Overheard today...

(Today, while watching me do some cleaning...)

Thomas: Mom, why are you always polishing handprints off the walls?

Me: Good question.
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(Tonight, while out to dinner because Mom needed to get out of the house...)

Andrew (while raising his glass) : We should all toast.

Me: Good idea. To what are we toasting?

Andrew: To my awesomeness.

Our big little boy

If you’re a six-year-old or nine-year-old boy (or the father of one) tonight’s television offerings were the best they get. Our DVR worked up a sweat this evening as the boys (and their father) jumped back and forth between watching the NBA All-Star Game and the Millrose Games, which I now know is an indoor track meet that features the best high school, college and even some professional tracksters out there. (For the record, it appears to this untrained eye that the NBA All-Star Game is just that, a game, where big men practice fancy dunking basically unguarded, but whatever.) We watched these two events for the better part of two hours. When I first called it time for bed I got convinced that it would be alright to skip reading for tonight to watch a little longer. The second time I called for bed I meant it and we headed upstairs.

Thomas went right up because a birthday party he attended this afternoon wiped him out and he was ready. Andrew came up grousing and harrumphing and snarling. He marched into his bathroom, where Thomas was brushing teeth and I was tidying their sty, and said, “Mom. It is totally unfair that I can’t watch the rest of the All-Star Game and I want you to know that I think you’re just wrong, wrong, wrong to keep me from watching such an important event. I am WAY old enough to stay up later than Thomas.” Before I could even think of responding, he continued. “I also want you to know that someday when I move out of this house I am going to stay up as late as I want and I’m going to watch whatever I want on television because I will be at college. I kind of think I’m ready right now and I know for sure that the day I move out and go to college will probably be one of the best days of my life. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings but that’s just true.”

I had an infrequent attack of maturity at this point and quietly went downstairs to get a drink of water. My usual response would be to debate him or something but I knew that he was being ridiculous and also honest and also that he was probably right so I left the room for a few minutes. I had been in the kitchen for about 90 seconds when I heard, “Mom, mom, MOM. Where are you? I need to tell you something.” Assuming that he wanted to tell me one more time how happy it would make him to flee the nest I said, “'I’ll be back up in a minute to tuck you in after you’ve brushed teeth.”

“But, MOM. I need you right now. I need to tell you that I can’t open the toothpaste and need you to help me.”

Alrighty then. We won’t start packing his bags just yet.

What George said

 

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

-George Bernard Shaw

 

If I turn my computer off promptly at 2:59 p.m. and walk out my office door, making sure to turn off lights and lock the doors, exactly at 3 p.m., I can be in my car by 3:08 p.m. That means, assuming I don’t hit every single red light and only have to stop once for a school crossing guard on the way, that I can be at our mailbox at 3:22 and queued up in the school pickup line in a good spot by 3:25, give or take a minute. If I’ve hit the mailbox before I get to the boys’ school I can read the mail and check facebook while I wait for them to come outside at 3:39 p.m. On Mondays it’s important for me to be close to the front of the line because we need to run by home, grab snacks and be at piano at 4 p.m. It only takes about seven minutes to get to piano so we should, in theory, have about nine minutes to spare at home. Welcome to the inside of my head and the thoughts that dominate the majority of my days. This is even after giving up my big girl job for this one that’s supposed to be stress-free. Pretty sad, huh?

I had a meeting today and didn’t get to my car until about 3:12, which meant that I skipped the mailbox and went straight to school, leaving me with about 14 minutes of time to fill. When I arrived in the pickup line I saw a class of kids on the playground, which is somewhat out of the norm. Upon closer inspection I saw that it was Thomas’ class. It was a sunny, windy 75 degrees today and they were like ants swarming an anthill. They were up, they were down, they were all around. They were carefree, for sure. Eventually the teacher blew her whistle and I found myself thinking she should be nominated for teacher of the year for knowing to take these kids outside on this day instead of trying to teach them more math. There’s a lifetime for math. Look at me, knowing I have nine spare minutes between school pickup and piano. They’ll get all the practice they need.

After they went inside I found myself with six minutes of free time. I scanned MSN on my phone and made the mistake of reading a story about a new Australian strain of the norovirus that apparently we’re all going to contract and will make us all very sick and it will laugh at Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer. Damn Australians. Then I read that the US Postal Office is on the brink of collapse and that no matter how much they raise postal rates, the USPS has completely tapped out its line of credit with the US Treasury. I’m not really good at math but I think that’s difficult to do and it’s a sad state of affairs and a sad commentary on all of us. I closed out the “news” at that point, because if the entertainment news is that depressing, imagine the real, hard news.

And then it was 3:39. I looked up and saw the school doors open and kids stream out in orderly lines to their designated pickup locations. I watched Thomas walk out with his backpack weighing him down, stuffed with the winter coat he didn’t need on this warm afternoon. He went dutifully to the front of the building to wait for me to pull through the line and for his brother to join him. Just then I looked up and saw him. Andrew leaves the building from a back door near his classroom and walks around to the front to meet his brother. I often wish he was walking a bit faster so he would beat me to the front of the line and we wouldn’t hold up traffic.

Not today. Today he was a sight.  He was racing down the sidewalk apparently just high on this summer day that came to visit in the deep of winter. His backpack was in his left hand, and his coat in his right as he SPRINTED around the building. Both were flying out behind him, kind of like capes, and his shoes were a blur of neon green and silver. He was laughing, as if he was sharing a joke with someone, but he was running all by himself. I would have noticed him even if he didn’t belong to me. He came screeching around the corner on the proverbial two wheels and then he saw me watching him. He stopped short and gave me a big wave. It was the kind of wave that I know he’ll eventually become too self-conscious to offer up on public property so I made sure to wave back. He flashed a million watt smile in return and then ran to meet his brother.

He left me feeling pleased beyond measure that he was feeling so buoyant and wishing that I could, if even for just six minutes, remember how to feel that way too.

Compliment, backhanded

Last night at the dinner table, this compliment was issued - with qualifier - as Thomas asked to be excused.

"Mom, may I be excused? I do not want to eat any more and I don't care if I don't get dessert. I mean, the dinner was good, thank you for fixing it for us, it was really very good but I definitely don't want seconds and I'm finished. But, thanks for trying."

That's high praise from the pickiest kid at the table.

Sweet Child O’ Mine

This kid? Wow. This kid is everything I ever hoped my son would be at nine-years-old and is simultaneously everything that drives me bonkers.

 

He’s smart. He’s smart-mouthed.

He’s funny. He’s a class clown.

He’s confident. He demands the center of attention.

He’s coordinated. He’s quite busy.

He’s curious. He’s relentless.

He loves to have fun. He sometimes likes to have fun at others’ expense.

He knows his own mind. He also knows mine.

The kids have recently discovered dad’s electric guitar. This one’s got just enough of his dad in him that he’s completely obsessed with it…for this week. I walked downstairs last night and found him playing it. Wearing my sunglasses.

This kid. He makes me smile, when I’m not cringing. I just love him.