that it’s just his attempt to play with me, but I was already tired and feeling cranky, so I really wasn’t in the mood.  I told him again it was bed time, and tried to keep patient, but it seems the bed time command is always inevitably followed up with whining.

CJ:  Awwww man.  Can’t I just sleep in your bed mom?
Me: No Caden, you have your own bed, dude.  We each have our own beds so that we can sleep in them.
CJ:  But mom, I just want to sleep in your bed and cuddle with you.

Now, while this sentiment is pretty sweet, and there have definitely been nights where this exact same conversation has taken place and I have caved without much hesitation at all, I have undoubtedly learned my lesson.  First of all, if you cave and let one kid sleep with you, the other kid’s sleepy-sense starts tingling and within five minutes he will show up in your room at your bedside, poking your shoulder to see if you’re awake and ask if he can get in the bed, too.  And if you let one kid in the bed, you have to let the other in.  Secondly, if you cave, they will remember it and exploit your weakness e-v-e-r-y chance they get.  And unless you enjoy some good, old fashioned, tag team style jabs-to-the-ribs and a few forearms-to-the-face while you are sleeping, you will seriously reconsider allowing this to happen.

With that in mind, there was no way the kid was sleeping with me, but I still knew that the next five minutes would consist of him working every angle he knew how, and me shooting him down like a WWII kamikaze pilot.  None of which I was looking forward to or really in the mood to deal with at all.  So when he noticed the “thing” on my leg and started asking questions, I knew the universe had recognized my frustration and my moment had arrived.

CJ:  What’s that thing, mom?
Me:  It’s my owie.
CJ:  Oh man!  That’s DISGUSTING!
Me:  Yep, and if you don’t get out of my bed, I’m going to put it on you.

His face went immediately from curiosity, to complete disgust, to sheer horror at the thought of having this thing touching him, and I just sat for a moment and delighted at my own evil genius.  Then, when I could tell he wasn’t quite sure if I was serious or not, I raised my leg and began inching it further in his direction, taunting him in a sing-songy fashion like here I cooome… I’m gonna put it on youuuu…

I don’t think I’ve seen him bolt out of my bed so quickly before, e-v-e-r .  And as if that wasn’t enough, just for my own complete enjoyment of the situation, I followed him all the way out of the room taunting him every time he turned around to see if he could relax.  I’m telling you, the kid was out of there with the quickness.

I’m fairly sure I can say that I’ve never been so ashamed and so proud of myself all at the same time.  It was seriously awesome.

Mommy - 1, Caden - 0

Monster See, Monster Do

For some, being entertaining seems to come more naturally than it does for others.  Being fresh to this whole blogging thing, I have found it a little more difficult than I had originally anticipated to get what I’m thinking out there in a way that is as funny, witty, and entertaining as it appears in my head.  And I have to say, I’m a little jealous of my kids when it comes to this ability.  For them, it seems entertainment, whether finding or creating it, is a cakewalk.  For my kids, funny seems to just come naturally.  They are hilarious - and not just because I’m their mom and I think that they eat rainbows and poop butterflies - but because they really are just funny, and the kicker is that they don’t even know it.

For example, I’m in the kitchen making dinner one night and my four-year-old rushes in and stops in front of me all like, “Hey mom, check out THESE babies!” As I turn to look, I see him rotate his arms downward and flex in serious muscle-man fashion, then lift each arm to his mouth, one by one, and KISS his biceps!  KISS HIS FREAKING BICEPS!  Then he runs off and I just stand there, laughing and shaking my head as I ask myself “What just happened? Was that my kid? He’s FOUR YEARS OLD, where the crap did he get that from?”

And though I can usually count on the little one always being a character, his brother definitely has his moments, too.  One day they were both playing some imaginary game that involved light sabers, kung-fu moves, live-action sound effects, and the couch as a spring board (which is something I’m not too incredibly thrilled about and is the source of repeated time-outs - but we will save the couch kung-fu for another time).  On this particular day, CJ had the brilliant idea that part of his kung-fu mastery display would involve a running leap onto the couch, followed by a full somersault roll over the chaise lounge and back onto his feet.  Only, it didn’t quite go as planned.  Instead, he ran toward the couch, jumped up and landed on his knees, bounced off of the cushion and over the side of the chaise lounge, and landed flat on his butt on the floor.  Before I could even ask him if he was alright, he leapt up off of the floor and announced “I’m OK!  It’s alright, I’m OK!”

Of course I just sat there and laughed.

When I ask myself why it’s so much easier for them to be so funny, the only answer I can come up with is sheer lack of inhibition.  They are so far away from caring what anyone else is thinking, doing, feeling, or saying that they’re just free to do and laugh at what they feel is funny, and say whatever is on their minds. Now, I know I’m not the first person on the planet that has ever made this connection (in fact I’m pretty sure it was this same basic concept that led to the development of Wacko Jacko’s Neverland Ranch), but what I’m essentially saying here is maybe it isn’t such a bad thing to act like a kid sometimes - to throw the confines of every day responsibilities and the realities of your life away for a moment, embrace a little immaturity, laugh at the silly things and just be happy to be.

I know I’m no philosopher and I have no degree, but it seems to just make sense to me.  Especially lately as I’m struggling with my own take on the world and where I am in my life.  Like a lot of people that have made personal sacrifices to raise kids, I’m still juggling that age-old question about what and who I want to be when I grow up.  Part of me is content with the pieces I already have in place (I always wanted to be a mommy), but another part of me longs to do so much more with my life.  I guess what it essentially comes down to is this: do I want to be the kind of person that takes themselves and everything else so seriously in order to achieve my goals, that I make it virtually impossible to enjoy the small things that surround me every day?  I know that I don’t.  And I think it’s in these times of questioning and self-doubt, what I really need most is to be able to laugh and let go - and there really isn’t anyone I know who is better at laughing and letting go than my monsters.

So, even though I am the one that is supposed to be leading by example and molding and shaping them into the functioning adults they’re meant to be, I find that, from time to time, I am actually looking to them as the examples as they mold and shape me.