I have never been the one who was baby obsessed.
The mere thought of being pregnant caused me to sweat, and actually BEING pregnant was no picnic either. I never thought I would have children, based on the fact that I hate pain. I am a 100% wussified pansy and cannot take anything on a pain threshold over a paper cut. Even at that, I milk everyone I can for the sympathy I can get from a little flap of skin hanging off of my hand. I planned on having children on the day they could just zap them right out of you.
Being pregnant, as I mentioned, was no picnic. It wasn't all bad though. I enjoyed having the company and before he got strong enough to bruise my insides, feeling James and his squirrely self wiggling around was pretty cool. More importantly, I knew that no matter what - this kid had no choice but to love me right away. He could hate me after a few years of knowing me, but right off the bat, he had no choice.
I, like many new moms, was scared to death of not being able to care for him. I could barely take care of myself a times, and thought there was no way that this baby would be fed and dressed everyday. I greatly underestimated myself. Don't get me wrong - the first few months sucked. I'm not going to sugar coat it. "Oh yay, there's a new baby and he's so precious!" Sure. But that sure as hell didn't make up for the fact that he had his bouts of colic and I was home alone with him. When his dad was home, James was sleeping. When his dad went to work for his 14 or 15 hour shift, James acted as if he hated me. I couldn't take it. I was battling some pretty bad post-partum depression. My support was alternating between my best friend and my mom for about 2 hours every other day.
And yet...
I survived. More importantly, James survived. I no longer have to question my abilities because I've been there. And my reward is my 2-year-old buddy who just cannot get enough of me. He kisses me more than I find myself wishing he would. Which is just fine with me!
But the point of this ramble - I'm making plans for baby #2. Of course I want to have my career laid out and this looks like it could take some time, but the realization that I'm almost 30 is making me feel awfully rushed. Ideally, I'd like James to be a big brother by the time he enters kindergarten. Will that happen? Doubtful. But I can hope. I had a conversation with my best friend the other day about how we'd get pregnant at the same time and be all giddy and do stupid "we're pregnant together" stuff...it's all talk. You can do whatever you want in your own make-believe world. But I'm hoping SOME DAY it will happen. SOME DAY Evan won't treat the idea of another child like a disease. SOME DAY I won't have to think about how I'm going to have to steal someone else's kid.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Rule #7 - Nudity will make you giggle, no matter what age you are
This weekend we had James' birthday party. Before the big ho-down, Evan, James, and my 11-year-old niece stopped at Fry's to pick up some last minute party snacks. James has a "thing" for my niece and just thinks she's probably the most important person in the world, next to Elmo. He refers to her as "my" before saying her name and was saying her name long before he habitually started calling me "mama" or Evan "daddy". And to top it off....her name's a little more complicated than most.
Well, my 11-year-old niece also has a cell phone. She's had one for a while, and to be honest, I'm not 100% sure why. I don't really know what I would have done with a cell phone when I was 11, but that's beside the point. What I know she DOES do, is text. She also sends picture messages. So while we're at the store, my phone beeps I get THIS picture message from my niece:
Now I love my niece very much, but imagine my horror at the "spring break" picture my niece just sent me of my 2-year-old son....oh, and the other 7 people she sent the photo to.
Yes, she may as well be working for "Girls Gone Wild". That picture went out to so many people in such a short time, that I had a moment of panic of how James would be furious at me in about 15 years or so. I freaked on my niece and freaked at James. They just laughed.
Fast forward to today when I'm sitting on the couch. James has been in "super-charged, I just drank 10 red bulls" mode all day and he gets real quiet. Quiet, in my house at least, has become somewhat of an eerie sign. I wasn't in a panic yet, however, because he was in my line of sight. In fact, he was standing right in front of me.
We make eye contact.
His smile could not get any bigger as he bunches the bottom of his shirt and starts to say "whhhhooooaaaaaa". He says it really slow to emphasize what happens next. And what happens, is James, in all his glory (and in front of my poor grandma and aunt) just lifts up his shirt and flashes me.
I'm just staring at him and he's the most still he's been all day....showing me all that he's got. All I think is..."wow. This is almost as interesting as when he locked me in the laundry room and when he let me out had somehow dropped his pants around his ankles."
But I had to laugh. How could you not?! And besides...when James makes me laugh, he seems to love me just that much more. So I'll laugh all day for him.
P.S. I know I've inadvertently just shared that photo with the entire world, but at least I'm his mother. I can do whatever I want. :)
Well, my 11-year-old niece also has a cell phone. She's had one for a while, and to be honest, I'm not 100% sure why. I don't really know what I would have done with a cell phone when I was 11, but that's beside the point. What I know she DOES do, is text. She also sends picture messages. So while we're at the store, my phone beeps I get THIS picture message from my niece:
Now I love my niece very much, but imagine my horror at the "spring break" picture my niece just sent me of my 2-year-old son....oh, and the other 7 people she sent the photo to.
Yes, she may as well be working for "Girls Gone Wild". That picture went out to so many people in such a short time, that I had a moment of panic of how James would be furious at me in about 15 years or so. I freaked on my niece and freaked at James. They just laughed.
Fast forward to today when I'm sitting on the couch. James has been in "super-charged, I just drank 10 red bulls" mode all day and he gets real quiet. Quiet, in my house at least, has become somewhat of an eerie sign. I wasn't in a panic yet, however, because he was in my line of sight. In fact, he was standing right in front of me.
We make eye contact.
His smile could not get any bigger as he bunches the bottom of his shirt and starts to say "whhhhooooaaaaaa". He says it really slow to emphasize what happens next. And what happens, is James, in all his glory (and in front of my poor grandma and aunt) just lifts up his shirt and flashes me.
I'm just staring at him and he's the most still he's been all day....showing me all that he's got. All I think is..."wow. This is almost as interesting as when he locked me in the laundry room and when he let me out had somehow dropped his pants around his ankles."
But I had to laugh. How could you not?! And besides...when James makes me laugh, he seems to love me just that much more. So I'll laugh all day for him.
P.S. I know I've inadvertently just shared that photo with the entire world, but at least I'm his mother. I can do whatever I want. :)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Rule #6 - Payback is a...well, it sucks
So today was "Picture Day". My son turns 2 in a few weeks so I thought I'd go ahead and bring him in for his yearly photo at the local Wal-Mart. We did them at Wal-Mart last year and had no complaints. When you have a small child and dunno whether they have agreed with you that this is Picture Day as well or not, it's best not to spend too much money on your photos. Plus...I had a coupon!
Anyway, so Evan also left for Texas today for a work conference too. It was a rough morning for everyone. I decided that if we left the house for photos at the same time he left for the airport, then goodbyes wouldn't last as long or be as hard. But that also meant we were 30 minutes early for our photo appointment. I refuled the Mom-mobile and asked James about his thoughts on a carwash. (I've been having quite a few of those lapses in judgement lately.)
James was completely terrified. I have never seen him that scared for that long and it broke my heart that I couldn't just accelerate through the wash. (I coulda, but I'm not sure I could afford the insurance if I had rear ended the guy in front of me.) He was shaking from the fear and putting his fists in his mouth (which, come to think of, was an amazing task). I tried my best to comfort him -- heck, I thought I was going to have to drive to the hospital next after my 2-year-old suffered from a heart attack! I tried holding his hand and comforting him the best I could from behind the wheel. When it was finally over, I pulled into a parking lot and jumped into the backseat with him. He was still crying and I felt like the worst mother in the world. After about 5 minutes of reassuring him that we were done and that I loved him and I was sorry, he stopped crying.
Picture time! (Nothing like traumatizing your child before that!)
Needless to say, James got his payback. He wasn't sad and cranky at all. He was happy as can be. But he insisted on running around the "studio" and going NOWHERE near where the photographer wanted him. When he did, he was posing with the Gene Simmons tongue. His Auntie was there. That did nothing for him. He had a huge assortment of toys at his feet...nothing. After 20 minutes of trying to keep him sitting in one area, we called it quits and rescheduled.
I think NEXT time, I would even let him drive us there if he wanted to. Or I could explain the truth about Elmo....then I wouldn't get a picture for years.
Anyway, so Evan also left for Texas today for a work conference too. It was a rough morning for everyone. I decided that if we left the house for photos at the same time he left for the airport, then goodbyes wouldn't last as long or be as hard. But that also meant we were 30 minutes early for our photo appointment. I refuled the Mom-mobile and asked James about his thoughts on a carwash. (I've been having quite a few of those lapses in judgement lately.)
James was completely terrified. I have never seen him that scared for that long and it broke my heart that I couldn't just accelerate through the wash. (I coulda, but I'm not sure I could afford the insurance if I had rear ended the guy in front of me.) He was shaking from the fear and putting his fists in his mouth (which, come to think of, was an amazing task). I tried my best to comfort him -- heck, I thought I was going to have to drive to the hospital next after my 2-year-old suffered from a heart attack! I tried holding his hand and comforting him the best I could from behind the wheel. When it was finally over, I pulled into a parking lot and jumped into the backseat with him. He was still crying and I felt like the worst mother in the world. After about 5 minutes of reassuring him that we were done and that I loved him and I was sorry, he stopped crying.
Picture time! (Nothing like traumatizing your child before that!)
Needless to say, James got his payback. He wasn't sad and cranky at all. He was happy as can be. But he insisted on running around the "studio" and going NOWHERE near where the photographer wanted him. When he did, he was posing with the Gene Simmons tongue. His Auntie was there. That did nothing for him. He had a huge assortment of toys at his feet...nothing. After 20 minutes of trying to keep him sitting in one area, we called it quits and rescheduled.
I think NEXT time, I would even let him drive us there if he wanted to. Or I could explain the truth about Elmo....then I wouldn't get a picture for years.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Rule #5 - Ninja turtles may be cute, but they still smell like sewage
Over the next week and a half, Evan will be preoccupied with work. He's doing some overtime this week and on Sunday he leaves for TX to do a conference. James has the uncanny way of knowing, however, that it'll just be him and me at home.
Yesterday, I went to pick James up from daycare. At first he looked all adorable, playing on the teeter-totter with some other kid. When he saw me and started running my way, it was all in slow motion. I could see his hair matted on his head looking like someone had poured grease with bits of grass and sticks on him. His shirt was covered in mud spots and he had pieces of dried up grass placed in various places on (and in some places IN) his face. The smell hit me before he did. My son smelled like he had been playing in a sewer. He hugged me and started to leave while I desperately tried to get an explanation from someone about his state.
Apparently, the playground has a nice little area where the air conditioning units leak condensation onto the ground. There's a nice little puddle there and that afternoon, James got first dibs on jumping into it and taking his soaked hands and "combing" his hair. My mother would have been horrified if she had seen him. I just figured, "boys will be boys"...but the smell!!! It's probably the first time I've ever seen him and greeted him with a nice pat on the shoulder instead of a hug. (Again, call me a bad mother if you'd like, but you soooo weren't there!)
Needless to say, bath time was a blast. (You'd think I was water boarding him, the way he freaks out.) There were pieces of everything imaginable weaved into his hair and it took quite a long time to get it all out.
The whole night wasn't a bust, though. James was very talkative last night and although I only understand about a 1/4 of what he says, it was nice to think he might be telling me about his day. I know I at least was asking all the correct leading questions. I began telling James about my day and the things we would have planned for the weekend and he responded pretty well with a ("yeah?"). I must have gotten carried away though when in the middle of me telling him we would have to find him a cute outfit for pictures this month he says "Ma!" and when I say "what?", responds with a finger up his nose and says "Sshhhhh!"
So he picks his nose when he tells me to be quiet and he plays in nasty water. His hair is ALWAYS sticking up and looks like a wreck, no matter what. But despite all of that, he'll always be cute to me.
Yesterday, I went to pick James up from daycare. At first he looked all adorable, playing on the teeter-totter with some other kid. When he saw me and started running my way, it was all in slow motion. I could see his hair matted on his head looking like someone had poured grease with bits of grass and sticks on him. His shirt was covered in mud spots and he had pieces of dried up grass placed in various places on (and in some places IN) his face. The smell hit me before he did. My son smelled like he had been playing in a sewer. He hugged me and started to leave while I desperately tried to get an explanation from someone about his state.
Apparently, the playground has a nice little area where the air conditioning units leak condensation onto the ground. There's a nice little puddle there and that afternoon, James got first dibs on jumping into it and taking his soaked hands and "combing" his hair. My mother would have been horrified if she had seen him. I just figured, "boys will be boys"...but the smell!!! It's probably the first time I've ever seen him and greeted him with a nice pat on the shoulder instead of a hug. (Again, call me a bad mother if you'd like, but you soooo weren't there!)
Needless to say, bath time was a blast. (You'd think I was water boarding him, the way he freaks out.) There were pieces of everything imaginable weaved into his hair and it took quite a long time to get it all out.
The whole night wasn't a bust, though. James was very talkative last night and although I only understand about a 1/4 of what he says, it was nice to think he might be telling me about his day. I know I at least was asking all the correct leading questions. I began telling James about my day and the things we would have planned for the weekend and he responded pretty well with a ("yeah?"). I must have gotten carried away though when in the middle of me telling him we would have to find him a cute outfit for pictures this month he says "Ma!" and when I say "what?", responds with a finger up his nose and says "Sshhhhh!"
So he picks his nose when he tells me to be quiet and he plays in nasty water. His hair is ALWAYS sticking up and looks like a wreck, no matter what. But despite all of that, he'll always be cute to me.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Rule #4 - It's always about the box, never the present
To a certain point, I want my buddy to grow up. I want to take him to sporting events, shows, and actually go on a date with my little dude. But then there are the times when we're sitting in a mall, sharing a pretzel, where I remind myself that when he's old enough to choose to go to the mall, it aint gonna be with me. That's when I look at James, cheeks packed full of food, swinging his legs on the chair and kiss him.
But I still wanna take him places. Like Build-A-Bear. James used to be able to wear Build-A-Bear clothes...but I wanted to take him to actually buy a toy to put those clothes on.
I kept telling myself that we wouldn't step foot in that store until he was at LEAST 3. I'd spend a ton of money and he'd just toss the new creation with the other toys he has. Well, rational thought must have escaped me yesterday, because in we went.
James is an animal FREAK (he gets that from his Mom, I think). Anyway, he picked out the elephant and looked pretty jipped when I handed him the deflated "skin" of the elephant. (Sorry, baby, Mommy can't afford a fat elephant!). We walked over to the stuffing station where my son attempted to eat all the hearts sitting in the box for all the other creatures. Nice. Wide-eyed and jaw dropped, he watched the nice lady sew up his now stuffed elephant and then we went over to the "grooming station".
I gave James a brush and told him to comb his elephant's hair. Rightfully so, I just got a blank stare. "Comb where the elephant is SUPPOSED to have hair", I told him. He did. Next, came the bath. James LOVED the bath. You stand on the pedal and air just blows out of this machine. And that's what he did. He didn't STEP on the pedal; he stood on it. I was beginning to wish we could take the tub home and leave the elephant. It was a riot to him and he couldn't stop laughing.
I managed to pry him away from the tub (wish we had this problem in REAL life) and asked him to pick out a shirt for his elephant. He picked out the ugliest, tackiest red polo I'd ever seen. I put it back and asked him to pick a different one. He scanned the selection and picked up the polo again. (This is why James doesn't buy his own clothes...yet) Fine. It's his elephant, he can wear the ugly shirt. James wanted the elephant to go commando, but I finally had him satisfied with a pair of black shorts.
At this point, he wouldn't put the elephant down. All the way to car, he played with him and made elephant noises. I was pretty impressed with myself at that point and felt the $38 (Ridiculous right?!) I spent was not a waste. On the ride home, I'd look back and he'd be playing with the elephant, making him dance, or pointing at his tusks asking me "what's that?" Then I looked at him with the rear view mirror. He had the elephant on his lap and was looking out the window. When I turned around he looked startled and picked up the elephant, making him dance again.
I soon realized my son was only playing with the elephant when I was looking at him...he could care less about his new toy if I wasn't looking! Right. So as of this day, I have vowed to never spend more than $20 on ANY toy, because he'll either be into it for a few seconds or he'd just rather play with the box.
But I still wanna take him places. Like Build-A-Bear. James used to be able to wear Build-A-Bear clothes...but I wanted to take him to actually buy a toy to put those clothes on.
I kept telling myself that we wouldn't step foot in that store until he was at LEAST 3. I'd spend a ton of money and he'd just toss the new creation with the other toys he has. Well, rational thought must have escaped me yesterday, because in we went.
James is an animal FREAK (he gets that from his Mom, I think). Anyway, he picked out the elephant and looked pretty jipped when I handed him the deflated "skin" of the elephant. (Sorry, baby, Mommy can't afford a fat elephant!). We walked over to the stuffing station where my son attempted to eat all the hearts sitting in the box for all the other creatures. Nice. Wide-eyed and jaw dropped, he watched the nice lady sew up his now stuffed elephant and then we went over to the "grooming station".
I gave James a brush and told him to comb his elephant's hair. Rightfully so, I just got a blank stare. "Comb where the elephant is SUPPOSED to have hair", I told him. He did. Next, came the bath. James LOVED the bath. You stand on the pedal and air just blows out of this machine. And that's what he did. He didn't STEP on the pedal; he stood on it. I was beginning to wish we could take the tub home and leave the elephant. It was a riot to him and he couldn't stop laughing.
I managed to pry him away from the tub (wish we had this problem in REAL life) and asked him to pick out a shirt for his elephant. He picked out the ugliest, tackiest red polo I'd ever seen. I put it back and asked him to pick a different one. He scanned the selection and picked up the polo again. (This is why James doesn't buy his own clothes...yet) Fine. It's his elephant, he can wear the ugly shirt. James wanted the elephant to go commando, but I finally had him satisfied with a pair of black shorts.
At this point, he wouldn't put the elephant down. All the way to car, he played with him and made elephant noises. I was pretty impressed with myself at that point and felt the $38 (Ridiculous right?!) I spent was not a waste. On the ride home, I'd look back and he'd be playing with the elephant, making him dance, or pointing at his tusks asking me "what's that?" Then I looked at him with the rear view mirror. He had the elephant on his lap and was looking out the window. When I turned around he looked startled and picked up the elephant, making him dance again.
I soon realized my son was only playing with the elephant when I was looking at him...he could care less about his new toy if I wasn't looking! Right. So as of this day, I have vowed to never spend more than $20 on ANY toy, because he'll either be into it for a few seconds or he'd just rather play with the box.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Rule #3 - They grow up so fast!
This will be a fairly short post, because I'm stating the obvious.
Yesterday, while picking up James from daycare, Evan had the responsibility to check the cubby and folder and get all of James' stuff together. I had the opportunity to do what I love doing best: watching James discover something new.
As soon as he saw me, James gave a quick acknowledgment that I existed and then ran over to the water fountain. Apparently, he had been eying it for a while. I watched as he turned the knob on the fountain, amazing himself that he was making the water shoot out. He pointed at it and smiled so I'd approve and he turned the knob again. Impressive. After that, out shoots the tongue. He's on this tippy toes now, tongue hanging out like a little Gene Simmons. I think he may have seen this done before! However, each time he has to lean in to try to get some water, the pressure he is using to turn the knob is lifted. No water. I'm laughing hysterically as I watch my son struggle (Yup, I guess I'm just that kind of mom) and he finally succeeds -- for about half a second and then the ice cold water is shooting up his nose. Nice.
James gets mad and swears off the water fountain. Story of my life.
Yesterday, while picking up James from daycare, Evan had the responsibility to check the cubby and folder and get all of James' stuff together. I had the opportunity to do what I love doing best: watching James discover something new.
As soon as he saw me, James gave a quick acknowledgment that I existed and then ran over to the water fountain. Apparently, he had been eying it for a while. I watched as he turned the knob on the fountain, amazing himself that he was making the water shoot out. He pointed at it and smiled so I'd approve and he turned the knob again. Impressive. After that, out shoots the tongue. He's on this tippy toes now, tongue hanging out like a little Gene Simmons. I think he may have seen this done before! However, each time he has to lean in to try to get some water, the pressure he is using to turn the knob is lifted. No water. I'm laughing hysterically as I watch my son struggle (Yup, I guess I'm just that kind of mom) and he finally succeeds -- for about half a second and then the ice cold water is shooting up his nose. Nice.
James gets mad and swears off the water fountain. Story of my life.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Rule #2 - Kids are smarter than you...usually
At our last apartment, we lived right next to a canal. During the spring/summer, mosquitos were everywhere! I kid you not--there was a blanket of winged bugs on the ceiling above my front door 8 months out of the year. Being a new mom and terrified by the latest West Nile reports on the news, it was the mosquitos that made us move. (Well, that and our neighbors asking if we'd hide their weapons for them every time a SWAT team raided the area...)
In any case, I am NOT a fan of bugs. After James came along, I've been especially paranoid about making sure no bugs got in the house. Once, when James was about a year old, I stood outside the door for about 10 minutes at 11:00 p.m. to wait for the gigantic, prehistoric bug to mosey on his way and leave the entry way.
Last night, I failed. James and his dad were eating dinner when I ran out to go check the mail. Preoccupied with a bill, I failed to notice the giant "mosquito" (Evan claims it's some kind of fly, but it's one of those mosquito-looking bugs with the huge wings and super long legs) and let it in the house. I immediately closed the bedroom doors and turned all of the lights on, hoping the little guy would be attracted to the lights, land somewhere and we'd smash it before anyone went to bed with the fear of that guy landing on your face.
The boys finished dinner. No sighting. James played a little. No sighting. Bath time. No sighting. James ran around the house in the buff, spoon in one hand, Elmo in the other. No sighting. James gets dressed. I see the little bastard. Of course he was near the ceiling and I'm not 6 foot tall, so Evan had the responsibilty of taking him out. Well, he missed. James suddenly seemed very interested and picked up the envelope Evan was trying to swat the bug with and starting flailing it around in the air - reenacting how Evan could not hit the bug. Good times. Now the bug was somewhere else, but I had only hoped injured and would crawl in a corner and die.
Two minutes later, James is pointing under the table, asking "What's that?" I kept saying "It's a table, bud" before thinking there might be more to this... Yup, my buddy found the baddy. I swear, the kid can spot airplanes hundreds of miles away, it seems and he can also spot a very skinny bug. He's got better vision than his dad and me for sure. Evan swatted and missed again.
Five minutes later, I was reading when James came up to me and says "Mama". I say "Yup, I'm Mama". James repeats himself. So do I. His voice is getting aggitated now. I repeat myself. Finally he yells over my shoulder "Daddy!" I say "Yup, that's Daddy." The poor kid. He probably wanted to grab my shirt and drag me over to the corner where he was TRYING to show us that he found the bug. But instead he would be stuck with his stupid Mom assuming her son was stating the obvious.
Evan eventually killed the bug (no thanks to me, apparently) and James went on playing, knowing he didn't have to look for the bug anymore and that his mother is an idiot.
In any case, I am NOT a fan of bugs. After James came along, I've been especially paranoid about making sure no bugs got in the house. Once, when James was about a year old, I stood outside the door for about 10 minutes at 11:00 p.m. to wait for the gigantic, prehistoric bug to mosey on his way and leave the entry way.
Last night, I failed. James and his dad were eating dinner when I ran out to go check the mail. Preoccupied with a bill, I failed to notice the giant "mosquito" (Evan claims it's some kind of fly, but it's one of those mosquito-looking bugs with the huge wings and super long legs) and let it in the house. I immediately closed the bedroom doors and turned all of the lights on, hoping the little guy would be attracted to the lights, land somewhere and we'd smash it before anyone went to bed with the fear of that guy landing on your face.
The boys finished dinner. No sighting. James played a little. No sighting. Bath time. No sighting. James ran around the house in the buff, spoon in one hand, Elmo in the other. No sighting. James gets dressed. I see the little bastard. Of course he was near the ceiling and I'm not 6 foot tall, so Evan had the responsibilty of taking him out. Well, he missed. James suddenly seemed very interested and picked up the envelope Evan was trying to swat the bug with and starting flailing it around in the air - reenacting how Evan could not hit the bug. Good times. Now the bug was somewhere else, but I had only hoped injured and would crawl in a corner and die.
Two minutes later, James is pointing under the table, asking "What's that?" I kept saying "It's a table, bud" before thinking there might be more to this... Yup, my buddy found the baddy. I swear, the kid can spot airplanes hundreds of miles away, it seems and he can also spot a very skinny bug. He's got better vision than his dad and me for sure. Evan swatted and missed again.
Five minutes later, I was reading when James came up to me and says "Mama". I say "Yup, I'm Mama". James repeats himself. So do I. His voice is getting aggitated now. I repeat myself. Finally he yells over my shoulder "Daddy!" I say "Yup, that's Daddy." The poor kid. He probably wanted to grab my shirt and drag me over to the corner where he was TRYING to show us that he found the bug. But instead he would be stuck with his stupid Mom assuming her son was stating the obvious.
Evan eventually killed the bug (no thanks to me, apparently) and James went on playing, knowing he didn't have to look for the bug anymore and that his mother is an idiot.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Rule #1 - Be a lover, not a fighter
Yesterday, Evan and I popped in to my son's daycare to pick him up for the day. As we walked into his classroom, there he was, being the perfect angel. There was no screaming, no whining, and he was picking up all the toys scattered around the room. I should have known better. As he walked from one toy to another, putting them in their assigned cubbie, James kept looking back at Evan and I. He was smiling and cleaning, ensuring that we saw what an awesome job he was doing, helping out his teachers. I almost bought it.
We were then told that James had a couple of "incident reports". Initially, this wasn't a big deal. There used to a period where Evan and I would take bets on whether James would have an incident report that day or not. Generally, it just meant that some kid bit him or he fell and hurt himself. Not this time.
"James has been very rough and hitting his friends today. He pulled some of his friends' hair. When someone would be in his way, he would push them down. He also hit one of his teachers today."
Certainly, this little hell-raiser wasn't MY kid. Fortunately for us, the abused teacher was still there and went on to tell us that James had simply walked up to her and smacked her in the face for no reason. Nice. Nothing like your 2-year-old son slapping around a 20-year-old lady to make you feel like a bad parent.
So, to teach him a lesson, we took him home and smacked him around...well, actually we didn't. The teacher even mentioned that he knew what he was doing was wrong. After each kid/adult he violated/tormented/punished, he apologized with his puppy eyes and kisses. That doesn't excuse it at all, but I have to admit that I could just see me being on a future episode of Nanny 911 or something.
Later that night, he couldn't STOP snuggling. I'm sure the fact that we don't bite, push, or harass him might have something to do with it. Or the fact that he was watching American Idol and was extremely happy about it...in any case, we'll just have to see how this one pans out and hope that there is no incident report today....unless it's because he ran into another wall.
We were then told that James had a couple of "incident reports". Initially, this wasn't a big deal. There used to a period where Evan and I would take bets on whether James would have an incident report that day or not. Generally, it just meant that some kid bit him or he fell and hurt himself. Not this time.
"James has been very rough and hitting his friends today. He pulled some of his friends' hair. When someone would be in his way, he would push them down. He also hit one of his teachers today."
Certainly, this little hell-raiser wasn't MY kid. Fortunately for us, the abused teacher was still there and went on to tell us that James had simply walked up to her and smacked her in the face for no reason. Nice. Nothing like your 2-year-old son slapping around a 20-year-old lady to make you feel like a bad parent.
So, to teach him a lesson, we took him home and smacked him around...well, actually we didn't. The teacher even mentioned that he knew what he was doing was wrong. After each kid/adult he violated/tormented/punished, he apologized with his puppy eyes and kisses. That doesn't excuse it at all, but I have to admit that I could just see me being on a future episode of Nanny 911 or something.
Later that night, he couldn't STOP snuggling. I'm sure the fact that we don't bite, push, or harass him might have something to do with it. Or the fact that he was watching American Idol and was extremely happy about it...in any case, we'll just have to see how this one pans out and hope that there is no incident report today....unless it's because he ran into another wall.
The Intro
Myspace was getting a little old. I must have changed the focus of this blog so many times and deleted so many things that any following I had I'm sure has given up on me already.
But that's how I roll.
Welcome to my life. I've been engaged for 3 years to an amazing guy, but I think we're both too scared to make the official transition to husband and wife. We've got problems like everyone else, but ours seem to be that much more important. Who am I kidding? They are. yuk, yuk
In 2007, we welcomed our son, James. My entire life has shifted dramatically since his arrival. Who I want to be, what I want to do in life, how I spend my days, whether my cereal comes in a box or a bag,...everything changed the minute I first saw him. He's my little dude and with him around, life just can't get ANY better.
Being a mom was the last thing I think anyone, including myself, ever thought I would be. I wasn't a huge fan of kids and honestly, the human body disgusts me. Health class was not my forte. But life happens, and I think I've got it all figured out. Or I'd like to tell myself so....
But that's how I roll.
Welcome to my life. I've been engaged for 3 years to an amazing guy, but I think we're both too scared to make the official transition to husband and wife. We've got problems like everyone else, but ours seem to be that much more important. Who am I kidding? They are. yuk, yuk
In 2007, we welcomed our son, James. My entire life has shifted dramatically since his arrival. Who I want to be, what I want to do in life, how I spend my days, whether my cereal comes in a box or a bag,...everything changed the minute I first saw him. He's my little dude and with him around, life just can't get ANY better.
Being a mom was the last thing I think anyone, including myself, ever thought I would be. I wasn't a huge fan of kids and honestly, the human body disgusts me. Health class was not my forte. But life happens, and I think I've got it all figured out. Or I'd like to tell myself so....
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