secrets

b. whispers in my ear,

i want you to come to my birthday party.

“what would happen if i didn’t?”

“IT WOULD BE RUINED!”

you got that right, buddy.  he’s at least as wise as his almost five years.

lymi

ode to orange crush

dear orange crush,

(long, contemplative, pause)

you died.  and now i’m very sorry.  SO, my dad has to take care of my next fish.

i’m done.

b.

farewell

i never got this upset over my own pet fish dying (remember?).  but when S. got home tonight (after the boys had gone to bed), he noticed that orange crush was bottoms up.  i jumped up and went to investigate.  sure enough, OC was definitely a goner.

i’m sad for b.  he hasn’t paid too much attention to his pet lately, but he does show him off very proudly and happily when guests notice the fish.  i think he’ll be sad, so i’m sad for him.

if i’m this sad sharing b.’s probable “grief” over his first dead fish, i cringe to consider all of the forthcoming sympathy pains i’ll be experiencing for the next umpteen years.  aiya.  these are the things that folks don’t warn you about before you become a parent, eh?

lymi

innocents

this post on finslippy reminded me of a similar experience we had last year.  you know this story, but i thought it worth writing down for posterity.

we were on our way to london to visit your new home for the first time.  i had bought the boys each a new cars movie character for the trip — the then-coveted “chick hicks.”  prior to that trip, they had used the black london cab that you had sent over as “chick” in their cars pretend play.

sitting in one of the many airports we visited during that trip, a waiting room neighbor solicitously asked the boys about their cars.  b. proudly and loudly explains that they’re playing with “chick hicks.  green ones.”  he goes on to SHOUT out,

we have a black chick at home!

followed by my own deliberately loud explanations of said proclamation, complete with furtive glances around the room.

can’t wait to see what memories our next trip will produce.

lymi

word(s) count

lately, after i enjoin n., i end with the standard review … “what did i say?”

his candid response is,

that’s a lot of words, mama.

i hear him, i do.  but how to make my instructions more lucid?  concise?  cogent?

maybe everything i say should be limited to the length of a tweet.  if only i could be programmed so that my voice would just mute after a certain number of characters.  wouldn’t that be a blessing to us all?

lymi

how do you not laugh?

n. greeted me this morning with all-out, knock-down wailing.  i thought he was upset that daddy had left, as i’d just heard the door close downstairs.  turns out that S. turned off the tv, which set off the histrionics.

and on from there.  non-stop fussing.  whining galore.  and you KNOW how much i love whining.

so i was just sitting in front of him, getting him dressed, and i say, “n., are you going to keep fussing today??  yes or no?”  and he sort of whimpers, in all seriousness,

yes or no.

i try not to smile.  i say, “n., are you going to change your attitude?  yes or no?”

yes or no.

oh brother.

lymi

one thing i don’t have to worry about…

…is b. having separation issues.  hardly ever has.

monday, i was crowing (if only to myself and S.) about how grateful i am that b. is so adaptable.  he walked into his new camp class, a bit wary, but sat down and kissed me good-bye, with nary a fuss.

tuesday, same deal.  happy to go.  wanted to go “for the rest of the summer!” he’d proclaimed.

wednesday … well, hesitation.  i thought it was because his friend from school (who’s always had separation issues) was refusing to go into the room.  he watched her with rapt attention, and then started emulating her resistance.  but it was short lived, thank God.

today … same friend, same resistance.  add to that, some apparent incident with one of the older boys whom he’d befriended.  b. bothered him, the other boy bothered b.  no biggie, but to b., apparently it was.  sigh.  so we did a little tug of war this morning for about 10 mins.

i encouraged, i threatened, i reasoned, i cajoled … what i imagine many parents have to do much more frequently.  i imagined a morning with both boys.  i threatened some more.  i hugged, i kissed … i kissed, i hugged.  i threatened some more.

finally, he went in and sat down, none too happily.  i felt awful.  i nearly went back to just take him home.

we’ve dealt with this plenty with n. but so very rarely with b. that i think i was more frustrated by the unexpected nature of it.

now i know what friends with older (relatively speaking) kids who don’t separate well feel.  learning empathy kinda sucks…

lymi

let the games begin!

the boys are getting into the spirit of the Olympic games by turning every single minute activity into a competitive event (as little boys are wont to do).  case in point.

i come out of the shower to hear what appears to be lovely cooperative “band” play.  b. is singing “i love you” from barney, in a winningly enthusiastic manner (to make up for his creative musical and lyrical license).  n. is banging away playing the drums on the tambourine.

the song ends, and n. proclaims,

ringo (of the beatles) and herbert (of 64 zoo lane) WIN!

huh?  win what?  the preschool battle of the bands???

another funny bit …

n. just shouted to b.

ok, john lemon??

apparently, they haven’t “soured” on the beatles.  hahaha!

lymi

a new day

i think there must be something in the air because i’ve talked to several moms who felt the weird funk i felt earlier this week.  hmm.  well, the good news is that the black cloud blew past once more.  it will surely come again, but i’m grateful that they do always pass, and so far, the kids don’t bear permanent damage (well, as far as i know).

we’ve had some great shining moments this week, despite my generally unpleasant disposition.  b. has made amazing progress with his swimming.  he’s getting to be so capable at underwater swimming!  so much better than i am, already   and n. has quickly learned by his example.  so cool.  it makes me just beam.

then b. showed that some of what i’ve been teaching him has sunk in.  not just the behavior modification stuff, but the character stuff.  he corrected n. when n. declared another boy “bad! because he always hits b.”  despite the fact that b. had expressed a similar sentiment a couple of weeks ago when he was the victim of the boy, i guess our talk about befriending him actually stuck!  b. told n. that the boy isn’t bad, he just makes mistakes sometimes.  sigh.  so satisfying to find out that, occasionally, they DO listen to your incessant ramblings!

and then after our playdate, we found out that b. is positively influencing his friends with his generosity.  friends have started adopting his great new routine of giving away toys to kids when they visit.  his friend imitated this today and his mom gave b. the credit.  so cool!

oh, and n. is doing really well with his potty training!  #1 is well on the way.  #2 not so much.  1 step at a time.

thank God for progress.  today was our 2 steps forward.  maybe this post will help me bear up better with the inevitable 1 step back.

lymi

1 step back

i know this sounds juvenile, but why can’t we just keep moving forward, rather than perpetually performing the “2 steps forward, 1 step back” routine?  it’s exhausting.

every time i feel like i’m/we’re making some progress in terms of marriage, parenting, what have you … there’s that cosmic smack on the back of the head to keep me humble.  the glitch is that sometimes the effect is what is intended — i learn, i grow — and others, not so much.  sometimes i just feel like sitting down and not getting back up from the weariness of the fight.

i know, fight the good fight, finish the race, yadda yadda (i’m guessing it’s sacrilege to yadda yadda scripture??).  but dang.

i’ve never been particularly good with choreography (recall my first attempts at step?) so maybe that’s why i’m so clumsy when it comes to this little dance of life…

miss you guys.

lymi