When we were children the most embarrassing thing one's parents could pull out was the dreaded naked baby picture and embarrassing stories but they were normally reserved for the first significant other brought home or to knock the child down a peg or two when cockiness got out of hand. Then came the Internet and with it social networks and blogs bringing a whole new level of embarrassment to the next generation. Picture, if you will, a child born in 2008. Now picture this child 40 years in the future running for office.
Politicians of this age deal with issues of Religion, ethics violations, tax returns, citizenship, number of divorces, and whether or not they inhaled. Most issues going only as far back as college. The generation coming up could potentially have their entire lives laid bare from the moment they were conceived for all the world to see thanks to social media and blogs.
There's a reason the warning stands: don't post anything online you wouldn't want on a billboard in Times Square. Unfortunately for my son's generation, family members who do adhere to that adage usually only adhere to it in relation to their own (mis)deeds.
Ever try to expunge something from the Internet? Yeah, me neither. There truly is something that is impossible. Part of me looks forward to those election years. They could prove to be much more entertaining the the recent ones I've lived through.
So will this foreknowledge change anything? Nope. In 200+ years, this country has seen 44 presidents. Statistically the odds are not in any child's favor. But add on members of Congress, Cabinet members, Political appointees, CEOs and a myriad of other high profile positions available and the statistics lean a sliver more in favor.
BUT not enough to stop me from laying bare all sorts of embarrassing things about my darling son which I find absolutely hysterical:
Little Man's conversation with his father the other night consisted of informing Daddy that he needs to get sleep so he can grow big and strong and when he gets older he can drink ginger ale and beer. He then commences to watch Super Why. On this episode they were discussing following directions which Little Man immediately translates into "following erections".
Tonight's conversation? Well, I'll just paste in the email I received as I was leaving the office tonight:
"Little Man told me his penis was magic. I told him where did he hear this, and he told me he heard it from himself."
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Drama King
We are in the basement watching TV tonight when I have to ask John to mute the TV as I think I can hear Little Man over the monitor but not clearly which means he's calling from the bathroom:
"Can someone please make my cough go away? Can someone please come take care of my cough?"
[insert fake cough here]
"Can someone please come take my cough away? It's killing me".
I take my time meandering upstairs. Mainly due to the fact that it wouldn't be nice to face him when I'm laughing that hard. Sure enough, there he is, sitting on the potty. In the dark.
"Mommy I trying to go potty but my cough is making it difficult. I'm waiting for the poop to come out but the cough isn't helping my cause. I can't concentrate on the poop".
Well... that was my night. How was yours?
"Can someone please make my cough go away? Can someone please come take care of my cough?"
[insert fake cough here]
"Can someone please come take my cough away? It's killing me".
I take my time meandering upstairs. Mainly due to the fact that it wouldn't be nice to face him when I'm laughing that hard. Sure enough, there he is, sitting on the potty. In the dark.
"Mommy I trying to go potty but my cough is making it difficult. I'm waiting for the poop to come out but the cough isn't helping my cause. I can't concentrate on the poop".
Well... that was my night. How was yours?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy Birthday Little Man
Tomorrow I will no longer be the mother of a 3-year old. Tomorrow I will be the mother of a 4-year old. 4 years into this and I am still wondering why they required me to get a license to drive a car but no one intervened when I decided parenthood was a brilliant idea.
I have a few more white hairs and the memory definitely isn't as sharp as it once was (oh bite your tongue) but I remember the day I took the pregnancy test quite vividly. I also remember the day I had you quite vividly. Other memories have blurred a bit but not those two.
Yes, I also remember the whole peed-in-his-eye-what-if-he's-blind episode. A little too vividly.
So I'm watching you watch TV right now as you suck down a cup of milk. Your swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. Part of me is amazed your legs can't reach the floor yet as you seem to have sprouted yet again. Part of me is thrilled that while I may no longer have a baby, I still have a little one. One who will run up to me for no reason at all and ask for a hug. One who will call out for me several times each day simple because "I want you Mommy". One who still have no problem curling up in my lap at story time, bed time, anytime. As I watch you, I remember lots of things. Vividly.
I remember how you didn't come back to the room with me. One of your lungs hadn't inflated properly so they swept you away to check you out. Drugs are a wonderful thing as I remained calm through the whole thing. Several hours later the sense of calm was starting to wear thin and I ordered your father not to return from the nursery without my son. By this time we knew you were OK but I had yet to hold you. Not cool. Your poor father was run out of the nursery as they were in the middle of a shift change. My nurse took pity on him and had his back when he returned. Hence the reason why he is still alive. Shortly after his return they decided it was time to move me out of L&D and into my own room. The nurse was awesome. She bit her her tongue when I came out with the reason why they couldn't move me. Yup - my son hadn't arrived yet and how would they know where to find me. Andrea witnessed that brilliant thought process and has yet to say anything about it. Talk about a great friend.
I remember your horrendous fall down the stairs, double flip in the air and all. I remember the time it took for you to raise up on your little hands and cry - all of a split second that felt like an eternity because we thought we'd lost you. A little over 3 years later and I still have internal panic attacks when you are around stairs. They've lessened drastically but I suspect I'll still suffer from them when we drop you off at college.
I remember your first steps at Amah's house in NH followed promptly but a loud smack on the hard wood floor. You looked completely stunned but hey - I'd been warning your for days those floors were harder than ours. Carpeting does serve a purpose.
I remember the look on your face the first time I tried to feed you cereal. A look I still get when I try to get you to try new food. So if you are reading this... not all the beef stews I made contained stewed beef. Some contained... kidneys. Not getting Mother of the Year award now am I?
I remember each Christmas. Each birthday. Hell, I remember each time you christened a new part of the house. I remember running out of ideas to keep you entertained when Daddy was on the campaign trail so I came up with the coolest game ever - the Shouting Match. It turned out to be a practice session for you - practice for when you needed to yell and lecture me a year later.
I remember you running from the back door to the couch shouting "SWISHY SWASHY SWISHY SWASHY" over and over and over and over again after Mom introduced you to Going on a Bear Hunt. I also remember your father reminding you several time that there was no carpet and hard wood floors were slippery. Yet again you learned the hard way. At least you avoided the coffee table... until you rolled of the couch while wrestling with Amah and smacked you head on it. Another thing we warned you about. I can honestly tell you child - you have one hard skull. Don't get any (more) ideas though.
I remember the first time you called me Mama. I especially remember how you said "I love you" to Elmo before you ever said it to me. Your MOTHER. The woman who gave birth to you. Fed you. Burped you. Cleaned up all your puke, pee, and poo. I've wiped away blood and tears. I've kissed boo-boos all better. I've sat up all hours of the night with you soothing away nightmares. And you told Elmo you loved him before you told your own Mother. First car? Start saving kid.
I remember first blood, second blood, first ER trip, first stitches. Sweet Mother all this before you were 4? Enough already OK? That is one area in which you are NOT allowed to try and outdo your uncle. Actually let's not try to outdo your uncle in most things OK? I'll explain why when you are older. Much older.
I remember when I could finally understand Toddler-Speak and now that I am fluent all toddlers I meet now seem so incredibly articulate in comparison. So thank you for being an amazing teacher in that subject. For awhile there, I never thought I'd pass the final exam.
I remember your first truly horrific temper tantrum. I couldn't be in the same room as you without you going nuclear on me. Your father was working late as usual. All I could do was stand at the front door and will him to drive faster. The poor man didn't even get to the front door before I flew out of it declaring you were all his. I felt the love that night. I did.
I remember almost all of it and what I don't remember your Father does so don't think you will be getting away with anything. You know what I remember the most of the 4 years though? I remember how many times I'd be upset or feel sad and all I had to do was think of you and I'd feel better. If I was lucky enough to have you actually around when I felt down, you'd give me a hug to make me feel better. So while there are times you can drive me absolutely freaking insane - you always manage to make me smile if not outright laugh.
You've moved from the chaise in order to curl up with your father. Bedtime is fast approaching and I hate to be mean because you look so comfortable. You spend so much time wanting me, its nice to see you want daddy. Of course it is only because you want snuggle time and the computer has invade my lap but at least you didn't try to dump it on the floor this time. That's not going to get you any brownie points.
So tomorrow you will be 4. In a little over a year you will start kindergarten. Then I'll blink and you'll be in high school, then college. You'll move out on your own. You will grow into a man and I can't stop you but it won't matter because no matter how old you are, you will always be My Baby. My Little Man. My Precious. My Little Imp.
My Heart.
Happy Birthday Baby Boy and here's to many, many, many more.
I have a few more white hairs and the memory definitely isn't as sharp as it once was (oh bite your tongue) but I remember the day I took the pregnancy test quite vividly. I also remember the day I had you quite vividly. Other memories have blurred a bit but not those two.
Yes, I also remember the whole peed-in-his-eye-what-if-he's-blind episode. A little too vividly.
So I'm watching you watch TV right now as you suck down a cup of milk. Your swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. Part of me is amazed your legs can't reach the floor yet as you seem to have sprouted yet again. Part of me is thrilled that while I may no longer have a baby, I still have a little one. One who will run up to me for no reason at all and ask for a hug. One who will call out for me several times each day simple because "I want you Mommy". One who still have no problem curling up in my lap at story time, bed time, anytime. As I watch you, I remember lots of things. Vividly.
I remember how you didn't come back to the room with me. One of your lungs hadn't inflated properly so they swept you away to check you out. Drugs are a wonderful thing as I remained calm through the whole thing. Several hours later the sense of calm was starting to wear thin and I ordered your father not to return from the nursery without my son. By this time we knew you were OK but I had yet to hold you. Not cool. Your poor father was run out of the nursery as they were in the middle of a shift change. My nurse took pity on him and had his back when he returned. Hence the reason why he is still alive. Shortly after his return they decided it was time to move me out of L&D and into my own room. The nurse was awesome. She bit her her tongue when I came out with the reason why they couldn't move me. Yup - my son hadn't arrived yet and how would they know where to find me. Andrea witnessed that brilliant thought process and has yet to say anything about it. Talk about a great friend.
I remember your horrendous fall down the stairs, double flip in the air and all. I remember the time it took for you to raise up on your little hands and cry - all of a split second that felt like an eternity because we thought we'd lost you. A little over 3 years later and I still have internal panic attacks when you are around stairs. They've lessened drastically but I suspect I'll still suffer from them when we drop you off at college.
I remember your first steps at Amah's house in NH followed promptly but a loud smack on the hard wood floor. You looked completely stunned but hey - I'd been warning your for days those floors were harder than ours. Carpeting does serve a purpose.
I remember the look on your face the first time I tried to feed you cereal. A look I still get when I try to get you to try new food. So if you are reading this... not all the beef stews I made contained stewed beef. Some contained... kidneys. Not getting Mother of the Year award now am I?
I remember each Christmas. Each birthday. Hell, I remember each time you christened a new part of the house. I remember running out of ideas to keep you entertained when Daddy was on the campaign trail so I came up with the coolest game ever - the Shouting Match. It turned out to be a practice session for you - practice for when you needed to yell and lecture me a year later.
I remember you running from the back door to the couch shouting "SWISHY SWASHY SWISHY SWASHY" over and over and over and over again after Mom introduced you to Going on a Bear Hunt. I also remember your father reminding you several time that there was no carpet and hard wood floors were slippery. Yet again you learned the hard way. At least you avoided the coffee table... until you rolled of the couch while wrestling with Amah and smacked you head on it. Another thing we warned you about. I can honestly tell you child - you have one hard skull. Don't get any (more) ideas though.
I remember the first time you called me Mama. I especially remember how you said "I love you" to Elmo before you ever said it to me. Your MOTHER. The woman who gave birth to you. Fed you. Burped you. Cleaned up all your puke, pee, and poo. I've wiped away blood and tears. I've kissed boo-boos all better. I've sat up all hours of the night with you soothing away nightmares. And you told Elmo you loved him before you told your own Mother. First car? Start saving kid.
I remember first blood, second blood, first ER trip, first stitches. Sweet Mother all this before you were 4? Enough already OK? That is one area in which you are NOT allowed to try and outdo your uncle. Actually let's not try to outdo your uncle in most things OK? I'll explain why when you are older. Much older.
I remember when I could finally understand Toddler-Speak and now that I am fluent all toddlers I meet now seem so incredibly articulate in comparison. So thank you for being an amazing teacher in that subject. For awhile there, I never thought I'd pass the final exam.
I remember your first truly horrific temper tantrum. I couldn't be in the same room as you without you going nuclear on me. Your father was working late as usual. All I could do was stand at the front door and will him to drive faster. The poor man didn't even get to the front door before I flew out of it declaring you were all his. I felt the love that night. I did.
I remember almost all of it and what I don't remember your Father does so don't think you will be getting away with anything. You know what I remember the most of the 4 years though? I remember how many times I'd be upset or feel sad and all I had to do was think of you and I'd feel better. If I was lucky enough to have you actually around when I felt down, you'd give me a hug to make me feel better. So while there are times you can drive me absolutely freaking insane - you always manage to make me smile if not outright laugh.
You've moved from the chaise in order to curl up with your father. Bedtime is fast approaching and I hate to be mean because you look so comfortable. You spend so much time wanting me, its nice to see you want daddy. Of course it is only because you want snuggle time and the computer has invade my lap but at least you didn't try to dump it on the floor this time. That's not going to get you any brownie points.
So tomorrow you will be 4. In a little over a year you will start kindergarten. Then I'll blink and you'll be in high school, then college. You'll move out on your own. You will grow into a man and I can't stop you but it won't matter because no matter how old you are, you will always be My Baby. My Little Man. My Precious. My Little Imp.
My Heart.
Happy Birthday Baby Boy and here's to many, many, many more.
Expectations
Found yet another draft for which I forgot to post. What a surprise.
I've said this countless times. As children, we were sold a lie: (as they ride off into the sunset) And They Lived Happily Ever After.
Bullshit.
Do you like your parents all the time?
Do you like your friends all the time?
Is life easy all the time?
Then why the hell do you think you are going to like you partner all the time?
You pick out the white dress. You find your dream location, the perfect cake, a great caterer (and what you hope) is a great DJ. You plan down to the minutest of details (details, mind you that only YOU know about but that is a lesson for another time). You stress, you whine, you cry and if you are really lucky you have at least one great friend/family member who smacks you upside the head at least once but most likely several times.
You have your dream wedding. The Reception is a hit. You've blown your life savings and now its over. Do you ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after?
Fuck no. You head off on your honeymoon.
Which you are also expecting to be perfect. Time to put your expectations in check folks. Ok, so this maybe a little bit of an extreme situation but always go with what illustrates your point perfectly right?
You fly off on your dream honeymoon to the Caribbean which involves a sailboat which you have chartered... from a company that apparently went out of business a few weeks back and decided not to tell you. You scramble. Another company steps in to the rescue. Its not the boat you want. The supplies are not what you planned on but hey - roll with the punches right? Nope. Married no more than 24 hours and you are curled up in a ball, rocking and crying for mommy. Unfortunately for you and your groom - she ain't taking you back.
Nah - wasn't me but it was someone who does share DNA with me. While we didn't go to Vegas on our honeymoon, I think I will adopt the What happens in Vegas....
So nothing is perfect folks. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it knocks you so hard on your ass, you are left grasping for breath. Sometimes. Sometimes it sucker punches you with a right while the left hands you a Sam.
I've said this countless times. As children, we were sold a lie: (as they ride off into the sunset) And They Lived Happily Ever After.
Bullshit.
Do you like your parents all the time?
Do you like your friends all the time?
Is life easy all the time?
Then why the hell do you think you are going to like you partner all the time?
You pick out the white dress. You find your dream location, the perfect cake, a great caterer (and what you hope) is a great DJ. You plan down to the minutest of details (details, mind you that only YOU know about but that is a lesson for another time). You stress, you whine, you cry and if you are really lucky you have at least one great friend/family member who smacks you upside the head at least once but most likely several times.
You have your dream wedding. The Reception is a hit. You've blown your life savings and now its over. Do you ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after?
Fuck no. You head off on your honeymoon.
Which you are also expecting to be perfect. Time to put your expectations in check folks. Ok, so this maybe a little bit of an extreme situation but always go with what illustrates your point perfectly right?
You fly off on your dream honeymoon to the Caribbean which involves a sailboat which you have chartered... from a company that apparently went out of business a few weeks back and decided not to tell you. You scramble. Another company steps in to the rescue. Its not the boat you want. The supplies are not what you planned on but hey - roll with the punches right? Nope. Married no more than 24 hours and you are curled up in a ball, rocking and crying for mommy. Unfortunately for you and your groom - she ain't taking you back.
Nah - wasn't me but it was someone who does share DNA with me. While we didn't go to Vegas on our honeymoon, I think I will adopt the What happens in Vegas....
So nothing is perfect folks. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it knocks you so hard on your ass, you are left grasping for breath. Sometimes. Sometimes it sucker punches you with a right while the left hands you a Sam.
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