Ahhhh, my son. Here's a good story. After fighting a horrible flu during late November and early December, I got behind on my holiday shopping. When I was finally feeling up to leaving the house, I suggested to my husband to meet us out for a quick bite to eat after I took the kids to a store, and then we could go by another store afterward. Sounded simple enough.
But the store I went to first was TJ Maxx, which has clothing and housewares. I was there looking for clothing for teenage girls that I was donating to a holiday program. Having no idea what to get them, since I don't know them and don't have any teenagers, it was taking me a while to decide. During my attempt at making a decision, my son was getting restless in the cart. So I let him out and told my oldest to keep an eye on him. I too was watching him. So when they went out of eyesight, I followed, listening for her voice telling him to "go back to mama".
I knew I was headed for trouble when he went straight for the housewares department.
And then I heard it.
The big crash of shattered glass.
At that moment all his never-ending movements stopped. As I approached them on the other side of some shelving, I saw him standing over his mess in amazement.
I'm sure he honestly had no idea that when he threw a little cardboard box he had picked up that it was going to land on a glass martini shaker, knocking it off the shelf and causing these shards of blue and green beauty on the floor.
When you think about it, his life is fun and games. And like most two year olds, he thinks the world is there for his discovery and amusement.
And it is.
But at that moment I didn't much care for his view of life.
I cared about mine. About being that mom that lets her kids run rampant in the store, running about breaking things. I've been a mom for 8 years and this was a new one for me. When you combine "3rd child" with "boy" and "high energy", I'm finding that I'm discovering a lot of new things lately.
So I swept up the pieces with my feet the best I could, and then moved on. No one was there to tell me what else to do. I waited, but no one showed up. So we got the few things I had picked out, got in line, and got out of there. With him crying the whole time until we got outside and I let him back out of the cart.
I guess it had been so long since I'd taken him shopping anywhere besides the grocery store, I'd forgotten my usual tricks. And his usual restlessness.
I find that this is a pretty common occurrence. Time passes and we forget things. Especially things not worth remembering. It's the memory game. We forget the bad stuff and we remember the good. I mean who wants to hold on to all those annoying experiences in life, right? Unless it's traumatic, the chances are you will forget about it in time.
Lately I have been forcing myself to remember the tantrums my oldest had when she was 3 and 4 years old. And 5 years old too. They are starting to fade in my minds eye. But I want to hold on to them long enough to be able to say "this is what kids do when they are this age" whenever my other two do the same things. It's easy to apply sainthood in retrospect.
Just ask my mom. According to her, she had the most well-behaved 3 young children any mom could ask for. She even said this week that we didn't whine when we were kids. Or at least not like my kids whine.
But I remember. I remember one time complaining so much and being such a pain-in-the-ass to her that she didn't let my sister and I go somewhere with her. So we proceeded to cry and tantrum. And we were 11 years old at the time. Around that same time I remember getting into fights with my sister that involved throwing household items at each other, like hangers and scissors.
We were not all sugar and spice. The truth is we weren't perfect children. But we were children. And kids do some pretty crazy stuff as they explore the world and where they fit into it.
I've referred to my son as that kid many a time, and he certainly has those traits that put him in that category. But after these holidays, when all I seemed to hear about him was criticism from relatives, or the more gentle descriptions of "special" and "high energy", I feel the need to get my mama bear face on.
He is all of those things. And he's also a lot more. When you spend some time with, especially one-on-one, you see that he's also sweet and loving, very smart, and he can be more of a "controlled energy" type of kid. He has learned to behave within limits; he doesn't run away from you snickering when out in public, he doesn't approach strangers, he doesn't bite or hit other kids (at least not on purpose), he holds hands when crossing the street.
It is true that when he's in a crowd, he feeds off the energy and makes himself heard.
But more importantly, he snuggles and hugs, laughs and smiles, and runs around having fun.
So we'll continue playing the memory game. Knowing that, like many of us, his best years are yet to come.
And he too will achieve sainthood in retrospect.
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