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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
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.
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