Yes, I am THAT Mom...

Last weekend we did a impromptu visit to Disney World and I did the unthinkable.  I put my kid on a leash.  Granted it looks like a friendly little monkey backpack, but it is still a leash.  I am now that Mom.  If you too are that mom, know that I used to mock you, I used to make fun of you and look down on you. I used to talk about you. I used to say that I would never, ever be you.  Now I am you.  Ain't karma a bitch?!  

Yes, I suffered the looks of disapproval and laughing.  I heard people plainly talking about my kid on a leash- not even bothering to lower their voices to keep me from hearing them.  So you know what I did?  I handed that leash to Brian and pretended that I didn't know either of them.

No.  Actually I held my head high and proceeded to enjoy letting my little man walk next to me without having to worry that he is going to make a break for it.  Say what you will, but that dreaded leash was really nice.  Luckily Maddox is still too young to understand the irony of that monkey on his back.

Warning!!@#$%@#

Mandarin oranges should come with a warning label.  Something like this would be appropriate...

Warning- these tiny, little, unassuming, oranges may cause your baby's butt to explode.  There is a very good possibility that you will spend time cleaning bits of poopie orange out of your child's hair as the possible/probable butt explosion will be so large it will migrate up the kid's back and into the nape of the neck.  You will gag.  Please be aware you are likely to experience anger at the oranges.  Please try and remember it is a fruit and be happy your child is ingesting fruit at all.  Thank you, the Mandarin Orange People.

Can you tell I am not used to cleaning up after a kid who actually eats something other than hotdogs?

The best present a Mommy could get.

When my parents travelled to New York City on vacation last year they brought Maddox back an I Heart New York shirt as a present.  For some reason kids love these shirts.  Maybe it is the giant red heart emblazoned on the front, but both my nephews loved them when I gave them to them and Mad's friend Evan has one and he loves it too.  
Maddox loves his so much he wanted to wear it to bed last evening.  It was so dirty from a day of hard play that the thing was standing on its own.  As I cajoled and begged for him to take it off in favor of some construction truck jammies he changed the conversation (as he so often does when he wants to avoid doing something I ask of him).

"Mama, I have present for you," Okay I'll admit I was intrigued, as a rule I do love presents.

"What is it, baby?"

"I'm giving you my heart, I am taking my heart off!"  He looked down and tugged at that giant red heart on his shirt and pretended to rip it from his shirt and hand it to me.

My eyes welled up with tears as I hugged him a little too tight.  

"Maddieeeeeee!  That is the best present you could ever give me!"

Yeahhhhhhhh, so he slept in the dirty shirt.

Does that kid know how to play me or what.

A new one act play...

Coming to a theater near you-  the all new one act play "Balls" starring that titans of tantrums - Maddox and that Zany Lady of Zoloft- Mama! 

As we open our scene Mama is getting undressed to enter the shower, she is careful not to make eye contact with the forces of evil known as "mirrors" while naked.  

Enter Maddox:  "Mama, is that your pee pee?"

Mama:  "Yes, Maddie, that is my pee pee,"

Maddox:  "Mama, where are your balls?"

Mama:  "I don't have balls, Mad.  Girls don't have balls."

Maddox: "Oh.... we need to buy you some at the store,"

Mama:  "Sorry, buddy, they don't sell those kind of balls at the store,"

Maddox:  "Why not?"

Mama:  "Ummmm.....oh, hey, do you want to play with my eye lash curler?"

Maddox- face gleeful at the thought of playing with previously forbidden makeup 

item immediately forgets the previous conversation:  "YEAH!"

Mama makes a mad dash for the shower as Maddox exits clutching his prize.

The End.

Stuffed Up

What is it with kids and sticking things up their noses?  I just had to pry a pebble out of my son's honker.  Last week his teacher at playschool had to do the same with a cheerio.  What exactly is it about the nose that attracts small objects like a magnet?  My son is certainly not alone in his fascination, or compulsion, to stick things up there.  I too am guilty of "stuffing" as it were.  I think I was 4 and the offending item was a Barbie tea pot top- we were half way to the hospital when I worked that pink plastic top out of my snout. As a toddler my husband evidently thought that knowing M&M's melt in your mouth and not in your hands, wasn't good enough.  He decided to see if they melted in your nose...turns out they do.  And it isn't just noses.  My sister once shoved and earring back into her ear canal.  I don't remember what the fascination felt like, why it seemed like a good idea at the time to jam something up there.  Maybe cause it fit just so...maybe my boy just likes to hear me say "how on earth did you get that up there?!"  Whatever, it is certainly is interesting to see what he will jam up there next.  Let's just hope the next time doesn't see me driving a screaming kid to the doctors office because I cant get a die cast monster truck tire out of his beak!

BFF

As much as my son and I butt heads and I think that I cannot wait for him to emerge from this difficult stage that is the terrible 2's...ummm, okay 3's....I also want him to stay a baby so very badly.  Just when I think that I cant take another tantrum, another fight over, well, everything, he looks at me with his big brown eyes, hugs me and says,

"Mama, you're my best friend,"

Seriously?  Don't ever grow up.  Don't grow up and forget that you loved to play dance party with Mama.  Don't forget that you used to call me "Mama" and not Mom (said in some exasperated tone).  Don't forget that you used to think all my jokes and funny faces were hilarious and not embarrassing.  Please don't forget that all you wanted in the world was for me to lay in your bed next to you until you fell asleep.  Don't forget that Mama could fix anything and everything with a kiss and a hug...don't stop wanting those kisses and hugs, don't stop wanting to hold my hand or sit on my lap.

Next time I am taking the boy to get his hair cut somebody please remind me how quickly my little man will grow up and soon I wont be his BFF anymore.  

Sniff....Okay, I am off to watch my best friend sleep, listen to him breathe and pray that for just a little bit longer he will think of Mama as his "Best Friend". 

Hair Cut Hell

My son has been sporting the surfer/skater look recently.  This wasn't a fashion statement.  He could care less.  I am not even sure he knows that he has hair on his head, let alone that there is a style to it.  The reasoning behind his increasingly long locks is simple.  The boy detests getting his hair cut.  It is an exercise in terror.  Mainly for myself and the poor people at Sports Clips.  Now, let me be very clear -I have read the parenting books and scoured websites for advice on how to make the haircutting experience a less stressful one and somehow these techniques fall short of working with my son.  

Last weeks haircut went something like this-

"Hey, Maddie!  Guess what!  Today we are going to get your hair cut!"  I say this in a saccharine sweet voice, dripping with as much excitement I can muster.  I am trying to make this sound like he is getting the treat of a life time.  

"No, I'm not getting my hair cut,"  he tells me flatly.

"Now, Maddox, if you are really good for the hair cutting people Mommy will take you to Putt-putt golf!"  

Mad tilts his head to the side thinking and then says "No, I'm not getting my hair cut."

My books all tell me not to worry about bribing your kid for good behavior because the important thing is they are doing the good behavior.  But what do you do when your kid could care less about the bribe?  He would rather freak out!  What do you do? 

Well, I will tell you what I did.  I shaved his head.  

I know it sounds cruel, but the boy left me no choice.  I had brought in a picture of a cute little doo.  Buzzed on the sides and enough hair on the top to style it spiky.  But when your kid is flailing around, screaming and spitting at the hairstylist you really aren't left with many options.  This is the second stylist as the first refused to cut the boys hair.  

There I was basically sitting on my child, trying to hold him still.  Bodhi Mae is in her stroller, screaming because Maddie is screaming.  And after several attempt to get near my son with the clippers the barber flat out refused to continue.  Well, you can only imagine my sweaty humiliation.  My child, who was also sweaty from thrashing at this point, has so much hair he cant see past it any longer and since he refuses to let me brush it walks around with a rat's nest in the back.  He has got to get it cut or soon I will be putting it in a ponytail!  

But, seriously, I am being thrown out of the place who's most expensive cut is $14 bucks???  As I throw my child over my shoulder like a screaming sack of potatoes and try to muster what dignity I have left while pushing the stroller one handed towards the exit I hear the voice of an angel.

"I'll cut that baby's hair!  You bring him over here Mama.  We'll get him cut!"

I look over to see an Amazonian woman standing by her work station.  She sits us down and has me sit on the boy again and then using hands the size of dinner plates went to town with the clippers.  There was no styling, this poor woman was just trying to get it even.  Mean while Maddox is screaming, mouth wide open and full of hair.  I am trying to calm him down, but really, what can you say at this point.  I know, some may say I should have just left when the first guy refused and tried again at a later time.  But I didn't.  I had her buzz the kid.  After

 she was done I got up and set Mad down.  I tried to brush the hair off of him (he had refused to let her put the cape on us, so the amount of hair covering us both was considerable) but he set off running.  I thought he was making a break for the door so I ran after him.  There he was squatting in a corner of the waiting area screaming at the top of his lungs- "I wanna go!  I wanna go!"  

You and me both, kid!  I paid my fourteen dollars and tipped that Amazon $10.00 and high tailed it out of there.  

So, my skinny little man looks like he just escaped from a concentration camp, but at least there is no fight in the morning about brushing it and washing it has become less of a trial as well.  Did I mention he screams about that too....that will have to be for a different blog.  I am exhausted just reliving this one.  I will have to post a pic as soon as I am fully recovered from the ordeal.