Last night we had a family outing to Home Depot. When we go to home improvement stores my job is to entertain the monkeys while big daddy gets the stuff he needs.
So I would get the basket going real fast then jump up and ride it - big hit. And then we ate some snacks. As a last resort I told Silas he could get down and explore as long as he stayed close and obeyed.
He found some "employee only" ladders and climbed up to drive his cars across the bumpy surfaces. When he stood up I said Look Silas, you're taller than me! As I stood close to his face to show him, he leaned over the rail and gave me a big kiss. I laughed, which for Silas ensures a behavior will be repeated for 2 hours. He would give me small kisses and big kisses and we would both throw our heads back with laughter.
Then things went in slow motion as I looked at his smiling face. I was struck by how fleeting this moment was. It's hard to believe but I know there will come a day when he won't want to kiss me in public with wild abandon.
So here is where I write a note to myself. Angie, 15 years from now
know that you treasured it.
In 7 days we will begin potty training. I became aware of how much this is overdue the other day when I explained to Silas why it's good to change a poopie diaper quickly because of the effect feces has on skin and we carried on a conversation where he demonstrated full comprehension. Yes, he's old enough Mommy.
Truth be told, I'm intimidated. Unsure. Lacking in experience, knowledge.
I'll be doing a little reading and playing a lot of Elmo Potty Time in preparation but if you have any experience or knowledge to share regarding the challenge of potty training a very intelligent 3 year old boy who is in de pen dent, please do.
In honor of Mother's Day (better late than never) I would like to share a recent discovery that has dramatically improved my abilities as a mom running a household.
This amazing breakthrough gives me more energy. Puts a spring in my step. I keep the house cleaner. I do more with the kids. It's my super power.
And I don't want you to worry. It's not Meth or a child's Ritalin prescription. It's not even coffee or energy drinks. It's so simple.
I put on my tennis shoes.
I'm usually a flip-flop or house-shoe kinda girl. But after I noticed the dramatic difference my shoes make, I put them on like Superman puts on his cape. And I feel like I'm in the montage of the movie where the house gets cleaned in fast motion.
All of a sudden we're jolted awake by intense screaming.
Silas is hysterical.
Begging for Dada to come help him.
This scene happens a few times a week.
He describes the horrible content of his dreams, we try to comfort him.
They all center around the same theme. The same perpetrator.
Through sobs and heaving shoulders he tells us what she does to him. Baby Mashon (sob sob) knocked over my (sob sob) ice cream! Why's (sobs) Baby Mashon (sobs) messing with my nat map (aka nap mat)? Dada, she took my cars (hysterics)! Tell Baby Mashon (sob sob) give me my blankie pweeeeze! It's really not funny at the moment. I get all pumped full of adrenaline and then I look at the clock and realize I only have 47 minutes before the sweet little bird outside our window will wake up and I will be forced to spend the remaining early morning hours fantasizing about the different ways I could end its life. (Some mornings I'm so desperate for sleep and filled with hatred for the bird that I convince Brian to run out in his underwear to try and shoot it with the bb gun. So far the score is Tweetie 8, Brian 0.)
Despite the bad dreams and evil bird our bodies somehow always make it on a few hours of sleep. And as I listen to Silas give more details about the dreams the next day I wonder if he might be having a rough time with this baby that's barging into his world.
But I can't help having a good laugh while he's not looking.