Feel the Love

My son is finally able to say what seems like hundreds of words.  

Of course that doesn't stop him from his signature screams, but they do seem to be reverberating a little less often lately.

And now, as of a week ago, he can spontaneously put two words together as well.  I should preface this with the fact that he has often said something similar to "I want" before a word, but it sounded more like "eewa" and he would sort of run it right into the word it was in front of, making it sound like one long word; "eewamilt".  And he sort of lilts his voice in there to make everything sound a bit like a Native American Indian tribal name.  Nonetheless, that could probably be considered the beginnings of his verbal sayings.  

But it wasn't nearly as sweet as the spontaneous one that popped up a little while later. 

It was about a week ago when we were all in the car on our way home from a weekend outing.  I handed him a lollipop, as per his request after we had picked out some treats at the store.  Then I turned around and said "Can you say 'thank you'?"  He hadn't said it yet, but I figured if nothing else, a lollipop sure would warrant it.

And he said "tay koo mama."  

I tell you, it made my heart melt and my eyes tear.  My little guy not only finally said "thank you", but he put the "mama" on there, just to remind me how smart and lovable he is.  

Then a day or two later he added on to his new tricks.  My husband was leaving for work and I asked him "can you say bye-bye?" 

And he said "bye bye dada."

We always have to let Dad know that he isn't forgotten.

Then the next phrase came a day after that, true to his little red monster-loving ways, I was getting him cereal for breakfast and he said "elmo poon," requesting his new favorite utensil.  

Now Elmo can feel as loved as mom and dad.

But wait.  The love doesn't stop there.  I have to add in a couple more cute stories.  Just because I love my kids that much.  And apparently they feel the same way about me.

The other day, in the middle of a rather ordinary afternoon while we were doing not very much at all, my oldest daughter looked up at me and said "have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you as my mom?" 

What?  Does it get any better?  

Why yes, it does.  She then wrapped her sweet little arms around my middle for a big hug just to hit it all home.  So then I knelt down and gave her a super big hug.

But it doesn't stop there.  Then my younger daughter came up to us and said "I love you too" and joined in on the hug.  

I know what you are thinking.  How could it get any better?  But there's more.  

Not to be outdone, my son then joined the big hug, and soon we were all covered in ooey gooey love all over.

PURE BLISS.  

Those are the moments in my life as a mother that make it all worthwhile.  The seven years of diapers, restless nights, scraped knees, and plentiful bodily fluids and wastes.  The thankless hours of laundry, driving to school, grocery shopping, clothes shopping, picking up from school, shoe buying, driving to activities, snack and lunch making, driving to more activities, and shoe returning.  And then driving home.

Like they say in golf, you live for the game because of that once in a while great shot.  That one long drive that sails straight to the green and sets itself up for the perfect putt.  All those other lousy shots are worthwhile because of how great it feels when you hit "the one".  In fact, I think you could say that about a lot of things in life.

Now I will close out this lovefest with some more sticky oozing sweetness for your reading pleasure.  (I guess it's appropriate that we are still in the shadows of Valentine's Day.)

Today I was carrying my son up the stairs and I said "can you say I love you?"

And he said "I lev ew mama."  

You gotta love those hole-in-ones.

Be Mine?

This year for Valentine's Day I got my oldest daughter some Hannah Montana cards to pass out to the kids in her class.  When she sat down to sign them she said she wanted to give them to everyone except one boy in her class, Connor.  

Now Connor always seemed like a sweet kid to me, so I was a little disheartened.  Had he been teasing her?  Was he not nice?  

Upon inquiring about these things my daughter just simply replied "no".  She just didn't want to include him and she wasn't prepared to give me a reason.

Then she comes home from school one day last week with some valentines that she made in class.  I am cleaning out her folder and getting her homework out for her and I see a little one with my name on it.  Then I see a bigger nice looking one and think that it must be for my husband.  

I open it up and read:

To Connor

Roses are red,

violits are blue,

suger is sweet,

but not as sweet as you!

love

your addmire

Uh oh. Move over daddy, there's a new boy in her life.

When I ask her very nicely and quietly about the card, telling her that I really like it and I think Connor will too, she takes it and erases his name, telling me she's giving it to another friend.

Then she points out the valentine she made for daddy that is stuck to mine.  Phew. At least he's not fully forgotten.  

The card then goes back in her folder and into the back pack and I never see it again.  I'm at the party in her classroom and I ask her if she's going to give it to him. She says no, and once again says she's giving it to someone else.  I press her a couple more times about Connor, but she's not giving up the goods.

Whatever.  A girl's got a right to change her mind.  So I let it go.

My daughter then left school and went home to the sitter via carpool.  I got home about 35 minutes after her.  In that short time, she managed to show her valentines to the sitter AND profess that one of them came from her "boyfriend" and points out the card to my sitter.

I hear this and of course I make my sitter show me which card it was.  Yup. It was Connor's.

Looks like mommy is on the outs this time.  She's confessing her love to the babysitter, but won't tell me about it?!

She's only seven years old.  What's next? 

I better be on the list to talk to about some of these things.  Or is it just in our DNA to hide things from our mothers?

Maybe we'll have to handle things 'the daddy way'.   Upon hearing this whole story he simply said "we'll just take care of that right now - tell that boy to come over to the house and we'll have a chat."

Too Much Elmo?

You know you and your 20 month old child have too many Elmo books, have been watching too much Sesame Street, and have one twelve too many Elmo toys when...

...your son learned to say "Elmo" shortly after "mama", "dada", and "ball" (thanks to the plentiful toys).  

...your son then learned to say "Ernie", "Bert", "Bigba", and "Cooka" before he learned to say the names of his siblings.

...your son says all of the above references about a thousand times a day.

...you are watching a commercial for Advair and you finally realize why that actress telling you about her asthma looks so familiar: she's Elmo's pal "Gina".

...you occasionally have trouble sleeping during the night because the theme song to "Elmo's World" is cycling through your mind like a psychotic episode-inducing broken record.

...one of the reasons that the theme song from "Elmo's World" is going through your head at all hours of the day is that your son has learned to sing (I use that word liberally) "la la la Elmo waaaad".

Pretty soon I'll be having dreams that Maria and Luis are my mom and dad and Gabi is my sister, we have a goldfish named Dorothy and we live next door to Mr. Noodle.  And we'll all be singing "Elmo's World" in Spanish.  

What?  You don't know who all those people are?

Someone make it stop.

In The Zone

What's this? Two posts in two days!? Unheard of!

But today was worthy. Very worthy.

Today I was IN THE ZONE.

Now yesterday, not so much. I think yesterday I hit a bit of a rock bottom, as they say. It was your basic day, but I just realized, after a few conversations with friends and acquaintences, that I was not putting my best foot forward with my kids. Namely with my son.

As I have said before, he has a tendency to be "that kid". A screamer. A thrower. A hair puller. Et cetera. Yesterday I realized that a lot of this was my fault. Yes, he has plenty of testosterone. But I can't blame it all on that. I just haven't had the patience and tolerance to educate him the way I taught my other two kids at the same age. With my girls I was still in prime mothering form. But now I'm like an old quarterback out there on the field that can't throw a pass to save their career but still never gives up. Because they think they are playing great. But really, they are old and tired and worn out, and can't give the game nearly the pep that they used to.

Not sure where that football analogy came from, but you get the idea.

Of course , like any good mother, I blame my other two kids for wearing me down to this point in the first place. Or it could have something to do with being almost 8 years older than when this whole motherhood thing began. And spending almost every single day of the last 7 years drying tears, wiping snotty noses, filling sippy cups, cleaning up messes and carrying around small people that never leave me alone. See, I'm back to blaming the kids again.

Regardless, I had hit a low point. And I realized why. And I vented about it. And then a miracle happened.

I woke up to my screaming son this morning. Okay, that wasn't the miracle. The miracle was that I woke up and thought "oh my God, I can't do this another day." And then I went downstairs and tried my best to put on a good face.

And after a while I wasn't trying anymore. I was just in a really good mood. And so was my son. I've never been more sure that his mood is a reflection of my own. I have known this for a while but I just didn't have the energy to pretend to be happy most days. For whatever reason, today I did. And it was truly a blessing of a day.

It went a little something like this:

He was happy through the grocery store; not a single scream or tear.

We were early to the athletic club so we went to the gymnasium and played with some basketballs. And he was happy to put them back and go to the child care center. Again, not a single scream or tantrum.

Then I played tennis. And man, did I play some tennis. I could do no wrong! Every single ball I hit, with the exception of a few, went exactly where I wanted it to go. After an hour of this, I thought I really need to go by some lottery tickets because something is definitely going my way today.

Then I went to pick up my son and the woman at the child care center said he had a really good day today. Go figure. Lately I've been hearing a lot of "he had a time-out today" or "he tried to push someone today." But not today, my friends.

He had a couple of attempts at screaming in the car, but I was able to thwart it every time today with my 'trick of the day': I counted to three slowly, holding up the right number of fingers every time, and then said "sshhh, sshhh, sshhh". And it worked. He seemed fascinated by the number two all day; he would try to do it with his fingers and it just made him giggle every time.

Whatever works.

Then he had a nap, and woke up without screaming or crying. Now that is unheard of.

Then we went to the library and the first person I saw was my neighbor. She didn't know it until after I approached her, but she was the topic of a few conversations yesterday as I realized that I should ask her if her 12 year old daughter could be a 'mother's helper' during some afternoons so she can play with the kids while I cook dinner or get things done around the house. All afternoon and evening yesterday I was trying to figure out how I could get a hold of her short of stalking her driveway. And we walk into the library and - bam - there she is.

In the zone, baby. Needless to say her answer was "yes, she'd love to!" and she's going to send her over to our house to figure out a schedule this weekend.

Nice!

And it's probably no surprise at this point that the longer my day went on, no matter where we went or what we did, the better my mood got. I was starting to think to myself that I should look in a mirror because I might have grown a second head. Where did this great attitude come from?

Perhaps it just came from finally seeing some light. Seeing some hope in the future for getting a little more help with my kids. And knowing that it's okay to ask for that help. It doesn't make me a bad mom, or an ungrateful person for living in this blessed life and still wanting "more." It makes me smart because I realize that I'm not taking care of myself or putting myself first. And if I don't do that, then I'm not the only one that suffers. My kids suffer too. Not to mention my poor husband who has to pick up the slack every night when he gets home.

My family has had to suffer through my bad mood for the past 6 months, or so it seems. But no more. I've turned a corner and I'm not going back.

Now someone just remind me of this the next time I call you up to bitch and moan.