Sweet Nothings

With all the kid sadness going around lately, I just want to pinch my little guy's cheeks to red and plant kisses all over his round little face. Which is not so round anymore since the baby fat rolls are gone. But, he won't let me hold or cuddle him anymore. On rare occasion that I manage to land a few smooches, he wipes them off and tells me that I am not to give him any more kisses.


"We'll, see big talker. Not such a big boy when you wake up in the middle of the night crying for mommy, are ya!?" (Actually, that doesn't happen anymore, either.)

I just have to face it, the baby is all-grown up. He's big enough to take advantage of our weakness for his persuasive charms. Like when he needs help climbing a tree -- a new passion-- he'll play the "I need help 'cuz I'm just a little guy" card. Loves to call himself "little guy." (Is manipulation instinctive for pretty people?)

My big/little guy has a hairdresser and her name is Jessica. She's this pretty little thing that gives her FULL attention and laughs at his jokes. Its a big day at our house when he gets a haircut. I can twist his arm to get whatever I need, lest I threaten to cancel. This last time, I assumed my usual position next to him in the chair. And he told me "Mommy, just go sit over there," pointing, no, dismissing me to the waiting area. (Do all men instinctively gravitate to eye-candy?)

Little Guy is a nude monger. He strips himself completely bare at nap time and calls himself "Naked Baby." He then proceeds to make requests in the third person. "Naked Baby needs his blanky. Naked baby needs you to close the closet door. Tell Naked Baby a story about when you were little." But don't you call him a baby or you'll get told. (OK, I get that being naked is fun when there's no shame in your game.)

I've been down lately about my house still not being put back together from Ike. There are still a few projects that stand between "complete" and where we are now. And there have been days that I can't remember taking the time to play or laugh with my boy. Some days are a blur of harsh words, timeouts, and spankings.

I must remind myself that I can't get today back or whatever day it was that I moped around my house too spent to do anything productive. We're all healthy. MMA is gainfully employed. I adore those two. And I am just really thankful for everyday things like fussing over my healthy, egotistical little boy.

(Who just asked "Mom, could you go get some goodies from the goody bowl and share 'em with your little one." How can I say "no" to that?) Maybe I can trade him some candy for the option to run my fingers through his curls.

Everything you ever wanted to Ask but were too afraid to get Answered

Only Child has been asking me the same question for weeks and I don't have a good answer. By smoke and mirrors, I keep being evasive because he still thinks mommy know everything. I don't want to burst his bubble for as long as possible. And, its sweet to be looked up to like that.

The question is, "Mommy, why does God make thunder? Why mommy?"

Then I say something like, "God made everything. Just like he made the sun and the stars and you and me. So God wanted there to be thunder and he made it."

Then he says, "But why? Thunder is so loud and scary. Why did God make thunder?" (There have been variations, like, why did God make mosquitoes that bite?)

So in a way, I guess he's asking me why God made thunder the way he made it. He's God, couldn't he have made thunder more like a rainbow and mosquitoes more like butterflies?

I have a few questions of my own. Why are life lessons learned by sadness and loss? Why can't they be taught to us in a classroom at Disneyland while we munch funnel cakes and corn dogs and never get obese? Why is there illness and heartbreak and poverty and all kinds of painful things the little guy knows nothing about?

Why do we put so much value on time and money when people and relationships are the real treasure? Why is faith so difficult when its so much harder to run on the alternative fuel? Why am I so often blind to the obvious? What purpose does guilt serve in anyone's life?

Why does my kid ask so many hard questions? Asking lots of questions is my game. Maybe I'll teach him to turn his curiosity into something productive like sarcasm.

How am I going to keep up this know-it-all charade? Clearly I know much, much less than a fifth-grader. I can barely work a DVD player, so how am I going to convincingly answer his questions when he becomes a teenager?

Why is thunder so loud and scary?

Binkie update

On Friday we went to HEB and Only Child picked out the most expensive Lightning McQueen ever. This is the new one that walks, dances, shimmies and shakes.

Totally out of character for me to readily part with plenty-a-bucks, but I couldn't refuse him this indulgence. This bribe, I figure, is a whole lot cheaper than braces will be. Even with M&M's friends and family discount (that we've never discussed but I'm sure exists.)

M&M, by the way, is my old friend from high school and you'll be meeting her soon along with some other special girls.

So Only Child's last binkie was bartered out of his sweet little hands with a present that he would later rue wholeheartedly.

For our last hurrah, we decided on a picnic of kolaches and donuts the next morning at the lake to finish what we started. He went right to sleep after Happy Hour. (No we didn't spike his drinks.) He only asked for the binkie once and didn't argue when I tucked-in the new car instead.

In hindsight, we should have had the exorcism before opening the toy. Because...

The power went out at about 1:30 am. This is a major deal in our house because the kid only sleeps to the white noise of a box fan and requires a night light. We should have learned our lesson during Ike and acquired battery-operated whatnots. What can I say? We are slow learners.

And on the very night he gave up his precious!

I spent what seemed like forever trying to comfort him in our bed. He was lobbying hard for it by then and the new car was trash. Finally, fatigued and having exhausted every argument he could manage, he announced, "I'm so sad because I want my binkie!" and broke down in full-body sobs.

Then he begged and pleaded because he knew it was still in the house.

God gave me strength for two, because the fight was long over for MMA. If Only Child had sensed a hint of the discord that was in our bed, the jig would have been up. I think I saw dad's emotion overflowing on to the pillow. I'm not sure, it was dark.

The nasty cold front winds finally blew through and the electricity eventually came back on. We made it through our first night, barely. And now we've made it through a second night. It really was like losing a dear friend for him and that was sad to watch.

Is anyone hearing me who has older kids? Is it easier to tell a teenager "no"?

Because the road is long and I've but little gas left in the tank.