Happy Mother’s Day to all the Amused Mamas out there…and you know who you are: The mamas who get a painted rock and act like it’s a rare Picasso; the mamas who would sell their souls for a few minutes alone in the bathroom without small people pounding on the door, the mamas who talk about boogers and poop over margaritas with the other mamas, and the mamas who never run out of things to laugh at with their small boys and girls! Enjoy, hope you all got to sleep in or eat some chocolate without having to share :o)
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more glamorous, SB’s delightful dinner behavior launched a discussion about why boogers aren’t food. His reaction to my big speech? “Well, why are they there then?”
I just had to reassure SB that hot dogs aren’t actually made out of DOGS, and a very funny friend of mine said on Facebook, “just wait until he discovers Girl Scout Cookies”. Really?
BB (Big Boy)’s putting SB to bed upstairs and I’m screwed again. The only way to get past his room undetected is to either burrow under the carpet like a gopher and try to sneak by, or to crawl on my belly, Navy Seal-like, past his door and hope he doesn’t see me. If I am spotted, it adds at least 15 minutes to the bedtime extravaganza. Pray for me. I’m going in.
Two things I actually said today:
“Do NOT pick your nose with Sheriff Woody’s fingers!”
“Stay away from that chainsaw!” (in our defense, it wasn’t laying around in our living room, we were on a hike and they were clearing dead trees from the trail).
I’m happy, of course, that SB (small boy) is a friendly, outgoing little guy, but sometimes it’s a lot like living with a game show host. Whenever we go to the park he’ll walk up to a kid and say, “Hi, what’s your name?” and then show them whatever toy we brought along. Nine times out of ten the other kid will take the toy, and off they’ll go – a new friend!
But if the other kid’s not interested, SB goes into crazy stalker mode. He simply can’t fathom how anyone wouldn’t want to play with him, so he’ll follow the poor kid around the park thrusting his toy at him, saying, “see? SEE?” And if they still won’t play with him, he’ll say, “Mama, what’s wrong with him?” Oof. And then he’ll go off and stalk another unsuspecting kid, until he either finds one who will play with him or they run away – which he takes as an invitation to chase them.
A couple of weeks ago the house down the street was getting new carpet installed. Mr. Friendly stood by the front window as the workers passed and greeted every one who walked by. So I figured this was a good time for the “We Don’t Talk To Strangers” speech, but every time I tried to make a point I was countered with the ever popular, “why?”
So how do you explain to a kid who’s in love with the world that we don’t talk to strangers because not all of them are nice? First I started with telling him that some people are naughty (one of our favorite themes these days), and tried to tell him in a non-terrifying way that some people do bad things. “Like biting?” asked SB. Yes, I told him, like biting, but worse. “Kicking? Hitting? THROWING??”(a big no-no at our house) Oy. This was going nowhere fast. So, like any good parent would, I let it go, thinking we’d talk about it some other time.
Oh no. SB, in his obsessive little way, brought it up all night long. “Is mama bad?” “No, mama’s not bad.” “But remember the time you threw that toy, mama?” Dammit – I forgot about his elephant-like memory. We discussed whether or not his friends from day care were bad. Anyone who ever kicked, hit or bit him was discussed in detail. I tried to change the subject and turned on the TV to distract him. Success! Phew. I did it.
Wrong. The next day we were at the grocery store and he pointed to the woman in front of us at the checkout line, and said, rather loudly, “IS SHE BAD???” I shushed him, but to no avail. “IS HE BAD???” God. Get me the hell out of here right now, please, I’ll never swear again, I’ll go to temple more than one hour every year, we’ll feed the poor, just get me out of here!!
Of course now everyone’s suspect – SB’s world is filled with people who could potentially bite, kick or hit us. Ironically, he’s the one who usually lands in time out for being naughty, but that’s not discussed. Smart kid.
Yesterday we experienced all the thrills and excitement that traveling with a small boy (SB) can offer. If I could give any parents advice about traveling with a toddler, it would be this:
But sometimes you have to.
After a nice visit to Grammy and Grampy’s non-toddler proof house, I was relieved that everyone survived, nothing caught fire, and the dogs weren’t too traumatized. All in all, a successful trip. Phew.
We got to the airport, kissed everyone good-bye, and stood waving at Grampy as he drove away with SB’s car seat that we forgot to take out of the back seat. Pandemonium ensued. Well, for me it did. Read on.
I wish I could say that I’m calm under pressure like my husband (or Big Boy – BB). He quietly called Grampy, and of course, of course, he didn’t answer. So the calmer BB got, the more flappy and, oh, shall we say…insane, I got. All kinds of horrifying scenarios were racing through my head – Pulling a Britney Spears and driving all the way home with SB in my lap? NO. Waiting an hour and a half at the airport with a tired, cranky SB so that BB could drive home, get the other car seat and come back for us? Oh my GOD. NONONONONO!!! We finally figured out a plan that involved borrowing a car seat when we landed, and my heart rate returned to fairly normal. Phew.
Then we had to clear security. Not a big deal, no line, SB managed to keep it together, and then they lost my flip-flop on the conveyer/x-ray belt. How the HELL? WHAT THE???? So now, we’re car seat-less and I have one shoe. I was on the brink of saying things that would have had me led off by Airport Security, and then someone found the rogue flip flop up by the x-ray machine.
Ok. Double phew. Off to the gate. SB’s still keeping it together and I’m slowly calming down again.
S**hit! They’re boarding already? The one time the airline is early and efficient, we’re nowhere near the (*@#&* gate. So I end up in one row with both kids, and BB is a few rows up (he CLAIMS he didn’t nap. Hmm.). Luckily we sat in front of “the man who never stopped talking” (every flight has one of those), so no one noticed SB opening and closing the window flap for an hour and a half.
When we landed, I realized it was a full moon. There was also lightening flashing in the distance – the perfect end to a horror movie kind of day. Hitchcock couldn’t have made up anything more terrifying than traveling with a toddler. Can anyone top this? Let’s hear your horror stories, I know there’s a few more out there…