| If You're Still Checking This... | | Date Created: Jul 31, 2007, 06:06 PM |
I'm not going to make any excuses for why it's been so long, I'm just going to thank those of you still bothering to check!
I used to love summer, its warm weather, its lack of structured time, its lazy days and general slow pace. Now I am dying for school to start back up! We have had an incredible summer, really we have. But I need some time away from the guys, and as much as I hate a schedule, I need its structure to make sure I ever get the boys dressed, ever get myself dressed, ever get the breakfast dishes off the table before Will gets home from work. BUT, we have a much-needed and much-dreamt-about oasis on the horizon of our neverending summer. Thursday morning Will and I are going to the mountains of North Carolina BY OURSELVES, renting a cabin, and doing nothing for three days and four nights! The grandparents are taking on babysitting duties (thank you Pen Pen and Pop Pop, Connor and Boop!).
One of the most exciting developments we've had around here lately (besides looking forward to our mountain vacation) has been George's potty-training! He is wearing underpants! Maybe George didn't want to do it until he was 100 percent sure he could actually do it. Or maybe it's his crazy metabolism that's to blame for his tardiness. He literally goes to the bathroom six times an hour. Sometimes twice in a 5-minute period. He does drink a lot of liquids, so it makes sense, but it goes through him so fast. He also eats twice as much as the other two and is still the smallest. Actually I've been saying that, but he really isn't the skinniest. He's the shortest. He's pretty muscular. James is taller but his knees are the widest part of his legs. James does have a belly. A big belly and a tiny tiny waist. John is taller and bigger than both the other two. Anyway, the potty training is going so well. He pretty much put on underwear and never looked back. He's had only a few accidents that kind of go like this:
"Mama, I need a paper towel!" Which means just give me a paper towel, Mom, and you'll never know there was a 7-inch slick spot on the sisal rug.
"I lef' some behind, Mama!" Left what? "T-T!" Where? "On the floor."
"Daddy, you need to bring the plunger! There's some toilet paper lef'!"
Another new development--or maybe "development" isn't the right word --has been the progression--maybe not the right word either--of their senses of humor. The latest revelation is the knock-knock joke. Will tried to teach them some with the word "orange" in the answer, such as, "Orange you glad you knocked?" or "Orange you glad I'm your daddy?" or whatever. But this is how the boys' favorite one goes:
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange banana!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I've perfected my fake laugh.
One thing that is no laughing matter has been John's extreme nervous-nelliness. He is driving me crazy. On one hand I am glad he is always looking out for danger. I need as many eyes for that as possible with three wild men running in three directions at all times. But his paranoia that something bad is going to happen to him or his brothers is getting old.
In Dollar General the other day, my favorite store, George tore off down an aisle away from the rest of us. "GEOOOORRGE!" John screamed. "Come back!" I was more worried about John causing alarms to go off, sprinkler systems to activate, and 911 to be dialed with the shrillness and volume of his scream than George running down the fake flower aisle.
His paranoia is worst of all in the boat or at my grandparents' dock. He screams if George or James runs down the boardwalk. He screams if George and James are swimming in the creek while wearing life jackets and with three grown-ups who are standing on the bottom. He will T-T off the side of the dock, but he stands about three feet away from the side. The only way I could get him closer to the edge so his TT wouldn't go all over the dock (and our feet) was to play up his competitive nature. I encouraged him when he glanced at the piling in front of him and said, "I can hit that!" When we're on the boat, he watches James and the fearless George more closely than their great-grandmother Mumms does--and that's saying something! :) He also freaks out when his brothers go near the pond in our backyard, run too fast on a wet sidewalk, swim in the pool without being held by a grown-up (with swimmies on), climb too high on playground equipment at the park, or run off from the pack at stores, the beach, the front yard.
Besides his paranoia, he has also been driving me crazy with his fits when something doesn't go his way. Right now his main struggle in life in getting this little plastic fireman to attach his tiny hand to the tiny steering wheel of the fire boat. And the little fireman has to be standing up, not sitting. It's taken me a week to convince him firemen are so cool they drive boats with only one hand (I've tried every which way to get both tiny hands to attach to the wheel, but it's just not possible). Anyway, when the fireman becomes unattached from the wheel, or when he is snatched away from his standing position somehow, John comes screaming to wherever I am. Screaming. I cannot describe how loud he can be. He does this about 15 times a day. If he won't ask me without calming down first, I send him to time-out. The back of his door has dents up and down it, little chips out of the wood where he's thrown his toys against it during time-out.
Even though John's meltdowns cause me to meltdown, things are going pretty well. The boys' imagination is going wild, and they can entertain themselves so well. Right now they are building a firetruck out of blocks and using swords as "axes" (I've given up on the no-weapons rule). They also play toy store, zoo, and pirates. The only problem with the extreme playing they do (by "extreme" I mean with louder-than-life sound effects, plenty of building followed by destruction, a good dose of crashes, lots of putting out of fires, lots of knocking away standing firemen away from the steering wheel, and lots of rearranging the gorillas, peacocks, and zebras in Georgie's zoo), is that while they need less supervision than before, they need plenty of overseeing. They need a nice competent woman with a calm voice, unshakeable serenity, infinite know-how, extraordinary fine motor skills and exceptionably nimble fingers, thorough understanding of mechanics, and a vest with lots of pockets full of screwdrivers of all sizes, batteries of all varieties, tape, super glue, string, pocketknife, and tweezers. This woman would monitor the hall and steps waiting and ready for the call: "Mama!" "Momoe!" "Mom!" I am not this woman. I know there are mothers right at this moment leaning over their infants repeating in lilty voices, "Mamamamamamamamama," hoping their little one will call them by name. But, ladies, this too can wait. I must hear "Mama" and "Momoe" literally 2,000 a day. And it's never in a whisper. And it's always an emergency. And most of the time, it's got the inflections of someone in need of something only I can provide. Never, "Mama, I love you," it's "ma-MAAAAAA"! Ugh. It drives me nuts. While I am writing this right now: "Mama! Ma-maaaaa! I need some undies for Stripesy!" "And I need some undies for Badger!" Also today besides the firemen with his hands off the wheel, George needs me to read to him what each sticker says on a whole page of stickers, apparently with one sticker per every single nation on the planet. George needs his picture of his zoo so he can arrange it just like the picture. James needs his boat from downstairs moved upstairs. John needs the single drop of Frosty on his placemat wiped away. George needs his underwear put back on without his boyparts hanging out the side. John needs James to share. James needs the light on during quiet time. George needs to know if it's going to be a short quiet time. And at least once a day, "Mama! There's a yucky bug!" Mama. Mama. Mama.
But really, I'm no crazier than normal and things really are going pretty well. We had an excellent Fourth of July; the theme of this year's family parade was "The Firecracker 400." Each boy dressed as their favorite NASCAR driver. The fact they have favorite NASCAR drivers is one of those things where if I think about it too long I start asking, Dear Lord, what did I do in life that you felt I needed to have three boys? Who are these people and how did I get here? Anyway, it was great. Of course, it took John two hours to warm up. He hid behind the float (pick-up truck with a trailer) until it was time to start the parade and during the post-parade celebration wouldn't let go of either his grandparents' or my or Will's hands. James was all over the parade. He's just a parade-type person. At home he stages his own "capwades" marching in front with either his American flag, saxophone, sword, or guitar. Before the start of the Fourth of July parade he shouted in front of a big crowd into the bullhorn with his Sylvester-the-cat voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, START YOUR ENGINES!" George was as at home in the crowd as he always is, whether surrounded by people he doesn't know or whether in his room alone with his 16,843 tiny animals. Anyway, the weather was perfect, breezy and not too hot, and the boys were very cute in their uniforms. I have to admit I enjoyed the comments I got about the costumes. Apparently I've been so desperate for a project outside of potty-training and fireman-hand-attaching, that I couldn't tear myself away from the felt and glue gun for four days straight.
Another big event this summer was their birthday. Four years old! One day they are going to realize that other people have parties with clowns or bowling alleys or ponies. But until then, I will enjoy the minimal work of the "family party." Meaning our family brings most of the food, family are the only guests, and toys in the backyard provide all the entertainment. I did let them each choose a fancy cake. George's was a replica of one of his favorite toys, his Little People Noah's Ark, James had a three-dimensional pirate ship, and true to John's I-don't-need-new-shoes-I -already-have-a-pair/I'm-ready-to-go-home/can-I-just-have-cereal-with-milk-for-supper attitude, he picked out a simple extremely inexpensive sheet cake with a football field on it and tiny plastic football players circa 1970.
I will try to do better and write more often. I read an article on Oprah Magazine talking about how this can be the year you become a writer. The person who wrote the article says that what you have to do is no matter what, write every day. Let the paint peel off the house, let the laundry pile up, let the dishes sit, let the grass grow long. Sounds good. But it was no surprise to me that the only person they could find to dish this devil-may-care attitude was a man. And a scruffy unshaven one at that.
We've gotten some good pictures this summer, so I'll continue to sprinkle them in. This one is of the boys "surfing." |
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