4YrOld (Excitedly): Hey!
4YrOld: Why does Santa wear gloves?
6YrOld (Sounding thoroughly annoyed): Becausssse!! He doesn’t want to get germs!!
Comical Conversations, Part 5 August 10, 2011
4YrOld (Excitedly): Hey!
Eternal x 2 July 6, 2011
Two things that run eternal in my household:
This morning my 6-yr-old woke up with a fever of 102.7 (I suspect this was the same bug my 4-yr-old had on Saturday night), so I kept him home with me for the day. I had to get some work done, too, but it was nice to be with my handsome prince even though he was feeling positively lousy and didn’t want to do anything other than lay on the couch beside me. He took a 2 1/2-hour nap in the afternoon, and then he was feeling more chipper by evening. Thank goodness. May the Angel of Illness pass us by for a while, please, oh please.
Another perk to being home during the day was tackling the many loads of dreaded laundry that seem to pile up at light speed when raising little boys. For just the four of us, we manage to crank through plenty of detergent and dryer sheets in a mere week’s span of time. And no matter how much gets washed, folded, and put away, it’s a chore that is never done. The hamper and laundry basket are never empty for more than a few, small milliseconds.
I detest folding whites the most, mainly because of socks and the endless task of pairing them before they’re placed in dresser drawers. And where in the name of Pete are those missing socks? They were there when I went to put them in the wash, I swear! How can I now have more than 25 mateless socks sitting in a heap? And why can’t I bring myself to get rid of them? Why do I keep thinking their partners will reappear one of these days? You’d think I’d give up after a set amount of time…like, oh, ummm, say, 3 years. After that, I should be able to part with the widowed socks, right? Not. It’s an obsession I have, holding onto socks that are without their counterparts, thinking they’ll magically be reunited after another load of laundry. But they never are. Ugh.
So I conclude that two primary sustaining forces in my household are love and laundry. I will never love laundry, however.
Oh, and if someone wants to invent a way to turbo wash and dry clothes, I’m all for it.
What Tickles My Soul June 29, 2011
In the middle of the night last night, I awoke to hear giggling coming from the next room. It was my 6-year-old boy, laughing in his sleep. I totally broke out in a smile as I lay there in the dark, listening to him chortle. He kept giggling in intermittent spurts that went on for a good 30 seconds. Made me so curious about what he must have been dreaming about at that moment. Hopefully it wasn’t about walloping his younger bro!
Heavenly Conversations, Part 1 June 20, 2011
Last night when it was time for bed, I sandwiched myself between my two oldest little guys as they were settling down. Our nightly routine is to brush teeth, read books, say prayers, and then I softly rub their backs and feet, and we whisper our last thoughts of the day together as they drift off to La-La Land. My hope as a parent is that these moments together help them relax and lead them into a peaceful night of sleep and pleasant dreams. It’s a sweet experience for me to be able to bond with them by hearing their thoughts, and I also get to tell them one more time that I love them before the day is gone forever.
So there we were last night in their room, lights out, their heads hitting the pillows. My oldest, who is 6, was pretty tired and was fading fast, while his younger brother, who is 4, was primed to talk for hours. I gently reminded Mr. Chatterbox that it was time to wind down, and he resisted, but after a little nudging, he settled down.
It got quiet for a few seconds. Then he softly said, “Mommy, when we’re in Heaven, I’ll still love you.”
“I’ll love you, too,” I whispered back, smiling in the dark and feeling deeply grateful for that moment.
My oldest also chimed in, “Me, too.”
“I’ll love you, too,” I replied.
Sometimes, Heaven truly is a place on Earth.
Grant Me My Wish, O’ Ball of Cotton! June 12, 2011
It seems that spring has finally settled in Washington, albeit about two-and-a-half months late…Hello, Mother Nature?!
Little tufts of cotton have been prevalent in the air this past week, and in certain areas around the city, the cotton has collected in force on the ground, giving it a look of fuzzy snow in the way it has dotted streets and parking lots in little clusters.
I hadn’t thought much about these little strands of white floating by, other than blaming them for an occasional itch in my nose. Then, the other morning, my little man and I were walking toward the door of his preschool, when he saw a cotton wisp riding a wave of air right in front of him. He got a most delighted look on his face as he stopped in his tracks to reach for it. His chocolate-brown eyes grew wide and bright, and in a giddy voice, he squealed, “MAGIC FAIRIES!! LOOK, MOMMY!! IT’S A MAGIC FAIRY!!!” He reached his hand forward to catch this magical little cotton clump, letting it alight on his index finger for a few seconds before the breeze carried it away on an enchanted journey.
Simultaneously, I stopped with him, trying to zone in on what he was talking about, and then felt an indescribable joy wash over me — that feeling you get when you get a glimpse into the creative spirit of a child. In that moment, my mind raced to fill in the gaps – where did he learn this concept of floating cotton as magic fairies, and what wishes had the magic fairies already granted him? And could I make some wishes, too? Because I could use a few little wishes coming true in my life. Earlier that morning, I had been feeling the weight of being a single mom and providing for my family as I was getting myself and the boys ready to go. (It was one of those quietly-cry-when-nobody-is-looking-but-brush-away-the-tears-quickly-because-you-don’t-want-to-look-like-Rudolph-by-the-time-you-get-to-work mornings.)
In that moment with my little boy, the burdens of the day were lifted from my shoulders, and life was put back into a sweet focus. It was a moment when everything suddenly seemed right in the world…there was peace — the kind of peace that can only come from childlike imagination.
“Wow! A Magic Fairy?!” I giggled as I asked him what wish the Magic Fairy was going to grant him today.
I was so grateful that he pointed out these magic fairies to me. And that he was full of sheer delight over something so simple.
Thank you, Wonderful Child of Mine, for putting an otherwise annoying, sneeze-invoking part of spring into a much more exciting perspective…what an endearing way to sprinkle some pixie dust kind of happiness on the day.
And thank you, Magic Fairies, for taking flight around us.
Comical Conversations, Part 4 April 13, 2011
Son #2 in his prayers tonight:
“Bless us not to karate anyone…Amen.”
I changed Son #2’s poopy Pull-Up tonight. Usually, he does a nightly poop and that’s it. Sometimes, he blesses me by doing it on the toilet and not in his Pull-Up.
Uh, did I just admit that he’s still in Pull-Ups?
Yes, he is 4. Yes, he should not be in Pull-Ups anymore. (Hey, that rhymes!) He mostly is not. Just at nighttime because I’m sick of cleaning up accidents. Yes, I’m open to any suggestions on how to cross this hurdle of getting him fully potty trained, but if your advice means I have to risk dealing with a potty accident, call me what you will…I may very well ignore your suggestion and keep letting him use the Pull-Ups. At least, for now. I’ve talked with our family doctor about this very thing that drives me doggone crazy, and he said it’s about Son #2 having control. He said something to the effect of, “It’s the one thing he can control and you cannot. He’ll go on the toilet when he’s ready. You can’t force it.” So I’ll summarize my exasperation by just saying Son #2 has mastered his control of his lack of control in this area. Or something like that. You get my drift.
So back to my story…I changed Son #2’s grody Pull-Up, and then subconciously checked the task off the mental list of things we typically do before the night is over. A little while later, we got teeth brushed and were about to read stories when he announced he had more poop. I started to change him, and the conversation went like this:
Me (upon seeing that the Pull-Up was seriously about to overflow): “Wow, J, where is this coming from??”
J (in his most matter-of-fact voice, almost sounding annoyed at me for asking): It’s from my dinner…DUH!!!”