Lucha Azul
Most evenings while I am cooking dinner, there is a little time for me to have a break. The News is on TV at this time and once I get dinner going, I sit on the couch with my legs propped up and more than likely I have a drink in my hand. This is my happy place, my down time, the “me” time between playing with my five year-old and feeding my family.
Occasionally, and when I say occasionally, I mean if I’m lucky, Azul is bored with me by this point and goes into his room to play. This evening I was lucky. Ahhh! But all of a sudden he ran to me at full speed, stopped and breathing heavily he asked, “Do wrestlers wear shirts?” Oh, no! I thought, this means the clothes are about to come off! So, to stop the topless show before it even started I said, “Well, some wrestlers are fully clothed.” That’ll do it. I tricked him into keeping his shirt on.
He laughed at what I had said, with his mouth wide open and his head tilted all the way back. And once he regained his composure he asked, “Some just wear bigboys, right?” If you didn’t figure it out, bigboys are underpants or drawers or underwear or whatever nickname you gave your potty training toddler that has stuck through the years.
Recognizing my defeat and knowing there will be a shirtless boy in my near future, I said, “Yes, some just wear bigboys.” And in a flash he was gone!
To my surprise, upon his return he was yelling, “I am a wrestler!” Then I was attacked by a naked little boy. It was as if he had flown through the air from the top rope of a wrestling ring to pin me for a count of three. I yelled back, “Wrestlers aren’t naked!” Thinking, And if they are, there is usually some type of jello involved. There was no jello.
“Being naked gives you strength!” My nemesis retorted. He was right as I recoiled from his new-found power. He won!
A Royal Something
This morning Azul said to me, “I’m pretty much treated like royalty.” Whoa — talk about out of the blue. Azul and I have about a twenty minute morning commute on the way to school. The conversations we share at this time are some if the best times we have all day, but I wasn’t expecting that.
Blinking my eyes and shaking my head, trying to understand why and what I just heard, I looked at him through my child rearview mirror. I wanted to watch him explain this. I replied, “You what?” He paused for a moment, and although he wasn’t talking, I could hear him thinking.
Finally he spoke up again, “Royalty. I don’t do anything. You do all the work. You drive, cook and set the table.” Appreciating the compliment, I said, “Thanks for recognizing that, my sweet boy!” I couldn’t help but think, Good for me. I am raising a very considerate boy who will turn in to a man who can recognize when things are done for him and not just assume that people are going to serve him, and then be able to appreciate it as well. Nice.
The euphoric thought bubble floating above my head busted when he followed up with, “It’s time I pay you off.” With a sigh and a smile on my face I asked, “Yeah, with what, cold hard cash?”
“No,” he said. “With money. I’ll give you 3 dollars.”
“Wow!” was my immediate response, and not only for the dollar amount, but for the transition from appreciated mom to paid servant. With pride and conviction he informed me, “I know it takes 4 or 5 quarters to make a dollar, I’ll give you that!”
Resigned and not sure if I just got a pay cut, I said, “Okay, I’ll take it.”
Out of Gas…Again
Oh my, no more dirty car this year! That was what I thought when I decided to declare a resolution this year. Here is a status update:
This is what my car looks like three months in to 2014. It is worse! Now I resolve to never making any more New Year’s Resolutions.
Out of Gas… (Original post from December 2013)
I know this is the time of the year to reevaluate your life, nit pick your misgivings and come up with a resolution that will change your life for the better. Whatever! I have never been a big fan of New Year Resolutions; I usually try to just keep my expectations fairly low, it seems to work for me, but my five year-old was able to glaringly point out where I need to improve.
My car stinks! And that was exactly what I said to Azul this afternoon. To be fair, I have always had a dirty car, even before Azul, but no doubt the trash has grown exponentially since his birth.
I am a true Virgo and have a deep-seated need to straighten things out — things don’t need to be super clean, just in order. My car is the exception, the one place I can let loose. So, I told my five year-old, “My car stinks!” And he replied, “Maybe it cuz I tooted in there!” In a state of amazement I then said, “You tooted in my car?” Without a second thought he said, “Yes.” I am not sure why I continued the conversation at this point, and come to think of it, I’m not sure why I do half the things I do now as a parent, but I said, “I didn’t hear it.” Immediately his response was, “Toots are quiet.” I put my head in my hands, shaking left to right, thinking, Oh my, no more dirty car this year!
Carmelina Hart 