Do you ever have one of those days when you can’t help but think that your kids are behaving worse than any kid on earth? They’ve pushed every button, thrown every toy, fought every punishment and you are at your wit’s end.
You go visit someone else’s kid.
Oooooohhhhhhh….. So that’s the worst kid on earth… I guess mine aren’t so bad.
It’s a horrible way to think, but doesn’t it put your mind at ease a little? Somehow it’s easier to take the back-talking and misbehavior of your own children now that they’ve outshined someone else’s. You have the luxury of walking away from that other child and only taking your own troubles with you. Troubles that just got easier to bear.
Not to say that my own children will always come out on top, there will be times when they are the ones being truly horrendous… But that’s not today.
Carry on, brain. We’re going to make it through this one.
I have just learned some sobering news this morning. Our annual camping trip has a little glitch this year. A friend who’s daughter is the most amazing, competent, helpful babysitter I have ever met, is not able to make it this year.
I have one recurring emotion about this…
Nooooo!!!!!!! You have to come!! We’ll never survive without you!! Pleeeeeeaaaase!!!
That about sums it up.
All I can hope for is that the other kids attending will be more help than hindrance and that my own kids are able to take her absence with more grace than me.
It may seem insignificant to most people, but last night it was a repeated and emphatic opinion voiced by the children of our holiday get-together, the selection of favorite fireworks.
It made me remember a time when I would, as a child, stare into the sky, watching the fireworks display, waiting anxiously to see the ‘cool’ ones. I certainly had favorites, and it meant a lot to me to see them burst into colorful showers of sparks in the sky. Those few seconds mattered immensely. It was the one time of the year that I would get the chance to see something grand and spectacular and dazzling. And it meant that much more to see the ones that truly made you gasp and marvel.
So when my 2-year-old is sitting, watching his first big fireworks show, and repeatedly calling out ‘I like that one!’ ‘I like that one!’, but only for those extra special ones that really got his attention, I know he’s going to have those same feelings and memories I did.
It’s something that adds a truly personal experience to a busy celebration.
And they really could have had a few more of the big gold ones that look like glittery rain.
Every year we make a special trip to the coast for the 4th of July. We enjoy the parade, the music, the food, and we spend some quality time with friends. And as anyone with kids knows, you can’t just simply leave the house for a few days with a simple suitcase of the essentials.
Pause for reflection on past vacations.
All morning I have been getting our bags packed. All morning. It feels like I’m taking the entire house full with us. I am having serious doubts as to the capacity capabilities of my car. I mean, I don’t think I’m going overboard here or anything… after all, we’re packing for a beach trip. That means twice as many clothes as you would normally need (and it’s probably going to be very much in my favor to have a washer and dryer available), sand toys, inside toys, special bedding needs (because I will never take my 2-year-old on an overnight trip without his blanket), plus large contributions to the menu for our crowd.
And you know, without a doubt, that you will arrive at your destination, car overflowing, and you will spend at least an hour every day you’re there apologizing for not bringing ‘my special car’ or ‘the other book’ or ‘the dinosaur shirt’.
Well, guess what, kiddo? Mommy didn’t pack trashy romance novels either. So I guess we’re both out of luck.
Somehow I’ve ended up with this strange run of good luck lately. See, in the process of selling our house, we had to get the furnace inspected and the ducts cleaned. Nothing out of the ordinary, and I willingly made the calls, got the quotes and scheduled the appointments.
But here’s the cool thing… On both occasions, I made the call to book the appointment and got the service performed within two hours of the call. I don’t know if this is a normal thing or not, to get immediate service, but I’m tellin’ ya… I feel like a celebrity over here.
That is, until I’m changing a poopy diaper, stopping my 2-year-old from repeatedly flushing the toilet because he pooped in his diaper, tripping over train tracks in the living room to clear the way for the duct cleaning guy to get through or reminding both my kids to please, please not joke about farting on our guests.
Celebrity I am not.
Mom, I will always be.
It’s finally happened! I can’t believe it, but it’s true! We’ve waited so long and worked so hard and now… finally… My 2-year-old is using the damn pedals on his tricycle!
I know this doesn’t seem very momentous, but believe me when I tell you that it has been a struggle. He has ground down the toes of too many shoes in his Flintstone style bike riding that I was getting desperate.
From here on out, I hope I only have to get new shoes for him on a semi-frequent basis, and for no other reason than the absurdly fast-paced growth of his feet.
What’s truly strange in this development, is the fact that he’s actually riding much slower now… That kid had some pretty bad-ass Flintstone feet.
As my oldest gets older, he keeps trying to be in charge more. He takes certain responsibility with his younger brother that is both endearing and aggravating. What we can’t seem to figure out is the balance between ‘being responsible’ and ‘being bossy’.
I know we’re not helping the situation, either. I mean, I know I can rely on my son to keep things under control (to a degree) while I go take a shower, so I don’t have to worry about what his brother is climbing or getting into. And I love that he does that for me.
‘Okay, I need to take a shower, make sure your brother stays safe, and share your toys with him.’
And yet, a few hours later….
‘It’s not your job to discipline your brother! You take care of you and don’t try to control him!’
It’s no wonder he’s confused.
So am I.