When Leon or I am sick, he hates to go to school and when he is here, he will bring ice packs, aspirin, wet washcloths and as many hugs, kisses and cuddles as we will take. There are many nights that he went to bed on a Friday night at 7:30 because I was sick with a migraine and laying there. He would lay next to me, patting my hand, and would eventually drift off.

There is a certain sense of guilt that comes with having chronic pain–that burden that you place on the people around you. The feelings that you may have of feeling like less of a person some days often express themselves at the weakest moments and not always in the best of ways. They often present in anger, misery or irritability. AJ is immune to that when someone is sick.

This isn’t to say that he doesn’t have his egocentric “me me me” side, because he certainly does, but it has never been as strong as I expected. And I’m watching him shed it rapidly and sooner than the developmental scales predict and I wonder about the kind of man he’ll become, and how quickly it will happen. Will I ever be ready for it? People keep telling me to have more children. My guess is that they recognize that there is so much love within me for this little guy that it breaks me.

I worry less about it when I see that I haven’t done an awful job and that my health issues haven’t affected him so dramatically. As he was going to bed tonight, he kissed my cheek, hugged me tightly and said, “I hope you feel better tomorrow, mama.” Then, he gave me the dimpled grin that melts my heart and he and his hoppy little weiner dog went to sleep.

Somehow, I think we’re all going to be alright…

Until recently, I have never really been a Beatles fan. I always associated The Beatles with the bee bop music they did in the late 50s, and I disliked it. Then recently we got Rock Band: The Beatles and that all changed. I realized that I knew dozens of good songs from the 60s (mostly from movies and the like) that were Beatles songs and I just never knew it.

As a consequence of my not being a fan of the Beatles, and my wife not listening to them very much, AJ was also never really exposed to The Beatles until Rock Band came along. Instantly, he was hooked. He bee bopped along with the music and shook his groove thang all night long while we played. Eventually, he asked something he’s never asked about a band before: “Dad, can we go see the Beatles play?” The following conversation then ensued:

Me: “No, buddy, they’re not making music anymore.”
AJ: “Why not?”
Me: “Well, two of them are dead now, but before that, they broke up.”
AJ: “How did they die?”
Me: (Not exactly remembering at that moment how George Harrison died) “Well, one of them got shot.”
AJ: (in horror) “WHY WOULD SOMEONE SHOOT ONE OF BEATLES?! THEY’RE SO NICE!!”
Me: :blank stare: “Honestly, I have no idea.”

I will tell you that since that conversation, I have had to learn about the history of The Beatles, because there has been a neverending blitz of questions from AJ about The Beatles: which ones are alive, which ones are dead, how they died, whether the ones who are still alive are still singing, and most importantly whehter we will ever get to meet any of The Beatles. I’ve had to repeat most of this information four or five times; AJ wanted to learn it well enough so that he could tell other people all about The Beatles as well, and I have caught him more than once telling other people “did you know” facts about the Beatles.

Now here is how I know AJ will have good musical taste for the rest of his life: on Saturday, we went out trick-or-treating on a street here in town where all the houses were decked out in Halloween garb. One of them had a KISS cover band, complete with costumes and make-up. We stopped to watch them for a couple minutes, then proceeded down the street. As we were walking away, AJ turned to me in disgust and said, “Why do people dress up like KISS?? They’re not popular.” Then he shrugged and said dismissively, “They’re dead anyway.” I informed him that they were not dead, and he shrugged again and walked off. I haven’t heard a question about KISS since.

That’s my boy.

It was time to get out of the house and try to regain sanity after being sick most all of the week.

A.J. had scrounged up some pocket change. I have no idea where he found it, but my guess is that he raided couches and bathrooms and tables. He had almost $5. In little boy world, this is a fortune and can be spent on things that will drive your parents absolutely nuts.

He’d scored some Halloween window clings from the $1 bin and some matchbox cars. Of course, they had to be done in separate trips to a very patient cashier who counted out his change with him. She deserves an award.

As we walked out to the car, in the pouring rain, without umbrellas or coats (we laugh in the face of pneumonia), I heard him softly singing next to me: “I ammmm a happy boy, a happy boooooy, a happy BOY! I ammmm a happy boy, a happy booooy, a hap-eeee-BOY!”

I guess we’re doing something right.

AJ: “Mom, can we get some shade over here? I’m really hot?”
Me: “How would you like me to do that?”
AJ: “I don’t know, but I’m really hot.”
Me: “I tell you what, I can turn up the air, but that’s all I can do. I’m sorry I can’t turn off the sun for you.”

May 15, 2009

Last night, I’d broken down and had Leon get us some cookies to satisfy a minor craving I’d been having. We’d had them less than 24 hours and had hidden them from AJ because the only thing he likes more than cookies and cake is ice cream.

He went in the kitchen to find a spoon and lo and behold:

Messenger conversation:3:45pm
Me: He has already found the cookies. Amazing.
Leon: What? What was he looking for?
Me: A spoon. Even though they were right in front of his face. I’m telling you–he has cookie sixth sense.

May 16, 2009

We’d gotten up early for a Little League game that had, at the last minute, been canceled due to rain, but could possibly be rescheduled for later in the day. AJ was trying to decide which of the dogs I would bring to the game with me, as is normal for us.

Me: “I don’t know that I will bring any dog to the game. You don’t get to decide if I bring one because you don’t have to keep an eye on them during the game.”

AJ: (eyeing me closely and shrewdly) “You can always go back to bed.”

Was he implying I was cranky?

1. People in glass houses should not…….throw balls. (Can you tell we have a rule here?)
2. Better to be safe than……..unsafe. (Um…..)
3. Strike while the……batter’s not looking. (He does love baseball.)
4. It’s always darkest before……midnight.
5. Never underestimate the power of ……coca-cola. (Someone has been watching too much television.)
6. You can lead a horse to water but…….. not to food. (huh?)
7. Don’t bite the hand that ……. what hand?
8. No news is …….. un-news! (We don’t quite have opposites down, do we?)
9. A miss is as good as a …… clean room. (Miss, mess, whatever.)
10. You can’t teach an old dog….. to run. (Well…)
11. If you lie down with dogs, you…… hurt them. (Again, we have rules.)
12. Love all, trust…..your mom. (A-men. Preach it.)
13. Where there is smoke, there is…….fire. (Heh.)
14. Happy is the bride who….got married. (He’s creative, this one.)
15. A penny saved, is…..put in a piggy bank. (Fair enough.)
16. Two is company, three is …….what? I don’t get it at all. (This was met with 3 minutes of consternation.)
17. Children should be seen and not…… distracted. (??????)
18. If at first you don’t succeed……you fail. (…. ….. …. I guess he’s a realist…)

“Yes. No. I don’t know, maybe.”

Color me confused because this is not the reaction I would have if I was in my last week of school. Most of his classmates cannot wait to get out of school. Earlier in the week, he’d asked me if he could get his teacher, Mrs. C, a card and I’d said yes. After Leon came home from work, we headed to Target, to get some necessities, some non-necessities and the card for Mrs. C.

Immediately, after arriving at home from the store, AJ began digging in the sack for his card for Mrs. C. I asked him to write her a short note and then sign it. When he showed it to me, I immediately saw why he was so sad to be leaving school.

Thank you for all you did for us this year. Your the best teacher. In the world. don’t leave But say goodby .

(all spelling errors, punctuation and smilies are AJ’s)

He asked me to not take a picture of his writing, but even the writing looked sad on the card. He looked at me and whispered that he “didn’t want to leave Mrs. C” and that he would “miss her so much.”

I’ve mentioned before that this particular teacher made a huge impact on my child. The knowledge that he has is that he will either have a teacher that understands him and his learning style or he won’t. I think there is quite a bit of fear that he will have a teacher that doesn’t and that he will be in the same position he occupied in K-1, where the teachers often misunderstood him.

As a mom, it’s time for me to step in and remind him that he was lucky to have this teacher while he did and that she was precious. However, we’ve learned that he is capable of putting forth a great effort and making some amazing changes in himself that serve him well no matter who he has as a teacher. He will still be in the same school and this teacher will be loving and supportive of him regardless of whether or not he is in her classroom. We will say goodbye gently and lovingly and remember what she has taught him about himself and life and tackling challenges that seem insurmountable. I cannot thank her enough for teaching him something that I could not teach him at the time.

It truly takes a community to raise a child. I’m thankful for the one in which I live. They are wonderful people.

When I finished reading I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. Better her than me, I thought to myself. Jen will likely defriend me at this point, and rightfully so, as I should be commiserating with her, but in the age of Chuck-e-Cheese, I’m just thankful I didn’t get roped into this particular dilemna.

AJ has never had a large party. When I go to adult parties, other parents are very quick to judge me when I state this fact. The response is usually a tightening of the lips, a shake of the head and a “but, don’t you think he’s missing out?” or some equally insane statement. If you just relaxed your lips, stopped shaking your head and closed your mouth, then we need to talk in a very serious way.

As a toddler, a big party would have been more for the adults. Consider the statement “Aw, look at all the cute little ones in their cute little pointy hats and their faces all smooshed with cake. Isn’t it precious?” That cute, precious, pointy party would have cost about $200 and he would have ended up with a bunch of presents that would have put people out of grocery money. For the $200, we could buy him presents and those people could buy their groceries. So, we chose to have small parties, spend less than $25 (usually) on a party for him, us, family and close friends and spend a bit on presents (not $200, for the record).

As he gets older, now 8, we still don’t do big parties. This year, we asked what he would like to do on his birthday. He chose to see a movie. That gets expensive with many people, so the compromise was that he could choose ONE friend to take to the movie and then we’d do the bells and whistles for them: ANYTHING they wanted from the snack bar and they got to pick any G rated movie they wanted to see. You would think they died and went to high fructose corn syrup heaven. Before the movie, they went to the McDonald’s and ate dinner and played in the playland for two hours. AJ said it was “the best birthday ever!” and so did his friend.

By keeping his party expectations low, we don’t have to worry about upsets. Sure, he like attending birthday parties, but he also is an introvert who likes a small get together, too. He’d rather have presents and get to do whatever he wants on his day than a 2 hour party.

Another family we know did something similar. They did the big Chuck-e-Cheese party, but they invited family and they allowed their child to choose one kid to come as a guest (AJ) and so they saved money on tokens and all the extras and the child still got the special feeling that a kid gets from doing all the birthday stuff at Chuck-e-Cheese.

To Jen, what about doing a lollipop lottery? Get some dum dums and whoever gets the dum dums with a mark on them gets to come to your 3-4 person party? To everyone else, I’m just glad I’m still worrying about this kind of thing instead of beer parties.

Without further ado:

~Le Interview~

Me: “Hey, AJ, can we talk for a minute?”

AJ: “What? Hmm?”

Me: “I want to do an interview with you for my blog?”

AJ: “No.”

Me: “Please? They’re questions about me, not you?”

*He sticks his nose back into his Diary of a Wimpy Kid book again*

Me: “Please?”

Him: “I already said Yes!” (When did he say that?)

Me: “Are you ready?”

Him: “Uh-huh”

Me:  ”Can you stop reading for a minute?”

Him: “Why? It’ll keep me busy.”

The Questions:

What is something I always say to you? “I love you.”

What makes me sad? “Um, when I’m not around.”

How do I make you laugh? “I told you not to tell people online how you make me laugh.” (apparently these are State secrets)

What do you think I was like as a child? “Only eating bread.” “I only ate bread?” “Uh huh?” (What the heck?)

How old am I? “20-mrph” (He got it absolutely right!)

How tall am I? “I don’t know” Me: “Guess!” Him: “About 10 feet tall” (pretty close, I’d say!)

What is my favorite thing to do? “Spend time with me.” (right on the money)

What do I do when you’re not around? “Play the Wii.” Me: “Is that it?” Him: “Yep!”

If I become famous, what will it be for? “I do NOT know!”

What am I really good at? “Work.” Me: “Is that it?” Him: “mmm-hmm” (nose is still in Wimpy Kid and I’m about to trash that book)

What am I not really good at? “I can’t tell you because I don’t really know and that would make you sad. You know that.” (Little bugger is chock full of empathy now)

What is my job? “To make people, please don’t type when I talk, when they’re mad, to make people happy.” (fair approximation)

What is my favorite food? “Pah-sketti” (Not quite)

What makes you proud of me? “That you buy me stuff.” (Ugh)

What makes me proud of you? (He cannot stop laughing long enough to answer me, which probably does not bode well for me as a mother)

What do you and I do together? “Just go to the store.” Me: “That’s it?” Him: “Yeah”

How are we the same? “We both have a mouth.” (true dat)

How are you and I different? “I don’t wear glasses.”

How do you know that I love you? “Because you buy me a lot of stuff.” (well, then)

What is one thing you wish you could change about me? “Nothing!” Me: “you wouldn’t change anything about me?” Him: “No! Why?” (AWWWWWW!)

What do you wish you could go and do with me? “Make you buy video games.” (not in this lifetime, buddy)

Me: “We’re done! Thanks, AJ!”
Him: “Bye.” (nose back in book)
This child is SPOILED!

A view from the road

Anyway, the trip there was quiet and I expected the trip back to be quiet as well. Until the turtle. Woe to us. Oh, woe, woe to parents everywhere who have children who desperately feel the need to make a home into an ark. As you can see, if you’ve perused my family page, we have a full house. If anything, I’d get another dog or some fish before we added anything outside of those creatures to this home. However, AJ and his cousin Lola (not a showgirl, just a fierce, smart, pretty, funny 8-year old girl), had been exploring in the back yard with a rabid cat and their big imaginations.

The rabid cat has been slumming on my mother’s porch for a while now. My mother hates cats and would like nothing more than to club it. We’re animal lovers and AJ would not forgive her for the transgression, so she has resigned herself to yelling at it and waving her hands like a woman on fire when she sees the cat. Lola, also an animal lover, and AJ, decided to play in the backyard with the cat because it was far from the disapproving adult eyes. The cat, however, was hungry, so he/she was on the prowl and found a turtle who, until this point, had been minding it’s own business in the backyard.

AJ and Lola found a plastic Crayola sidewalk chalk box and proudly showed off their new pet. Lola’s dad identified the turtle as a box turtle and the fight quickly began over 1/what the name of the turtle would be and 2/who would get to keep the turtle. AJ wanted to name the turtle Harold. AJ wants to name every animal Harold. The fight over the name wasn’t with Lola, it was with me and how every pet didn’t have to be named Harold. That lasted about 5 minutes with Lola finally chiming in that SHE wanted that turtle and since she saw it first it was hers.

Now, the day before had been a rough one for AJ and Lola. They play really well together and enjoy time with each other, but it had turned into a screaming match after hours in the car while we went to another cousin’s graduation. This turtle could have been the end of this friendship/cousinhood. Lola’s mom tactfully offered that they have a creek and could always find turtles. It didn’t matter. Lola wanted this one and she’d found it fair and square. AJ felt like he deserved it because he’d named it Harold. He. named. it. Harold. Why does he always name everything Harold?

Leon settled this by stating a statute about turtles getting confused out of their habitat so it’s not legal to move them. I have no idea as to the genuineness of this statement, but AJ accepted it because his “dad knows legal stuff.” Later, however, AJ proved that he’s definitely my son. His critically thinking little mind popped out with “DADDY! I can have this turtle!” He beamed. “This turtle isn’t a BOX turtle because I found it straight out and then PUT it into the box. It didn’t come in the box and there wasn’t a box around it when I found it, so it’s not a BOX turtle.”

Yep. That’s my boy.

And he didn’t get to keep the turtle.

You may have noticed that the rain is affecting us. Friday morning, the thunder was so loud that Duder, our Wheaton terrier, jumped up on my bed at 6:32am and whined at me that she was scared. I “mphed” at her, which is the equivilent of “I love you, I’m soothing you, but you’d better let me sleep if you don’t want to go out in the rain.” Also, I’ve been much happier the last two weeks, which is a side effect of the rain because I love storms. And, lastly, Aj’s games have been cancelled due to weather.

Besides our friend Harold that came to visit us, and his extended family, too, we’ve also had some other visitors. We’ve inherited a colony of snails that have decided to make the area around my front porch home, as an oasis from the storms. I’m not a huge fan of slime, but they are so darn cute that I almost can’t stand it. Also, AJ loves to play with them and watch them, so can I really complain? They, by far, have the worse end of this deal. Adrian picks them up, examines their anatomy (I hope they aren’t modest!), places them in new spots and spends hours just looking at them. They are so much cheaper than toys.

Dear snails,

You and your friends are welcome in my front yard for as long as you wish to remain. Please continue to fascinate my child. Once you do not, you will go the way of the wooly mammoth.

Sincerely,
Blueshelled

I admit it.

I like watching my son play Little League ball.

I more than like it.

I may be addicted.

For the last week, it’s been raining cats, dogs, iguanas and banana popsicles where I live. What that means is that my poor little boy has not been able to play his baseball and his poor parents have been missing their socialization time. It’s not something the league advertises; It’s simply a perk of being the parent of a talented little player. You become part of the screaming, yelling, slowly losing their sportsmanlike behavior exhibiting pack of hyenas known as Ball parents.

We’re the ones that make the poor high school Umps wish they’d taken that job at the Baskin Robbins. We love our kids and it’s almost impossible to tone down those Mama Bear instincts. I’m not saying we don’t try, but what you have to remember is that, if our kid is in a sport, chances are that one or both of his or her parents were in a sport. It’s hard to turn off that team spirit aka the “argue button.”

I first realized this was a problem for me when AJ played basketball. Out of nowhere, the words would come flying out of my mouth. “C’mon Ref! How come you didn’t call that?” The refs at the local Y didn’t appreciate that as it’s supposed to be a place motivated by the love of Christ. I was motivated by…look, he was BLIND! Couldn’t he see it was a foul?! You get the picture.

Baseball is much better for me. I played basketball for only a year, but softball for 8. To say I love everything about the sport is an understatement and having AJ play baseball is awesome for both of us because Leon played baseball as well. We don’t care about him winning, we just want him to do his best.

I just lied. To you.

I want him to skunk the soup out of those other little boys. I want them to run after his hits and overthrow his bases. I want him to raise his hands and jump on the bases and I’ll even let him twirl on third like he did last week (please don’t ask). I am FAR too competitive and I’m aware of my fault.

Baseball has been gone for a week. Little league is better than the majors, in my opinion. I miss it so much that I was tempted to pick a fight in the grocery store tonight just so I could ask someone if they were blind. With my luck, I’d pick on the one blind person in the store.

Come back, little league. I need other parents that understand and an outlet for my aggression.

As I waited for AJ, I watched as the teachers pulled out their umbrellas and personally escorted the little ones to their waiting cars. It occurred to me how NICE a gesture this was, especially considering how all of us selfish parents were just sitting in the cars being content to let the children we love get a little rained on in order to stay comfortable ourselves. What? Rain makes the flowers grow. Surely it won’t hurt a child. The teachers, however, were so considerate and I remembered how much this school means to me and AJ, yet again.

For the first two years of his education, we struggled. He had difficulty focusing in class and learning to read was just about the end of everyone’s sanity. When we moved into our home, however, he switched schools (same district, though) and we found magic. A new teacher with infinite patience and the capability to help him learn in ways that no one was able to before now. Immediately, the same child who, until now, had struggled with putting 3 words together in a book, was reading 90 page books in an evening. He was doing his homework and was one of the top spellers in his class. I recently got his progress report and he’s grown by leaps and bounds this year. All because one teacher cared enough to figure out how he learns. If you get a good teacher, encourage that teacher. We need more of them.

I’m off topic, though. When AJ got into the car, he asked if I had a pencil. I knew what he was up to and told him that I didn’t and his homework would have to wait until we got home. AJ comes from a line of overachievers. His grandmother just got her Bachelors degree and has always worked hard at every job she’s ever had. I don’t ever feel like what I’m doing at any job or school is ever enough and, thus, I get my work done early and do a little extra. AJ is the third in the line of high expectations. When we pulled into our driveway, he’d conjured a pencil and I saw him with his homework, held up to the window as a flat surface, finishing up.

We need a support group. The apple didn’t fall from the tree.