Category Archives: children

Worrying about our electric bill…at the age of five

Posted on by
2

Jonathan did not want to go to bed at all. It was 12:30 and he still didn’t want to go to bed but was half out of it with exhaustion. He just kept talking and talking and talking. I had left the light on downstairs and realized it as we discussed that I was not going to read him a book before bed because of how late it was.

“Man! This is the worst night ever!” he started to whine, almost in tears. “No book. I didn’t get to finish my show. …”

“Well, at least our house didn’t burn down. We still have a house, right?” I said, trying to show him the good parts of the day.

“But you left the light on downstairs!” he said, whining even more now .

“So…do you think that means that the house will burn down?” I asked, trying to follow his reasoning.

“No,” he said nearly whimpering “but I don’t know what our electric bill is going to be like noooowww!”

He was asleep less than five minutes later, but I had to, of course, turn the light off before he would fall asleep. I had this feeling he might have nightmares about opening the electric bill a month from now.

I’m very certain this child channels his father in many, many ways.

Reminders of what we have.

Posted on by
5

The wind was cold and biting. I hadn’t been prepared for it. My head felt heavy and I knew my sinuses issues were acting up. I tried to ignore it as the family gathered around the tombstone. I pulled my little boy close to me and felt warm tears stinging my eyes. I was so grateful for him, so happy to have him standing next to me.

I knew he didn’t totally understand why were were standing there, but that’s OK. He can understand when he’s older because sometimes understanding isn’t fun. Understanding that three years ago, on this day, a week before Christmas, the spirit of a tiny six-year old had slipped away and gone to Heaven was hard for me to handle as an adult. My five-year old understands a lot and holds a lot in his heart for someone so young. I almost didn’t come on this day. I almost avoided the pain and tears. I didn’t want it to be heavy on his heart. He’ll have plenty of years for moments of sadness and seriousness and heart wrenching reality.

I’d already mentioned the balloons, though, and that I had seen on Facebook that they’d be letting them go and he wanted to see them. So we stood in the cold and shivered with everyone else and let a green balloon go in memory of little Jordan. He would have been nine this year. If he’d lived an extra week three years ago he would have got the guitar he’d always wanted. If he’d lived another three years he would have seen his mother happy again — seen her marry the prince he’d always wanted her to meet.

“Maybe he already is holding them,” Jonathan said as the balloons faded from our view.

“Maybe,” I said.

We all stood there and watched the balloons until they were no longer visible to our eyes and then it got quiet. No one knew what to say. We all just stood there. Some of us cried. All of us shivered. Finally the small group broke up and mom, with her six-month old baby that looks so much like his big brother, thanked us all for being there to remember her little boy.

We walked through what Jonathan calls “the dead,” as in “Is that the dead over there?” instead of “cemetery.” On each side of us were tombstones marking the graves of very young people who had died. Two under the age of 22 in a car crashes, another in a motorcycle crash, one of cancer, another of a sudden heart ailment. I had this corner of “the dead.” This corner where youth turned into old age, where life was cut short.

I hugged my little boy close and I thanked God for him always talking, of his constant begging me to play,even when I have other work to do, for his mere presence on this earth.

An intelligence of a different kind….

Posted on by
4

Ferris-Buellers-Day-Off-001I swear I’m sure there are some who read my blog who wonder what in the world we teach our kid.

He talks about skeletons and zombies and aliens and I swear it is not a topic of discussion in this house, at least not between him and me. He watches Scooby Doo and such things, but I never imagined he would take in as much in as he has. Again, not that I think he wouldn’t be smart enough to pick up on all this — I’m not saying my kid isn’t smart…it’s just —

OK. Did I tell you that I’m reading a book about not feeling guilty about anything and everything? Yeah, well, obviously it is not working. At all.

So,yes, I feel guilty that my child is talking about the fact I fell off a cliff in his dream isn’t anything to worry about at all.

Hubby and I both have twisted sense of humors and I guess it has been passed down to our kid, without us meaning for it to.

So while the child of the writers of one of my favorite blogs is already writing stories at the age of 4, my four year old is talking about how to freeze super heroes with his super hero freezing toy gun and jumping four feet from the couch to a bean bag, making me wonder if he might be “behind” a little bit in the learning department.

Honestly, I think he is right in line with children is age — children his age who are also going to become future daredevils who give their mothers heart attacks day after day. My kid is smart — don’t get me wrong. It is what he is smart about that makes me a bit nervous.

The other night Hubby, Jonathan and I were watching the edited version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The scene where Ferris’ mom starts to get wise to his mischief peeks in his room and finds him “sleeping” — when really he has concocted an invention to make it appear like he is sleeping in his bed.

A  perfectly placed mannequin and blanket, along with the tape player playing the sound of snoring is an excellently played ruse for a daft mother.

“So…how does that work?” Jonathan asks and his dad and I try to explain that when Mrs. Bueller opens the door it triggers the contraption, which makes her think her son is asleep.

My kid is obviously thinking real hard about all this..

“Uh-huh…and the sound come out of the boom box..” he said matter of fact.

He had it all figured out. (How does a four year old know the term “boom box?” Long story but it is related to Transformers and a character called Soundwave.)

“Uh…yeah,” I said, starting to get suspicious. “That’s right.” “

So, does that still work?” Jonathan asked.

Hubby didn’t miss a beat: “Not in this house it doesn’t.”

Oh yeah, kid, you’re not dealing with Mr. and Mrs. Bueller here. We are on to you, kid. We are so on to – where did you go? Where is that kid….Ah, crap.Not again.

Well, I just didn’t need to know that.

Posted on by
2

Lovely dinner conversation tonight.

Jonathan started telling Warren and I about a dream he had.

He couldn’t find us in his dream. He was looking all over but couldn’t find us.

He spoke very matter of fact, not upset in the least with this fact.

“Then there was an edge. It was a big edge. You had gone over the edge.”

Me: “Um…was there fire?”

Him. “No. Just an edge and ground. And you fell, fell and fell. And then there was a rock. A really big rock.”

Me: “Was I under the rock?”

Him.: “No. You fell and then bam. But I didn’t see you on the ground. That was the problem. I didn’t see you.”

Me: “Well..this is a pleasant conversation.”

Him: “But…”

I was now hopeful he would tell me something positive.

He didn’t.

“But you was dead.”

Me: “Oh. Thank you.”

Him: “But… “

Me: “Yes?”

Him: “You was really dead. You were just a skeleton.”

Me: “And that story is now over and no more Nutella for you before bed.”

Or not. . . .

Posted on by
12

 "Were you good for daddy today?"

Something unintelligible mumbled from back seat.

"What?"

Softly, "I sorry I kick daddy in da' face."

"You kicked daddy in the face? Did you apologize?"

"Yeah. I sorry. I said 'I sorry.'"

"Did Daddy say it was OK?"

"No"*

"Did you get a time out?"

"No."

"Were you playing together?"

"No. I playing by myself."

"OK. Well, when we get home we'll call daddy and apologize. OK?"

"OK."

Silence. "I sorry I step on da' doggie today."

"You stepped on the dog?"

"Yeah."

"Did you apologize to him?"

"No."

"Did you hug him?"

"No."

"Well, when we get home we'll hug him, OK?"

"OK."

Silence again.

"Do you have anything else you wish to confess?"

"Huh?" "Do you have anything else you would like to tell Mommy that you did wrong today?"

"Uh…or not. Is dat a good idea?"**

Signature 

*For the record, Daddy says that he did too accept the apology and the two were playing together when it all went down. As for the dog incident, Hubby says he didn't see it, so he's not really sure on that one.

 

** his latest saying.

Out of time?

Posted on by
12

Time is apparently more of a focus in our house than I realized.

Last
night in the tub my kid pointed to the wall and an imaginary clock and
said, "Look! Da time! It tickin' away!"

The statement hit me a bit because over the last week, as graduations
have occurred, I've heard many parents say: "Time passes so fast."

They've reminded me to enjoy the time I have with my son, because before
I know it, he will be grown up and out of the house.
It stops me in my thoughts often — those parental urges of "spend time
with him" from parents who've been there and watched it all fly by. 

4701429949_2e282c3300_b

"You out of time," Jonathan told me another night and pointed at me.

"Out of time for what?" I asked.

In my mind I heard, "Out of time to spend with me. Out of time to spend time with
me before I'm in school and then out on my own. Out of time for another
baby. Out of time to realize your dreams. Out of time to find financial
freedom."

What he really said was "To play."

That's when I told him he was out of time to play and it was time for
bed.

And there again was that word — time. And there I was again…thinking about how fast it goes.

image from www.flickr.com

  *Part of Jen's Spin Cycle and Cecily's Photo Story Friday. I am co-hosting Photo Story Friday this week with Cecily. so be sure join in by posting, picking up a button, and signing Mr. Linky at her place. I'm a huge fan of Cecily's photography, so be sure to poke around her blog a bit and admire her art with me. Sorry I was a bit late in posting my PSF for this week.

I was planning to post it kind of late and wasn't sure if Cecily was having me host this week or might have lined up another (much better!) host. Then I got behind at work and home and never checked my e-mail and oops…there was an e-mail from her waiting for me when I finally checked. At like 10:30 p.m. EST. Well, anyhooo…it's up now so be sure to check out the awesome posts on the other blogs for The Spin and PSF.

PhotoStory Friday

Hosted by Cecily and Lisa

To play Photo Story Friday, check this. Copy this code into your post and sign the link list:

No mama, you not smawt. In you bwain . . .

Posted on by
14

I had asked Jonathan to grab the remote for me. He's younger, was going that way to grab a toy anyhow and darn it, I didn't want to get up.

He did what he usually does and didn't acknowledge me.

This ignoring stuff gets old after awhile and I'd had it.

"Jonathan, bring me the remote," I said.

I said it three more times. Finally he did and flounced back into my lap where he'd been sitting before.

"You're stupid," he told me.

Straight to my face.

I sent him straight to time out and flipped the TV from cartoons to CSPAN (talk about punishment).

Mom was on the phone with me and asked if he knew what stupid meant.

I asked him. He said, "Nooooo."

When I got off the phone with Mom a few moments later I asked him again. He didn't know what stupid meant so I told him it wasn't a nice thing to say. Trying to explain it in terms a 3 1/2 year old would understand I said, "It means someone isn't smart."

He thought for a moment and then said, "Um…you not smawt."

"You're done. Up the stairs," I told him.

We were interrupted in our march upstairs by the local boys baseball team screaming through town after their playoff win. We watched the brief, police-led parade, then I called Hubby. I told him what Jonathan had said to mommy and he agreed bed with no cartoons was in order.

That's when my kid interrupted our conversation by telling me this: "I just said, you not smawt. In your bwain…" and he pointed to his head. He might have as well have added, "That's all, lady. Get over it."

It was like this somehow made what he had said better. I truly believe he thought it did.

And on the other end of the phone laughter burst from Hubby with no reserve attempted.

"Oh, thank you," I said.

Yeah, my kid might be "smart" brain wise, but he's also what some call a little smart ass and that smart little ass (excuse the language here) went right to bed with no cartoons.

(When I told Mom this story this morning, she told me the kid isn't that smart because he wasn't smart enough to know when to shut his mouth.)

 
Signature

The eyeball incident, or why I bet my son is glad he’s an only child

Posted on by
13

"No 2 of 5!! Stooop it!"

We were on the way back from my parents, 45 minutes away — two of my nieces, Jonathan and me.

"What? I'm not doing anything!" 2 of 5* insists.

"2 of 5 what are you doing?" I look in the rear view mirror at a grinning 7-year old.

"Nuthin'!" she says and giggles.

A few moments of silence follows and then, "2 of 5! Stop it! Leave me alone!"

"2 of 5! Knock it off!" I say firmly.

2 of 5 is grinning and finally confesses: "3 of 5's trying to sleep and I keep prying her eyelids open. It's so funny."

She's giggling even louder now.

"Well, stop it," I say.

"But it's funny!" 2 of 5 says and giggles even more. "And Jonathan told me to do it."

I can hear my three-year old whispering "Do it!"

I tell him to stop egging his cousin on.

A few moments of silence falls upon the car then I hear it again, "2 of 5!!!"

"2 of 5!"

"But her eyeball moves around and…" giggle..." she looks around like she can't figure out who is doing it and .." giggle. giggle. giggle. "It is sooo funny!"

And then I said it. It. The line every mother says at some point, only I was using it for my nieces, not my own kids.

"You don't touch 3 of 5. 3 of 5 don't touch 2 of 5 and both of you STOP TOUCHING EACH OTHER."

I stopped short of "Do you want me to pull this car over? Do you? Do YOU!?"

But I was oh-so-close that it scared me.

*These are my nick names for my nieces. There are five of them. Therefore I call them "2 of 5", etc. for their "birth rank."

 
Signature