Today demonstrated how quickly things can change in the life of a two year old. It was haircut day for both boys. Chattered went first while LBoaM played. When it finally was L’s turn, there was crying and tears. Not because he was scared, but because he did not want to get his hair cut. He has clearly reached the “I want things my way or else!” phase. Good thing I’m already pregnant.
Shh… it’s a secret.
June 20, 2009 at 9:21 am (Chatterer, Family, Little Boy on a Mission, MM)
Like most moms of small children, I took the liberty of purchasing gifts for the boys to give to MM for Father’s Day. One day last week, Chatterer told me he was making a monkey at school for MM for Father’s Day. I explained that I had also purchased a very nice gift for Chatterer and LBoaM to give to MM. I told him it was a watch box for MM so MM would stop misplacing his watches. I told Chatterer it was a secret until Sunday.
Fast forward to Saturday. MM, Chatterer and LBoaM are playing an improvised game similar to volleyball with an inflatable football (think beach ball in the shape of a football.) MM has a couple of pocket watches in display cases on the mantel over the fireplace. Being a mom, I suggested he might want to put them away. To which Chatterer said:
“But Mommy, you bought him that box to keep all of his watches in! He should use that.”
Lesson: Never tell a 4-year old a secret. He’s past the age of forgetting things after 24 hours. At least I didn’t tell Chatterer about the OTHER gift.
Well, the middle part was good.
May 11, 2009 at 9:50 am (Chatterer, Family, Little Boy on a Mission, MM)
So, you’ve likely already read about Mother’s Day early morning surprises below. Mother’s Day at our house was anything but relaxing. MM and the boys let me sleep in until about 9 a.m. MM needed to mow the lawn, so I threw on some clothes and took the boys to the park. Chatterer made a friend there named Vince and had a great time, especially when the water feature started to work. Oh, to be four years old and think that it’s ok to run around in your underwear in the water feature. LBoaM wanted precisely nothing to do with the water, though, and by the time it turned on was very tired. Rather than trying to get C out of the water, I plopped L in the stroller to watch. He enjoyed watching his brother act silly in the water for about another half hour before C came over and said “I’m done.” Fortunately, I’d brought extra clothes for everyone, so C changed his underwear and we walked home.
After that, it was time for Mother’s Day brunch at our favorite local eatery. Unfortunately, it took them 45 minutes to get our food and they were out of their signature special for the day, which was something I’d really looked forward to having. Fortunately, they did manage to get C his usual cheese pizza instead of forcing him to eat something new (Heaven forbid!). It truly turned into a circus, though, when first L and then C both had bathroom emergencies… just as the food arrived. This happens so often that the sealed travel wipes in L’s diaper bag were dry. I made do with Wet Ones, though. MM took care of C’s issues. Overall, though, brunch was good.
MM and I were both looking forward to some down time during nap time. By now it’s 3 o’clock, both boys are down for naptime, and MM heads out to the-worst-place-in-the-world-that-we-both-hate-but-they’re-the-only-ones-that-carry-pre-sliced-apples-that-don’t-go-bad-after-two-days. I snuggle down under my Mother’s Day gift (big person sized softest blanket ever… Inna and Anissa, you know what I mean!) to read for a little while and maybe doze off. For a grand total of half an hour. C wakes up a little more than an hour after he started his nap. He wasn’t really ready to be awake, so he cuddled with me for another 20 minutes, until MM came home. Then he was ready to go outside in the wading pool to play.
While MM was gone, I decided I’d like a glass of water with ice. I opened the freezer to find the ice bin filled with about half an inch of water and the ice was wet. Thought: “This isn’t good.” Time passed. When MM came home, I told him about it. He said he’d noticed it earlier. I told him I’d turned down the temperature. Time passes.
The food in the freezer is defrosting. The food in the refrigerator is getting warmer and warmer. Yes, it’s true: the refrigerator is broken. It seems to be blowing the air in the refrigerator around, but not making any effort to keep the air cold. Enter the unexpected $250 expenditure: MM heads to Home Depot to pick up a freezer and we move all of the truly perishable stuff to the little refrigerator we have from when MM lived in a closet studio apartment in San Diego.
Heck, at least both the boys slept well last night. Seriously, though, it was good to spend time with the boys and MM. The boys seemed to have a great day, and, after all, isn’t that what matters most?
Happy Mother’s Day!
May 10, 2009 at 3:21 am (Family, Little Boy on a Mission)
Just to prove there is no such thing as a parent’s day off (and I include MM in this post for reasons that will become obvious), I relate to you the following story.
All of us, MM and LBoaM in particular, have been fighting a spring cold. This morning (about an hour and a half ago, aka 1:45 a.m.), LBoaM starting coughing in his sleep. Not a polite little cough like “Oops, a fleck of dust flew into my nose,” but a real, deep, “I’m going to cough until I choke” cough. I listened for a while to see if it would get better. No such luck. About an hour ago, I decided to get up and get him out of bed and sit him up to help calm the cough. It worked, too. For a while. The cough was calming down and I was just thinking that it wasn’t so bad sleeping in the glider for the night when a big cough hit him. So big that he threw up. All over me. All he could say was “Oh no.” Somehow, that seemed very appropriate. He managed to get a little spot on himself, which required a change of his clothes, but there was no doubt that one of Mom’s Rules came into play for me: “The only way to get rid of vomit odor is to take a shower.”
Fortunately, MM is wonderful and, upon my calling to him in an increased sense of urgency, came to my rescue so I didn’t need to figure out what to do with LBoaM while also figuring out how to get out of footie pajamas without “spreading the wealth” of my situation. He took care of getting LBoaM into fresh clothes and a diaper while I showered. He’s in there still. I love that man.
Proving what moms (and dads) everywhere already know: just because they say it’s your “special” day doesn’t mean that “special” won’t have a different meaning than the one intended by the holiday.
Additional thought added in the morning:
Only mothers would think “Thank goodness he threw up on me instead of himself or the sheets. I’m easier to clean.”
Updates on LBoaM and Chatterer
April 16, 2009 at 12:28 pm (Chatterer, Family, Little Boy on a Mission)
First, to reflect his increasing stature, ToaM is being renamed Little-Boy-on-a-Mission (LBoaM) for purposes of the blog. Usually the “mission” is whatever Chatterer is doing or eating.
LBoaM has added several body parts and new words to his vocabulary, and he can correctly point to the body parts on himself and others. This is a little gross when it comes to “nose,” because, as most children immediately find out, the best place to put a finger is… and he’s not shy about doing it to others, either. We’re working on getting him to point to his nose instead, but it’s a work in progress. Current new words are:
head, nose, eyes, ear, tummy, bottom, leg, arm, “chugga chugga,” “all done,” “cars,” “two” (spoken after I say “one”), cracker, chicken, apples, fries and his favorite: Elmo. I’m sure there are others I can’t think of right now, but I’ll add them later.
Both MM and I had funny conversations with Chatterer the other night as he was going to sleep:
Chatterer (to MM): When I grow up to be a veterinarian, how will I get my veterinarian clothes?
MM answered in some appropriate fashion.
After this conversation, I decided Chatterer might have other questions about when he grows up to become a veterinarian, so I went back to chat with him.
Me: Do you have any other questions about being a veterinarian?
C: When will I be a veterinarian?
Me: Well, you need to go to school, and college, and then special veterinarian school. So it will be a little while yet.
C: But when will I be a veterinarian?
Me: When you’re 25.
C: Oh, ok.
Me: You might decide you want to be something else before then, too.
C: Why would I do that?
In fairness, he’s only wanted to be a veterinarian since he figured out what a veterinarian is, which was probably a year and a half ago, so the idea of being something else only occasionally crosses his mind. Usually it’s right after the fire engine visits school… then he wants to be a fireman. Until the next morning, when it’s back to being a veterinarian. Ah, to be young and that sure of oneself again.
