And a post . . . 'cause this kid has taught me a lot!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
T-Minus . . . 30 Days . . . Give or Take
Well . . . I am shocked to look at the calendar and discover we are approximately a month away from Demon Baby's 5th birthday.
Five years.
The glorious news is this means kindergarten in the fall. Though he tells me--DAILY--that he will NEVER go on the yellow school bus and leave me. I am both delirious with anticipation of some silence and me time. And horribly sad. My last little bird is leaving the nest. Albeit from 8:00 to 2:00.
Five years.
Five years of hilarious escapades. Of collapsed ceilings and broken vacuums. Of syrup thrown off the second-story landing and dogs fed Raisin Bran. Of my diamond ring ending up in the dog's water dish, and more crayon on my walls than Crayola could ever imagine. [DAMN them!]
I have loved this child as fiercely as a mother can. I have fretted over his little idiosyncracies. I have shed a LOT of tears of frustration. I have prayed. A lot. I have yelled in my weak moments, and cheered him on in the great moments.
And I decided it was time to change the name of the blog. I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking Wonder Boy and Me . . . but we'll see. He's not a Demon BABY anymore. But he is pretty special.
And for any long-time readers, it's a reminder. Time flies. Kiss your loved ones. Hug your kids. Ignore the crayon and even the syrup on the walls. Because SOMEDAY your baby will be a boy. And then before you know it . . . a man.
Five years.
The glorious news is this means kindergarten in the fall. Though he tells me--DAILY--that he will NEVER go on the yellow school bus and leave me. I am both delirious with anticipation of some silence and me time. And horribly sad. My last little bird is leaving the nest. Albeit from 8:00 to 2:00.
Five years.
Five years of hilarious escapades. Of collapsed ceilings and broken vacuums. Of syrup thrown off the second-story landing and dogs fed Raisin Bran. Of my diamond ring ending up in the dog's water dish, and more crayon on my walls than Crayola could ever imagine. [DAMN them!]
I have loved this child as fiercely as a mother can. I have fretted over his little idiosyncracies. I have shed a LOT of tears of frustration. I have prayed. A lot. I have yelled in my weak moments, and cheered him on in the great moments.
And I decided it was time to change the name of the blog. I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking Wonder Boy and Me . . . but we'll see. He's not a Demon BABY anymore. But he is pretty special.
And for any long-time readers, it's a reminder. Time flies. Kiss your loved ones. Hug your kids. Ignore the crayon and even the syrup on the walls. Because SOMEDAY your baby will be a boy. And then before you know it . . . a man.
[P.S. And the top picture? Me TRYING to take our family Christmas pictures. It was a freezing cold day. December 20th to be exact. And he is barefoot and running around on the frozen ground. That says it all. I suppose I'm lucky he wore pants.]
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Games with Demon Baby
As you can imagine, Demon Baby doesn't play games like other kids. His games are weirder.
Take Trivial Pursuit. He takes out the game board. He hands me cards. I make up questions, like, "What is 3 + 5?" or "What sound does a cow make?" When he gets the question correct, he gets a wedge. When he fills the round wheel, he gets to make a wish. (His rules, not mine.)
Last night, he filled the wheel in record time (I was too tired to invent challenging questions).
"I get to make a wish now."
"All right. Go ahead."
MINUTES later, his eyes were still closed.
"That's a long wish."
"No, just a hard one."
"Well, what are you wishing for?"
"Guess."
"All right, to be taller?" (Common wish for him.)
"Nope."
"For a toy?"
"Nope."
"Do NOT trot out the baby brother wish again. Please."
"Nope."
"I give up."
"I made a wish for you."
"For me? What kind of wish?" (A little teary-eyed, then panicky that he might wish for TWIN baby brothers or something.)
"I wished for you to get a unicorn."
"A UNICORN?!"
"Yeah."
"Um . . . wow. I am touched. Um . . . do you think I LIKE unicorns?"
"Everyone likes unicorns. They're cool. I think you should have one. It would make you happy. A pet unicorn."
"All right. But you know? Having you as my Demon Baby makes me happier than having a unicorn, so if the wish doesn't come true, you know, that's okay."
"Cool. Next wish? A pet giraffe for you. Trust me. It will make you really happy."
"Great. But maybe just wish for a laundress." (I'm just saying . . . )
Take Trivial Pursuit. He takes out the game board. He hands me cards. I make up questions, like, "What is 3 + 5?" or "What sound does a cow make?" When he gets the question correct, he gets a wedge. When he fills the round wheel, he gets to make a wish. (His rules, not mine.)
Last night, he filled the wheel in record time (I was too tired to invent challenging questions).
"I get to make a wish now."
"All right. Go ahead."
MINUTES later, his eyes were still closed.
"That's a long wish."
"No, just a hard one."
"Well, what are you wishing for?"
"Guess."
"All right, to be taller?" (Common wish for him.)
"Nope."
"For a toy?"
"Nope."
"Do NOT trot out the baby brother wish again. Please."
"Nope."
"I give up."
"I made a wish for you."
"For me? What kind of wish?" (A little teary-eyed, then panicky that he might wish for TWIN baby brothers or something.)
"I wished for you to get a unicorn."
"A UNICORN?!"
"Yeah."
"Um . . . wow. I am touched. Um . . . do you think I LIKE unicorns?"
"Everyone likes unicorns. They're cool. I think you should have one. It would make you happy. A pet unicorn."
"All right. But you know? Having you as my Demon Baby makes me happier than having a unicorn, so if the wish doesn't come true, you know, that's okay."
"Cool. Next wish? A pet giraffe for you. Trust me. It will make you really happy."
"Great. But maybe just wish for a laundress." (I'm just saying . . . )
Monday, January 4, 2010
Santa . . .
So Demon Baby had a lovely Christmas. He got an electronic guitar, Legos, a Nintendo DS, Ninja pants (black fleece pants from Old Navy, God bless them they make a pant he will wear at times), a large coloring book, and assorted other presents. Oh, and a lifelike baby bear. It makes noise. You feed it a bottle. It moves.
"WHAT?!" he asked when he opened it.
"It's a baby bear that moves," said I, thinking he wasn't quite sure.
"Santa is out of his mind. He brought me a GIRL present!!!!"
"It's not a girl present!" I shrieked in outrage.
"Is too! What am I supposed to do with THIS? GIRLS feed bears with a baby bottle."
"That is incredibly sexist. BOYS CAN TOO." Hoping to avoid an international incident, I hurriedly said, "Open another present."
Well, here it is about 10 days post Christmas. And guess what he carries around 24/7? His baby bear. And when he leaves the house to do anything, guess who is handed the bottle and told to keep up feedings, kiss it, tuck it in, wrap in in blankets and otherwise mother a fake baby bear?
Yeah. More work load for me.
But it seems Santa knew what she was doing.
"WHAT?!" he asked when he opened it.
"It's a baby bear that moves," said I, thinking he wasn't quite sure.
"Santa is out of his mind. He brought me a GIRL present!!!!"
"It's not a girl present!" I shrieked in outrage.
"Is too! What am I supposed to do with THIS? GIRLS feed bears with a baby bottle."
"That is incredibly sexist. BOYS CAN TOO." Hoping to avoid an international incident, I hurriedly said, "Open another present."
Well, here it is about 10 days post Christmas. And guess what he carries around 24/7? His baby bear. And when he leaves the house to do anything, guess who is handed the bottle and told to keep up feedings, kiss it, tuck it in, wrap in in blankets and otherwise mother a fake baby bear?
Yeah. More work load for me.
But it seems Santa knew what she was doing.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Demon Baby in Love
Demon Baby is in love.
Our next-door neighbor is a lovely woman, a good four decades+ older than Demon Baby, and a very attractive, warm-hearted lady. And she is the object of Demon Baby's affections.
I'm not sure how it started. How does any young man's heart turn to love? But he started slipping out of the house and running next door, ringing her bell, and then dashing down to the chair near her driveway to wait for her to answer. Then they would, in his words, "have a chat."
For a couple of weeks, that was all he would do. She would sit on her stoop and he would talk to her. At first, he was mostly shy, but then he started opening up.
Sometime around Halloween, he discovered she had leftover chocolate bars (she does not have children). So he finally took the big step and went INSIDE her house.
Now, every day, faithfully, he visits her. He draws with chalk. They "chat." He even watches TV there. I keep waiting for her to firebomb my house . . . I mean, surely she has work to do (she works from home). But she says he is an angel there.
Now, the upshot of all this? Love does strange things to a Demon Baby. Now, all I have to do is say, "Look, if you don't go to bed on time, tomorrow you can't visit next door." Suddenly, it's lights out.
And the other thing? He is so full of pride that he has a friend who appreciates him just the way he is. He comes home beaming each day. What a gift this woman is giving him.
And me. It's just a little window of peace each day.
Our next-door neighbor is a lovely woman, a good four decades+ older than Demon Baby, and a very attractive, warm-hearted lady. And she is the object of Demon Baby's affections.
I'm not sure how it started. How does any young man's heart turn to love? But he started slipping out of the house and running next door, ringing her bell, and then dashing down to the chair near her driveway to wait for her to answer. Then they would, in his words, "have a chat."
For a couple of weeks, that was all he would do. She would sit on her stoop and he would talk to her. At first, he was mostly shy, but then he started opening up.
Sometime around Halloween, he discovered she had leftover chocolate bars (she does not have children). So he finally took the big step and went INSIDE her house.
Now, every day, faithfully, he visits her. He draws with chalk. They "chat." He even watches TV there. I keep waiting for her to firebomb my house . . . I mean, surely she has work to do (she works from home). But she says he is an angel there.
Now, the upshot of all this? Love does strange things to a Demon Baby. Now, all I have to do is say, "Look, if you don't go to bed on time, tomorrow you can't visit next door." Suddenly, it's lights out.
And the other thing? He is so full of pride that he has a friend who appreciates him just the way he is. He comes home beaming each day. What a gift this woman is giving him.
And me. It's just a little window of peace each day.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Cold Hands, Warm Heart
I don't know if I have ever mentioned it on this blog, but I have Crohn's disease. I think I've had it since my teens, but I didn't get my diagnosis until I was almost 30 and lay dying in a hospital ER. My journey with the disease has been largely painful and definitely challenging. I was told not to have more children after my first. Well, I'm a mom of four . . . so . . . ups and downs and challenges and prayers. But here I am. Still fighting the fight.
However, lately, I have not been doing so great. It doesn't appear to be Crohn's so much as sort of the side effects (immune system). Each day, I run fevers. Needless to say, this can get exhausting. So I try to get into bed around 7:00 each night in my pjs and my children are all very solicitous. I have been to the hospital twice this week, and I know they are sweetly concerned. Even Demon Baby.
However, being a Demon Baby, he has found a USE for my illness. Hence, this conversation last night at bedtime.
"I'm going to snuggy in with you."
"Great."
"I'm freezing."
"You're only in underwear. It's nearly winter."
"I don't like clothes."
"I know."
"I don't like pajamas."
"I know."
"I like snuggling."
"I know."
He burrowed down next to me, under the covers. And then proceeded to lift my pajama shirt and stick his ice cold feet on my BELLY. I almost jumped out of bed!
"What are you doing?"
"Warming up my feet!"
"They're icicles!"
"Yes, but you are hotness!"
"Hotness?"
"Mama, when I touch you now, you are burning hot. I figure why wear clothes if you can just heat me up."
At that he pressed ice cold hands to my face. "See? You are my hotness."
"I have to admit, your cold hands feel good on my face, but I could do without icicle feet on my belly."
"It's just until you heat them up."
He snuggled closer. "Are you always going to be hot from now on?"
"I don't think so. I think the doctors will fix me."
"Do you really have to go to the hospital tomorrow?"
"I do."
"Will you take me with you?"
"I can't, Buddy."
"Well, when you come home, I will put my coldness on your face and make you feel better."
Oh, I could have done without the hospital this week. But you know, if you're going to have to be sick, a personal popsicle makes things all better.
However, lately, I have not been doing so great. It doesn't appear to be Crohn's so much as sort of the side effects (immune system). Each day, I run fevers. Needless to say, this can get exhausting. So I try to get into bed around 7:00 each night in my pjs and my children are all very solicitous. I have been to the hospital twice this week, and I know they are sweetly concerned. Even Demon Baby.
However, being a Demon Baby, he has found a USE for my illness. Hence, this conversation last night at bedtime.
"I'm going to snuggy in with you."
"Great."
"I'm freezing."
"You're only in underwear. It's nearly winter."
"I don't like clothes."
"I know."
"I don't like pajamas."
"I know."
"I like snuggling."
"I know."
He burrowed down next to me, under the covers. And then proceeded to lift my pajama shirt and stick his ice cold feet on my BELLY. I almost jumped out of bed!
"What are you doing?"
"Warming up my feet!"
"They're icicles!"
"Yes, but you are hotness!"
"Hotness?"
"Mama, when I touch you now, you are burning hot. I figure why wear clothes if you can just heat me up."
At that he pressed ice cold hands to my face. "See? You are my hotness."
"I have to admit, your cold hands feel good on my face, but I could do without icicle feet on my belly."
"It's just until you heat them up."
He snuggled closer. "Are you always going to be hot from now on?"
"I don't think so. I think the doctors will fix me."
"Do you really have to go to the hospital tomorrow?"
"I do."
"Will you take me with you?"
"I can't, Buddy."
"Well, when you come home, I will put my coldness on your face and make you feel better."
Oh, I could have done without the hospital this week. But you know, if you're going to have to be sick, a personal popsicle makes things all better.
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