Dear Beanie...

Dear Beanie,

Happy Birthday to my sweet little boy!  Well, you're not so little anymore.  You're 5 today.  I can't believe it's been 5 years since I brought you home from the hospital.  I still remember how tiny you were.  That's why I called you "Beanie".  Tiny and skinny, just like a string bean. 

But look how you've grown.  Physically, mentally, emotionally.  Five years ago, I wouldn't have guessed my colicky, non-stop crying, always-needed-to-be-held baby would turn into the independent, funny, intelligent, compassionate little man that you are. 

You're the best son a mommie could ever have.  As much as I've tried to teach you and nurture you these past 5 years, I think you've done an equally, if not better, job in teaching me.  You've taught me what innocence is,  what it's like to see the world in your eyes.  You've taught me to how to stop and just smell the flowers...literally.  You've taught me the names of every skateboarding trick there is out there and no matter how many times I get it wrong, you say, "it's ok, Mommie."  But most of all, you've taught me to love someone unconditionally.  I love hearing you call me "mommie"  or "mama" or yes, even "mom".  I couldn't ask for anything more.

I find myself staring at you sometimes.  Just because.  Because of your smile.  Because of the goofy dance you're doing.  Because of your silly rendition of the latest pop song.  Because of the things you say to me.  Just because.  And I smile.  I guess I'm hoping if I stare long enough, I can freeze this moment in time.  Because I never want those moments to end.  Don't grow up too fast, Beanie.  I know you're ready...but I'm not. 

I am so grateful and blessed for the wonderful gift you are giving me every day!  You make my smile, you make me cry, you make me sing, you make me dance.  You are, and forever will be...my angel, my Beanie, the love of my life!

Happy Birthday, sweetie!!!  I love you lots!

Love,

Mama

 

Keep runnin' and runnin'

I've been bitten by the Fitness bug and it feels G-R-R-R-R-REAT!!!  This past weekend, I participated in my very first 5K run. 

Have I ran before, you ask?  Nope. 

Have I been training to run?  Nah-uh.  Only for 2 weeks prior.

Was I crazy to even attempt this?  Probably. 

But I did.  And I finished.   And I wasn't even last.  Wooohooooo!

Oh no he didn't...

I don't like smart-mouth children.  Dislike it even more when it's MY smart-mouth child.  And lately, this seems to be the case. 

How in the world can a four year old be so sarcastic and mouthy?  I mean, where does he get this from? 

*Slight pause* 

Okay, nevermind.  I know where he gets it from. *eye roll* 

But I didn't think I'd have to deal with it until he was a teenager.  So the specialty of the week with Lil T (aka Smartmouth T) is his, "Why do you keep asking me if you don't listen to what I say" shpiel.  Let me give you an example.

Me:  "T, do you want your gloves?  It's really cold.

Lil T:  "No thank you."

Me:  "Well, I think you should put them on because your hands will be freezing."

Lil T:  "Why do you ask me if I tell you no and you tell me to do what you want anyway.  I already said no" with a sigh and a HUGE eye roll.

Me:  "Just put them on please." 

Some more sighing and more eye rolling.

or

Me:  "Do you want to eat one more nugget?"

Lil T:  "No, I ate 2 already."

Me:  "You'll be hungry later.  Eat one more and you're done."

Lil T:  "Mommie, you did it again.  How come you ask me but don't listen..."  blah, blah, blah.

Okay, first off...he's right.  Why the heck did I do that? 

He is definitely right.  I guess I just don't like Mr. Smartmouth pointing it out to me.  So back to his question, why DO I do that?  Ummm.  I HAVE NO CLUE!  Blame it on some internal motherhood schizophrenia.  You know, on one hand you want to be fair and give them the opportunity to think on their own and make their own decisions so you ask them.  But on the other hand, you still want to be in charge and you're hoping they would answer the way you want them to answer.  And when they don't, you tell them what you want to hear.  Yea I know, PSYCHO!  But it's true.  As much as I want him to make his own decision and to think for himself in certain situations, there's that part of me that doesn't want to fully relinquish control (the controlling, anal, OCD me).  And he's caught on to it.  Dammit.

So I answer as only a mother can answer in these situations.

"Because I'm your mother.  And I said so."

Just kidding, I didn't.  I sure as heck did want to, but I didn't.  Instead, I apologized.  Yes, I did the motherly thing.  I admitted that I was wrong and he was right.  And I would try my best not to do that again. 

At least, until the next time...I do it again. 

What?

He always tells me he'll pick up his toys when he's done playing.  And when does THAT really happen???

My reason for falling for the "scam"

Okay, I admit it.  I'm a Valentine's Day sucker.  Oh wait, that didn't sound right.  Minds outta the gutter, please.  What I mean is that I'm one of those people who falls for the Valentine's Day "scam".  You know, the chocolate hysteria and the dozen roses bit.  And all things heart-shaped.  But please let me explain.  I do have a somewhat, if not pathetic, validation for this.

You see, growing up, I was not Ms. Popularity.  I grew up with four sisters and parents who wanted a boy.  So you can just imagine.  I was their "let's get it out of our system and dress her like a boy" therapy.  Uh-huh.  And once I was out of that phase, I entered the "teenager, acne-faced, let me find my identity" phase.  Yup.  Prime candidate for therapy.  Speaking of which.... 

Nevermind. 

Anyhoo, so you can imagine what it was like when Valentine's Day rolled around.  I got valentines in school because the teacher made you give one to everyone.  And then when I became a grown adult, there were no boyfriends.  Yuh-huh. 

So I dreaded Valentine's Day.  My biggest memory of Valentine's Day was ordering sushi and watching "Sweet Home Alabama" with a girlfriend, all the while drowning our sorrows in sake.  Pathetic.  I swore that would all change.  Once I had a significant other, that would all change.  I would have a reason to celebrate Valentine's Day.  I would be one of those crazy people who pushed through aisles of heart-shaped cards and chocolates to pick out the right one.  I would one day be the recipient of a bouquet of over-priced, half wilted roses and an expensive box of 1000-calorie chocolates.  Man, I couldn't wait!

Yeah, okay.  Not so much.  Lucky me, I married someone who also doesn't believe in the "Hallmark holiday scam".  Although, when we were dating, he did send me a huge bouquet of long-stem roses on Valentine's Day.  To my office.  With a box of chocolate.  Talk about ultimate swooo-oon.  Yeah, he suckered me in.  He also used to write me poems.  Yeah, poems.  But that was a loooong time ago.

So finally I thought I had the validation.  I now belonged to the flower and chocolate receiving group.  But that was short-lived.  Now, nada.  Okay, he does sometimes still buy me flowers and a box of chocolate on Valentine's Day...but only because he has to.  I guess I'll take what I can get.  But that's the thing.  That's why I fall for this retailer's scam.  It's the only day out of the 365 that we have that I can get validation that I am amored.  Yeah I know, it's so pathetic that I can puke.  People say that there are 364 other days that you can show your love.  And it means more when it's not expected or forced (as it is on Valentine's Day).  That would be true if you were with someone who showered you with love those other 364 days.  But for me, I'll take what I can get.  Papa-in-Suburbia is not really Mr. Romantic.

So you see why I'm pro-Valentine's Day.  After waiting 40 30 plus years to be part of it, I want to celebrate it.  Pathetic, I know.  But I stand by it. 

But lucky for me, I have my very own pint-sized Valentine to celebrate with.  He's my love!  He's my all!  He now gives me a reason to love this holiday even more.  And with reason.  He's my 365-day Valentine!

Happy Valentine's Day!

 

Mommie dearest

I have a 4 1/2 year old son.  Or at least I think I do.  I can't tell anymore because some days I swear he's 14 years old.  And still other days, he acts like he's 40 years old. 

Lately, well more like for the past 2 months, Lil T has taken a liking to calling me "Mom".  Not "mommie", not "mama", but "Mom".  Maybe it's me, but I cringe at being called "mom".  Little four year olds are not supposed to call you "mom".  It should be "mommie".  Seriously.  Mommies are young, cute and full of fun.  Moms are old, boring, and...old.  Ugh, the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up every time he calls me "mom". 

"Don't call me that please.  It's mommie"  I would say. 

"Okay.  Mom!"  he would reply with his sarcastic hee-hee-hee laugh.

ARGHHHHH!!!  I know.  You think I'm nuts.  A bit crazy, maybe.  But let me try to explain.  

Little kids (they're tiny and cute and adorable) should be calling you "Mommie".  It just sounds gentler.  A soft, warm and endearing sound to your ears...Mom-mie.  It brings with it a sense of innocence.  You picture a mother who's vibrant and young and lovely.  I know, you think I'm nuts.

Kids can start calling their mothers "Mom" when they're older.  Mom...it's not as sweet sounding anymore.  There's no longer that sense of innocence.  You picture a more authoritative figure,  a woman who's a bit *gulp* older.  When you hear "Muh-om" being called, you see a twelve or thirteen year old pleading whiningly to his mother to let him hang out with his buddies a bit longer.  Or a teenager wanting to borrow the car.  "Please mom, puh-leeeze can I go to the mall with so-and-so?"  That's a mom.  And yea okay, it's an age thing to me.  I admit it.  I guess I perceive "mommie" to a younger mother and "mom" to an older mother.  Just my perception, not calling any moms old.  Yikes, heaven forbid.

So to hear my 4 1/2 year old call me "mom", it just sounds so out of the ordinary.  It's too weird.  But I know he does it on purpose because he knows it irks me so much.  And his best line yet?  "Hi mom.  Love you, mom."  Anytime I tell him to do something he doesn't want to, he responds with..."ohhh-kay MOM".  And I'll give him the evil eye, and he quickly replies with, "Love you, MOM!"   Argghhhhhhh!!!!!