Conversations

At home-
E: "I burped, excuse me."
[Mom is doing a crossword, and is only listening with half an ear]
E: "I'm excused."
[Mom smiles absentmindedly, continues trying to figure out 26-Across]
E (very aggrieved): "MOM! I had to excuse MYSELF!"

In the car-
E: "Mom, can Poppa sit next to me?"
Mom: "Babe, our car's still small and he won't have enough room for his legs in the back."
E: "Well, when will our car grow up?"

Last-Minute Needs...

So, I made one of those "I need one thing at Wal-Mart" trips this evening. For literally, one thing. That I absolutely HAD TO HAVE right then. And then, naturally, it became like 10 things. Because once I was there, I was like, "Oh, yeah, that's right, I forgot that I promised I'd get E this..." Never fails.

[Incidentally, "Achy Breaky Heart" is playing overhead at Kettle, my hometown's only "Internet Cafe"...I am sad to discover that that song did not die as it should have, in the 90s...]

But my point is, you know how all supermarkets and stores of similar ilk have their checkout aisles so nicely set up with all the things that a busy mom/normal person is likely to forget otherwise? Like Kleenex and chapstick and batteries and soap and God only knows what else? And naturally, all those dinky little toys that your kids just HAVE to have, and all your own favorite candy and fluff magazines, so then if Mommy gets a present, then E has to have one...It's quite sneaky of them.

I rarely wait until I'm actually in the checkout line to realize that I've forgotten something... (Usually I'm merrily walking along, pushing my cart, and then suddenly remember and halt, and cause a traffic jam that just ripples across the store...)...so I don't usually utilize the mini-convenience store that is a Wal-Mart checkout line.

However, this time, I happened to do just that. Right up until we walked into the line, I had forgotten that I had told E I'd buy him some chapstick "of his very own". And luckily for me, they had the usual selection of like 10 different types just waiting for me.

While I was carefully perusing the labels (God forbid I should pick something too girly or too minty or too "spicy"), I happened to notice something peculiar among the humdrum items: several bottles of K*Y Touch Mass@ge Oil.

Honestly, are there that many people twiddling their thumbs in line at supermarkets who suddenly think: "Damn, I forgot my m@ssage oil!!!"

Wal-Mart seems to think so.

Personally, I'd think co#doms would be higher up on my list of "Things People Forget to Purchase That They're Really Gonna Regret Forgetting." But whatever.


[Also, I'm bleeping things so I don't get spammed. Because this is a family forum...Ha, right.]

Can You Tell It's New?

E, to my mom, as she climbed into my car: "Don't touch ANYTHING in my mom's car."

E, to my brother, as he climbed into the driver's seat: "You have got to BE CAREFUL in my mom's car."

Boys Just Wanna Have Fun

Recent exchange with E...

Me: Hey, E, we're gonna get a new car soon. Does that sound like a good idea?

E: [Dawning hope in eyes, accompanied by several Hummer-shaped stars...]

Me: But it's NOT going to be a Hummer.

E: [Pouting]


Exchange with E after buying said new car...

Me: Do you like the car, even though it's not a Hummer?

E: Yes. But we're going to call it a Transformer.

Happenings

We had a blast in the Twin Cities, visiting the fam.

We just happened to go to the Mall of America, while we were there.

We just happened to buy all-day ride passes at the (former?) Camp Snoopy. That was a BIG DEAL for us. Usually, as kids, my sibs and I were limited to 3 rides each, unless one of my uncles was feeling generous and bought us passes. I think my parents were feeling generous this time because E was back among us. (Like a fungus.) Not that they bought the passes, that would have been asking a bit much. But they bought one for my brother, so that I got to ride all the kiddie rides with E and all the grown-up rides with David.

Speaking of "E", my new favorite thing is to call him "Tiny Dancer", because of:
A: his habit of dancing
B: his genetic fate of rather stunted stature (ha, not really, he's not that short, just short...)
C: my love of Elton John and a certain song that I used to think had lyrics involving "head lice".
PS: if you don't know why I thought it was a song about head lice, I'm not going to talk to you any more, because you're obviously not an Elton John fan.

So I'm seriously considering switching my son's "E" pseudonym to "Tiny Dancer" or perhaps just "T.D.", to preserve the rather feminine anonymity of his nickname...I'll let you know what I decide...

Anyway, after we'd all ridden ourselves silly on the amusement park rides, we happened to find ourselves in Lego Land. They have a rather fascinating play area with piles and piles of Legos in huge bins, and a racing ramp, so you can make and race your own Lego Cars. Brilliant.

E, of course, dug right in, oblivious to the nearby family argument going on about where the 20 members of the extended gene pool were going to meet for dinner, and how we were all going to get there. After about 15-20 minutes of planning and negotiating, we finally decided on a destination. E, my brother, and I were ordered to hitch a ride to the restaurant with my Nana & Papa (you see, organizing a family reunion is kind of like organizing troops. The general doesn't take disobedience well, because that could lead to someone dying...).

Well, in my distracted folly, I didn't realize that E, of course, hadn't been privy to our discussion, and all of a sudden, we had to race for the restaurant to make it by the agreed time. So he got no "you have 5 minutes to play" warning. Instead, I told him we had to go, picked him up bodily, took his Lego car away and left it in a nearby collection bin, and walked out of the area.

BAD IDEA.

The mall exit was, predictably, as far away from Lego Land as we could possibly have gotten. He kicked and screamed for the entire walk. He's a pretty strong little kiddo, and at one point, I had to deliver him to my brother, who is considerably stronger than I, to manhandle through the building.

I was extraordinarily embarrassed, because no parent wants to have to make the Mother's Walk of Shame for more than a few feet, much less make that walk in front of one's own grandparents! My mom was one of seven kids, and I have a dozen or so cousins, so it's not as if they're unused to screaming children, but still!

But all my Nana said was a mild: "I hope no one thinks we're kidnapping him..."

At which point, my traitorous and unmotherly inner self happened to think: "If a security guard came up right now and questioned me, I would say 'You are absolutely right, you should find this child's real mother.'"

Back Where He Belongs

I didn't cry when he left. And I cried maybe once when he was gone.

But I cried like a baby when he came back. And days later, I'm still teary-eyed.

I'm glad he's back.



Incidentally, we're in Minnesota, celebrating my grandparents' 56th anniversary.

Sweating the Small Things

The other night, I had one of the most pleasant dreams of my life.

I dreamed I was helping E get dressed in the morning.

I gave him a choice of shirts. And he rejected both and proceeded to empty his entire shirt drawer in search of the perfect shirt. He does that because he insists I don't pick cool shirts for him. He's a bit of a brat....I watched him pick shorts and undergarment and socks. I argued with him about the merits of wearing his adorable green sneakers that reflect so nicely on his (and his mom's) coolness versus his old clunky tennis shoes that are a size too big for him...

I know, I know, not exactly earth-shattering or even that interesting to write about. But it really illustrated to me what I find precious about my time with him. It's not necessarily the big events like taking him to the zoo or playing with him at the park. Although those are wonderful as well. But the things that I really miss are the everyday things that I don't even think about when he's here and when they're commonplace.

The other day I was driving and absentmindedly reached back toward the back seat, looking for a small hand to grasp. It wasn't until the hand wasn't there that I realized how frequently I perform that particular maneuver.

For another example, I was saddened by my laundry last week. I enjoy doing laundry usually (I know, it's such a housewifely thing for me to actually enjoy doing...). I like that it takes a short time to see results and that at the end of the procedure, you have a bunch of clean clothing that you probably forgot you even owned in the intervening time between when you threw the article in question into the laundry basket, and removed it on Laundry Day. Not that I have a Laundry Day, per se. Laundry Day is Whenever Mommy Has Time Day, in my establishment.

But anyway, the cleansing of tiny socks that wouldn't be worn for some time, and the folding of countless tiny shirts that would go unworn, was inexplicably sad.

Good thing he's coming home on Thursday, huh?

A Guest Post for Your Consideration

"My rant against a facebook group about kids in college classrooms"
By: my sister (sorry about the copyright or whatever, kiddo. Get your own blog...)

4:13pm 06/14/07

So a while ago I came across a facebook group dedicated to keeping children of students out of the college classrooms. Their message was, if memory serves, three-fold: children are distracting, get a sitter, don't allow people who haven't paid for the privilege to sit in on a college class.

This particularly incensed me in that I have known parents who have had no choice but to take their children to class. I have even had to take my sweet, darling baby nephew to a voice lesson and he was an angel! Last minute cancellations and insufficient funds are among the myriad reasons why one might be compelled to bring their child to class.

The group complained about children being distracting to which I might answer that people in general are distracting. The world is distracting. Get over it. Harsh as it may seem, the classroom environment is rarely one that is free of diversions (with the possible exception of test days). I would find the antics of junior playing quietly with his cars in the corner no less enthralling than the kid who sits next to me talking to his buddy the whole time. And don't even try to tell me that everyone in the class is always focused 100% on the material being presented. And those who are should be used to narrowing the focus of their concentration.

Simply getting a sitter for one's child is not always an option. Many parents already have sitters in place or day care or preschool in which their children are enrolled. But complications with such plans are unavoidable, and there are the occasions where the parent is left without recourse to those secondary care providers. The parent is then left with the option of either remaining at home to care for the child, or taking that same child to class with them. I would hazard a guess that the grand majority of the time, the parent would opt to remain home with the child. It's not like anyone is all excited to bring their kid in the middle of somewhere where the kid isn't welcome.

But there are times when doing so is unavoidable. Sometimes it is imperative for one to attend class - like say for an important lecture or to pick up some materials or for a quiz. On days where it is critical for one to attend class, the addition of a child is what one may call a 'necessary evil'. However, as I have already speculated, I think that this is more than likely the exception rather than the rule to bringing one's child to class and as long as it is not a habitual occurrence I think it behooves the student population to demonstrate a modicum of tolerance. But that's just me.

The last complaint (I believe) was that students paid for the privilege of attending classes, and to bring someone in - even if that someone was a five year old who had no concept of the materials being discussed - who hadn't paid was cheapening the academic experience of the students. In making such assertions of course, they ignore the fact that many people who haven't paid to attend the class make appearances: potential students or even friends who just want to sit in on the class. Perhaps if these dissenters could adjust their thinking to include children as potential students there would be no problem. Then there is of course the fact that students' attendance is sketchy at best and if attendance is used to gauge the value of the class it appears variable by student. The fact that a parent would still want to attend class, even with a child in tow, would thereby imply that the class was of some value to that person. If paying a fee grants the privilege of attendance, then parents who've paid tuition should have the same right to attend class.

Accusations of bad parenting were lobbed by this group against the parents who bring their children to class, their argument being that kids will not enjoy sitting through a college class. If it was considered bad parenting on every occasion in which a parent brought a child somewhere where the latter would not enjoy it, then how many church outings, doctor's visits, car rides would be condemned as bad parenting? I would argue that the parent doing well in class - and by extension doing well in college and earning one's degree - is tied to the welfare of the child.

The existence of this group demonstrates a narrow-mindedness to the difficulties that arise when a person is both a student and a parent, particularly when one is a single parent. Decisions must be made while weighing the complex issues at hand, and parents deserve a little respect for their heroic efforts. Basically what I'm saying to this facebook group (who probably will never read a word of this rant) is that as long as this isn't a perpetual problem in the classroom, grow up and try to demonstrate a little sympathy and understanding. Trust me, you'll be better off for it.

One is the loneliest number...

I'm sorry if I'm still extraordinarily morose in this forum. It's really the only place where I'm allowing myself to be so. I keep a stiff upper lip and all that jazz in the real world. I'm really not that depressed. Just...incomplete, I suppose.

Before E left, he and I had several talks about his visit to his dad. I gently reminded him that it would seem like a really long time, but that I would always be back to get him (and screw you, people who say that you should never say things like that to kids, it makes us both feel better!), like I always have been. We went through the usual "Why are you making me go to Daddy Zak's house?", which is always a fun conversation to have with a child...He said that he'd miss me, but that he wouldn't cry. And I (because I'm apparently completely anti-gender roles) said, "well, you know that it's O.K. to cry if you miss someone, or because you're sad. It's not all right to cry when you're not getting your own way." The poor kid said, "But they don't like when I cry." Which, what can I say to that? No one likes it when kids cry! And how do you explain the difference to a child?! I said something like, "They'll understand if you cry because you're sad." (And that was probably completely the wrong thing to say, whatever, shut up!)

I got to witness E having the same conversation with my dad. Except E was the one to gently comfort his Poppa: "I'm going to be gone for a long time, Poppa, and you're going to miss me.
But I'll be back, so don't be too sad." Sniff.

And then, right before he was about to go, as I was putting on his shoes, he asked "Mom, will you be in my heart?"


Don't ever have kids. They'll kill you with their cuteness.

Getting Back into the Swing of Things...

EDIT: I added a post from May. Find it below or here

It's hard to be a SAHM. I couldn't even manage it for one week without practically going crazy. Now, don't get me wrong, I adore my son and I would give anything to be able to spend more time with him during the school year. But he wears me the heck out. I feel kind of sorry for my parents, who watched him almost non-stop this past semester, when he wasn't in preschool. He must have driven them crazy. And naturally, having to deal with Mommy's discipline methods after having spent all this time basking in the relative leniency of adoring grandparents was a bit difficult for both of us. Especially since that difficulty translated itself into whining and hissy fits....(ok, ok, for both E and me. Shut up.)

So I initiated the "star chart." Basically, for every day that E manages to not piss me off doesn't whine or throw a hissy fit, he gets a star sticker. And then after so many stars, he gets a small present. Since he's four, the goal for stars starts at 4, then goes to 5, 6, 7, you get the point. It's actually worked quite well, and before he left for his dad's house, he had gotten 4 stars in 5 days, and a Transformer was the reward. (Yeah, yeah, it's not exactly small, but he was leaving for 2 weeks, go easy on me...)

It took FOREVER to explain it to him. It kind of went like this:

Evan: How many stars do I need to get a present?
Mom: Well, first, you need 4 stars. After you get 4, you'll get a small present.
Evan: I have a star right now, let me put it on the chart.
Mom: No way, Jose, you get stars for being good. Not just because.
Evan: But I AM good!
Mom: I mean, when you don't whine or cry. Or scream.
Evan: Oh. Well, then what happens?
Mom: For every day that you don't whine or cry (or scream), you'll get one star to put on your chart.
Evan: ....And then what?
Mom: Then, after you get 4 stars, you can have a present!
Evan: What kind of present?
Mom: A small one.
Evan: When?
Mom: Oh, for God's sake, when you get 4 stars!!
Evan: Well, I have a star right here...

A Little Bit at a Loss

So, E left Tuesday to spend 2 weeks with his dad, and I am, as the title so clearly states, a little bit at a loss for words. And for what to do with myself while he's gone. I mean, I'd like to think I'm not one of those parents who's completely and utterly wrapped up in my child. But the fact is that he's larger than life for me (I mean, how could he not be, he's pretty much a midget...) and when he's gone, life seems a lot more bland.

No cutesy things to post about. No mommy issues banging around in my head. No goodnight stories. No spontaneous kisses. No counting to three. And then five. And then ten.

Just silence. And much sleeping in. Which, granted, I'm not complaining about that, per se. But I do rather miss my alarm clock.

Xbox and the internet do their best to keep me occupied, but they're only human constructs. My son is a gift from God. And it's rather difficult to not get hung up on how wide the gap really is.

So I'm trying not to post, to prevent myself from becoming far too lachrymose. I may go back and finish some of the posts that I just grew bored of before they made it into the stark reality of the web. Keep your eyes open.

And think of something for me to do.

One small step for everyone else...

It's amazing what little things may become triumphs in the lives of kids and parents.

I mean, the first time your baby sleeps through the night is cause for a freaking house party. First solids, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking, potty-training...even non-parents understand and ask about these things at the proverbial water cooler.

But as your children grow, you begin to feel self-congratulatory for the most ridiculous things. And when you talk about them, other people probably look at you like you're a bit insane.

For instance, today my mom and I celebrated because E made it one entire day without throwing a hissy fit or whining or crying. A whole day. Now, those lucky/unlucky individuals among you who have never spent an entire day with a very spoiled, high-tempered, stubborn small child may not understand how blissful or terrible that one day can be. And today was blissful. No crying when nap/bed time came around. No screaming when we left the mall. No whining for cookies. (And before you judge, yes, he does get into trouble if he does these things. I have to be rather strict to offset my parents' shameless spoiling of him. But I'd rather he just didn't misbehave at all, so I didn't have to discipline him...) E was, literally, the perfect child. But people who don't have Mini-Me's running around (and even some who do) generally think, "That's how children should always be, you must be doing something wrong." Don't deny it, I used to think the same things.

And the very first flossing session E ever endured deserved a late-night call to Nanay so that she could share in our collective pride. He solemnly informed her that because he is now 4 (and NOT 3), he can hold still long enough for his teeth to be flossed. After all, "10 year old boys can do it, so 4 year old boys can too. But 2 and 3 year olds can NOT because they're babies." I mean, seriously, flossing is not something that anyone but your dentist truly cares about.

But these little things are so important because they still mark the passing of time for us. They are signs that our children won't always be small, that they're growing and changing right in front of our eyes. They're reminders that we should take the time to appreciate what is happening in this moment, despite the temper tantrums and bed-wetting that make us secretly wish our children were older. Because someday they will no longer call to us to come see that they put their socks on correctly or they made their beds. Days will be shorter, time will pass more quickly, and the things we celebrate will be so much bigger. And we will miss those small triumphs, because they were at the beginning...

Now, if only E and I can start having the sort of triumph that involves him staying in his own bed all night.

The Stage Life

My parents, E and I drove to visit my little sister at her summer job in a nearby state today. She is a performer (read: singer and dancer) at an amusement park there. This particular park has several live shows that run during the summer, one of which is a musical revue focusing on rock and roll hits from the 60s to the 90s or so. They were having Friends and Family Day, so we drove 6 or so hours to see the show for free!

It was a blast! She's always wanted to do a show like it, and it was great to see her in her element finally! She did a great job and made me teary-eyed at parts (which is ridiculous...I'm so emotional it's sickening...). The kid made me proud.

E danced through the entire thing. He was sooooo excited to see his "Lulu" up on stage. I'm really hoping to foster this music love in him, and I'd love to put him in dance lessons, but I know there's such a huge social stigma that I'm afraid I'm going to have to just teach him myself and wait till he's old enough to take break-dancing lessons or something. Because, you know, boys who dance are cool only if they throw themselves on the floor and contort themselves into weird positions. Because that's manly...

ANYWAY! At one point, the cast were performing Material Girl and the girls were dressed up in the classic Marilyn Monroe pink sheath gowns and gloves, and they happened to be breakaway gowns that ended up as little mini things. And of course, they were properly utilized in the show, much to the amusement of the audience.

Well, when asked what his favorite part of the show had been, E said "I liked it when they took their clothes off..."

Just wrong.

Random Song Lyrics

Nowhere Near
~Tracey Thorn

Dog days of summer
Heat haze and bad temper
And whole days of shouting
“Would you listen to me?”

See, I’m the one in charge now
What happened to me?
I turned into someone’s mother

Really someone should give me a uniform
Or someone should show me where is the door
Or someone should come around and explain
How it is that love forgets to speak its name

And then you turn on the news
And it’s somebody else’s news
And it’s always such bad news
And I’m no good with sad news anymore
Gets me running upstairs
To count heads in tangled beds

And someone tears up that uniform
And somewhere gently closes a door
And I’m right here once more
Crying, confessing, and counting my blessings

Don’t let go
Cause we’ll never know
And even when the sky is clear
And the moon looks really close
Well it’s nowhere near

Imagined Slights

I hate doctors. They're snobby. And they don't listen well.

I hate med students too. They're pretty snobby as well. And they always act like they carry the freaking weight of the world on their shoulders.

But I hate blond wives of 3rd and 4th year med students the most right now. Or I did last Saturday. Now, this is a fair warning. This isn't a particularly kind post. And most of it's pure, evil speculation on my part. And I don't really feel this way about such people in general. But the point of this post is to illustrate a situation that may someday arise in your life. So mark it well and be prepared...

Last Friday was the last day of school for me (Praise the Almighty, Brother!). So on Saturday, the school holds this big stupid shindig called "Big Stupid Shindig" (I'm lying) for all the medical students and their families/friends/significant others/escorts. It started at 7 PM and ostensibly went until midnight.

Well, our families (see above) were invited, and I had already shelled out mucho buckaroos for my favorite babysitter (my little brother) on Friday night. So I decided I'd just haul the munchkin along for kicks. I had a long talk with him before we went about speaking when spoken to and minding manners and not running around, etc. And he was actually pretty much the best kid ever that night, and I told him so after we left. It's such a gift when our children behave precisely the way we want them to, when we want them to. Mainly because it happens so infrequently...

E was the only child there above the age of 2 (not counting the male portion of the attendees, naturally). And apparently, all the mommies and daddies of those 2-year-olds were SUPER PALS. All the 2-year-olds either had pregnant moms or siblings in slings, which I think is pretty cool. I mean, that way, you don't ever have to actually play with your children, because you just provide them with automatic playmates for life!! (And I'm kidding. My mom had both my younger sister and brother before I was three and a half. But seriously, we did have playmates for life...) But all the kids had long blond curls, whether boy/girl, and were dressed in that My-Child-Will-Grow-Up-To-Play-Golf-On-His/Her-Lunch-Breaks kind of clothing from the Gap or wherever parents find that sort of thing (personally, I think I must go blind when that sort of clothing appears before my eyes, because I have never seen it for anyone other than rich old men and their trophy wives. Maybe I shop at the wrong stores...). All the mothers had the same kind of haircut and the same kind of maternity clothing. They probably all grew up in the same preppy schools and took preppy dance lessons from the same preppy teachers. But I'm not bitter. I'm just saying...

All of the kids were playing on a raised platform at one end of the room, which was right next to the table where I was sitting with my friends. Some of the other parents were up on the platform with their kids, but I could see E from where I was sitting (and he's not 2...), so I didn't feel the need to be right there to point out the "horsies" out the window for his visual enjoyment.

Now, my child is very, very comfortable with adults (most of the time). He will initiate conversations with total strangers and is quite capable of holding up his end of the dialogue for a looooong time. He also likes babies (meaning, anyone shorter/younger than he is...so not that many people). So my darling boy was striking up convos with these trophy wives about their toddlers....

And they wouldn't talk to him.

It just about broke my heart, watching him try to get their attention and them turning away to rave one more time about the divine pedicures they got at this so-posh spa where everyone goes nowadays (now, keep in mind that I am extrapolating. But I'm still probably right.). Luckily, E didn't notice, other than the fact that he was being straight up ignored most of the time. But still. It hurt me.

I'm not sure why they wouldn't talk to him. It's not like you can't understand him when he speaks. And it's not like they couldn't hear him (believe me, that wasn't it). The only thing I could come up with is that they just weren't used to talking to people who actually speak in sentences (as opposed to their own toddlers, their very busy med student husbands, and their empty-headed friends...yes, it irritated me, can you tell?).

Anyway, for those of you with very small children: learn to talk to the older kids, if you can't already. It's not hard, I promise. I can carry on a conversation with E without even listening to what he's saying half the time, because he will talk with very little encouragement. Someday those kids will be yours. And you'll be the mom cringing in the corner as your child gets ignored.



I can't wait till E starts grade school. Can't you just imagine how hateful I'll be then?

Strange Dichotomy

This morning, on my way to take my final Histology exam (Ever! Thank you, Jesus!), I was listening to my favorite morning radio show (radio morning show? I don't know...), which follows the usual method of bringing up interesting/inane/ridiculous topics of conversation and asking people to call in about them. Like: "What's the craziest thing your teenager's ever done?" or "What do you think about giving little kids their own cell phones?" Usually they manage to have pretty interesting discussions while snarking about everyone and everything under the sun. So, naturally, I like it.

Well, this morning, they were talking about high school graduation and how the respect factor has left ceremonial shows like it. At this point, they were saying that some parents are just downright obnoxious about their kids' graduations. You know the type, the ones who bring air horns and silly string to utilize the instant Junior walks across the stage, or who paint big, glittery signs that say "WE LOVE YOU, BABY GIRL, WE'RE SO PROUD OF YOU FOR GRADUATING FROM FREAKING HIGH SCHOOL!". (Which, I'm not deriding high school graduation. It's a proud time for everyone. But there are ways to celebrate and then there are ways to celebrate. Painting your hairy, middle-aged chest in the likeness of a school logo is not one of them. Save it for homecoming, Dad.)

ANYWAY! So they're talking about how their own generation (it's a classic rock station, so it's not like these people are college kids or anything) has lost the ability to regulate themselves or whatever. They brought up fights at Little League games, insane soccer moms, etc. Basically, middle-aged people are rotten. And old. They have no redeeming qualities unless they're radio deejays.

Well, then, all of a sudden, they segued into how terrible "kids" (meaning teenagers, mostly) are today, how they have no respect for their elders, etc. etc. etc.

Hm, where do you think the kids learned it? From that harbinger of evil, MTV? From those terrible people in showbiz today? Sure, maybe. But who are those people? The great majority of pop culture icons are not in the same generation as the greatest portion of their fans. The great majority of producers are not teenagers, I hope. So my generation and those behind me are basically being fed devil smut by the older generations. Sure, at some point, we have to take responsibility for our own actions, but if we're already put at a disadvantage by the way we were raised, isn't it that much more difficult for us to turn into saints (and no, I'm not talking about myself here. I am practically a saint, so I don't want you thinking things about my mama and daddy...THEY'RE GOOD PEOPLE!)?!?!

But the real clincher is that I don't think it's necessarily the fault of "bad" parenting or the fault of "our immoral society" or even the fault of "those darn kids"! It's really evolution's fault. Or God's fault, depending on which biologically developmental view you are currently embracing. (PS: If you're Catholic, like some of us are blessed enough to be, you can believe that it's both evolution AND God's fault...Good ol' JPII said so himself.)

WARNING: RATHER RIDICULOUS EVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT DISCUSSED BELOW!! DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A NATURALLY SERIOUS PERSON!!

I think the problem is, that at one time, in our primordial past, parents had to make sure their children obeyed implicitly, in order to promote sheer survival. I mean, if Sally Mae asks every time why she has to come in when the vampires are roaming the hillside, Sally Mae's parents' genes are gonna die out pretty quickly. (Because, obviously, Sally Mae's gonna get bitten, and vampires don't have children, didn't you know?) So it was in the best interests of the gene pool to foster traits that enforced discipline and rules. Much like in the animal kingdom. I mean, there aren't many baby kittens wandering far from their mothers, right? Because if they do, they're probably going to Baby Kitten Heaven pretty fast.

However, at some point, the needs of the gene pool changed. Strict and ultimate discipline wasn't necessary for survival any more, and in fact, the traits of more lenient parents were (because those parents were just more likely to let their onry teenager live after sneaking in 2 hours past curfew, therefore leading to the propagation of those genes...see how that works? You now know more than they do in Kansas!).

And parents can't really help that they're so freaking excited about their kids growing up! I mean, what sort of evolutionary advantage does it give you to have your kids stay at home all their lives? Maybe in ye olden days, when people were liable to die a lot sooner, they didn't need any encouragement to get out there and start havin' babies. Evolutionary drive does a lot for libido. But nowadays, people can have kids till they're practically going straight from the nursing home to L&D! There's not really that urge to start playing the Barry White records at 18 any more (I mean, don't get me wrong, plenty of people still do that...right?...I wouldn't know. I'm just saying, the overall drive is different. Whatever. Shut up.) So people are complacent to hang out at home. And mom and dad are starting to evolve to where they want you out of the house so you can go propagate the species. So they make a big deal about all the big "life events" you're experiencing as a kid. I mean, come on, they have a graduation for kindergarten now. Parents even got the teachers in on the "let's encourage them to grow up and leave home" Master Plan.

My point is, next time you see a kid with his pants hanging down to there or a mom beating another parent to a bloody pulp with her giant foam finger...don't roll your eyes and blame society. It's really not our fault. It's God's.

Or biology's. Depends on whether you're from Kansas. Or whether you're Catholic...

Nuts Who Are About to Crack

E called me on the phone after my mom picked him up from his dad's this afternoon in our old hometown, T. They're going to stay there till tomorrow, seeing as how I'm currently trying to see how much studying I can cram into my brain before Monday and the Physiology final (went almost 12 hours today, it was amazing...And exhausting...). Anyway, so E called me and was chatting away about what his dad got him for his birthday. I was like, yes, yes, I know, your birthday was totally 2 weeks ago and you already gave me this list, I know your presents were fantastic. Enough already...Ha, kidding. But seriously...Toward the end of the conversation, I asked him if he had gotten me a Mother's Day present (which, I need one. And he likes to give me gifts. Although usually they come in the form of pretend food made from bathwater and soap bubbles...). He said "No..." in a worried tone of voice, so I laughingly reassured him that Nanay would help him pick something out. He apparently rejected that thought, though, because the next thing I heard was him speaking to my mom: "Nanay, I need to buy my mom a present. I think she wants a nutcracker."

(I have to explain: E has a rather peculiar obsession with nutcrackers, and he always has, from the time he was very small. He actually has 3 or 4 now, as I've been buying cool specimens (pirate nutcracker, knight nutcracker, prince nutcracker) since he was a tiny baby. Last Christmas, his favorite movie was "The Nutcracker Ballet" (the version with Macaulay Culkin, actually). In addition, he likes to pretend that HE'S a nutcracker, and he'll put on "nutcracker makeup", go as stiff and expressionless as a board, and open/close his mouth if you "pull" on an imaginary handle on his back. The kid has an imagination like someone on hallucinogens...)


Anyway, so he then returned to his conversation with me: "Mom, do you want a nutcracker?" I said "Sure, honey, I'll love whatever you give me." He then asked "Well, would you like a small one or a big one?" I reiterated "Just pick something out." E: "Ok, you want a big one."

Looks like a big nutcracker is in my future.

I wish I didn't have to work so hard at this whole med school thing (which, ok, I kinda knew what I was getting myself into...doesn't mean I have to like it any more). It feels like I get up, take him to "daycare" (aka Nanay and Poppa's house), go to school or to study, get home in time for dinner, and then it's bedtime. I hate that feeling. It's not really as bad as that, and I have the weekends, but it's still not like being a SAHM would be. Non-moms really don't understand the conflicts that pull us, do they? Anyway, I miss being able to spend my free time with E.

Scratch that. I just miss free time. Period.

Semantics

I really don't have the time for blogging right now, but to boost the number of "May" Posts over there in the nifty right-hand column, I suppose I should post something, huh?

Finals start Monday, which is why I've been in absentia for so long. Poor E has been suffering through day-long fun times with Nanay and Poppa. I'm sure he misses me tons. NOT. They get to do fun stuff like go to the zoo and go see "Meet the Robinsons" and play at the playground, while I sit in the bookstore and study. I'm so jealous.

Random story ahead:
My dad bought one of those "SLOW! Children playing" signs to use at their house when they're playing with E outside. I think he bought it more for the reason that he likes to pretend it's "slow children" instead of "slow, children", rather than for any belief in its inherent safety value. On the way to drop E off at my parents' house one morning, E said "Mom, Poppa bought me a sign that says 'Children playing slow.'" I said, "I know, he told me." E: "Well, I don't want it to say 'Children playing slow'! I want it to say 'Children playing fast'!"

Four...

...always seemed so grown-up. Like, waaaaay older than three. Right up there with five, in fact. Babies at three are now "children" at four. I mean, pre-K is an option, people, they're practically teenagers, right? RIGHT?!

And yet, on the 27th, the day He turned four, he announced from the backseat: "Mom, I can't undo my seat belt anymore, because I'm four now."

Apparently, he considers himself to be either a) regressing or b) gaining a handservant to do all of his daily tasks for him.

Maybe the teenager comment was more apt than I thought.

Too Many Questions...Not Enough Energy

E asks so many freaking questions. Like, seriously. I can't even brush his teeth for 2 minutes without him interrupting every 10 seconds. Let me give you a typical exchange:

Brush-brush-brush
[E jerks head away] "Mom, why do you have to brush my teeth?"
(Now, note that I've been brushing his teeth for almost 4 years, and I've explained the whole concept of cavities and leftover food like 10,000 times. Keep that in mind when you're shaking your head at my impatience and complete lack of parental understanding.)
[Me resuming brushing] "Because you can't do it yourself."
[Talking through the brush] "But I already brushed there...and there...and there."
[Me rolling my eyes] "Well, I still have to check, just in case. You don't want your teeth to turn green, do you?"
(That particular reference usually shuts him up...)
[Silence for about 20 seconds as he contemplates this horror.] "Mom? Why will my teeth turn green?"
[Sighing exasperatedly] "Because you didn't brush them right."
(Note my use of the circular attack. It works well because it makes me seem like I know what I'm talking about, while limiting his flow of new questions.)
[Chewing on toothbrush in frustrated anger]

And that's how we go through toothbrushes so quickly. They're worn out by endless cycles of Q & A.

In other news, we had a mega blow-out dinner with my family tonight. My little sister's 21st birthday was today, and E's real birthday is tomorrow, so we all went to dinner with many presents and much wrapping paper. It was fun. I managed to last almost all the way through dinner as far as not letting E unwrap presents. But about 5 minutes before the food came (when we'd already been there for an hour or so, and the poor kid had been waiting patiently), I finally caved. And that was fine. But then after dinner, the real feeding frenzy began.

And this is why I don't do the birthday present thing at his birthday parties (which I will post about later, at more leisure and better mood). Because after every shredding of carefully-wrapped gift, it was "What's next?" He barely paused to look at what he was given, and he didn't even notice when he got 2 of the same thing (it was a freakin' cool Spiderman car, too, little booger). There was no appreciation of the gift for quality, just appreciation for the sheer quantity. Frankly, it was depressing, because I love picking out presents and I agonize over them, so it's a bit disconcerting to see things tossed aside so casually. And yes, I'm complaining. Because I try to avoid materialism and birthdays always seem to shove it so mercilessly in my face.

Anyway, I know he'll love them all appropriately later. It just hurts a teensy bit. Sniff, sniff.

There was a group of adults sitting adjacent to our table (of 7 adults and one child) at the restaurant, and they made snotty remarks pretty much all through the meal. About the "sort of people who celebrate birthdays at restaurants", etc. It was awesome. They were old, frumpy, and grumpy. And we weren't being noisy, messy, or disruptive. Plus, we were at a family restaurant. I'm like, "Seriously, if you want to have a completely quiet meal with no children in sight, go to a freaking grown-up restaurant, morons." I hate people who act like you've done something societally destructive by bringing your children out in public.

End rant. I'm out.