Me, Myself and I
Azul has always spoken very well and has a very good vocabulary for a five year-old. I hear this is common among only children, and since I am just around my only child, I don’t know if this is true or not. But, for some reason, and I am going to blame this on school, every bad habit he has developed comes from school, he has started using “me” instead of “I.” Now, “I want ice cream for dessert,” has turned into, “me want ice cream for dessert.” And “I want to go to the park” is now “me want to go to the park.” It is driving me crazy, so I have resorted to repeating his sentences back to him correctly. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer and said, “You sound like a caveman. Why are you saying me? You know it is I.” Staying a step ahead, he then started yelling, “Help I! Help I!” Me couldn’t stop laughing!
Lego Mom
Pregnancy does a crazy thing to a person. All of your thoughts, ideas, and worries turn into irrational fears. And my irrational fears, or “crazies,” at times have been a little misguided. One of my fears when I found out I was going to be a mom was eventually having that position turn into being a Soccer Mom! The stereotypical image of wearing gym clothes in public, with my hair cut in an asymmetrical bob, driving an SUV and screaming at my child every Saturday, while he was running across a grassy field and I ate chips, sounded like a nightmare to me. Of course like all fears, I exaggerated this to the umpteenth degree, and not to mention the hormones flowing through my newly pregnant body like a dam had broken, it scared me!
Now, in order to compensate for my “crazies,” I focused on it, repeated it, and constantly made fun of myself about it. I guess it’s kind of like following the instructions on a Shampoo bottle: rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat; and that’s what I did, believing the more I repeated it, I would be able to cleanse myself from my thoughts (I will say I have always done this — even before I was a parent. True or not, this just seems like the best way for me to deal with things). So for years I said that my only fear of being a parent was someday I would have to be a Soccer Mom. Rinse, repeat.
Well, five years later I got soap in my eyes!
In the mail we received one of those super glossy, extra-large post card advertisements for the local indoor soccer field. They were soliciting for their “little kickers” group which is the beginning class for soccer. Not even thinking about it, I asked Azul, “You want to join a kid’s soccer team and play soccer?” Azul looked at me like I was crazy, rolled his eyes and said, “Ugh! I thought you wanted to be a Lego Mom not a Soccer Mom!” Rinse, rinse, rinse!
All I could think was, Well, I guess I have said that a time or two before. I replied, “Good call my love, I forgot. Thank you for keeping me on track!” Azul is a card-carrying member of the local Lego Club, but sometimes I still think, My hair wouldn’t look so bad in a bob!
Eyes Wide Shut
Pre-parenting, there was activity I routinely took advantage of any time I could; I have very faint (it’s been years) and found memories of it, I believe it’s called “sleeping in.” I remember the pleasures of staying in bed and nodding off, for sometimes hours at a time if I wanted. These days the concept of sleeping in is few and far between and has a very different meaning than it once did.
Our regular schedule includes everyone getting up, ready and out the door by 8:30 to get to school and work on time. When our weekend rolls around at the end of the week, I remind Azul at bed time, “We don’t have anywhere to go in the morning, no school or work tomorrow, so feel free to sleep in.” He always says, “Okay.” Just as convincing as could be, but I know exactly what will happen in the morning, my new “sleeping in.”
When I say my new sleeping in, I mean, I am awoken by a tap on my forehead, when it is still fairly dark, by a tiny five year-old pointer finger and a wide awake set of eyes looking right at me and a nose almost touching mine. “How did you sleep?” is the first question Azul asks, before saying, “It’s time to cuddle.” And then he jumps in bed with me. I always lift up the blankets, scoot over, and make room. I love when he cuddles with me, having those little arms clumsily wrapped around my head is heaven, which last about twenty seconds if I’m lucky.
Now, from the time he asked his initial question of how I slept, he has not stopped talking, and I know I have no one to blame for his chattiness but me, but come on, it’s still dark! The conversations range from, how to build a waterfall in Minecraft, to something one of his friends said at Pre-school the day before, it’s a free for all and anything can be the topic of conversation at this hour.
Within a few minutes he remembers there are blankets to dive under! He suddenly becomes a mole desperately digging to escape a predator at all costs. Blankets are now being pulled and pushed — I usually have either a knee or elbow pushed up against my full bladder, and my little rodent narrowly escapes by reaching the empty space on the other side of me. With my eyes closed I am saying, “Ouch. That hurts. Be careful. You’re on top of me.” Sigh! But, my eyes are closed which means I am “sleeping in.”
Oh, don’t get me started on the shrieking cat in the background!
Carmelina Hart 