Morning Bird

It’s 6:00 am.  I hate 6:00 am.  I hate 5:00 am more.  But 6:00 am is up there.  

Evan was up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at 6:00 am, after spending 20 minutes around 2:15 am discussing Skylanders.  There are a few things I’m ok with being awoken at 2:15 for.  A discussion on Skylanders is not one of them.

At 6:30 am, Evan was finished with his morning routine except for eating breakfast.

Evan: I’m a MORNING BIRD!

Me: (still pretending to be sleeping) Huh?

Evan: I’m a MORNING BIRD!

He’s perky.  If it wasn’t for his relation to me and his cuteness, I would say he was f-ing perky and thrown something at him.

Me: (mumbling into the pillow) I know.

Evan: I’m the MOST MORNINGEST BIRD because I GOT UP BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE!

Then he jumped on my bed.

And I heard Aidan’s music box start playing.  I looked up to see Sean running with his blanky to join the party on my bed.

God has a sick sense of humor to give me, a night owl, three morning birds. 

God, there has to be a law somewhere against perky morning people.  And I have to live with them.

Preparing

Candles.  Check.

Lighter.  Check.

Duct tape.  Check.

Garbage bags.  Check.

Knife.  Check.

Turner.  Check.

Flip.  Check. 

Batteries.  Check.

Hand sanitizer.  Check.

Permanent marker.  Check.

Plates, napkins, cups, table clothes.  Check.

Goodie bags.  Check.

Extra treats in case of extra non-RSVP guests.  Check.

Ok.  So I have my anal retentive moments.  I tend to favor the overly prepared approach.  But I would hate to need something and send someone on a 15 minute dash to drive to the store and back without ever was missed. 

Ice tea made and in the container.  Check.

Lemonade made and in the container.  Check.

Pitcher.  Check.

Spoon.  Check.

Powdered lemonade.  Check.

It’s May.  In Tucson.  Two gallons of lemonade just doesn’t seem like enough for a two-hour park party.  Hmmm.  Perhaps I should have agreed to water balloons.  No.  No.  It would be a bad idea.  All those balloon pieces that needed to be picked up.  No.

Huge box of Cheez-its from Costco.  Check.

A sliced up watermelon.  Check.

Maybe I over prepared for food.  There was only 9 RSVPs.  That included siblings.  Thank God for siblings.

Pizza.  9 kids.  10 adults.  4 extra-large pizzas.  Check.

We piled out of the car an hour before the party.  The grandma who was watching her granddaughter vacated the ramada with a “good luck” as I surveyed the piles of sand on the tables left by the adorable, dirty 3-year old girl.  I had told the woman not to worry about it because I was sure my boys had and will do worse at playgrounds.  The boys ran off down the hill to the playground with the command of “Watch Your Brother” ringing in their ears.  I hoped The Voice was enough to instill the importance of the command without a threat or two.  I checked the electrical outlets to find one broken.  Damn.  I set to work.

Oh crap.  I forgot the ice chest.

Luckily I had  reserves on stand-by.  They were already bringing streamers and such because I couldn’t find the box that held my party supplies.

The bounce house arrived 30 minutes later.  The guy surveyed the site.  “I hope my cord is long enough.”

My brain went into hyper-drive.  Ok.  As soon as the ex gets here with the ice, water, and the desperately needed caffeine, I’ll send him off to the dollar store for a couple of buckets and a load of squirt guns.  Maybe a couple of beach balls.  Oh and those water balls!  And-

“It’s long enough!”

Awesome.

Three hours later, with many more hands to clean up and pack up, with the last family sent off with a “no, we got it.  Thank you for coming,” I surveyed the boys.  All three were stained with sno-cone juice, pizza sauce, and  lemonade and covered with dirt.  The older two were digging into their goodie bags with tons of Star Wars theme goodies.  Aidan ran around chasing his Papi.

“Well, Sean.  Did you like your party?”

“YEA!!!!   Hey!  Star Wars fruit snacks!”

Apparently he wasn’t heart-broken over the non-Star Wars bounce house, and he couldn’t read the “Happy Brthday” sign, so it was a success.  How could it not be with an awesome Star Wars cake?

Then I looked at the giggling toddler in my dad’s arms as he carried Aidan to the car.  The completely stained and dirty toddler.

“He’s going to fall asleep in those clothes on the way home, isn’t he?”

“Yup.  And probably that full diaper too,”  my mom answered.

Yup.  It was a good party.  Too bad I didn’t bring a hose and extra clothes.

A bit about Sean

It’s a crazy whirlwind here as the last days of school tick down to summer vacation that I am completely unprepared for.  Sean “graduated” from pre-kindergarten yesterday, but that is only a minor blip in the radar.  More importantly tomorrow is his birthday, which he has told nearly everyone he saw running errands today while wearing his birthday crown from school.

Since he’s been counting down for over two weeks, I might as well start the celebration off here with 10 things about Sean:

1. According to a questionnaire taken at school, Sean wants to be a police officer when he grows up.  Isn’t that a far cry from the Sith Lord he tells me he wants to be?

2.  His favorite color is red.  Because of the Sith Lords.

3. If he picks out a book, it’s always a Star Wars book.  Always.

4. The phrases he says most are “Right?”  “Can you even believe it?”  “What the?”  “Oh my God” “Did you know that?”

5. When he gets excited, he grins from ear and ear and shakes his fists next to his face.  It’s pretty adorable.

6. Sean is a nice tan color.  When he was younger and I would help him wash his hands, I used to scrub and scrub his hands to get the dirt off.  About the fifth scrubbing, it would dawn on me that it was his skin color.  Oops.

7. I have to buy the kid pop corn when he goes to the movies or he won’t shut up. 

8. The kid is ambidextrous.  My brothers want to teach him how to pitch.  I just want to teach him how to write.  And I could if he wasn’t so damn stubborn in his belief that he can’t.

9. He creates whole worlds with his toys.  I love watching him.

10. We just got Skylanders.  Sean now has a competing obsession with Star Wars.

So happy birthday, my boy!  Hopefully this year is all that you want it to be.

And if you’re curious, this is Sean’s birth story.

That’s my kid

Mother’s Day found us at my uncle’s house.  My dad’s brother.  The legendary clan of pranks, jokesters, and tricksters.  I had forgotten, or maybe I hadn’t realized fully, that my uncle had taught his kids to play a little more rough than the rest of us.  I’m the eldest.  What did it matter that my little cousins were doing pink belly or hurtz donuts?  I could put them in a headlock or throw them over my shoulder.

I did remember my little girl cousin had a streak of viciousness to her jokes and pranks as well as a touch of tactlessness that made her cross  that line without even realizing it was there.  She didn’t realize when the joke should have ended.  I have always hoped age and life would smooth those edges. 

Little cousin: We should put a bow in your hair.

Sean: NO!

Little cousin: A big pink bow!

Sean: NO!

LC: AND a dress to match!

Sean: NO!

LC: And we’ll paint your nails pretty pink to match your pink dress and your pink bow!

Sean: NO!!!

LC: But you’ll be so pretty!

Sean: NO!!!!

Apparently those edges weren’t so smooth yet.

LC: Think how cute and pretty you’ll be!  Like  a princess!

Sean: NO!!!!

LC: With your bright pink bow! 

Sean: NO!!!!

LC: And your bright pink dress! 

Sean: NO!!!!

LC: And your bright pink nails!

Sean: NO!!!!

Evan: How about red nails Sean?  Like the Emperor?

Ah, a new challenger has entered the field.

Sean: YEAH!!!  Red like the Emperor!

LC: Evan, we’ll get you a dress too!

Evan: (shrugs) That’s ok.  I like dresses.

My little cousin looked at me.  Her mouth opened.  I say the gay joke fluttered in her eyes.  Something to save face.

Me: That sure shut you up.

She closed her mouth.  I smiled.

Me: That boy is a (family name) through and through.  Meet yourself, Little Cousin, when you were six.

Evan smiled.

Between you and me, I don’t think my little cousin was ever as quick and bright as Evan.  The talent is strongest in the eldest.  And Evan is the eldest in a long line of eldests.

A Car, a Boy, a Future Family

Evan: When I’m a grown up, I’m going to get a Bug.

No surprised.  He’s obsessed over them.

Me: Cool.

Evan: How many seats are in the back?  Two or Three?

Me: Two.

Evan: Really?  Why?  I want three!

Me: It’s a small car.  People buy them because they want a small car that doesn’t need as much gas and are easy to get around in.

Fond memories of the Tempo surfaced in my mind.

Evan: They don’t need as much gas?

Me: No.  Like the Sequoia (as I patted the dashboard) needs more gas because it’s so big.

Evan: Oh.  Ok.  Then I’ll have two kids then.

Me: What?

Evan: When I get older and I have a Bug, I’ll have two kids in the back and a wife in the front seat.  Will God give my wife two kids?

Me: I-

Evan: Of course, He will.

Me: It doesn’t work that way.  What if you have three kids?

Evan: We can’t do that.  My car won’t fit three kids.  It’ll have to be two.  (Pause)  My wife could have a big car, and we’ll take hers as a family.  I’ll have my Bug too.

And with that, the issue was settled.

But I’m not. 

What just happened?

Not another penis rule

Sean: Mommy!  How many penises does a snowman have?

Me: Um, what?  What?!

Sean: TWO!  One to keep!  And one to throw at people!

Me: What?

Sean: Mommy!  How many penises does a monster have?!

Me: Sean, I don’t know if-

Sean: TWO!  One to pee with!  And one to throw at good guys!

Me: Sean, we need to talk.  About these jokes.  We don’t make jokes about penises.  And-

Sean: Mommy!  How many penises do I have?!

Me: Oh, dear God, no.

Sean: ONE!!!  I fooled you, Mommy!  You were going to say two!

Me: No.  I happen to know you only have one. 

Sean: Mommy!

Me: Sean!  No more jokes about penises.

Sean: But they’re funny.

Me: No.  No, they’re not.  I’m sorry, but you have to know, as part of the clan, you have to work on your material.  It’s just the way it is in the family.  And no more penis jokes.

Sean: But-

Me: No.

Christ, I thought I had until Evan went to camp.  Does any one know how many penis rules I’m up to now?  Because I forgot.

Career Advice

Evan: My teacher says there are no ninjas in fairy tales.

Me: Maybe she’s thinking of the wrong fairy tales.  Maybe we should look in Chinese or Japanese fairy tales.

Evan: No.  She said there weren’t any.

Me: Then we should write some.  Would you like to write some fairy tales about ninjas with me?

Evan: You should write them!  Then you can be a famous writer as well as my Mommy!

Me: That’s not a bad idea.

(Pause)

Wait a minute.

Me: Evan, do you know what I went to college for?  Do you know what I went to school to learn to do?

Evan: No.

Me: I went to school to learn to write, to become a writer.

(Pause)

Evan: I don’t want to be a writer when I grow up.  Ok?

Me: (chuckling) You can do whatever you want when you grow up.

Lucky Boy

Sean: I love you, Mommy!

Me: I love you, too.

Sean: I love you, three!

Me: I love you, four.

Sean: I love you, five!

Me: I love you, six.

Sean: I love you, SEVEN!

Ok, I think I should end this before we go up through a hundred.

Me: I love you, infinity!

And yes, Sean understands infinity.  Sort of.  Many things cost infinity dollars.

Sean: I love you, infinity plus one!

Me: Little, clever bot.

Sean: Wait!  I love you, INFINITY PLUS TEN!  That’s the highest number!  You can’t count any more!

Me: Wow!  I’m a lucky mommy to be loved that much.

Sean: I’m a lucky boy to love my mommy that much!

Parent Detention

Friday I got some amazing news.  I was holding the last homework packet of the school year.  I think the last time I heard “no homework” was in high school, and I was just as thrilled now as I was then.  Because homework sucks, even for the parent.

It’s like detention. Sitting there with nothing to do with eyes glazed over, waiting for some one else to tell you that you can go, bored out of your skull.  To make it even more like detention, my dining set includes folding chairs, which are just as comfortable as school desks.

The packet before this one, Evan stretched three worksheets over five hours.  FIVE HOURS!  Watching paint dry would be more fun because the paint doesn’t argue or run away or whine.

I get it.  Homework is boring.  I remember pre-college homework.  Sitting there, staring into space, creating stories.  Or balancing on the back legs of a chair.  Or playing hockey with my brother with a wad of paper and a couple of pencils.  Or playing with my snack.  Or – you get the idea.  I spaced just as much as Evan. 

But I’m pretty sure Evan is brighter than me when I was his age.  I thought if I told him if he buckled down and got his homework done, he would get it done quickly and be off playing.  That didn’t work.  If I left the room, he’d wandered off and start playing with toys.  If I was doing something else, he would do something else.  If I wasn’t paying close attention, he would entice a brother to keep him company.  Bathroom breaks took 30 minutes.  In the end, I had to just sit there, drawing his attention back to his homework with a brief stop for whining and an argument.  At least he couldn’t wander away, just wonder away. 

How do people homeschool?

At least it’s over.

For now.

Until I make the boys do summer workbooks.

Every day.

Huh.

I wonder if they would notice if I played “Fruit Ninja” on my phone while they did workbook pages?

Toddler Playdates: A Guide

Tips:

1. Be a laid back mom.  The house will be destroyed.  Every toy will be pulled out.  There will be screaming, yelling, hitting, and grabbing.   There will be a mess.

2. Find another laid back mom. Your child is going to scream, yell, hit, kick, steal, and act like every other toddler.  While you will manage the situation, you don’t need to do it with someone glaring at you.  She will, of course, manager her destructive toddler.

3. Toddlers don’t share.  It’s best to have two of everything because as soon as one child touches a toy, the other child needs that toy.  In Aidan’s case, he stood, pointing at the other child, screeching “MAMA!  MAMA!  MAMA!” until the problem was solved.

4. Toddlers have short attention spans.  They will play with every toy and then through it when they are done.

5. Have snack.  The toddlers can’t scream if their mouths are full.

6. Offer the other mom refreshments.  As much as alcohol would help, it will dull reflects that are needed when one of the toddlers decide to throw a heavy plastic toy into the face of the other toddler’s face.  Offer chocolate.

7. Be prepared for the destruction.  If you’re lucky, the other mom will help put away toys too, and perhaps the toddlers will actually help instead of dumping out the toys as soon as they are away.

Alternatives:

The Park. 

Pros: No mess to pick up.  Lots of room for the toddlers to play.  Screaming and yelling drift off in the breeze.

Cons: No extra food and drink.  Lots of room for the toddlers to wonder off together.  Other parents the toddlers will try to mooch off of.

Final Tip:

The only way to have a successful toddler playdate is to find a mom that is fun to hang out with and gets toddlerhood.