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Mother

I Have His Heart

December 15, 2009 · 2 comments

I write on here all the time about David’s antics. And sometimes about how crazy he makes me.

But he really is a pretty good kid.

He also has a very big, soft heart for all his bravado. He can be so loving, and even quite sensitive and caring. He’ll just stop in the middle of playing and say, “Mommie, I love you!” Earlier today he told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

David did something really sweet a while ago. Something that, at first, I didn’t really appreciate enough. One day he used my cookie cutters to make four little hearts out of Play-dough.

playdoughhearts

One for him, one for Daddie, one for Mommie and even a tiny one for Wade. Then he took the hearts and placed one on each of our night tables. He told us to leave them there so they would dry.

Today he he reminded us of the little hearts he made. He’s so proud of them. And suddenly I realized how special those little hearts are. He made those for us with love. All on his own. No prompts from me or anyone else. He was actually thinking about us. If you’ve ever dealt with a four year old, you know they don’t have that many unselfish thoughts.

I now count those Playdough hearts as among some of the most prized possessions in our home. Mine will stay on the nightstand. One of the first and last things I see when I get up and go to bed at night.

It’s so precious to know I have my little guy’s heart.

And, of course, he has mine.

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We Were Just Missing Alice and the Mad Hatter

June 5, 2009 · 8 comments

Most of us have little bits and pieces that we’ve collected and held on to over the years; souvenirs, scrapbooks, an old favorite T-shirt. I’ve got a few boxes filled with things like that up in the attic. I guess I hold on to it all for sentimental reasons. I doubt my children will actually want the ticket stub from my first visit to the Sears Tower in six grade. Even though I’ve kept these things, most of them I could part with pretty easily if I had to.

One keepsake I have that I do cherish is the china tea set from my childhood. I don’t recall exactly what, but it was a reward for some skill I mastered. I remember going to the store with my mom to pick it out. I think I was about four, so it must be almost 30 years old. I’m kind of proud of the fact that after all these years the entire set is still intact, save one missing plastic spoon.

teaset

I keep it in a little cabinet on the wall. (O.K. That’s a little dusty, isn’t it? Good thing this isn’t a post about housekeeping.)  I hoped to pass it on to my own daughter someday. Well, the daughter hasn’t come along yet, but David started begging me a year ago to play with it. I said no, of course terrified that he’d break it, and because I wasn’t sure boys should have tea parties.

David asked again the the other day to play with it. I was feeling a little guilty about the lack of attention he’s received since Wade arrived. I thought sitting down with him to have a tea party would be some good one on one time, and maybe a chance to teach a few table manners. It made his day when I told him he could play with my precious little dishes.

teaparty1

Tea parties with boys aren’t quiet the same as with girls. There were no dolls or teddy bears for guests. But we were joined by an imaginary E.T. And David’s idea of setting the table for tea was, in typical boy fashion, to initially line up all the little cups and plates in a neat row.

We sipped water, and string cheese was our main course.

teaparty2

David had fun pouring water from the little pot. We sat and talked. Mostly about E.T. I don’t know that he learned many manners, but he had a good time. And nothing got broken.

teaparty3

You can see above that the dog also joined us. She wanted in on the cheese action.

As we sat there with our little cups of water, I wondered if someday David and I wouldn’t sit again at the same table. Only he’d be grown, and we’d talk over mugs of steaming coffee. Perhaps Wade would join us too. The conversation might be about the antics of their own children.

For now the dishes are tucked away, safely back in their cabinet, waiting to come out again for another special day when David and I need to just slow down and talk over a cup of water.

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It’s Gonna Take More than Calgon

August 5, 2008 · 7 comments

For the last two days, David has been pushing all of my buttons.

Every. Single. One.

Sometimes two or three at a time!

Whoever said two was terrible must not have been through three yet.

He is driving me crazy.

Seriously.

There were times today when I felt like the sheer madness of it all was going to make my mind explode. If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different result, then David is certifiable.

We were in my bedroom this morning while I was folding and putting away laundry.

“Stop jumping on the bed.”

He jumps.

“I said stop jumping on the bed!”

He jumps again.

“I told you to stop jumping on the bed! Do it again and you’re going to get spanked.”

He keeps jumping.

“Alright! That’s it! I told you to stop. You are intentionally disobeying me.”

I spank him. Five minutes later what’s he doing again? JUMPING ON THE BED!

Just before lunch.

“I want a cookie.”

“It’s almost time for lunch. You can have a cookie after you eat.”

“But I want a cookie.”

“I said not until after lunch.”

“But I don’t want lunch. I want a cookie.”

“If you don’t eat lunch, you don’t get a cookie.”

“But I want a cookie.”

You can’t win an argument like this with David. He has to get the last word in. I had to find some way to stop the endless loop of yes and no. “I’m getting your lunch now. This conversation is over. I don’t want to hear another word about cookies. If you keep talking about it, I’m going to ignore you.”

Now the real whining starts. “Bu-bu-bu-but I waaaaaant a coooooookie. Pleeeeeease. Can I have a coooookie. Pleeeeeease. Pleeeeeease. Ah, Mommie! Look at me! Talk to me! I. WANT. A. COOKIE. NOW. GO. GET. ME. A. COOKIE!”

This is one of those mind-numbing moments I’m talking about. The whining, nagging and yelling builds and builds until I can’t think anymore. I swear everything goes white and the room spins a little. For a split second I feel like I’ve lost all control of the situation, and I’ll never get it back.

“Now you’re talking back to me. You don’t tell Mommie what to do. 10 minutes in time out. Let’s go!”

At bedtime.

“Go in the bathroom. You need to try and go potty, and brush your teeth.”

“I don’t need to go potty.”

“You have to try.”

“But I went already.”

“Two hours ago doesn’t count.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Didn’t we talk about obeying a whole bunch of times today?”

“Uh-uh.”

“What happened when you didn’t obey?”

“I got in trouble.”

“Do you want to get in trouble again?”

“No.”

“Then try to go potty.”

“I don’t want to.”

Are you sighing, throwing your hands up in the air, shaking your head and looking up at the ceiling with me yet?

I look at the ceiling a lot during the day.

It’s less painful than beating your head against a brick wall.

“I’m going to give you one last chance, because I don’t want to spank you just before bedtime. I suggest you take this one last chance. Go. In. The. Bath. Room. Now. And try to go potty. OR ELSE!”

Finally he runs to the bathroom, and guess what?

He did have to pee after all.

Good grief!

Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s just testing me. How many times does he have to perform the same test until he accepts proof of the theory? If he were a scientist, he would have run out of grant money months ago.

I’m drained and exhausted after two days of this. I hate scolding and punishing all day long. I know I have to discipline him, but I still feel miserable about it. Right now, I’m dreading tomorrow.

I really don’t want another day of it.

I don’t think I can take another day of it.

I need to get something stronger than Calgon.

How about a whole week at a spa?

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Does Anybody Know Where You can get an Astronaut Hat?

February 11, 2008 · 3 comments

I TIVO’d last week’s space shuttle launch so my three-year-old son could watch it. He’s recently developed a fascination with rockets. While we’re watching the lift-off he asks, “Who’s those peoples?”

“They’re astronauts.”

“What they dos?”

“They fly the space shuttle. The rocket is called a space shuttle.”

“I want to be an astronaut.”

“Well if you really want to, you can be an astronaut when you get big.”

“But we need to go to Walmart first.”

“Why do we need to go to Walmart?”

“I need an astronaut hat. We need to buy one.”

“Oh, honey I don’t think they sell astronaut hats at Walmart.”

“But I need to buy one. I can’t be an astronaut when I get big with out a hat.”

“Sweetie, I think if you become an astronaut they give you the hat for free.”

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