Category Archives: Motherhood

sick day/well day

13 Friday Feb 2009

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“Hello, my name is Mommy.  I’ll be your server today.  May I start you off with a glass of juice or other refreshing cold beverage?”

The Little One went to bed with a head cold, and sure enough, he woke up with it too.  After much snorfling and moaning, we determined he better stay home from school.  His face brightened up just a tad, through all its crustiness, and he asked “does this mean I can have breakfast in bed?”  (??????????)  (It must be noted here that I never bring him breakfast in bed, so he was really tossing up a hail mary pass with this one).

Hmmm.  I had already called my girlfriend earlier in the morning — the one I was planning to meet today to have coffee and a long overdue chat– and asked her if she thought it was wrong for me to consider propping him up in front of a TV and letting him convalesce whilest I met her for a hot caffeinated beverage as planned.

“Jane, they are little for such a short time.  Take advantage of this chance to snuggle up and take care of him.”  She is a wise woman, and often my voice of reason.

So, yes, I did prop up his pillows, bring him some juice and take him breakfast in bed — with a side order of snuggles.  Eventually he said “Geez, mom, can you quit kissing me?”,  and it was off for a hot bath to clear his nose.  (Frankly, kid, if you don’t want muchas smooches, you’re going to need to tough it out at class.) Two hours later, he announced he felt fine to go to school.  Coincidentally, it was almost time for lunch and recess…  but I’ll just tell myself it was the love that did the trick.

at the beginning of the game, it’s a tie score

09 Monday Feb 2009

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scoreboard

If the score is still 2 to 2 near the end of the 3rd quarter, a tie takes on a whole new meaning.

One basketball season, we had a 0-10 record. Or was it 0-12? Or 0-15.  I really don’t want to remember, and neither does he.  Let’s just say the game where it was still 2 to 2 in the  3rd was one of the best games of the year; they were not getting pounded.  The whole experience was such a tough life lesson to watch unfold, the first time the child really tastes defeat.  He would ask “why, if I work so hard and try so hard, do we still keep losing?”  Why, indeed?  He had a terrific coach, who was so good with the kids and kept up a positive attitude.  Coach knew the game and how to coach it.  Everyone on the team tried their best, but their best was never enough to find the winning side of the scoreboard.  The life lessons kept coming, week after week.  He learned a great deal about teamwork in the face of adversity, not placing blame, and not taking on all the responsibility on his own little shoulders.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.  I had to learn to step out of the way and let him feel it.

In the grand scope of life, this is trivial.  I think of what children around the world have to deal with each day, and remember this is just a game.  I just hope the little lessons now will help him down the road.  Every day, may the good and the bad come in at least in a tie.

for every season, there’s a reason

02 Monday Feb 2009

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It doesn’t matter what the season;  every Saturday, Big D has that look on his face that says “hey, I could use a little help with _________ ” (fill in the ambitious project here).  He has an uncanny ability to identify something that needs doing, and just doing it.  After 23 years, I still don’t understand how anyone can operate this way.  It is just not in my nature.  I always have some reason why we should progress at a prudent pace, and maybe read a book for a while while we think about it.  And watch some birds.

Yesterday, it was chiseling a thick layer of ice off the driveway.  Now, in my defense, I had shoveled lots of snow off the top of that ice last week. Twice.  The ice that remained was an Act of God.  Acts of God are not covered in my policy.

Will the kids inherit his nature, or mine?  Is one nature really better than the other?  (Hey, D, don’t answer that.)  With kids, is it more nature than nurture?  Age-old questions that I won’t scurry to answer here.

The truth is, very little would actually get done around here if it wasn’t for him.  I was in denial about this until recently, but now I just embrace it as fact.  My strengths are just less obvious to anyone who is obsessed with project completion.  But they are still strengths.  If I go too fast, I miss lots of good stuff along the way.  What’s a girl to do when she just wants to kick back and enjoy each season? (And write about it?)

send in the clown

02 Monday Feb 2009

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The Little One just wrote a story at school about the Halloween he dressed as a clown.  I love to read his writing.  He works so hard at it, and unfortunately seems to have the same little voices in his head that I do, telling him it is not good enough.  He feels quite proud of his clown piece though, and he should.  It captures a feeling.

What his story can’t capture is the feeling I had seeing my baby dressed in his father’s clothes.  Big D had several years that he dressed as a clown, and several of the wardrobe pieces had a second life as PeeWee Herman. (That was the year I went as Miss Yvonne, in the pre-arrest years when it was all still a Big Adventure.)  Big D is, well, really tall and the clown suit was too small, for great comic effect.  It was too small, but I still didn’t think it would fit an 8 year old.  But, sure enough, when the Little One did not have a costume planned on Halloween eve, he just pulled random items out of the costume box in the basement and came out as a clown.  Not Lanky the Tall Clown.  Maybe Cranky, the Little Clown.  Anyway, it is still one of my favorite photos of all time.  Check out the size 14 shoes.

There is something very “full-circle” about seeing my son in my husband’s clothes.  Even if they are clown clothes.

Little Clown

in the news: broadcast dysfunction

01 Sunday Feb 2009

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I don’t want to come across as some TV control freak; really, I am a reasonable person.  I feel I can talk to my kids about most anything, in terms they can handle, and provide some context for them to process what is going on in this crazy little world of ours.  I do take my job as a parent pretty seriously however, and I won’t buy in to the media’s inevitable influence on my kids without a fight.  So, it is with some satisfaction that I share the following links.  I was starting to think it was just me.

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jOdo9EluZPK4NGtESvwcXOTLKzcAD960JIIO0

http://www.commonsensemedia.org/About-Us/Press-Room/Press-Releases/Inappropriate-NFL-Ads

(Common sense is the new cool?)

Heaven on a Spork

30 Friday Jan 2009

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We have been watching  a lot of the Food Channel lately.  Football season is essentially over, and it provides a pleasant respite from the constant science/how-it’s-made/how-to-blow-it-up-in-super-slow-mo  programming at our house.  Plus, as a perk, there are no erectile dysfunction ads on the Food Channel.

One show, I can’t recall the exact name, something like “The Best Thing I Ever Ate”, was a particular favorite.  The family gathered around and watched intently as a group of foodies all recalled their singular most delicious dish ever.  Oxtail marrow spurred some spirited family discussion, as did the guinea hen cooked inside a pig bladder.  I’ll go on record and predict that the bladder-cooking method will be discussed around our dinner table for years.  It was bedtime; the boys begged to watch the end of the program, then went to bed presumably with visions of guinea hens dancing in their heads.

The next morning, since it was another snow day, The Professor and I lounged around in bed talking and thinking and talking.  He must have been thinking about pig bladders again, because he asked me what was the best food I had ever had.  After some reflection, I waxed poetic on lobster on the Maine shore, Tabla in NYC, and white clam pizza in San Fran.  I did not mention fried cheese curds in Wisconsin, although I do like those a lot.  Bottom line: I couldn’t choose a best best.  So, I asked him the same question.  What would he pick?  He thought for a long time, then stated “I hate to tell you this, Mom, but whatever was the best thing, I did not eat it in this house”.  The honesty of children is so refreshing, isn’t it?  I dropped the topic right there.

Later in our lazy day, he shared this random thought, which also takes the honor of Quote of the Day:

“School mashed potatoes and gravy are like heaven on a spork.”

So, I finally had my answer.  And my reminder to be careful what I ask for.

half and half

27 Tuesday Jan 2009

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The Little One came bouncing into my bedroom today to wake me with this news flash:  “MOM, do you know what’s really weird?  I am like half you and half Dad!”

Breaking news, indeed!  I wonder how long he lounged in bed, thinking this through, which parts of him are like me and which like his father.  What prompted that thread of thought?  Why, today, did the lightbulb go on?

Of course, it’s not news to me since I have thought about it nearly every day since the day he was born.  Within hours of his arrival, it was clear that he was… him.  I can feel the day so clearly; Big D had gone back home to be with E and Grandma, so I was Alone with the Little One for the first time.  He had been sleeping in the little hospital bassinet thingy next to my bed, but I just had to hold him in my arms.  I gently picked him up, and cradled him, and kissed his sweet head.  It was so quiet and peaceful and I was in heaven.  Really, it was a moment where one could, just faintly, hear the angels singing.  He opened his eyes and looked at me (or in my general direction — I was wearing my rose colored glasses).  His face had barely started to scrunch into a look of vague annoyance, and 3.7 seconds later he was screaming “Feed me — NOW!”

And I knew right then.  The first one had been a sucker baby; the one who coos softly for five minutes to let us know that he might be feeling a tad peckish.  This one was a different half of me and of his dad.

On the bad days, I see the parts of my husband that make me nuts, reflected in his little face, his words, his actions.  On the really bad days, I see myself reflected in the mirror of his eyes.  Now, there are so, so, so many more good days than bad, and I love his enthusiasm, spark, humor, and drive, weaknesses and strengths.  He still expects so much, so fast — right now! — from the world, and from himself.  He makes me hear the angels sing every day, that Little One who will soon be as tall as me.

acne bias

24 Saturday Jan 2009

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Today’s Quote of the Day, from the Little One:

“What if, in this world, there was no racial discrimination, but just facial discrimination instead?”

OK, I don’t think that is any better, but it is something to think about.