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It’s Sunday, the day of rest, so why the heck am I awake before 9am? Damn toddlers and their incessant need to get the most out of a day. Besides the fact that his diaper was exploding, he was raring to go. I’m not so chipper. In fact I would be perfectly happy to blissfully sleep for another three or four hour stretch. I suppose it would make a difference if my bedtime was eight pm. When I was little my parents were lucky if I slept past six in the morning, so perhaps this is what the fates call “payback”.
Although I truly believe someone was looking down on me with sympathy when I had Finnegan. When I found out I was pregnant with another boy, I have to admit I was a little nervous about it. Don’t get me wrong, Logan, my almost eight year old son, is one of the lights of my life. He is also very high maintenance. While Meghan, my twelve year old sulks in silence (mostly) Logan wears all of his emotions and thoughts on his sleeve. You KNOW how Logan is feeling all of the time, in Stereo. Where Meghan has always been pretty easy to take care of, doing a lot of things herself, Logan wants me to help him, with EVERYTHING. It’s great to be needed, really, but there can be a limit to this!
When Logan was little (not that Logan was ever really little, since he’s always been about two sizes bigger than the rest of his age group!) he would get up, oh around six am (damn karma and that whole payback thing) come into my room and stand beside my bed with his head right up to mine. He’d just stand there and stare. Have you ever had someone stare at you in close proximity? It’s kind of a creepy feeling. Not quite as much though as opening your eyes to find yourself staring into the giant brown eyes of a toddler. If that tactic didn’t work for Logan, he would peel open my eyelids and say in a big stage whisper “MAMA, ARE YOU AWAKE?”
So when Finnegan came along, I had some serious reservations. He turned out to take after his daddy more than me, THANK GOD. He’s really easy going, a smiley boy that isn’t high maintenance. Which is good, Logan and I are enough high maintenance for one family!
Although Meghan has reached full puberty and is showing increasing signs of unreasonableness. She goes from perfectly normal, sweet, thoughtful Meghan to a hormonal she-monster within mere seconds. She doesn’t quite comprehend yet though that mommy has had years of practice with hormonal rampages so she can’t possibly master mine.
Last week before she went to camp we were all cleaning up the house when she came stomping up the stairs to bring me something. I asked her what the problem was
In her snottiest voice possible she said “ I WAS trying to play with my friend but instead I’M RUNNING around the house DOING THINGS”.
To that I replied “REALLY? Well you do not have to have a friend stay over again and I certainly don’t have to spend hundreds of dollars to send you to camp, if you are not willing to be a member of this household and pull your weight”. I was a little pissy about it, I ‘ll admit, but it got my point across nicely, and for the rest of the morning she was uber helpful and thoughtful.
“Mommy, is there anything else I can do for you?” That was much better. It’s helpful for your children to be a little afraid of you. Trust me.
So back to Logan, my drama queen, I think I’ve mentioned previously that it’s a good thing the kid has charm and cuteness. The other night I was tired and cranky (a state I seem to be in a lot lately) and was upstairs in my room changing for bed. Logan came racing into my room in an obvious panic. Standing just inside my door in his jammies (ok, I’m not sure if tighty whities can be considered jammies, but we’ll just go with that). He’d been in bed for a while so I was about to give him crap for being up when he opened his mouth to speak, looking at me with his humongous brown eyes, all serious and welling with tears.
He said “Mama, I NEED to ask you something”
So instead of telling him to go to bed, I said “Ok buddy, what is it?”
He took a deep breath, paused and then blurted in a quick rush “If I got turned into a frog will you still love me?” After which his giant eyes stared me down, waiting for the answer
With a perfectly straight face and even tone of voice (I was so proud of myself!) I replied “Yes buddy, if you got turned into a frog I’d still love you”
The instant relief on his face was almost comic as he plopped down on my bed and replied "Oh thank goodness!"
Ok first of all "thank goodness”? What is he an eighty year old woman?
Second, WTF? Where does this boy get these things? I swear this kid makes my brain hurt.
So being mature and responsible I tucked him back into bed, kissed him good night, reassured him I love him and managed to get out of his room before I burst into a lovely fit of the giggles. Then I told everyone I could think of and now am writing it here in my blog. He really made my night.
Oh well, I figure, my kids will need therapy eventually (everyone does), I may as well make it easier for them to blame me!
Work is still dominating my life but I have to say I am enjoying learning the ins and outs of management. I did warn my boss that I require much development, and am sometimes slow to learn. Hopefully she remembers that as I transition to the dark side! Just when I think I’m getting a handle on things, another wrench gets thrown into the cog. Damn wrenches.
I signed up for my next course in Insurance, which begins in November and is a fast track. Because you know I don’t have enough demands on my time, I needed another challenge. Or perhaps I need to up my dose of crazy pills.
In diet news I’ve lost 17 pounds since the beginning of this blog. Yes ladies and gentlemen, 17 pounds!!! I know it keeps looking for me like a lost child in the grocery store calling me back. I’m resisting, but some days that evil chocolate or deep fried goodness catches my attention. I try to convince myself that vegetables are the best tasting things in the world, but as I’m farting my way down the hall it’s hard to keep up that image. Chocolate never gave me gas. My exercise program is sporadic, some weeks I do it and some weeks I think of every excuse not to. Things like having a migraine (which was SUPER fun by the way), having killer cramps, being tired, and work all worked out to be convenient excuses, except the fact that my ass is not shrinking on these weeks either.
In other news, my sister found a place and is very excited to be moving next week. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to the house being a little less full than it currently is. Now if I could only convince her to take some of MY children with her...
Okay gotta go, my toddler is singing at the top of his lungs as he pours water onto his peanut butter toast. Good times.
Jeff is my favourite, I have this hanging up in my office and Jeff never fails to make me smile. He reminds me so much of myself.
