Frenemies

My kids bicker. To me, it seems they bicker a lot. However, when push comes to shove, I know that deep down, they really do care about each other. As my middle child says, "We're frenemies, mom." However, here is that same child with his sister, and I don't think anything could be further from the truth. They were messing around, and I caught them in the act being nice to each other. I'm hanging onto these pictures. The next time one of them complains, "He/she bugs me soooooo much!" I'm going to show them proof that he/she doesn't.

De-Cluttering

My middle child has been complaining for weeks that his iPod won't download anything. I'd tell him to get rid of apps he doesn't use. He'd delete ONE app and then continue complaining. Finally, I sat down with him, and we must have deleted at least a dozen apps. Then we started in on photos. He had forty two pictures of... wait for it... toast! 

Anyway, after half an hour of clearing things out, everything is hunky dory. His device is operating smoothly again, and he's playing Plants vs. Zombies to his heart's content.

I hope he remembers this lesson about getting rid of garbage, unused junk, and dead weight when he's older because it applies to just about everything.

Life Explodes in My Kitchen

It's 7.51 am. I have exactly 4 minutes to finish blending my banana-pineapple-spinach smoothie (which is tastier than it sounds) and hustle the kids into the car so that I can drop the girl off at my friend's house and be at their school for an 8:15 meeting.

Moving from the house to the car always seems to be the critical moment for us, so of course, this has to be when things decide go from slightly messed up to completely pear-shaped. I've chucked too large a piece of pineapple into the blender, and it just won't liquefy. (Who knew 1/8th of a pineapple would be too big?) I fish it out of the blender and chop it into smaller pieces. Just as I turn around to add it back into the mix, I see my daughter. She's climbed a step stool  and her curious fingers are reaching for the on/off switch. And the cover is still on the counter.

"Nooooooooooooo..." Just like in the movies, I hear myself frantically warning her to stop as I lunge in slow motion toward the mixer. Too late. Green liquid churns and surges at turbo-blend speed then erupts into the air. It covers the ceiling, the walls, the counter, the floor, and my surprised two-year old.

That's when my daughter turns her face toward me, and I read the various emotions in her enormous saucer-eyes. There is unhappiness at being assaulted by a health drink, but also fear she might be in trouble for the mess. She appears so small, so vulnerable and sweet that it takes me by surprise. In that instant, both love for her and laughter at the situation bubble up inside me.

I quickly assure her it was just an accident, and my good husband kindly whisks her off for a change of clothing while I mop up the counter.

All day, though, I've been thinking about this, though. I never had these kinds of messes before children entered by life, but now I do. Frequently.

I guess my lesson learned for today is that life is messy, so I'd better go with it. Also, there is the obvious corollary -- never let a toddler near an uncovered blender.

Why I Like Being the Mother of Boys

A few days ago, my younger son announced, "When I grow up, I'm going to have 3 kids. I'm going to have 2 girls and a boy. If I have 2 boys and a girl, I'm screwed."

I don't particularly approve of his word choice, but I had to laugh.

My son has perceived a truth, though. There is something different about boys. I don't mean that boys and girls can't enjoy the same activities. My boys love decorating cookies, and my girl is showing every sign of becoming a daredevil. However, there is something just fundamentally different about the manner in which the boys approach life. This became very clear to me last winter during a ski club meeting. My friend's two daughters were sitting quietly on a bench, efficiently donning their ski equipment, chit chatting about their favorite stuff. Meanwhile, my boys were yelling, "Hey, I have my helmet on -- Hit me in the head!" "Ok, now you hit me in the head!" "Ha, ha! Your turn! Hit me in the head!" "Harder!" The girls just stared at them like they were from Mars.

Even though boys act physically wilder and rougher than girls, there is something that is also sweeter and more tender about them, too. Boys aren't emotionally manipulative. They might be more than happy to fight something out, but they're direct and honest. None of the cattiness or Machiavellian antics that I've watched girls -- even nice girls -- pull.

I think my favorite part of having boys is seeing the way they take care of me. When my older son was about 7, we were playing frisbee, and it kept going into the woods where there were lots of raspberry canes. After seeing me get tangled up in the thorns, my son said, "Oh, no, mom, I'll get it. I don't want you to get scratched!" It was such a sweet gesture from a small boy, but they're protective like that. They're always trying to save me from dangers like brambles and bugs and heights. In their efforts to shield me, I see the budding of men who will watch over their wives and children. It makes me happy and proud.

It's not that I don't love and enjoy my daughter. She's special for different reasons. However, for the record, I just wanted to say that having 2 boys and a girl is not the end of the world. Far from feeling "screwed," I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Dentist & the Wildcat

Took the kids to the dentist today for checkups. While my oldest and youngest children's exams passed uneventfully, my middle child fought like a wildcat the entire time. I'm not using hyperbole. Despite all the preparatory pep talks, he literally fought like a wildcat -- twisting, yowling, kicking, spitting, flailing -- the entire time. I actually had to sit on the feral little beast to keep him in the chair. (No cavities, btw -- Thank you, Jesus, because I don't think we could take a filling!)

Finally, when his cleaning and exam were over, and his brother was in the chair, my angry young tom furiously glared at the dentist and tech. He hissed, "I hate the dentists! Why can't we sell them?"

I attempted to explain some of the finer points relating to ownership and property, but I'm not completely sure he understood.

Later I relayed to my husband the difficult time I'd had and how driving down the road after the appointment, the tech had passed me and gave me the filthiest look imaginable. He positively cracked up. I'm delighted to be so amusing.

Of course, our small savage and I have been going back and forth all day. He's mad at me for sitting on him. Meanwhile, I've been lecturing him on oral hygiene and the necessity of cooperating with people who are trying to help.

So we're continuing to work on basics like his being comfortable when people are working in his mouth. We're also working on not being afraid of the instruments and so on. However, when we go back in December, if push comes to shove, I will happily sit on him all over again. Why? Because he needs clean teeth to be healthy. Because I will not let him get away with stuff even though it would make my life much easier. Because I'm his mom. I love him. That's what I do.

Happier days & a mouth full of chocolate
It's a miracle he doesn't have a single cavity.