How to Make Me Laugh

How I know there wasn’t a mix up at the hospital...

I’m folding laundry and Connor is jumping up on the bed. It’s 8:15pm.

Me: In just a minute it’s time for bed.

Connor: NO! I want to watch dat Jungle Book! I want to watch dat Jungle Book!

Me: You have no interest in “dat Jungle Book”

Connor: Yes! Yes! I do have inra… I DO WANT TO WATCH DAT JUNGLE BOOK.

Me: Ok, What’s it about?

Connor: It’s about to be on that TV right now!

Happy Burp-Day

Tonight I witnessed something both impressive and terrifying as Connor learned a new skill. Tonight Connor taught himself, how to burp. All by himself. At the dinner table. Jorma and I had the same reaction to it, which was to ignore it, lest Connor decide that it might be something to he can add to his repertoire.

The repertoire is something that I like to think of as, “The Make Mommy Scream Collection”. This is a collection of sounds and body movements, that if done for a long enough or loud enough period of time, it’s just enough to make Mommy snap. But not enough of a snap to say, spank a bottom… rather just enough snap to put one in time out. Put one who is laughing in time out, because he just made Mommy disgruntled. BY SCREAMING THE WORD, “BLAH” OVER AND OVER WHILE DANCING AROUND ME, WITH HIS TOUNGUE HANGING OUT. It is such a blatant display and obvious attempt to annoy that I just can’t let it go. Not only is he annoying me, he is trying to annoy me… Now I’m not sure what the reason is. Maybe he’s bored, maybe he’s suddenly decided that Mommy is his new human experiment. Or maybe, after spending hours and hours with him a day, he still decides he hasn’t had enough attention and settles for whatever he can get… or maybe he’s just three.

So tonight at the table, he burped over, and over and over. Now that’s impressive for a three year old, I think. I didn’t learn to make myself burp until I was at least 10 and then I only learned it because the neighborhood boys taught me how. Connor figured it out in about 10 seconds. How in the hell am I going to get this kid to use his powers for good?

 

Dear Connor - 3 Years, 1 Month

Dear Connor,
You’ve been 3 for an entire month now and I have to say, despite all of the warnings, it’s not worse than 2 at all. No in fact, it seems so much better. I was warned by other Mommy friends that 3 is worse because it’s the age where you will start talking back. And talking back, you are…
Your favorite thing to say to us is, “I’M GOING TO PUT YOU IN THE FIRE!” You have no idea what it means, but the first time you said it you got such a reaction that you knew it had to be good. So you kept saying it, over and over. I’m not sure if your pre-school teacher has heard it or not, but I hope to God she doesn’t think that’s something that we’ve said to you. You got the idea from a movie called, Robots where in the end the evil robot she-villain gets thrown into a fire. It never occurred to me that this act of on screen violence would make such an impact on you. In fact, the first few times you said it, it sort of creeped me out. I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.

It’s not hard for me to listen to the talking back at all. What’s hard for me is not retorting. When you get mad and say you want to put me into the fire, I say, “You DON’T talk to Mommy that way!” in a stern voice. This is what comes out of my mouth because the filter that goes from my brain to my mouth is blocking the thing that I almost said first which is, “You’re going to feel the fire of my hand on your ass if you say that again”. You mellow me.

I’d like to save you from the sarcasm your father and I are so well equipped with if for no other reason to make your teen years more bearable for us. I catch myself, being sarcastic with you and try to reign myself in, although even though your 3 years old, sometimes the humor isn’t lost on you.

I think you are starting to reason a little bit more and I see you gaining a small amount of impulse control. The lack of impulse can be a danger to a child and it’s one of the things that’s kept me on my toes. The other day I took you to the grocery store and for the first time, did not put you into the cart. You only made a few efforts to stray, but came back to me when I called you. It made me notice something that I knew somewhere in the recess of my brain, but never thought it would affect me and that is, that anything at the grocery store that is below three feet high has either Dora the Explorer or Spiderman proudly displayed on it's package. I’m not sure how we managed to make it through without 5 boxes of Spiderman fruit snacks, but we did. And having a successful (although twice as long) trip to the store without having you fight to get out of the cart, made me feel like I had just swam the English Channel... but with less sharks.

We’ve been pumping you up with the whole “big boy” thing. Which is bittersweet for me. Being a big boy means, going bathroom on the potty and keeping your clothes on in public, which are all critical life lessons, but I think it’s hard for you, because sometimes you want to be a big boy and a baby all at the same time. I don’t think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be the baby. You are still held and cuddled and sometimes when I’m holding and cooing your brother I see you watching with interest out of the corner of my eye. Soon after, you’ll come and curl up in my lap, asking if you’re a big boy or a baby, to which I respond that you’ll always be my baby, even when you’re all grown up. I’m sure that’s something that will make you shudder with revulsion when you’re in high school, but I can feel it deep down in my soul... you’ll always be baby to me.
Love,
Mama

Dear Tristan - 14 Months

Dear Tristan,
Aren’t you just growing right on up? Babbling away, you spend the day following your brother, trying to open drawers, climb the back of the sofa or get into the fridge. You have determined that Mommy and Daddy are the taker away of all things fun and if you manage to sneak something out of the fridge door when we have it open, more often than not, you’ll take off at a dead run, (which looks more like a lopping gait) at an attempt to escape with it.You are so full of life and happiness, that sometimes, while running, you will be so busy smiling and giggling that you don’t see the wall in your way, or the leg stretched across the floor. If you are hurt we always comfort and soothe you when you are hurt, but I have to say, the wall thing… it’s pretty damn funny. And since you learned to bounce at such a young age, seldom are you actually hurt.

You’ve discovered that if you’re fast, you can take something from your brother and when I say fast, I mean snatch it as you are running past. Your brother’s new favorite word is, “That’s MINE!” and when you are brave enough to take something from him, he tears off after you. Causing Mommy or Daddy to become involved in the fray.

You are such a wiggle worm! Rarely do you have time for cuddling, so anxious are you to always get down and run around. You are an excellent climber and have the strength of a 3 year old, always surprising me with your ability to keep up with your brother who also is a climber. If it were possible the two of you would move across the furniture like a pair of felines, crossing the entire house with your feet never touching the floor.

You’ve gotten so much better about putting things in your mouth. Sometimes you put something in your mouth and then give me a questioning look. I shake my head back and forth, not even saying the word, “No” and you remove it and turn it over again and again for inspection. I’m so glad the mouth stage is almost over. It’s the one that freaks me out the most.You’ve been babbling like crazy, repeating what you can and practicing all the time. No-No is a favorite and you even use it in the correct context, for example while you are staring into the toilet or trashcan. You’ve discovered that you can so nono to just about anything which is not pleasurable to you, including diaper changes and going off to bed. You’ve finally started saying MaMa again and with intent.

The job that I’ve been working is cutting into my Tristan time and I’m starting to hate it. I wonder if you think of me during the day when I am absent like I think of you. When I come home from work the smile that you give me is filled with such adoration that it makes me happy and sad all at once. I’m happy because I get to see you again, but sad because I’ve missed that smile all day long. I’ve got a new respect for parents that work and have children, because it’s so hard to be away, especially when you don’t want to be and even if it’s only for the day.
I love you,
Mama

Eulogy for a Cat

Last Sunday, after a grueling five and a half hours at the Emergency Vet Clinic, I was forced to put Pink to sleep. He was suffering from kidney failure and everything that can go wrong with kidney failure had. In order to keep him alive, his weekly routine would have consisted of two shots, 35 pills, dialysis, and a special diet and would only give him a year to live. It was so hard to let go.Pink came into my life one hot summer 13 years ago, when I rescued him from a family that lived in the country and refused to get their 12 cats spayed or neutered. This resulted in kittens and kittens, which the dad of the family would take to the animal shelter each Summer. Although my disappointment that the family wouldn't get their animals spayed or neutered, greater was my desire to save at least one of them from that fate if I was able. That one was Pink.When he moved into the house, he quickly adopted the dog, Cocca, whom he nursed on, slept with and tormented until her dying day. He hated traveling, evidenced by the loud yowling in the car, each trip to the vet and by ruckus he made being put into a his cat carrier. He loved can foods, catnip and sleeping anywhere that I might move my body to while sleeping. He slept either on my bed or the dogs bed every night of his life, except when he was out hunting. Back in his younger days when he did hunt, he was a formidable predator, bringing us gifts that we were sometimes amazed he was able to catch. And some that we weren’t. Moths beware. And then there was the ones that he brought to Connor. One word describes his hunting prowess and that word is, ew. Pink loved sitting on the edge of the bathtub, draping his tail into the water and getting rubbed down with wet hands. If I was taking a hot bath he was sure to come in for his bath and once complete would curl up on the bed to sleep. He had a good life and I’m glad he was part of our family. He was 12 years old. He will be dearly missed.

Halloween

I wanted to do a quick post to just show everyone how adorable our children are... especially when they are dressed in the cowboy and pony theme costumes. I always swore that I wouldn't force my kids to dress as a theme. That's I'd let them always pick they're own costumes to establish their independence at an early age. But since neither one of them has the slightest problem with being independent, this year Mommy determined the costumes. We already had the costumes which heavily played into the matter, but Connor would have been just as happy being Spiderman. But when little brother is dressing as a pony, you don't get to be Spiderman.
Cause I'm the Mom, that's why. Now stop whining and eat your free candy. (Actually Connor didn't mind too much being a cowboy, he was more miffed because he had to wear shoes than anything)

Little boys should come standard with tails.

Ahhh, the hard life. Getting pulled through the neighborhood in the wagon by Dad, stopping every so often to be given candy and be told how adorable you are.

When sharing becomes very, very difficult