Do You Want to Play Basketball?

“You guys wanna play basketball with me?”

He stood on the very edge of our lawn in his shorts and hoodie holding a small basketball.

The other bigger kids continued to chase each other and play.  One kid lingered on the edge of their lawn near to where Eddie was standing.

“Hey! Do you guys want to play basketball with me?!?” He asked louder.

Even though the one kid was hanging near, he still managed to effectively ignore my little guy.

Eddie looked down at his Little Tikes basketball. I couldn’t see his face from my place by the kitchen window, but I could guess at the questions going through his mind. Why won’t they answer me?  Why wouldn’t they want to play with  me?

“HEY! WANT TO PLAY BASKETBALL WITH ME?!?!”

I called Cort to see.  Eddie was obeying the rules and staying in our yard.  He even kept checking his feet to make sure they were not over the line.  I could tell he was antsy to go run and play tag.

Earlier that day we had heard him yelling outside in the front yard, when we peeked out the window, he was yelling down the street, “HEY!  GUYS!  COME HERE!  I WANNA TALK TO YOU!” to the kids playing down the road.

We live on a dead end where the neighbor kids like to spend time digging holes for no other reason than to dig holes.  Eddie likes to watch them.  They also cut into the woods from the dead end and trek back to the field behind our house.  There’s a creek back there and they like to catch crayfish and frogs.  This particular afternoon, Digger Boy (the boy who digs the holes, and yes, this is the name Eddie refers to him as) and his brothers had a bucket of fish and frogs and they came into our yard to show Eddie and Cort.  Eddie thought it was just wonderful.

So for the rest of the day, when he saw neighbor kids, he wanted so badly to play with them.

They are all at least five years older than Eddie is, and have no interest in playing with a three-year-old.

But Eddie doesn’t understand this, and so he stands on the edge of the yard, doing his best to make friends without breaking the rules of leaving the yard.

“I’m going to put on shorts and go play basketball with him for a bit,” Cort tells me as he rubs my back.  I have been watching him with tears in my eyes for a couple minutes.

“Thank you,” I tell him before I call out the window to Eddie asking him if Daddy can play with him.

“Daddy?  He wants to play basketball?  Yay!  I want to play too!”

As I got Charlie’s jammies on I heard lots of giggling and chasing going on around the house before Cort and Eddie burst in all smiles and exhaustion.

Eddie is so bold and makes friends so easily.  He is so much braver than I was at that age.  I am so proud when I see him feeling comfortable talking to other kids, but I feel those old fears of rejection that I clung too tightly to as a child.

Luckily for me, Cort reads my worry and nerves and jumps in before Eddie’s feelings can be hurt.

Besides, I think Eddie prefers to hang with his Dad rather than some dumb neighbor kids any day.

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Cort and Eddie build a fence.

April 15, 2013

Monday, April 15 was anything but normal,  but as it goes with those who don’t live in the center of the abnormal but have small, current-event-oblivious-children, it was totally normal in Sluiter Nation.

We worked. We had daycare. We had a rampant case of the Mondays.  We came home and tripped over each other while dinner was  made.  It was…typical.

Cort was in the kitchen making chicken. I was trying to occupy Charlie so he didn’t turn into a hungry dictator before dinner was ready and Eddie was playing on the computer busy writing his “stories”.

The news was on because obviously.

We never thought about the news being on.  It is always on this time of day.  Charlie has never cared about TV and Eddie has lately been having his screen time while dinner is prepared, so the news is on because it’s not a kid show, but it’s also not something that will slip foul language.  It seemed neutral.

Until Monday, April 15.

“Mom, what is that ‘splosion?” he asked over my shoulder.

I turned to see Eddie looking intently at the TV coverage with a puzzled face. “Did someone drop a bomb? Did those people running get hurt?  Are they helping people?  Did someone go to Heaven?”

The questions came fast, but calmly. He sat next to me on the floor never taking his eyes off the TV that I was willing to just shut off by itself.

It didn’t and even though I felt like a total mom fail for allowing him to see this sort of tragedy, I tried to explain.

“Yes, buddy. It looks like someone let a bomb explode by all those people who were running a race. And yes, it hurt people. And yes, some of them died and went to Heaven. And YES, those people you see running? Are trying to help the hurt people.”

“That’s good. We need people to help people.”

And then he went back to what he was doing.

Dinner was soon ready and the local news had moved on to weather and sports and less heavy topics.  Eddie brought up the ‘splosion a couple more times, but didn’t seem scared or fearful.  In fact, knowing that people were helping people seemed to be what was most important to him.  That and that those who died went to Heaven with God and his Papa and his cat.

He is three.

He brings up death a lot, but not in a fearful or worried way.  He seems to just want to know about it.

And because communication is important to Cort and me, we encourage our boys (well, Eddie right now), to ask us anything at all that they may be thinking about.  This has come in the form of how seeds grow to why plants and trees die to why girls have a vagina and not a penis.

Someone recently asked me if Eddie is in the “why” stage.  I guess yes and no, but he mostly makes observations and then asks “what? where? when? how? who? and why?”  He asks all of them

I don’t feel like I spend a ton of time answering just “why?”  We mostly have conversations.

On Monday he didn’t ask why someone would bomb other people, but when we were having the conversation about it Cort and I did say the bomb hurt lots of people and to us, it seemed like a really awful thing to do to someone else.

Eddie agreed, “yeah, because hurting people is so so SO mean, right guys?”

Right, bud.

So maybe I am a mom fail for letting my son see the news, and we did our best to limit it the rest of the week.  But in the end, he felt comfortable talking with us about it and wasn’t afraid or worrisome.

I’m not sure that I could call it the right thing or claim some parenting strategy here, but I will say that his reaction to the whole thing helped me know we are doing something right with our parenting.

He asked questions, he told us what he thought, and we had a conversation that left him satisfied, but not afraid.

I’m still sorry that he saw it and that he now knows about that level of evil, but I’m proud of him for asking questions and responding the way he did.

Gathering Kindness Stones

kindnessstones2

“I don’t yike you guys. I don’t yuv you either. I don’t yike ANYBODY.”

This is Eddie’s go to response when he is angry or frustrated or disappointed.  We never taught him to say these words, and we have NEVER said these words to him or to each other.

But this is his response to not being able to play Mario Kart or having a toy taken away or being denied a cookie after dinner or…well, you get it.

At first we were just glad he was using his words at all.  Up until recently (and really he still does this from time to time) he would furrow his brow and grunt or give little screams at us when he was upset.  Grunts and screams that interrupted what we were trying to explain or say to him.

“Use your words, Eddie.”

Between our efforts and practice at daycare, Eddie slowly started to use his words.

“I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW,” he would say with gritted teach and fists clenched,  pushed down toward the ground. His scowl–complete with flared nostrils–was enough to burn a hole in your heart.

And recently he has started adding, “and I don’t yike you. Or yuv you.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know how else to put words to his disappointment or frustration.  As soon as he feels he has been wronged, I watch the temper rise. I can almost see the boiling instantly begin.

You know how when a cartoon character gets really mad, the blood rises up to his face and he turns all red and steam blows out of his ears?

That happens to Eddie.

He has also started to give ultimatums.  For instance the other day he colored (on purpose) on the kitchen table and I calmly said, “Eddie. You know we don’t use the crayons on the table.  Just on the paper, please.” I knew he was tired and being defiant because he was transitioning back to daycare after a week off for spring break.  We had just gotten home and I knew he was temperamental.

But what happened was a shit storm.

“FINE!  I WILL TEAR UP THE PICTURES I MADE YOU AT NAE’S HOUSE!” and he proceeded to rip up the pictures that he had held on to so carefully the whole drive home.  The pictures that he had spent the entire 10-minute drive explaining to me about the “dinosaur with the really looong neck because I like T-rexes.” The pictures he asked if I wanted to take to my work and hang up. He ripped them to shreds with tears flowing down his face.

Before I could stop him, he had shredded his pictures.  I didn’t know whether to cry for him or be angry.  He was so distraught.

“I AM GOING TO THROW ALL OF THESE CRAYONS IN THE GARBAGE!!” he was shouting as I was still trying to figure out what to do.

“No, you’re not, Eddie.  They are fine and don’t need to be thrown away.”

I calmly took them from him and he started screaming and crying LOUDLY.  So I sent him to his room to calm down.

Recently, in an attempt to curb his mean comments (and occasional unkind behavior),  I set up a Kindness Bucket in the kitchen.  I have a little baggie of stones next to it called Kindness Stones.  When he displays kind and loving behavior, we put Stones in the bucket.

These are easy for him.  Over spring break he had gathered almost all of the Kindness Stones in his bucket just by being himself: giving Charlie the last cheese it (unprompted), helping me with laundry, volunteering to swifter the floors, picking up his toys as well as Charlie’s.  All of these things he just does without being asked to, so it’s fun to call his attention to how many times he is kind during the day.  And he LOVES it.

He loses stones from the bucket when he is unkind.  If he pushes his brother or screams in someone’s face or tell us he doesn’t love us, he loses a stone.  We are trying to teach him that he is a really REALLY kind boy, but sometimes he does things that are unkind. That hurt his family.

We even talked about what he thought would be a good reward for earning ALL of the Kindness Stones.  He told Cort he would really love to have dinner–all of us together–at Red Robin.  Cortney and I agreed that was a fabulous idea.  So that is what Eddie is working toward.

The problem is that he gets SO frustrated lately.  When he loses a kindness stone he will yell, “FINE!  TAKE THEM ALL OUT!  ALL OF THEM!”

It makes me so sad.  Of course I don’t take them all out.  And I explain to him there is no way I am taking all of the kindness he has shown away for one small act of meanness.

I know it’s his age.  He is three-going-on-four.

I know he is still learning how to express himself.  He feels his feelings but doesn’t know what to do with them or what words to put with them.  Let’s be honest, I’m 35 and I STILL have trouble putting words to my feelings sometimes too.

Sometimes, when he blows up and just says, “forget it, take it all away!” I know how he is feeling.  How many times have I wanted to upend my desk at work or throw my laptop out the window?  How many times have I felt like I would rather just have someone take all the good away if I can’t have it my way?

Cort and I are struggling with this phase.

We know he needs our guidance.  He needs our love and patience.  He needs our safety while he figures it out.

But he also needs us to let him know that is not the best way to deal with being frustrated, disappointed, angry, or sad.

Yesterday, after he lost his mind once again and we sent him to his room, Cort and I were deciding who would go talk to him once he calmed down.  Cort “won”.

“What are my talking points on this one?” he asked.

“Um. Hey Ed. Here is your shit.  You lost it upstairs?” I offered.

“Heh.  Right on. I’ll just give him his shit back.”

That is what Cort did. He helped Ed find his lost shit, as I took a kindness stone out of his bucket hoping he would earn it back quickly.

And he did.

Eight Weeks

“Hi mom. How did you sleep?”

Every day for a week this was my morning greeting.

Every day for a week Eddie and I moved into a comfortable buddy relationship that we have never had before.

Every day for a week I marveled at how Charlie went from my mushy little baby into a full on little so-and-so walking and babbling and being full of being Charlie.

Every night I fell into bed completely exhausted.

It was a wonderful exhaustion.

There were times when Eddie and I faced off, when he stopped using his words and instead used his screams and grunts.

There were times when I thought I might lock Charlie in his room for the rest of the day because he wouldn’t stop climbing on ALL THE THINGS (oh yeah, because he does that now).

I learned that Charlie is not ready to drop his morning nap unless we are out and about and super busy, but I also learned that his limit is 3 hours of nap a day.  Doesn’t matter how it’s broken up or when it is, 3 hours. Limit.  Otherwise? We are all up all night with someone who wants to party. Ahem…Charlie.

I learned that Eddie has a voice and that voice has something to say.  When Eddie is heard, his behavior vastly improves.  Every choice was talked over between the two of us.  Cereal or pancakes for breakfast?  Grapes or bananas?  Stop for gas now or later?  Should I have another cup of coffee or have some water?  Should I put Bird down for nap now or later?  Is it a cleaning day or a relaxing day?

Sometimes we decided he didn’t need a nap that day and he helped me with laundry and cleaning and playing Legos and entertaining Charlie and racing Mario Kart and making dinner.

We read books together and napped together and cuddled together and ate together.

He told me stories and made me laugh.

He broke my heart telling me when kids were not nice to him and how he didn’t say anything.

We talked about why flowers and plants and pets and people have to die, and how there is a time for new things to be born and grow.

He asked questions and made observations.  I asked him questions in returned and offered explanation when I had it.

Charlie discovered he can go pretty fast on two feet rather than two knees/two hands.  He found that he can climb on the footstool, the chair, and the couch.  He can also fall.  A million times.  But not a million-and-one times.  Nope.  That is when he suddenly got on his tummy and slide down feet first.  And clapped for himself.

Charlie learned the art of pushing boundaries.  How close can I get to touching something before I am redirected?  Does crying help? No, it does not. Darn.

Charlie protested milk and insisted on a bottle at least twice a day with FORMULA, NOT MILK, MOM! And if I insisted on milk? The bottle came flying back at me and wailing ensued.

Sometimes you choose your battles.

I watched two little men that at one time were little blobs growing in my tummy.  Now they are people with personalities and they are making their presence known with clapping and screeching  and dancing and singing along to the Sofia the First soundtrack.

And now we are back to our routine of daycare and work.  A different kind of exhaustion that is not nearly as satisfying.

But it’s just eight more weeks.

Eight more weeks until we can go back to the business of playing.

the best part of three

It’s easy to come here and talk about the hard days because I have to “write them out”…it’s a therapy of sorts.

Eddie and I have had a lot of hard days over the past almost four years.  There has been many, many times that we have butted heads only to end up in our separate corners crying.

But those days are really few and far between.

Yes, we still have our standoffs, we battle with Eddie knowing and practicing kindness, we grapple with teaching him that words can hurt.

He doesn’t want his picture taken as much, which means he gets left off the Project 365 posts that I do each week.  This breaks my heart a bit because I want to remember him as he is right now too.  In our every day daily days.

Yesterday was not anything monumental.  It was a pretty ordinary day as far as days home with my kids go, but it was extraordinary in that I realized that Eddie has grown up a lot since the last time I had a break from school.

He started the day by climbing into bed with me and asking if he could watch TV snuggled with me instead of on the couch.  I can’t say no to that, so he watched TV while I snored dozed beside him.  Until Charlie woke up.

We all had breakfast and watched some TV and played.  We had plans to leave the house that morning to meet a friend and her kids at the local Crazy Bounce (you know, one of those places with a million inflatable bounce houses and slides?  So much fun for the kiddos).  I needed to shower, so I asked Eddie to watch his brother.

He did.  He even made sure to stop watching TV to play with Charlie to keep him from being sad or grumpy.

He also got his clothes on…socks and all (which he always complains he can’t do)…by himself.

He was responsible while we were at Crazy Bounce and didn’t throw too much of a fit when it was time to go.  He sat nicely by his brother in the busy shoe area while I navigated finding their shoes and coats and the diaper bag.  He protected his brother from all the people walking around them and patiently waited while I got all of our shoes and coats on.

He held my hand in the parking lot without a fuss.

He was quiet when we went through the McDonald’s drive thru (his reward for being so helpful and kind).

He ate all his lunch and joked and made Charlie laugh while I got Charlie’s food ready.

He played nicely by himself while I did a bit of work.

When it was time to lie down for a nap, he requested to nap in my bed…with me.  I couldn’t turn that down, so we rested for an hour together.  When the hour was up, he sat up and  very matter-of-factly said, “So. Mom.  You want to get up now?”

He asked me if he could help me clean up.

We made pizzas together for dinner.

There were no tantrums, no timeouts, no crying.

We chatted about garbage trucks and cats and God and babies and flowers.  He’s so smart.

The day was busy, but it was peaceful.

It’s hard to see this kind, caring, responsible boy in the humdrum of daycare drop off and pick up and shuffling him around on a schedule.  It’s easy for him to get over-tired and under-appreciated when we are wrapped up in the Must Do’s of daily life.

It’s easy to roll my eyes when he has a fit or is unkind and write it off as three-years-old being a tough age.

It is a tough age.  It has many MANY ups and downs.

But yesterday reminded me that I don’t just have a tantrumy moody difficult three-year old.

I have a buddy.

And that is the BEST part of having a three-year-old.

"Look mom, I'm a teacher just like you!"

“Look mom, I’m a teacher just like you!”

China Misunderstandings

About four months ago, Eddie inquired as to why I sit when I pee prompting my very brief and simple explanation that girls do not have penises.  Apparently his mind then assumed we ladies pee out of our butts, so I needed to tell him about vaginas.  There was no “show and tell” or anything, I just said girls do not have a penis that hangs out like boys have, we have vaginas and we need to sit or peeing would be very, very messy.

Other than his randomly peeking around the corner of the bathroom door at me when I was peeing, he let that explanation be enough.

*************

Eddie has started to ask “is this for boys or for girls?” about almost everything.

If you know me at all, this question makes me simultaneously sad and angry. Gender stereotypes at this age are, at best, annoying.

Our answer is “if you like it, it’s for YOU.”

We try to discourage anything being “for boys” of “for girls” at this age.

(don’t even get me started on how I almost lectured a poor McDonald’s’ drive thru worker for asking if the happy meal I ordered was for a boy or a girl. I’m not proud of that momma snap moment).

Anyway, Eddie has a lot of girls he plays with at daycare–his best friend is a girl–and he loves princesses, purple, and tiaras.  He also loves dinosaurs, monster trucks, and trains.

It’s all good, yo.

But it is a constant, conscious effort on my and Cort’s part to make sure he knows that we support his interests no matter what they are.

*************

Eddie has a responsibility chart.

Each night while he brushes his teeth, we go down the chart.  If he has done a good job with each “task” he gets a magnetic smile face:

“Did you get dressed on your own?  Did you clean up your toys?  Did you say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?  Did you use your listening ears?  Did you get ready for bed?”

If he gets all his smile faces for a week, he gets to pick a treat.

A few weeks ago he did it and picked going to the donut shop with Cortney.  They got their treats, and sat at a table chatting and eating.  When they were about done, Eddie asked for a quarter to get a cheap piece of crap prize out of one of those bubble gum-looking machines.

Since Cort is much nicer than I am, he gave Eddie a quarter.  The prize?  A pink ring.

2013-04-01 13.19.49

Eddie turned it over and looked at it and asked Cortney what it said.

“Made in China.”

Eddie took it back, frowned and thrust it at Cort.

“I don’t want this. It’s just for girls!

Cort sighed and asked him why he thought that, prepared to once again explain that pink is NOT just for girls if he likes it.

“Because, dad.  Only girls have chinas!”

“Um. Ok.  Tell your mother about that,” Cort replied as he shoved the ring in his pocket.

*************

I tried to explain to Eddie that CHINA is a place and a VAGINA is what girls have.

He didn’t seem convinced that I knew what I was talking about.

And then, later that day, we were listening to the Sofia the First soundtrack’s song “Blue Ribbon Bunny”.

I dig up a tasty gourmet lunch
and serve it on china
’cause when we’re talkin’ ’bout food my friend
there’s nobody fina!

And then Eddie asked me if Clover was a girl since he is singing about his ‘china.

I think I have to wave my white flag.

I just…I can’t anymore.

What a Difference

Dear Sluiter Boys,

A year ago we were soaking in our last weekend as a family of three.  I was swept up and covered in emotion the whole weekend.  I remembering wishing I could memorize each saying and giggle of Eddie’s.  I wanted to watch him sleep and bury my nose in his hair.  I wanted to somehow record the feeling of Charlie moving his foot or turning to his side so I could re-feel it long after he left my body.  I wanted to grasp tightly to the small moments of Cort being a daddy to Eddie, an almost-daddy to Charlie, and a husband to me.  Those moments were so precious and he busied himself making preparations so we would all feel safe and loved during the impending upheaval of everything we knew to be our normal.

I was inside my own head a lot that weekend.

Charlie, I often wondered if you could feel my nerves and anxieties since you were rolling around in there with them.  Each time you kicked and tried to move around in your ever-shrinking womb nest, I was reminded that you would soon be here taking up so much of all of our attention.

Eddie, I worried about you, my sweet #1 son.  Would you be Ok now that you weren’t the Only?  Would you love your brother as much as it seemed like you already did?

Cortney, you had worked so hard for all of us, and I knew you were going to have to keep working so hard.  Would you resent me or Charlie?  Would you grow frustrated and discouraged?

March 12, 2012...the night before

March 12, 2012…the night before

I was just so excited to have my Charlie out of my ribs tummy, and into my arms, but at the same time I will never forget the fear that everything would go wrong.

I should have taken the unseasonably warm weather as a good sign.  A sign of growth and renewal.

the weekend before...tulips start to shoot up in the unseasonably warm weather

the weekend before…tulips start to shoot up in the unseasonably warm weather

It was hard for me to watch you, Eddie, in those days before.  You knew you were getting a baby brother out of my tummy, but you went on with your days as if nothing was changing.  You were too small to have the fears to worry about what was to come.  It doubled my worries.  That because you didn’t see this HUGE change ahead, you would suffer more.

Three days before your baby brother arrives.

Three days before your baby brother arrives.

Everyone told me it was normal to be worried…and even afraid.  Afraid my heart wasn’t big enough for TWO boys to love.  I already loved you so much, Eddie.  To the moon.  How could I possibly love another little boy like that?  Would I be enough for both of you?

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Little did I know that my heart was about to grow about a thousand times bigger.  That not only would I love you, Charlie, just as fiercely as your brother, but that I would love Eddie more and you more because of how you love each other.

playing cars with Charlie about a month before his arrival.

playing cars with Charlie about a month before his arrival.

I don’t remember when your uncle Chris was born, but he and I are the same age spread as you boys.  Watching the two of you now, I like to think that I loved Chris as fiercely as you love Charlie, Eddie.  At least I hope I did.

I can’t believe I was ever worried.

Everyone told me the gift of a sibling is the greatest gift you can give a child.  I didn’t know if I believed them.  Everything seemed perfect the way it was.  I felt daddy and I were selfish for wanting another little human.

Except, once you were here, Charlie?  It was quite apparent that the greatest gift we have given Eddie was you.  If Eddie made us a family, you made Eddie a brother.  That is a huge thing, Charlie Bird.

Playing cars with your brother within a week of his arrival.

Playing cars with your brother within a week of his arrival.

I don’t really know where I am going with this letter, guys.  I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about Charlie’s first birthday coming up.

Charlie, I can’t believe it’s been a year.  Seriously.  This year has flown by in ways I didn’t know were possible.

And Eddie, I can’t believe I ever underestimated your ability to love your brother so much.  You are his protector.  You are his comfort.  You are his laugh-maker.  You are his Eddie…his “dee dee dee”.

I look back at a year ago and can’t hardly believe that the life we had before the Bird was real.  That it happened.  That Daddy and I lived our lives and you both were just…not.  That seems impossible to me.

Tonight I watched the two of you.  I rattled off “Be careful of your brother” and “Don’t hit him with your jammy pants, Eddie!” and “You can’t play Wii until you put on underwear” and “Bird!  No licking the couch!” all without thinking about it.  Like I have been commanding these things of my sons my whole life.

My sons.

I have sons.

Daddy is a Daddy and I am a Mommy and we have sons.

Goodness what a difference a little ole year makes.

Friday Funnies

Eddie has a certain pair of navy and red striped socks from Old Navy he got waaay back when that were always too big to wear with shoes.  He adopted them as socks he wears with jammies and named them his “Sleepy Socks.”

Recently the sleepy socks blew out holes in the toes and heels.

Other socks wouldn’t do and I had to go to Old Navy and hunt down more striped ones.  I could only find navy and yellow stripes.

He was legit disappointed, but gave the a shot.

They were on the floor after the second night.

Just not the same, I guess.

(I may have washed and stashed the original Sleepy Socks in a shoebox of keepsakes. What?)

*************

Charlie might turn out to be a class clown.

He likes to make us all laugh at dinner by making VERY odd noises and strange blowing/raspberry sounds.

He even pauses with a chill little grin on his face so we can all fall over ourselves laughing at him before he starts up again.

And with that little grin, his face says, “You are such fools.  Such easy-to-entertain fools.”

*************

The other night I was cuddling with Eddie at bedtime (more on the new bedtime routine in another post).

He was in that place between awake and sleeping when he rolled to his side.

I caught a whiff of stale milk smell.

“Eddie? Did you toot?

“Just sleep mom. Don’t worry ’bout it.”

O_o

Boys are gross.

I am sure girls are too, but my boys? Are gross.

*************

When Eddie was Charlie’s age, he used to have a Poop Spot–a place next to our bookcase that he liked to stand in (with the cupboard door open so it was like he was behind a little wall) while he did his “jobbies”.

Just recently, Charlie has been going to the same place to do his business.

I find it hilarious.

Cortney seems less amused.

*************

Eddie has recently learned that girls and boys do not have the same…um…equipment.

Although, he has no idea what girls actually have other than I told him the word, “vagina”.

Now, every time I go to the bathroom, I get interviewed:

“Mom? You are going to the bathroom?”

“Yup.”

“Poop?”

“Nope.  Just pee.”

“You are sitting though, right?”

“Yup.”

“Because you are a girl. You don’t have a penis. Right?”

“That’s right.”

I will admit that I never pictured myself telling my 3 year old son through a closed door that I was not, in fact, peeing out of my butt.

************

Charlie kisses stuffed animals.  It’s cute.

He also kisses his reflection in the window.  Again, super cute.

But he also has fights with the baby in the window.

Loud fights.

With pounding on the window.

And stink eye at me as if I had something to do with this idiot in the window who is copying all his moves.

It is both hilariously cute and a tad crazy.

************

Don’t forget about my giveaway to Baa and Boo over here.  Get something cute for a cutie in your life.

Preschooler Steps

What’s written on tomorrow’s date on the calendar has been staring at me for over a month, and I just can’t wrap my brain around it.

I thought this wouldn’t be a big deal to me, but I find myself ignoring it as a way of denial.

Tomorrow night Cort has a Preschool Information Meeting for getting Eddie signed up for preschool.

I really thought I would be ready for this.   I thought I would be excited for Eddie.  I mean, I am excited for Eddie.  Academically he is totally ready to be in school.  I can teach him just so much before he needs someone who is dedicated to knowing what and how to teach 4 year-olds (which Eddie will be this summer).  Between his daycare mom and myself, Home Slice can count forward to 20 and backward from 10.  He knows all his letters.  He can recognize his name when it’s written on something.  He can color in the lines (when he wants to, which is not often) and he can hold a pencil/crayon correctly (when he feels like it, which is not often).

We do lots of literacy stuff: he can predict, make connections, infer, and even tell stories based just on pictures.  He even recognizes some words.

He plays nice with others and knows how to share.

But he is ready for organized learning.  Something Cort and I can’t provide since we both work full-time out of the home, and something his daycare mom can give him just so much of with babies to take care of too.

And so, this fall, my oldest baby will go to preschool.

I didn’t think it would, I don’t know, hurt so much that he will be going away.  I mean, it’s not like he’s with me during that time of the day anyway.  He’s always at Renae’s house and I am at work.

But somehow, knowing my little boy will be going to school three afternoons a week is…like a punch to the gut.

Like I said on Monday, I know he is ready, but it’s just so hard for me to let go.

This is another one of those steps that is ready and so excited to take.  And I am too, except…it’s terrifying to relinquish another bit of control.  Another bit of being the only one in his life.

That sounds creepy and weird, but I mean it in the least creepy and weird way possible.

I mean it in the way of a mom who is doing her best to raise independent kids, but who enjoys having them depend on her.

So I have a bit of denial about the fact that my first baby will be old enough for school in the fall.  Even if that school is “just” preschool.  Even if there won’t be a missing boy from my daily life.  Even though I know he will have an amazing amount of fun and excitement…as will I when he tells me all the things he learns and does.

I’m just not good at change.

Which is really why Cort is going to the information meeting.  His listening ears are not clogged with anxiety and worry like mine are.

So this week learn about preschool; next week sign him up.

Pardon me while I hug him a few hundred times to try to keep the remaining baby-ness squeezed tightly in there.

Ready Before I Am

It’s been a week since Eddie handed his Pipey over to the Pipey Fairy.  When he woke up, there was a new Wii game (Hot Wheels) since only Big Boys get to have their own Wii games.  He also got a new responsibility chart since Big Boys get to have Responsibilities just like mom and dad.

He was over the moon proud and happy.

I was proud and sad.

The first night he cried a little when it was time to put on jammies and watch a show before bed.  He went to get Lamby and then got very sad that he couldn’t also get Pipey since Pipey was gone.  But the tears only lasted a few minutes.

Several times this week we heard, “I miss Pipey. I miss him a yot,”  but not many more tears.

The first night he needed me to stay in bed until he fell asleep.  He took my hand, found my thumb, and put it under his nose against his lips with my nail facing his face.  Then he fell quietly to sleep.

As I lay with him the first night, I couldn’t help realizing how ready he was for this change.  Way more ready than Cort and I gave him credit for.

He was so brave to give up his best friend.  We talk about it and he shares his feelings, but he is Ok with it for the most part.

The real truth is that he was ready before I was ready.

I’ve thought about that many times this week.

He was ready before I was ready.

This is how it is being a mom, isn’t it?  He will always be ready before I am ready.

Giving up his Pipey, giving up nap (which he will have to do by the fall because he will have afternoon preschool), going to school, riding the bus, spending the night at a friend’s house, doing ____ all by himself, driving, dating, going away to college.

I remember not being ready to put away the swing or the bounce seat for either of the boys.  But they were ready.

I wasn’t ready to fold up the activity mat this morning for Charlie, but he was long since ready.

I am never ready to pack up clothing that is suddenly too small and place it in a tote.

They are always ready before I am.

I have a huge urge to hold them tight to me until I am ready too.  I almost did that with Pipey.

Ok, I totally did that with Pipey.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to that baby-ness, so I let him hold on even though he could have let go awhile ago.

I don’t feel bad about it…this time.  The transition was basically seamless.  But I know that with whatever the next thing is, I am going to have to take this new knowledge of my fear of change and stuff it down.  Push it out of our decision-making.  I will have to paint on a smile when he goes off to school or rides without training wheels.

It won’t be hard because my momma heart will be bursting with pride.

But it will be terrifying because it means another milestone passed; another chapter through; another new adventure to begin.

I suck at change.  Especially when I love that which needs to change.

But I love those that need the change more than I hate the change itself.

It’s not about me.

That is hard for me to remember.

Pipey is gone.  It went without nearly as many tears–from either of us–than I feared.

And suddenly, just this week, he looks older to me.

This is our "ack!" face.

This is our “ack!” face.

 

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