| Because It's Friday | | Date Created: May 18, 2007, 03:43 PM |
Because it's Friday we had milkshakes for lunch. Because it's Friday I am letting them read during naptime. And so far they are being quieter when they are "trying" to go to sleep. And because it's Friday and because they got out of school early today we went to the park and stayed for a long long time.
The park is always fraught with dangers for poor James. Whether it be the heat or the bugs, something always manages to lather him up to the height of agitation. Today it was the sand in his shoes and the racetrack. I know I looked like the heartless mother that I am to the other sweeter mothers and fathers when James plopped down on the sidewalk in front of everyone whining, "Sand in my shoe! There's sand in my shoe, Momoe! Get it out!" I told him quietly that I'd already helped him get the sand out and I wasn't going to take off and put his shoes back on again. I know, I know. I'm mean. But taking off and putting on shoes with James is no simple matter. I finally did help him again because he said, "Puh-Leez, Momoe!" loud where everyone could hear. He knows how to work me! But once we got the one grain of sand out of the shoes nothing could make them comfortable enough to get back on. I'm used to the excuses: They're too tight. They're too big. But today it was, "My socks! My socks are too white! They're too white!"
Then on the racetrack--which is really a shuffleboard board (?) I've yet to see a shuffleboarder use--James whined race after race with his brothers: "It's my turn to go out front! I want to be in the front!" For better or worse they know what winning and losing mean, and either George or John finished first today every time. But James never said, "I want to win!" It was "I want to be in front!" I truly believe he didn't mention winning because he knows that putting it that way would be admitting he'd been losing. And that's not something James is willing to admit! And so there I am in one of those minor on-the-spot parental decisions that ostensibly mean nothing but in the front of my mind I can't help feeling could mean the difference between monthly and twice-weekly therapy sessions, between him finding a rewarding job and jumping trains. Do I tell George and John to LET James win? On one hand, of course not! That's not exactly preparing him for the real life of public school PE class that awaits him. Also, it's admitting that the only way he could ever win would be for his brothers to hold back. On the other hand, how good does it feel to fly over the finish line first with nothing but the breeze on your face in front of you (not that I would know)? And what could it hurt when you're just having fun at the park and you're not even four years old yet? And then while I was pondering the options, James tripped over his feet at full-speed and his face bounced off the racetrack. I ran to him and, poor poor thing, he had four perfect squares from the grid of the track indented in his forehead in faint blood and a hatch mark across the bridge of his nose where his glasses slammed against his face. It's a miracle his glasses didn't break. That was pretty much the end of our time at the park, but not before our way to the car when George said he wanted to climb a tree and I said, "Okay! Give it a try!" knowing I had nothing to worry about. The next thing I know I turn around and George is standing in the crook of a live oak.
Overall, though, we had a great time. James' fussiness was a lot better than it usually is and the weather was absolutely beautiful. And while I may not have been the most perfect mother there (who's comparing?) I certainly wasn't the worst. As I was standing equidistant from John and George in the sandbox and James warming up with solitary sprints on the racetrack I saw a little boy around the guys' age run up to James and grab on to him and try to push him down. James yelled out an "AAAGGH!" and the boy let go. I was very impressed with the way James handled the assault. Scream loud in a public place and maybe it'll scare them off! But I kept my eye on the little boy. Like I said, we were at the park for a LONG time, and this one particular mother was on her cell phone the entire time just sort of floating around. It was her little boy that had grabbed James. After he grabbed James I saw him push his mother. She didn't even notice. The more I watched the more I realized he was just trying to get her attention, and I really felt sorry for him. Not that I don't sympathize with the mother. My grande coffee was almost as glued to my hand as her cell phone to her ear. Yes I do get bored sometimes watching George bury an old abandoned plastic Little People building in the sandbox while simultaneously John unburies it. Yes, I am sometimes not in the mood for small talk with the other mothers or babysitters--That's right, they're triplets. No it wasn't IVF. That's right they're all boys. Oh yes, it is in fact a handful. BUT, this poor rambunctious child was crying out for some attention, even negative attention. But she never watched him play, never called him down for being too rough, never said one word to him! Only to the person on the phone. Hardly child abuse, but it did make me sad. If I hadn't been watching my boys so moderately, I would have missed the sweet moment when John shared one of the very few shovels with a little girl. Once he was ready to leave the sandbox.
Speaking of buried treasure in the sandbox, the boys are siked about the Tall Ships and Pirate Encampment downtown this weekend. Today we rode over the bridge to admire the ships and tomorrow we plan on going to see them up close. John has really taken to studying the pictures of the ships in the newspaper. He keeps the Tall Ship insert from the newspaper by his potty and reads it while he poops. There is no such thing as nurture, I'm convinced. It's nature in all its prehistoric glory.
The boys have really been into music lately. Of course, I love that! When things get bad, a good song can really get us all back on track. True, I am SICK TO DEATH of their favorite ("Free Ride"), but it's better than the Wiggles. So now that they are so into adult music, they want to know everything. When a song comes on they want to know: What's this song called, Momoe? Who sings it, Momoe? Is it a man or a woman singing? (why does this matter?!) Where do they live, Momoe? This morning for the first time George asked what a word in a song meant! It wasn't a word really--well I guess it was, but it was one of those instances when you sing along with what it sounds like but you don't really know what the word is and you end up singing a bunch of nonsense. So I told him we'd have to look up the words on the computer. But this led me to another dilemma. One of their favorite songs is Tom Petty's "Yer So Bad" because of course it's hilarious to say that. The only problem is, there are other words in this same good song, such as "My sister's a swinger dating a singer." One of their other favorite songs has the line, "Get her jacked up on some cheap champagne and let the good times all roll out." Grandmothers and great-grandmothers, no need to pray for the souls of my innocent children who had no choice to be born to heathens who listen to filth. I promise to be more vigilant about censoring the music I listen to with the boys. Or at least making up some nonsense words to go along with it. Maybe "My sister's a singer without any fingers." I don't know. We'll work it out...
Have a great weekend. Here's a picture of the boys on the racetrack a few weeks ago. And James in front! After a win like that (look at his face!), no wonder he wants a repeat.
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