Monday, April 19, 2004
Bird
"Hey, buddy, do you hear those baby birds?"
"Yeah, they're saying Mommy, Mommy, Mommy."
"Wow, bud, how do you know that?"
"I speak Bird."
He says this so matter-of-factly that I almost believe him.
"Yeah, they're saying Mommy, Mommy, Mommy."
"Wow, bud, how do you know that?"
"I speak Bird."
He says this so matter-of-factly that I almost believe him.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Bus Stop Blues
Mondays are always hard.
This morning, on the way to the bus stop, TP got very quiet and started kicking rocks and pinecones, in that angry way little boys have sometimes. The bus comes and he silently walks away and climbs aboard, not looking back at me as I yell to him, "Have a good day!" I see him standing beside a seat, and the kid sitting there gets up to let TP in. TP slides over near the window and all I can see are his big blue eyes and his nose. He looks around and then puts his gloved hand up to the glass and waves this very sad little wave.
Of course, I started crying. It literally tugged at my heart to see the bus drive away, his eyes still on me, no real change in expression. I imagined how he must be feeling, going back to school after a weekend of full time Mommy and Daddy...I'm sure he was fine once he got to school, but just for that moment, I wanted to chase the bus and give him a hug.
This morning, on the way to the bus stop, TP got very quiet and started kicking rocks and pinecones, in that angry way little boys have sometimes. The bus comes and he silently walks away and climbs aboard, not looking back at me as I yell to him, "Have a good day!" I see him standing beside a seat, and the kid sitting there gets up to let TP in. TP slides over near the window and all I can see are his big blue eyes and his nose. He looks around and then puts his gloved hand up to the glass and waves this very sad little wave.
Of course, I started crying. It literally tugged at my heart to see the bus drive away, his eyes still on me, no real change in expression. I imagined how he must be feeling, going back to school after a weekend of full time Mommy and Daddy...I'm sure he was fine once he got to school, but just for that moment, I wanted to chase the bus and give him a hug.
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Break out the Courvoisier....It's the Ladies Man
Apparently, TB is quite the catch in the 3 to 4 year old set.
Last week, one of the moms told MM that her daughter talks about TB non-stop at home, and has even named her favorite teddy bear after him. Today, a grandmother stopped me to issue a warning, "You better watch out for your son." She said it so seriously that I thought maybe he was biting her granddaughter or stealing her snack at lunch. She went on to say that her granddaughter is much in love with TB, talks about him all the time, and laments that the other girls in the class love him too. The preschool teacher (who doubles as MM's aunt) told me how when they do little activities like dancing, the girls start shoving each other so they can be near him, claiming him for their own. One little girl even got her hair pulled.
What makes this even funnier is that TB is completely obliviously to all this attention. He did consider one of the girls his girlfriend, but she's "just my friend now, Mommy." But mostly he just shrugs it off, content to build towers with blocks or do puzzles.
NP and I joked that we could see him in a hot tub, surrounded by candles, sipping juice out of a Power Ranger cup, doing the SNL Ladies Man thing. "Come on in, girls, I got Mr. Bubble and bath tub tints. Mommy made chocolate milk and cookies. The water is hot and so am I. Let's get down tonight. Oh, yeah."
Last week, one of the moms told MM that her daughter talks about TB non-stop at home, and has even named her favorite teddy bear after him. Today, a grandmother stopped me to issue a warning, "You better watch out for your son." She said it so seriously that I thought maybe he was biting her granddaughter or stealing her snack at lunch. She went on to say that her granddaughter is much in love with TB, talks about him all the time, and laments that the other girls in the class love him too. The preschool teacher (who doubles as MM's aunt) told me how when they do little activities like dancing, the girls start shoving each other so they can be near him, claiming him for their own. One little girl even got her hair pulled.
What makes this even funnier is that TB is completely obliviously to all this attention. He did consider one of the girls his girlfriend, but she's "just my friend now, Mommy." But mostly he just shrugs it off, content to build towers with blocks or do puzzles.
NP and I joked that we could see him in a hot tub, surrounded by candles, sipping juice out of a Power Ranger cup, doing the SNL Ladies Man thing. "Come on in, girls, I got Mr. Bubble and bath tub tints. Mommy made chocolate milk and cookies. The water is hot and so am I. Let's get down tonight. Oh, yeah."
Friday, November 14, 2003
After 55 years
I witnessed one of the most touching scenes last night, and even though it's a sick Grandma story, I gotta tell it.
My grandmother lives two doors down from me. In a regular family, that might be a bit too close. My grandparents pretty much keep to themselves;I have to make an effort to see them, or I wouldn't see them at all. Anyway, my grandmother has been sick for the past 2 years - emergency surgery, a temporary ileostomy bag, breathing difficulties, etc. She probably weighs 90 lbs with a winter coat on. My grandfather is the beginning/middle stages of both Alzheimers and Parkinsons, but has found a good cocktail of medications to slow/hide the symptoms. He no longer drives, but he still plays poker on Monday and Thursday nights.
All this to say, that my grandmother called me last night, upset and raspy. She was terribly sick (ie - couldn't leave the bathroom) and was getting scared that she might pass out. I went right over, and was shocked by how terrible she looked, called my own mother, who also came. A few hours went by and finally my grandfather came home from poker. He told us his take for the evening (30 cents), and then asked why we were there.
He sauntered on back to the bathroom and knelt on one knee, with his elbow resting on his leg, and in a soothing, quiet voice meant just for her, asked her how she was feeling, and what was happening. He touched her knee gently. I don't know why it affected me the way it did, but my mother and I looked at each other, both of us tearful. I had to walk away because I didn't want him to see me. It just touched my heart how sweet and gentle he was, how he spoke to her, and I will never forget it.
My grandmother lives two doors down from me. In a regular family, that might be a bit too close. My grandparents pretty much keep to themselves;I have to make an effort to see them, or I wouldn't see them at all. Anyway, my grandmother has been sick for the past 2 years - emergency surgery, a temporary ileostomy bag, breathing difficulties, etc. She probably weighs 90 lbs with a winter coat on. My grandfather is the beginning/middle stages of both Alzheimers and Parkinsons, but has found a good cocktail of medications to slow/hide the symptoms. He no longer drives, but he still plays poker on Monday and Thursday nights.
All this to say, that my grandmother called me last night, upset and raspy. She was terribly sick (ie - couldn't leave the bathroom) and was getting scared that she might pass out. I went right over, and was shocked by how terrible she looked, called my own mother, who also came. A few hours went by and finally my grandfather came home from poker. He told us his take for the evening (30 cents), and then asked why we were there.
He sauntered on back to the bathroom and knelt on one knee, with his elbow resting on his leg, and in a soothing, quiet voice meant just for her, asked her how she was feeling, and what was happening. He touched her knee gently. I don't know why it affected me the way it did, but my mother and I looked at each other, both of us tearful. I had to walk away because I didn't want him to see me. It just touched my heart how sweet and gentle he was, how he spoke to her, and I will never forget it.
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Dysfunction at work? Demotivators!
I found this last night on Pete Beck's blog - Despair Inc., a company that takes those cheesy ass motivational posters and makes them funny.
My favorites:
Mediocrity
Dysfunction
Underachievement
My favorites:
Mediocrity
Dysfunction
Underachievement
Monday, October 27, 2003
Closure
Reflecting on all that has happened in the past year or so and how I feel about it all now, I realized some things about closure today.
There is no door you approach and simply walk though, slam shut and call Closure. That would be easy.
It's more like a complex series of doors - some locked, some barricaded, some false, some revolving, some, trapdoors. Some you can safely lock behind you, knowing that you have indeed crossed that hurdle, some you sort of skirt around, circling them, passing through them, only to return to the other side after a while. Sometimes an email or a song on the radio sends you running back through.
I closed one more door this weekend. Maybe even two. And it feels really good.
There is no door you approach and simply walk though, slam shut and call Closure. That would be easy.
It's more like a complex series of doors - some locked, some barricaded, some false, some revolving, some, trapdoors. Some you can safely lock behind you, knowing that you have indeed crossed that hurdle, some you sort of skirt around, circling them, passing through them, only to return to the other side after a while. Sometimes an email or a song on the radio sends you running back through.
I closed one more door this weekend. Maybe even two. And it feels really good.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
He's only sleeping
TB fell asleep on the floor last night, early. I got him up to go potty before I went to bed so he wouldn't pee in his bed. (Another joy of parenthood.)
I start walking him to the bathroom, and he throws his hands in the air, straight up, like I had him at gunpoint. I stand him in front of the toilet and he starts putting his hands all over the seat, which is up. (Eww.) I laugh and tell him to stop and go ahead and pee. He lifts his leg up to stand on the rim of the toilet. I start dying laughing, and he puts his toilet-germy hands on my cheek, and looks at me with the most hurt expression. I tell him to pee so he can go to bed, and he lifts his other leg and almost gets it into the toilet bowl before I can yelp at him to stop, amid the laughter. He looks at me again, like I had just ripped apart his favorite stuffed puppy. He tries this at least once more, before he finally pees and stumbles off to bed, never really waking up.
It was sort of like trying to get your very drunk friend to pee, only hopefully without the toilet germy hands all on your face. He had absolutely no recollection of what had happened, and none of the annoying hangover.
I start walking him to the bathroom, and he throws his hands in the air, straight up, like I had him at gunpoint. I stand him in front of the toilet and he starts putting his hands all over the seat, which is up. (Eww.) I laugh and tell him to stop and go ahead and pee. He lifts his leg up to stand on the rim of the toilet. I start dying laughing, and he puts his toilet-germy hands on my cheek, and looks at me with the most hurt expression. I tell him to pee so he can go to bed, and he lifts his other leg and almost gets it into the toilet bowl before I can yelp at him to stop, amid the laughter. He looks at me again, like I had just ripped apart his favorite stuffed puppy. He tries this at least once more, before he finally pees and stumbles off to bed, never really waking up.
It was sort of like trying to get your very drunk friend to pee, only hopefully without the toilet germy hands all on your face. He had absolutely no recollection of what had happened, and none of the annoying hangover.
