10 years ago I lost my rock. I lost a man who turned his back on the family he was born into in support of the family he created. I lost a man who supported me unconditionally. A man who pushed me to not see barriers in order to smash through them. When I contemplated nursing school, he asked why not medical school? A man who taught me to always do what is right even when it is the hardest path to take. A man who inspired my love for Harleys. A man who set the example by doing.
If he was interested in something but didn't know enough about it, he read voraciously to learn all he could and then jumped in and tried it himself. He was not afraid to live life. He was afraid of not living life. He was claustrophobic but was still willing to learn how to do an eskimo roll. He had no sense of rythm for which his daughters, both in ballet classes for most of their early lives, teased him horribly but he'd still get on the dance floor. He even took ballroom dancing classes with mom because she loved to dance.
He truly did teach me to appreciate the simple things in life. My best summer memories are of the long walks we would take after dinner as a family. I suppose it didn't hurt that we always managed to end the walk at the Ice Cream Smith. He had us convinced that you could still smell the chocolate from the old Baker's Chocolate factory even though it shut down years before I was born.
He developed a passion for baking. Bread was his specialty. I loved coming into the house on a hot summer night having spent hours running and playing with friends. Applesauce Wheat bread would be fresh from the oven. Forget cookies or cake. A slice of warm bread with ice water was heaven to me.
He taught me there is always a solution. Driving a mountain road in Nova Scotia during a torrential rain storm, the wipers went out. There was no breakdown lane and no guard rail. Not a place you want your car to break down, especially with your kids in the back seat. My dad's solution? To tie string around the wipers and then anchor it to a screw driver and a corkscrew and have my mom manually operate the wipers so he could get us off the mountain. Once safely down, my siblings and I became instantly horrified as the car became the sideshow freak - those crazy Americans and their redneck car. We didn't appreciate our father's quick thinking until we were older and for years, I think we've all had a corkscrew in our glove box at one point or another - well before we were ever wine drinkers.
He convinced my niece the rock in the middle of the creek was a sleeping hippo.
When my sister and I became overdramatic teenage girls, he would set us straight by telling us to go play in traffic or to go kick a cat.
He instilled a love of football and the Patriots in me. I was Daddy's little girl. What he did, I did. Mom asked me one Sunday as I watched the game with Dad why I liked football so much. Both of them expected me to answer "Because daddy likes football". Instead I answered "Oh come on mom, cute guys in tight pants!". I was three. I'm not sure my father ever truly recovered from that moment.
I know my father would do anything for me. I know from some hard experiences. I know he always had my back and I could go to him for anything. He would never sugarcoat his responses to me. He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear. And he was always right.
He was larger than life. I had him on a pedestal so high he conversed daily with Zeus. That pedestal never cracked. He was human which means he was flawed but to my child's eyes, he was perfect. As I entered adulthood, I still looked at him with those child's eyes.
As a family we've not always gotten along. We've had our moments but when the wolves came sniffing at the cookfire, we circled the wagons and had each other's back. A quality learned from him.
I no longer live my life hour-to-hour or day-to-day. I did find a way to continue to live my life but its been hard. Having my brother walk me down the aisle was bittersweet. Up until I met my husband, there were 2 men in the entire world I trusted with my life - Dad and my brother. No one else could come close to the bar they set. I loved that my brother was able and willing to walk me down the aisle but I hate that he had to do it.
I hate that he was not there for the birth of my son. It was painful to have just my mom walk into our house after he was born. It was painful to introduce my son to just his Amah. I wanted his advice and insight as much as I wanted hers.
It hurts as I teach my son that the only true motorcycle is a Harley because I know he will never experience the thrill of a No Destination All Day trip on the back of the bike with Granddad. "I could go East. I could go West. It was all up to me to decide."
To this day I find myself reaching for the phone to call him about something I read or saw. To this day I still have a dream in which my life for the past 10 years has been nothing but a nightmare and he's still alive. I miss his hugs, his sense of humor.
There is a wonderful quote that I unfortuantely have to paraphrase as I don't have it handy: "I know I was my father's favorite but I don't dare mention it to my sisters for fear they will say the same thing." I've never asked my sister if she thinks she was daddy's little girl. Unfortunately I know the answer. We both were. We had very different relationships with him as did my brother. Each of us could claim favorite and each would be right.
I miss him horribly but as my sister said to me 10 years ago - better to have him for 29 years than never at all.
I love you always daddy.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Thank you
I would like to take a moment to thank my son whom I love dearly.
Thank you child.
Thank you.
For turning me into my MOTHER.
Thank you child.
Thank you.
For turning me into my MOTHER.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Silver Lining
There is an upside to being sick for an entire week.
You lose your voice.
Nah, I'm not talking in the sexy way and I still feel way too crappy. I'd hurt the poor man if he made a move.
Nope, apparently when I lose my voice its enough to stop my child in his tracks. So effective in fact, I'm wondering how I can duplicate it when I finally get over this thing.
You lose your voice.
Nah, I'm not talking in the sexy way and I still feel way too crappy. I'd hurt the poor man if he made a move.
Nope, apparently when I lose my voice its enough to stop my child in his tracks. So effective in fact, I'm wondering how I can duplicate it when I finally get over this thing.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Return of the Pod Child
He's baaaack.
And I am not giving him up. Pod child is mine, all mine.
The last two nights - no screaming fits, no throwing himself at the couch or the floor and shattering the window panes. Tell him its time to go upstairs and he calmly walks over to the remotes and shuts off the TV. Once again my child remains happy about bedtime. He runs - toward his bed, not away from it. He laughs. He smiles. He gives hugs and kisses.
Of course, Pod Child is not around 100% of the time. Even he needs to go off and spend some quiet time alone. When that happens, My Little Imp returns. Today, he refused to listen to some rather simple rules Daddy laid down. These aren't new rules mind you, but you'd think they were as each day he acts like he's never heard them before.
1. No playing in the street. No stepping into the street unless you are holding mommy's or daddy's hand
2. No playing with dirty water (read - don't go jumping in a puddle of dirty water and then try to drink the water).
What happens when you don't obey the rules? You get dragged back inside where of course you have a meltdown.
So I explain everything to him all over again.
Where do we color?
Paper (I have to remind him of the word ONLY).
Do we play in the street?
No.
And of course John walks in at that moment so I tell him I am reviewing the rules with Little Man.
Rules? No Water!
Close enough baby. Close enough.
And I am not giving him up. Pod child is mine, all mine.
The last two nights - no screaming fits, no throwing himself at the couch or the floor and shattering the window panes. Tell him its time to go upstairs and he calmly walks over to the remotes and shuts off the TV. Once again my child remains happy about bedtime. He runs - toward his bed, not away from it. He laughs. He smiles. He gives hugs and kisses.
Of course, Pod Child is not around 100% of the time. Even he needs to go off and spend some quiet time alone. When that happens, My Little Imp returns. Today, he refused to listen to some rather simple rules Daddy laid down. These aren't new rules mind you, but you'd think they were as each day he acts like he's never heard them before.
1. No playing in the street. No stepping into the street unless you are holding mommy's or daddy's hand
2. No playing with dirty water (read - don't go jumping in a puddle of dirty water and then try to drink the water).
What happens when you don't obey the rules? You get dragged back inside where of course you have a meltdown.
So I explain everything to him all over again.
Where do we color?
Paper (I have to remind him of the word ONLY).
Do we play in the street?
No.
And of course John walks in at that moment so I tell him I am reviewing the rules with Little Man.
Rules? No Water!
Close enough baby. Close enough.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
And the Parents Score!
Walked upstairs yesterday to wake Little Man from a very extended nap to find him already up and in our room. His giggling should have set off all sorts of alarm bells. Should of, could of, would of.
"I cah'ler mommy. Look. I cah'ler".
And on puzzles I've already done. Very good dear.
Then I walked around the bed and got a closer look. Not only had he colored in my Suduko book but he had also done lovely squiggly lines - down the length of the bed - on my SHEET. And he's proud of himself for doing it. Right up until mommy roared.
You would have thought the end of the world was beginning the way he carried on. Once he realized daddy wasn't going to bail him out he went with ignoring me. Until he saw me putting stuffed animals away and putting puppy on the bed. He thought I was taking them away from him. End of the world started again.
I am using this time to decide how I am going to handle the situation. While I do not believe in spanking, I'll tell ya, it was extremely difficult to resist the urge to smack him when I first saw what he had done and how happy he was with himself. Seriously kid. How many times have I told you to only draw on paper? The first time you drew on the dishwasher and the china cabinet, I cut you some slack because I had never told you the Paper Only rule. But that was months ago kid. You know better.
Determining proper punishment is not something I've thought a lot about. Time Out just doesn't feel appropriate here. Mainly because I still want to throttle him. So I decide to go the route my mom used.
Are you sorry? You know you can only draw on paper and you drew on mommy's and daddy's sheets. Are you sorry you drew on the sheets?
"WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH"
If you aren't going to say you are sorry, you will go to your room until you do.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"
Take him by the arm and march him to his room. He's screaming and wailing the whole way but he went. He's learned going limp doesn't work. Mommy will just toss him over her shoulder or under her arm. So he goes with. I walk him into his room and tell him he will stay here until he says he's sorry. Kid goes and sits on his bed. I didn't tell him he had to go to bed. I told him he had to stay in his room. Love when he adds to his punishment all on his own. Man he is his mother's son.
He is very unhappy. Before I leave his room I ask him if he is sorry. He races out of bed to come over and pat me (nice touches - learned from daycare) and say he is sorry. He sits on my lap while I explain why he was in trouble. Actually I ask him to explain to me why he was in trouble and he did.
I wipe away his tears. Give him a hug and a kiss and remind him that I still love him.
We head downstairs, John carrying sheets to through in the wash. He's asking me which cycle to use. I tell him the hottest cycle with a cold rinse. Little Man hears cold but confuses it.
"Mommy, I cah'ler."
And with the most serious expression ever:
"But ONLY on paper".
He stated that at least 5 times over the course of the next hour.
Score one for the parents.
"I cah'ler mommy. Look. I cah'ler".
And on puzzles I've already done. Very good dear.
Then I walked around the bed and got a closer look. Not only had he colored in my Suduko book but he had also done lovely squiggly lines - down the length of the bed - on my SHEET. And he's proud of himself for doing it. Right up until mommy roared.
You would have thought the end of the world was beginning the way he carried on. Once he realized daddy wasn't going to bail him out he went with ignoring me. Until he saw me putting stuffed animals away and putting puppy on the bed. He thought I was taking them away from him. End of the world started again.
I am using this time to decide how I am going to handle the situation. While I do not believe in spanking, I'll tell ya, it was extremely difficult to resist the urge to smack him when I first saw what he had done and how happy he was with himself. Seriously kid. How many times have I told you to only draw on paper? The first time you drew on the dishwasher and the china cabinet, I cut you some slack because I had never told you the Paper Only rule. But that was months ago kid. You know better.
Determining proper punishment is not something I've thought a lot about. Time Out just doesn't feel appropriate here. Mainly because I still want to throttle him. So I decide to go the route my mom used.
Are you sorry? You know you can only draw on paper and you drew on mommy's and daddy's sheets. Are you sorry you drew on the sheets?
"WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH"
If you aren't going to say you are sorry, you will go to your room until you do.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"
Take him by the arm and march him to his room. He's screaming and wailing the whole way but he went. He's learned going limp doesn't work. Mommy will just toss him over her shoulder or under her arm. So he goes with. I walk him into his room and tell him he will stay here until he says he's sorry. Kid goes and sits on his bed. I didn't tell him he had to go to bed. I told him he had to stay in his room. Love when he adds to his punishment all on his own. Man he is his mother's son.
He is very unhappy. Before I leave his room I ask him if he is sorry. He races out of bed to come over and pat me (nice touches - learned from daycare) and say he is sorry. He sits on my lap while I explain why he was in trouble. Actually I ask him to explain to me why he was in trouble and he did.
I wipe away his tears. Give him a hug and a kiss and remind him that I still love him.
We head downstairs, John carrying sheets to through in the wash. He's asking me which cycle to use. I tell him the hottest cycle with a cold rinse. Little Man hears cold but confuses it.
"Mommy, I cah'ler."
And with the most serious expression ever:
"But ONLY on paper".
He stated that at least 5 times over the course of the next hour.
Score one for the parents.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Middle Age
The average life expectancy in the US is 77.7 years. For convenience, I will round it up to 80. That would mean, you reach the half-way point of your life at the age of 40. Hence the term middle age correct?
Well there is reality and then there is my reality. In my reality, middle age does not start until 50.
As I approach 49 middle age will start at 60.
You see where this is going.
But this is my logic and my logic ROCKS. I dare anyone to try to argue otherwise.
Well there is reality and then there is my reality. In my reality, middle age does not start until 50.
As I approach 49 middle age will start at 60.
You see where this is going.
But this is my logic and my logic ROCKS. I dare anyone to try to argue otherwise.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Regression Part 2
I walked into the bedroom to find Little Man standing next to the bed chatting away with daddy who was... reading. He has a kid talking his ear off and he can still read. I am so impressed. I crawled into bed with Little Man right behind me. It took him all of 2 seconds to commandeer my pillow. After a small scuffle, I managed to reclaim it. Lost my suduko book in the process though. While I was getting comfortable, the little imp stole my pen and proceeded to color all over a puzzle I had yet to do.
"I ca-ler mommy"
Yes dear.
"Look mommy - I ma'ke it!"
Yes dear but please not on the puzzle.
Repeated this conversation word for word 10 times before I finally smartened up and handed him a magazine I was done with. I get to work on my puzzle while he goes to town on the magazine using my stomach as his desk. Once I finished I told him it was time for bed.
"No mommy. I ca-ler"
No dear. It's bed time.
"No. I ca-ler"
Ok. Fine. You want to color, you go color in your room. Mommy is going to sleep.
"'NUFF Mommy. I CA-LER"
Excuse me? Body having minor convulsions holding the laughter in.
"NUFF Mommy. NUFF! "
It's John's fault. He uses "enough" with the kid all the time. Does it come back to bite him? No. It comes back and bites me.
A few hours later I end up getting kicked in the ass. Kid sleeps for all of 2 hours and ends up puking. In our bed.
I learned my lesson early on. I own at least 6 sheets for his bed and 3 waterproof mattress pads. FOR HIS BED. I own one non-waterproof mattress pad for our bed and two sets of sheets. 3 AM and I am doing laundry. 3:30 AM and we are both curled up on the floor in Little Man's room. 4 AM I am switching loads while the boys are fast alseep. I forgo any possibility of more than the 2 hours of sleep I've had and use my time productively. I'm almost caught up with Lost.
Have the poor kid up at 7 AM to go to the doctors. By 9 AM he and dad are passed out on the couch. He wakes before noon but I get him to snuggle with me and he goes back down until almost 3.
I've had 2 hours of sleep. John managed a nap today. I rather stupidly worked from home. Little Man is now watching Cars while John is asleep on the couch. I did manage 10 minutes around 3. I fell asleep in the middle of typing an email. Thankfully I didn't hit Send in my sleep. I had to delete a lot of errant "k's".
If my brain were functioning better I'd be able to explain why Karma was kicking my ass today. Wait - John's awake! Gotta run. Got me some napping to do!
"I ca-ler mommy"
Yes dear.
"Look mommy - I ma'ke it!"
Yes dear but please not on the puzzle.
Repeated this conversation word for word 10 times before I finally smartened up and handed him a magazine I was done with. I get to work on my puzzle while he goes to town on the magazine using my stomach as his desk. Once I finished I told him it was time for bed.
"No mommy. I ca-ler"
No dear. It's bed time.
"No. I ca-ler"
Ok. Fine. You want to color, you go color in your room. Mommy is going to sleep.
"'NUFF Mommy. I CA-LER"
Excuse me? Body having minor convulsions holding the laughter in.
"NUFF Mommy. NUFF! "
It's John's fault. He uses "enough" with the kid all the time. Does it come back to bite him? No. It comes back and bites me.
A few hours later I end up getting kicked in the ass. Kid sleeps for all of 2 hours and ends up puking. In our bed.
I learned my lesson early on. I own at least 6 sheets for his bed and 3 waterproof mattress pads. FOR HIS BED. I own one non-waterproof mattress pad for our bed and two sets of sheets. 3 AM and I am doing laundry. 3:30 AM and we are both curled up on the floor in Little Man's room. 4 AM I am switching loads while the boys are fast alseep. I forgo any possibility of more than the 2 hours of sleep I've had and use my time productively. I'm almost caught up with Lost.
Have the poor kid up at 7 AM to go to the doctors. By 9 AM he and dad are passed out on the couch. He wakes before noon but I get him to snuggle with me and he goes back down until almost 3.
I've had 2 hours of sleep. John managed a nap today. I rather stupidly worked from home. Little Man is now watching Cars while John is asleep on the couch. I did manage 10 minutes around 3. I fell asleep in the middle of typing an email. Thankfully I didn't hit Send in my sleep. I had to delete a lot of errant "k's".
If my brain were functioning better I'd be able to explain why Karma was kicking my ass today. Wait - John's awake! Gotta run. Got me some napping to do!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Regression
I had a flashback tonight to a time long ago, in a place far far away. I remembered the days, well nights actually, when we would put Little Man to bed and settle in for some tv time before bed. It never lasted long. He'd cry for a lost paci or because he was stuffed up and couldn't breathe through his nose (which caused him to lose his paci). We'd look at each other. Who's turn is it? One of us would sit on the edge of the couch. Decide he wasn't going to soothe himself and start for the stairs. Stop. Start up again when the crying started again. Get to the second flight of stairs. Stop. Wait. Cry. Go half way up. Stop. Wait. Go all the way up.
I remember wishing for the time when these moments ended. Wishing for the time when this child would sleep through the night. When we could watch a half hour comedy in its time slot rather than recording it and having it take 2 hours to get through.
Tonight I realized we are still wishing and waiting. Tonight I realized that yet again I was lied to. Sleeping through the night is an elusive, never-to-be-achieved goal.
And then I realized I was told one thing that wasn't a lie. The one thing that used to piss me off to no end. The one thing those without kids would say when they found out I was pregnant - Get all the sleep you can now because you won't sleep after the baby is here (I will admit to having said it once or twice myself when I was one of those "without kids" - don't we all?).
Wow - the non-parents won out. There's one stereotype smashed.
It has taken me over an hour to type something that should have taken 10 minutes and only because John made some trips upstairs as well. Little Man is now in our room chugging his warm cup of milk. Probably stealing my pillow. Stuffed up and wide awake. Night # 2 of no sleep ahead of me. In a row I should specify.
I've learned not to think beyond the current night. I've learned not to think this will be the last night and he'll go back to better albeit far from perfect sleep habits. I've learned to stop wishing for sleepful nights. They don't exist. I'm at the point where I am beginning to think they never did; were nothing but a figment of my imagination.
I'll go to bed in a few minutes and if he does sleep at all, he will toss and turn smashing my nose, my forhead, my rib cage and any other body part he deems fit. If he doesn't sleep, he will sit up, get right in my face and yell MOMMY until I talk to him.
I could take the cheating route. I could sneak upstairs and crawl into bed in the guest bedroom. I wouldn't even feel guilty since John slept on the couch last night leaving me to enjoy the head, nose, neck, rib cage smashing fest all by myself. But I still wouldn't sleep well. I need my pillow. I can't sleep without it. Even if I did wait to see if the little guy passed out, its not like I could sneak in and snag it. He'll pass out on it like it is his own personal mattress.
Judging by the sounds coming over the monitor - he's carrying on quite the conversation with daddy right now. I wonder if daddy is awake. The man amazes me. He can sleep just about anywhere at any time. His child could be sitting on his chest chattering away and he will still manage to doze off. Must be the extra X chromosome I carry. Its threaded throughout that chromosome that if someone is talking to you, even at 2 AM, you must pay attention and converse with them.
I guess where I "sleep" tonight will be decided on what I find when I walk upstairs. Anyone know a good masseuse? What about a masseuse and chiropractor in the same practice? Think I may need both.
I remember wishing for the time when these moments ended. Wishing for the time when this child would sleep through the night. When we could watch a half hour comedy in its time slot rather than recording it and having it take 2 hours to get through.
Tonight I realized we are still wishing and waiting. Tonight I realized that yet again I was lied to. Sleeping through the night is an elusive, never-to-be-achieved goal.
And then I realized I was told one thing that wasn't a lie. The one thing that used to piss me off to no end. The one thing those without kids would say when they found out I was pregnant - Get all the sleep you can now because you won't sleep after the baby is here (I will admit to having said it once or twice myself when I was one of those "without kids" - don't we all?).
Wow - the non-parents won out. There's one stereotype smashed.
It has taken me over an hour to type something that should have taken 10 minutes and only because John made some trips upstairs as well. Little Man is now in our room chugging his warm cup of milk. Probably stealing my pillow. Stuffed up and wide awake. Night # 2 of no sleep ahead of me. In a row I should specify.
I've learned not to think beyond the current night. I've learned not to think this will be the last night and he'll go back to better albeit far from perfect sleep habits. I've learned to stop wishing for sleepful nights. They don't exist. I'm at the point where I am beginning to think they never did; were nothing but a figment of my imagination.
I'll go to bed in a few minutes and if he does sleep at all, he will toss and turn smashing my nose, my forhead, my rib cage and any other body part he deems fit. If he doesn't sleep, he will sit up, get right in my face and yell MOMMY until I talk to him.
I could take the cheating route. I could sneak upstairs and crawl into bed in the guest bedroom. I wouldn't even feel guilty since John slept on the couch last night leaving me to enjoy the head, nose, neck, rib cage smashing fest all by myself. But I still wouldn't sleep well. I need my pillow. I can't sleep without it. Even if I did wait to see if the little guy passed out, its not like I could sneak in and snag it. He'll pass out on it like it is his own personal mattress.
Judging by the sounds coming over the monitor - he's carrying on quite the conversation with daddy right now. I wonder if daddy is awake. The man amazes me. He can sleep just about anywhere at any time. His child could be sitting on his chest chattering away and he will still manage to doze off. Must be the extra X chromosome I carry. Its threaded throughout that chromosome that if someone is talking to you, even at 2 AM, you must pay attention and converse with them.
I guess where I "sleep" tonight will be decided on what I find when I walk upstairs. Anyone know a good masseuse? What about a masseuse and chiropractor in the same practice? Think I may need both.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Revolving
Getting my son to listen some days is, well, look up Effort in Futility....
Last night was no exception. Countdowns. Time Outs. Speaking sternly. Strong words (not sure some of the stronger words used were actually mumbled). This boy had some serious pent-up energy which was coming out all wrong. I had a flash of my mom yelling at me as a child "Am I talking to myself?".
I hate those flashes. They make me cringe because I know I have to apologize to the woman yet again. Redheads don't apologize. Goddesses don't apologize. And yet somehow, this Redheaded Goddess keeps finding herself apologizing. It's getting old. Not that my son cares.
It also gave me a flash of a former co-worker who used to love revolving around me. Literally. Unfortunately her sarcasm would be lost on my son. Maybe I should call her though so she can laugh at me. She deserves it.
I do find it amusing how he can be so disobedient with me and yet, just a few hours earlier at daycare he was the epitomy of a Rules follower. He was perfectly well behaved and even went so far as to dash across the room, not once, not twice, but 3 times to yell at a little girl who was breaking the rules. Mind you the teacher was right there and had already spoken to her each time but my little Napleon felt it was up to him to speak up. To give him his credit, he was much more forceful than the teacher. Nothing like a DIT DOWN! DIT DOWN NOW! from a 35" munchkin to really impress you into following the rules.
Smart girl ignored him. He needed that. Unfortunately I also think I know who is teaching him the concept of Ignoring. How do I know its her based on one episode? Because she is oh so sweet when I am around. The perfect little angel who wants to help me out in any way she can. She smiles, she bats her eyes, she plays coy oh so well. That all translates into Guilty.
Because, of course, it would never be my son teaching her that concept. Never.
I'd continue but someone is screeching for my attention at the moment. Apparently I am not revolving fast enough.
Last night was no exception. Countdowns. Time Outs. Speaking sternly. Strong words (not sure some of the stronger words used were actually mumbled). This boy had some serious pent-up energy which was coming out all wrong. I had a flash of my mom yelling at me as a child "Am I talking to myself?".
I hate those flashes. They make me cringe because I know I have to apologize to the woman yet again. Redheads don't apologize. Goddesses don't apologize. And yet somehow, this Redheaded Goddess keeps finding herself apologizing. It's getting old. Not that my son cares.
It also gave me a flash of a former co-worker who used to love revolving around me. Literally. Unfortunately her sarcasm would be lost on my son. Maybe I should call her though so she can laugh at me. She deserves it.
I do find it amusing how he can be so disobedient with me and yet, just a few hours earlier at daycare he was the epitomy of a Rules follower. He was perfectly well behaved and even went so far as to dash across the room, not once, not twice, but 3 times to yell at a little girl who was breaking the rules. Mind you the teacher was right there and had already spoken to her each time but my little Napleon felt it was up to him to speak up. To give him his credit, he was much more forceful than the teacher. Nothing like a DIT DOWN! DIT DOWN NOW! from a 35" munchkin to really impress you into following the rules.
Smart girl ignored him. He needed that. Unfortunately I also think I know who is teaching him the concept of Ignoring. How do I know its her based on one episode? Because she is oh so sweet when I am around. The perfect little angel who wants to help me out in any way she can. She smiles, she bats her eyes, she plays coy oh so well. That all translates into Guilty.
Because, of course, it would never be my son teaching her that concept. Never.
I'd continue but someone is screeching for my attention at the moment. Apparently I am not revolving fast enough.
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