« September 2007 | Main | November 2007 »
Pull My String
I often meet Jack's chorus of "Mama! Mama! Mama!" from the back seat with statements of understanding like, "I see." or "My Goodness!" At times, usually after about two hundred and fifty Mama's, I sometimes snap back with, "Kid, it is time to learn some new words." Well, Jack has done just that.
Sometimes when he is stuck, I will hear a little "He, Mama he," which translates in to "Help." Jack will also requests "Hu" for hugs, "Cuk" for cookies and "Jew" for juice. There is also "Nigh Nigh" which could relate to anything sleep related from pacifiers to pillows. He could also be telling me that Teddy is asleep or asking if that deer on the side of the road is sleeping. "Yes dear. The deer is just taking a loooong nap."
Well, this weekend, Jack started saying "No." Although I know it will change, right now it is about the cutest thing on the planet. He doesn't yell it (at least not yet), just just quietly says "no." It is such a perfect little "no" it sounds like he is a doll and I keep searching his back for the pull string.
Do you want to go Nigh Nigh? No.
Let's turn off the television. No
It's time to get in the car. No
Can Mommy have a hug? No.
The child is drunk on the power of "no." I know that soon his cute little "no" will get ugly. It will be screamed during tantrums or yelled while his teenage self slams the door, but for right now, it is a soft, gentle expression of his tiny will. No.
Let Me Stop Before I Start Complaining Again
I have become highly aware of my compulsive complaining lately. I feel like all I have been doing lately is bitching and moaning about one thing or another. I have a very good life and I need to appreciate that fact a little more. I am always commenting on how Rachel is a very "glass half empty" kind of kid. Well, I think that I am beginning to understand where she gets it from.
So in an effort to mend my complaining ways, I am going to start logging the good things, and only the good things that happen in my life. And to do so, I am starting a new blog, The Half Full Glass. Feel free to stop by and add your own thankful thoughts to the blog as well.
Don't worry. I will still be regaling you will our family adventures here, but I need somewhere to focus only positive energy and to remind myself daily how lucky I am.
Ahhh, That Ole Insecure Feeling, I Know You Too Well
So the department that I graduated from at college is having a reunion this month to coincide with Homecoming. A friend of mine asked if I was going to attend. This friend, by the way, is unmarried without children and would therefore travel totally unencumbered. I had to say that I was not sure.
First there is the whole traveling with small children thing. Nothing says "vacation" like having to go to bed at 7:30 because you are bunking down with the kids. Then my daughter's Brownie troupe announced that their Girl Scout camp out was the same weekend. Off topic, this is a "camp out" in which they don't really "camp out" because they don't spend the night, which is fine, but nonetheless odd and a story for another time.
Then I thought that maybe I would just go alone. And by "alone" I mean with only one child, which is about as close to alone as I get. Might be fun. Visit the ole stomping grounds. See the sights. Walk down memory lane. But then I remembered that memory lane has some rather significant pot holes.
First, there was the question of who would be there. Let's just say that there are some ole bows that I would rather not run in to again. Then I started thinking about who else would be at this reunion and I started to get that sinking feeling that I so often felt in college. You know the one. Everyone else is cooler than me. I am such a loser. They're all going to laugh at me.
Then I got a hold of myself, gave myself a little shake and said, "Self, knock it off. You are a capable, likable woman who has accomplished much in life. You are too far past 20 for this much pity and self absorption." So I sent off an e-mail to the list of people who had been coordinating the weekend's activities stating that I was going to try to make it. I also sent an e-mail off to someone I knew who is announced that he is now living relatively close to me suggesting that we get together and catch up.
I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was no longer that insecure 20 year old who had a habit of dating the wrong boys, smoking and letting life happen to me instead of the other way around. I am in my 30's now. I am happily married and the mother of 4 children. I am involved in my community. I have learned to hold my tongue (this blog being evidence to the contrary). There is a lot for me to be proud of.
I think I was taken off the e-mail list. Since I sent my e-mail I haven't heard anything. Nothing from the nearby classmate and nothing from the group. Suddenly, I am 20 years old again hoping that I am not the geekiest one in the room, but secretly knowing that I am. Perhaps everyone is just busy. Maybe they aren't all whispering behind my back trying to figure out who put me on the list in the first place. Maybe they are all just jealous of my great life. But maybe not.
Ah... insecurity. You fit like an old robe, all tattered and worn, but familiar in your ugliness. I wear you well.
UPDATE: Someone e-mailed me about the reunion today. I am not a complete loser. Caloo, Kalay...Oh happy day!
The Battle Wounds of Motherhood
People are always telling me that Jack is such a sweet boy and they can't imagine that he ever gives me a moments trouble. On the outside I smile and say, "He is a good boy, but he can have his moments," while on the inside I am thinking, "If they only knew."
My mother once told me that my great-grandfather's nickname was Gun Powder, because when he was calm he was harmless, but watch out if you set him off. I think my great-grandfather has been reincarnated in my 2 year old. He will play quietly, sing, dance, laugh and generally be a joy to be around. Then, in a flash, he will turn in to a kicking, screaming, biting little monster.
Yesterday, Jack was mad at Nicholas about something. I am sure it involved trains; it almost always involves someone touching or not being allowed to touch someone else's train with those two. I tried to break it up and was attacked by friendly fire. In short, Jack bit me. He bit me hard, enough to break the skin and leave a bruise.
Of course, this incident was followed by Time Out, during which I wondered what had happened to my sweet and playfully little one year old. Who had come in the dark of night and replaced him with this child who hit 2 like a brick wall?
When the timer went off and I retrieved my little parhana from the Time Out Chair, I found that someone had brought back my sweet, kissy faced little boy...that is...until next time.
