The Importance of Bedding

PLEASE NOTE: Author of this post is on the fourth day of family illness, has had three nights of broken sleep, had the second child become sick last night, and just spent an hour and half at CVS because they don’t have a pediatrician yet.  If this post is incoherent, badly written, or there is much talk about penguins, please don’t judge too harshly.

 

 

 

For some reason, I worried about his bedding.  I wanted something he would like.  I wanted something that spoke to and for his personality.  I wanted something he could use for a few years when he will be able to tell me what he liked.  I didn’t want to force my taste and opinions on him.  I didn’t want him to be sold on a corporate character.  I wanted something that said little boy, that said smart, active, sweet little boy.  I wanted the right bedding.

 

If a child was a blank slate, I was molding him into something with every choice.  If I got him San Diego Chargers bedding, then he may end up loving football, playing football, not caring for anything but football.  If I got him truck sheets, did I force him to a life of a gear head?  If I got him space sheets, would he become a nerd?  What if I gave him sheets that didn’t match his personality?  Did I doom him to always trying to put him into a box to please me?  Or would he resent me for trying to change him?

 

If a child already had dislike and likes, then he would have a personality that he was still unable to express because he was too inadequate with his language.  How was I to guess what will interest him?  How was I going to know what he liked?  What he wanted?  Would he hate it?

 

So how much influence do I have?

 

To find a bed set that was reasonably prices, wasn’t a character marketed to hell, held the interest of a toddler was quite the challenge.   For Evan, I finally found a cute dinosaur set, which my husband agreed to by signaling he really didn’t care.  Evan LOVED his dinosaur set, though not enough to override his want to sleep with his parents. 

 

Every night, Evan hides in under his dinosaur comforter, waiting for me to come in and get him ready for bed.  Once I am in the room, Evan starts to sing a song closely resembling the “Elmo’s World” song, and then he makes a cracking sound.  Evan jumps up, shedding his comforter to announce, “Look!  A Baby T-Rex has hatched out of his egg!”

 

Then it was Sean’s turn to get a set that highlighted his personality, that encouraged his imagination, that set the tone for his part of the room.  I went back to worrying about how much influence I had on his personality, wondering if I knew Evan wanted dinosaurs in some deep seeded mother-intuition or that he liked dinosaurs because his bed had dinosaurs on it.

 

For some reason it was much harder to find a set that didn’t cater to some merchandizing scheme.  It was harder to find something generic that appealed to a toddler, not a teenager.  It was harder to find something for a reasonable price.  After several stores, I finally found one that had some sets.

 

Me: Sean, which set do you want?  Planets, trucks, or sports?

 

Sean: Moon!  Balls!   Moon!  Balls!  Moon!  Balls!

 

Me: You’re right, Sean!  This one has moons.  And this one has balls.  What do you want moons or balls?

 

Sean: Moon!  Moon!  Moon!

 

Me: Ok.

 

Sean: Balls!  Balls!  Balls!

 

Me: Ok.  But which one?  (I showed him both sets.)

 

Sean: (Banging his hands on both sets.)  Moon!  Balls!  Moon!  Balls!  Moon!  Balls!

 

So which do I pick?  How much influence do I have over his personality?  If he gets the space set, will he become a nerd who is interested in science, an astronomer working in Hawaii, an astronaut going to Mars?  If he gets the sports set, will he become a jock, develop his arm to play for college and professional sports?

 

Sean: Moon!  Balls!  Moon!  Balls!

 

Then I remembered when I held to acceptance letters, knowing that they weighed equally, knowing that I had ten minutes to jump in the car and get to the box that had a late pick up.  I pulled out a quarter and flipped it.

 

Me: Balls, it is, Sean.  But I’ll put up this really cool solar system poster I have.  Oooo, you know what?  You’re mommy still has a couple of star charts too that she painted with glow-in-the-dark paint.  I bet she could find her old astroglobe too somewhere.  Evan, put down the dinosaur.  We need to check out and go home.

 

 

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The Return of Gooey

It has been a while since Gooey has slithered around the house.  But he has returned, following Evan around, watching TV, sitting on my lap.  A day or two ago, my husband watched Evan and Sean play as we sat at the kitchen table.

 

My husband: You know where the inspiration for Gooey came from, right?

 

Me: I have an idea.

 

My husband: (beaming with pride) The Cat in the Hat Comes Back.  It was Little Cat Z.

 

Me: Really?  (Not the idea I had.)

 

My husband: Because you can’t see Little Cat Z because he’s too little.  Gooey’s too little to see.

 

Me: You never had an imaginary best friend, did you?  Evan can see Gooey; we can’t see Gooey.  He’s a blue glob that reaches to about his waist.

 

My husband: (giving me the you’re-so-full-of-it look {he hardly knows the depths of how much a mom knows about her child.}) I don’t know.

 

Me: Evan, where’s Gooey?

 

Evan: (playing with the Lego police boat) He’s in here, driving the boat.

 

Me: Thank you.  (turning to my husband) So Gooey changes size.  But I think he got it from Monster vs Aliens.  He couldn’t get it from Little Cat Z because Gooey appeared before the book, and I didn’t connect it to the new monster movie because Gooey came so many months after we saw the preview before Kung Fu Panda in the theaters.  But isn’t it interesting that Gooey shows up again as Evan watches Kung Fu Panda every day and saw the trailer a couple of times.  Of course, I always assumed Gooey had two eyes.

 

My husband: Which one is suppose to be Gooey?

 

Me: The glob with Seth Rogan’s voice.

 

My husband: We’re going to have to go see that movie, aren’t we?

 

 

On the other hand, I have explained the reappearance to the rest of my family, who have run to assure me that this is normal and a sign of a creative and smart child.  Um, Dad, don’t you remember mine?  Becky: brunette, smart, outgoing, comforting when I was crying, stayed with me much longer than probably healthy?  Oh, well.  Don’t worry; I’m not.

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Dr. Tornado E and Dr. Mommy

Tornado E: Ow! My nose hurts!

 

Me: (kiss on the nose) There all better.

 

Tornado E: No, Mommy, blow on it.

 

Me: (blow on the nose) There all better.

 

Tornado E: Thank you, doctor.

 

Me: I need a kiss.

 

Tornado E: (gives a kiss).  Oh, no, you have an ouchie.

 

Me: (granted I do have some dry flakey skin on my nose.  Sexy.)  It hurts.  Can you please blow on it?

 

Tornado E: (blows on my nose) There.

 

Me: Thank you, Dr. Tornado E.

 

Tornado E: You have a scrape on your nose.  It’s ouchie like cactus.  (He moves so our noses touch.)  Ouch!  The cactus is on my nose.  (He sniffs my nose.)  Eww!  It smells like turkey!  Let’s smell the whale’s nose.  (We have a stuffed whale.)

 

I’m laughing so hard that I run down the stairs to write this.  I hear “Dr. Mommy!  Dr. Mommy!  Where are you?!  I need a little help here!”

A Dr. Mommy’s job is never done.

A Night of Wonders

Last night was a night of words and wonders, starting with my two little bears. 
 

 

While I was submersed in a book with my ears open, the boys were watching a show that featured the cartoon boys pretending to be bears.  Sean came up to me, smiled, and growled at me, throwing his arms out as claws.  I mocked a scream and yelled, oh, no, a baby bear!  And Sean found this funny and did it again and again and again.  When Evan noticed the attention Sean was getting, he jumped up and became a bear too as I screamed and crawled away from my two baby bears, who gave chase.  They chased me around the room, growling, until I gave up.  I turned and tickled them.

 

Later after bath time, I shouted at Evan to make sure he was still alive and upstairs.  I didn’t hear a reply from the other room, so I shouted again and again.  Who should help me shout?  Sean looked up at me as I put on his diaper and yelled Evan.  This time Evan answered as I congratulated Sean, who yelled Evan as soon as he saw his brother enter the room.  I was so excited which didn’t prepare me for the next thing Evan said.

 

Evan: I’m Evan M.M. (or mother’s maiden name.)

 

Me: What did you say?

 

Evan: I’m Evan M.M.

 

Me: M.M?

 

Evan: Yes, I’m Evan M.M.

 

Me: No, you’re not your Evan L.N. (or last name)

 

Evan: No, I’m Evan M.M.

 

Me: No, you’re Evan L.N.

 

Evan: Ok, ok.  I’m Evan L.N. M.M.

 

(Now, I’m actually laughing, wondering where he heard my maiden name.  Though I kept it, I can’t imagine how he heard it, and we don’t call his grandparents that.  So where?  And of course, my husband isn’t going to like it.)

 

Me: Fine, you can be Evan M.M. for the night.

 

Evan: (thinking) Hmm, maybe I can be Evan M.M. always.

 

Whatever.  Let’s get your pajamas on.

 

Finally, Evan always gets out of bed once in the beginning, usually to complain that he’s bed’s too hot.  Tonight he said he smelled candy.  It dawned on me that I sprayed some lavender scent on his bed, hoping that it will keep him asleep all night.  I answered yes, it was to make sure he had sweet dreams.  Evan smiled and said that was all right.

What’s in a Name?

A few months ago, Evan started naming things.  I was expecting this development much earlier than it came as several times I had asked him the name of the toy he held.  Now he comes up with so many unique names.

 

First came Circle.  Circle is the name of a yellow seahorse, meant to spray water in the bath.  For some reason, Evan has become very attached to Circle.  It’s a change from carrying around a flashlight, a sword, or a wooden spoon.

 

Circle has a best friend named Puddle, a purple elephant also a bath toy.  So Circle and Puddle joined Evan on many trips, and for a while, they were the only creatures with names.  When asked if one of the other toys had a name, Evan would run and grab Circle and Puddle, showing that these two toys had names.

 

Then after the last trip to Arizona, Evan named the rocking horse, Athena, after my parents’ dog.  Granted Evan only calls the horse ‘Thena, like every other person in the house calls Athena, ‘Thena.  (I call her Athene.)   Because a horse is a horse, Evan also named his stick horse Athena, yet both horses are referred to as a he.  Go figure. So now we have four toys with names.

 

Yesterday Evan informed me that his teddy bear’s name was Teddy.  It lacks in originality, but I can’t complain; my teddy bear was named Teddy.  Today he named a toy ladybug Fido.  I’m assuming it’s after The Upside Down Show.  (Has any one else seen this show?  It’s crazy and oddly stimulating.) 

 

Believing that it is giving me a unique look into Evan’s mind, I enjoy listening to him name his toys.  I guess it’s all about how some one sees the world and takes ownership over it, putting a unique personality to it.  I wonder what he’ll come up with next.