Saturday, June 25, 2011

Joey on Falling Down

This afternoon, I took Joey with me to the grocery store.  He was running, and fell on the sidewalk.  After some initial tears, I calmed him down, put him in the cart because he said he couldn't walk, and kissed his head. 

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"No," Joey said.  "I think I need some alcohol."

There are a few moments in a mother's life where she wants nothing more than to walk away and pretend she is in no way associated with the child in front of her, no matter how much she loves said child, so that people do not forever associate her with being a "bad" mother.  This was one of those moments

Particularly because we'd just walked out of the ABC store.

He said it loudly enough to draw some disapproving stares from nearby women.  With a nervous laugh, praying no one was preparing to call CPS, I said something about how he was kidding, and didn't he mean he wanted some antibacterial cream?  My ears grew hot and I hurried into the store to hide in the aisles among people who had not heard my child's exclamation. 

And just so you know, I don't give my kids alcohol.  My husband calls Hydrogen Peroxide "rubbing alcohol", to which Joey referred.

I hope.

Beth - 0  (My face is still red)
Joey - 1

Mommy Radar

I've come to believe that my son was born with a built-in tracking device that I like to call "Mommy Radar". 

Hugging Mommy
It is an odd phenomenon - one I've never seen before.  But over the past four and a half years, his special radar system has become so refined that I can no longer go anywhere without him knowing.  Allow me to provide some recent examples as evidence. 

Example #1
My husband and I take turns tending to the dog (early) in the morning.  Around 5:30, Boomer will want to go out and be fed.  We've found it is better to comply with his demands rather than listening to him whine for the next hour or so.  Just yesterday, my husband took his turn, stomping down the stairs, clattering around in the kitchen as he prepared the food, and Joey did not awaken. 

But when I get up to let the dog out, it is a different story.  No matter how quietly I creep down the stairs, no matter how little noise I make in the kitchen, Joeys' Mommy Radar kicks in and he is beside me within minutes.  Its as if he knows the difference between me making Boomer's breakfast and Mike making Boomer's breakfast.

Example #2
Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and Joey is next to me.  He's perfected the art of sneaking into our bed without waking us.  Mike can get out of bed as many times as he wants, and Joey will stay asleep.  The second I sneak out of bed, Joey shoots up and asks if I'm getting up.  If I am, he follows me around until I leave for work. 

Example #3
When he does sneak in our bed, he sleeps on top of me, almost literally.  All night, his little body is pressed against mine, and I often wake up to his arm across my face, or his cheek pressed against my face.  No matter how or where I move, he is right there. 

I must admit that I secretly love it.  He is my biggest fan, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  Although I could do without him surprising me when I'm in the shower, pulling the curtain back to yell, "Hi Mommy!  I love you!"

Beth - 1 (I gave birth to my #1 fan)
Joey - 1 (He's my biggest fan)

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Jillian on Art

Each night, my husband and I take turns laying next to our children in their beds before they go to sleep.  It is a great opportunity to get some one-on-one time with the kids.  Particularly, we can talk to them about their day.

Tonight, Jillian told me about art class.

I asked her what she made in art class.  She told me the students painted pictures of how they helped out at home.  She drew a picture of herself walking the dog. 

Our conversation commenced.

"That sounds great, honey," I said.  "I can't wait to see the picture."

"Actually," Jillian said, "I didn't like it.  I didn't draw a good picture."

"Why didn't you like it?" I asked. 

Jillian paused, looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes, and said, "I made the poop too big." 

Jillian - 0

Poop in Art - 1