One birthday party down, one more to go this year. Boogah turns 7 this week (I CAN'T believe it), and we had his party at one of those places that has enormous inflatable jumpy things. This type of place is perfect for a 7 year old birthday -- especially when it's all boys. 6 and 7 year old boys need to do a lot of jumping. Boogah goes to an all boys' school, so pretty much all of his friends now are boys. I invited 21 boys to this party --all the boys in his class and then some. Needless to say, I was freaking out a bit at the thought of having to keep track of that many bodies jumping around in inflatables, but, since his birthday always falls on Labor Day weekend or during the week before, we only had 10 guests actually come. I was a little worried that no one would be in town during these last weekends of summer, but thankfully, 10 were and it was the perfect number (total of 12 boys including Boogah and Blue). They seemed to have a great time running from one inflatable to the other jumping and sliding and climbing. Even Blue managed to hang with the big guys and do his fare share of running and jumping and sliding and climbing--whatever big brother can do, I can do better!
The only issue of the day was when Boogah had a collision at the bottom of a slide with some random girl (unfortunately, you can't reserve the whole jumpy place for your party -- you have to actually SHARE it with strangers--you'd think that $240 would get you a little more than communal inflatables, but oh well). Somehow he managed to hurt her hand and being a young girl, she immediately burst into dramatic tears and ran out of the inflatable to her mom. I happened to look up just after the collision occurred as she was climbing out of the inflatable. Boogah took one look at her, then me, then burst into tears himself! I've seen this before when he's inadvertently really hurt his little brother. He feels so bad about doing harm to someone else, that he just breaks apart. Until moments such as these, I seem to forget how sensitive he is. When he's bullying his little brother or trying to push my buttons until I've blown my top, it's hard for me to think of him as a very sensitive child, but he is--very. I motioned for him to come to me and when he got there, he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head into my stomach and cried and cried. I was able to get him to calm down long enough to walk over to the girl, who was with her mother by this point, the water works still on full power. The mom, who from her calm almost apathetic demeanor, appeared to be quite used to this type of behavior and was telling her daughter to just put a wet paper towel on it if it still hurt and asking her if she was sure that she "really needed ice?" My poor, sweet little boy and I stood there waiting for what seemed like an eternity to get a word in edgewise through her endless sobbing so that he could apologize. He finally got in a very controlled and brave, "I'm sorry," which of course, the little... ahem.... girl didn't even acknowledge. She was too busy crying and looking at her hand. I wasn't sure what to say myself at this point when I saw her completely ignore the sorry. Boogah tried once more, saying another perfectly acceptable "I'm sorry." Now, maybe the girl misinterpreted his serious tone for insincerity rather than simply trying very hard to hold back his tears and keep his dignity in tact, but that little...ahem...child refused to acknowledge his apology yet again! Even more astounded this time, I stood there wondering what the protocol in this type of situation was and looked at the mother. I was just about to march Boogah away from Little Miss Drama Queen when her mother FINALLY said, "Thank you for apologizing." Jeez! My poor son is torn up inside about bumping your daughter's hand BY ACCIDENT in an inflatable JUMPY place, and it takes you THAT long to acknowledge the very plain fact that he's apologizing when he could have easily not given a rat's ass about her and kept on playing with no remorse?! Do you see his tears and how hard this is for him? Come on people! It was all I could do not to tell Princess Cries A Lot to show me her other hand so I could give her something to really cry about. Mess with the Mama Bear's cubs and you get the claws little missy!
We walked away at that point, and Boogah lost it again. He assumed the position with his arms wrapped around me and his head buried in my stomach. My poor baby. It was killing me that this was happening--and at his own birthday party!! I tried to comfort him, telling him to no avail that he'd done the right thing in apologizing, and that I was proud of him for doing it. And I must admit, in desperation, I may have even said that sometimes girls can be a little over dramatic and make a big deal out of nothing and that it's just for attention and that she'll be fine in five minutes and...OK, I know, I know. I really should not have put those kind of judgements about girls into my impressionable 7 year old boy's head, but I know in my heart of hearts that with that particular girl it was oh so true. I didn't want him to think he had caused her so much bodily harm that it truly warranted all those tears and the lack of any acknowledgement of his apology. I wanted him to know that he had done all he could do to remedy the situation and that he'd taken responsibility for his actions. I didn't want her need for attention to ruin his birthday party. I don't know if it was right or not, but I said it nonetheless. I also told him to let it go and not to let it ruin his day. He got himself together again after that and with a sniffle, a quick wipe of the nose, and a kiss for me, he went right back over to where it had all gone down and started to jump again. Whew! That was a sticky wicket! I think I actually let out a sigh of relief once I saw him back to jumping and trying to have fun again. However, after a few minutes, I noticed that he was still in that particular inflatable and had been jumping alone for quite a while--the rest of his party guests in another inflatable across the room. I started to go get him, but then I realized that he needed to have that time to himself to recover--not only from feeling so lousy about what happened but also to put some space between when he may have been seen crying in his mommy's arms from when he was back in the presence of his friends. I gave him this space. I understood. I've been there. I often need moments alone to recover, to save face. After he'd had enough time alone, I suggested he join his friends in the other inflatable. He did, and the rest of the party was a breeze. Not a word was mentioned again of the incident, which I assume, means that he really did let it go. I certainly hope so.
There is a part of me that knows it's a good thing that he got so upset. It shows he truly cares about other people and how his actions affect them. I have to admit that I've wondered a little bit about this at times--like say, oh I don't know, when he's using his little brother's head as a step stool?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Back to Reality
I'm back! I haven't posted for a while because we were on our last 'vacation' of the season: a trip to my parents' house. They live on a beautiful, enormous lake here in Virginia about three hours from where we live. The Lake is a lovely place. About 8 years ago, after some cruel, hard times, my parents 'left it all behind' and moved there full time (my stepfather had a condo that he used for weekend getaways at The Lake before he and my mother married). Once settled, they created a new life full of possibilities and gorgeous sunsets and haven't regretted it a bit. We are happy they did it, not only because it was the best thing for them, but also because we have a free vacation spot! ;-)
There is something very special about being out on The Lake with the sun sparkling on the water and the wind whipping wildly through your hair as the boat picks up speed. Skin warmed by the sun and cooled by the wind, tingling with the energy of the boat's engine. Eyes captivated by the green mountains that tower above water, by the beautiful houses that dot the shoreline. Some are modest, many are majestic. All of it sets the soul at ease. Sitting on their dock in brightly colored Adirondack chairs as the sun sets and an evening summer breeze ripples the water is heaven. The sound of the lake gently slapping at the rip-rap of the shoreline calms me. It takes away my 'edge,' which is what I call that simmering, under-the-surface anxiety and irritability I seem to wear in my day-to-day existence like an old scratchy wool sweater. Maybe I would become one of those people who meditate and practice yoga if I had a dock on a lake with gentle breezes and lapping water as my only distraction. Who knows?
I do know that I had a good time this visit. I was more relaxed, and I consciously tried to be 'in the moment.' My boys love it there so much. Boogah is becoming a master fisherman under his Pop-pop's tutelage. He got to use the larger fishing rod this time and to take the fish off the hook himself. If possible, he'd fish the entire time we're there--even at 2 a.m. if I'd let him. No need to sleep or eat--just fish. Of course, he didn't fish the whole time. We also went to a local zoo and science museum. We swam at the pool (which was freezing for some reason), and at one point all the boys (Pop-pop and Daddy included) put up Pop-pop's "really cool" tent and spent some time in there talking, playing with flashlights, reading books and eating chocolate chip cookies before they had to come back in the house and sleep in their real beds--much to the little boys' chagrin and the big boys' relief! Though Blue is not truly ready for real fishing (there were some whiny fishing moments), he did get some lessons on casting the rod, and he did it a few times all on his own. He enjoyed playing with his Star Wars figures out on their patio overlooking The Lake a little more to fishing this visit. It will be interesting to see if he eventually takes to fishing as much as his older brother has. They are so different, but they do have one thing in common: an early passion for The Lake.
My mother has always said that The Lake is a 'magical' place, and I'm beginning to believe this is true. For a few brief moments I saw the magic this trip: through the pride on Boogah's face as he reeled in his sixth Brim of the day; through Blue's laughter as he fed a family of ducks some Pringles Cracker Sticks (it's all we had) off the side of the boat; through the peace I felt as I looked out over that water. Yes, it's magical, and it is what we make it, like anything else in life. During other visits, I've made it something else. I've made it negative at times, focusing on moments like the hassle of a long car ride with small children or my over-sensitivity to well meaning comments from my parents. (Will I ever finally evolve from that over-emotional sixteen year old from ions ago?) I never allowed in the peace or joy that is there for the taking. It rarely registered or stayed in my conscience. This time; however, I think I let it in. This time, I actually saw the magic, welcomed it, believed in it. I hope I was able to bring a little of it home with me, too, so that when that all too familiar scratchy, woolly 'edge' sweater gets to be a bit much, I can slip it off and take a little mental 'dip' in The Lake.
With back-to-school events, Pee Wee soccer and all that the fall brings, our next visit to The Lake probably won't be until Thanksgiving. It is a slightly different experience to be there in a cooler season, but I'm sure it will be just as magical. Hope the fish are still biting!
There is something very special about being out on The Lake with the sun sparkling on the water and the wind whipping wildly through your hair as the boat picks up speed. Skin warmed by the sun and cooled by the wind, tingling with the energy of the boat's engine. Eyes captivated by the green mountains that tower above water, by the beautiful houses that dot the shoreline. Some are modest, many are majestic. All of it sets the soul at ease. Sitting on their dock in brightly colored Adirondack chairs as the sun sets and an evening summer breeze ripples the water is heaven. The sound of the lake gently slapping at the rip-rap of the shoreline calms me. It takes away my 'edge,' which is what I call that simmering, under-the-surface anxiety and irritability I seem to wear in my day-to-day existence like an old scratchy wool sweater. Maybe I would become one of those people who meditate and practice yoga if I had a dock on a lake with gentle breezes and lapping water as my only distraction. Who knows?
I do know that I had a good time this visit. I was more relaxed, and I consciously tried to be 'in the moment.' My boys love it there so much. Boogah is becoming a master fisherman under his Pop-pop's tutelage. He got to use the larger fishing rod this time and to take the fish off the hook himself. If possible, he'd fish the entire time we're there--even at 2 a.m. if I'd let him. No need to sleep or eat--just fish. Of course, he didn't fish the whole time. We also went to a local zoo and science museum. We swam at the pool (which was freezing for some reason), and at one point all the boys (Pop-pop and Daddy included) put up Pop-pop's "really cool" tent and spent some time in there talking, playing with flashlights, reading books and eating chocolate chip cookies before they had to come back in the house and sleep in their real beds--much to the little boys' chagrin and the big boys' relief! Though Blue is not truly ready for real fishing (there were some whiny fishing moments), he did get some lessons on casting the rod, and he did it a few times all on his own. He enjoyed playing with his Star Wars figures out on their patio overlooking The Lake a little more to fishing this visit. It will be interesting to see if he eventually takes to fishing as much as his older brother has. They are so different, but they do have one thing in common: an early passion for The Lake.
My mother has always said that The Lake is a 'magical' place, and I'm beginning to believe this is true. For a few brief moments I saw the magic this trip: through the pride on Boogah's face as he reeled in his sixth Brim of the day; through Blue's laughter as he fed a family of ducks some Pringles Cracker Sticks (it's all we had) off the side of the boat; through the peace I felt as I looked out over that water. Yes, it's magical, and it is what we make it, like anything else in life. During other visits, I've made it something else. I've made it negative at times, focusing on moments like the hassle of a long car ride with small children or my over-sensitivity to well meaning comments from my parents. (Will I ever finally evolve from that over-emotional sixteen year old from ions ago?) I never allowed in the peace or joy that is there for the taking. It rarely registered or stayed in my conscience. This time; however, I think I let it in. This time, I actually saw the magic, welcomed it, believed in it. I hope I was able to bring a little of it home with me, too, so that when that all too familiar scratchy, woolly 'edge' sweater gets to be a bit much, I can slip it off and take a little mental 'dip' in The Lake.
With back-to-school events, Pee Wee soccer and all that the fall brings, our next visit to The Lake probably won't be until Thanksgiving. It is a slightly different experience to be there in a cooler season, but I'm sure it will be just as magical. Hope the fish are still biting!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Ignorance is bliss
I took my boys to the pool yesterday--I'm a stay-at-home mom. It's summer. We pay a hefty annual membership. 'Nuf said.
After we'd been swimming for a while, had a potty break and were contemplating going home (because my pool tolerance limit is two hours MAX), we took a final dip in one of the pools, which was empty save for three teenage boys. As I tootled around the shallow end with Blue in his swim vest and legs wrapped around my waist (he was tired and required me to do all the work of playing in the pool) and Boogah practiced underwater handstands, I couldn't help but over hear the teenagers' conversation. To my surprise, they were discussing the candidates in the upcoming election and debating whether or not our current president was a success or a failure. Iraq was mentioned, 911 was mentioned (although, I doubt they truly remember too much of that since they were probably still at an age when their parents would have, hopefully, shielded them from the horror of those events). I was impressed to hear these young men discussing such mature topics. I've never been all that politically minded, so I don't know if I would have stood around in a circle at the pool having such a conversation when I was sixteen. Heck, I wouldn't even do that now. Where was the talk of parties or members of the opposite sex that were 'so hot?' I'm no sixteen year old male, but I expected to hear those type of topics being discussed down in the 5 feet part of the pool yesterday--not whether or not the American public is "ignorant" when it comes to the political issues of our time.
"Ignorant? You mean stupid? Americans are stupid?"
"Naw man, ignorant doesn't mean stupid. Well, it means that but it means something else, too."
"No, it's the same thing."
"No, you can be ignorant but that doesn't mean you're stupid."
"Well, then what does ignorant mean then?"
"I know what it means. It's like if you go up to the pool snack bar and you know what they sell, but you still ask them what they have."
"Oh."
Main Entry: ig·no·rant
Pronunciation: \ˈig-n(ə-)rənt\
Function: adjective
1 a: destitute of knowledge or education... also : lacking knowledge or comprehension of the thing specified... b: resulting from or showing lack of knowledge...
www.meriam-webster.com
They may have been a little fuzzy on the definition of ignorant, but these young men were far from stupid. It's comforting to know that the 'youth of today' thinks about more than the location of the next party. They are listening and reading, discussing and debating, and they're ready to tackle this crazy, f'd up world when their time comes. Let's just hope that they bring a dictionary along.
After we'd been swimming for a while, had a potty break and were contemplating going home (because my pool tolerance limit is two hours MAX), we took a final dip in one of the pools, which was empty save for three teenage boys. As I tootled around the shallow end with Blue in his swim vest and legs wrapped around my waist (he was tired and required me to do all the work of playing in the pool) and Boogah practiced underwater handstands, I couldn't help but over hear the teenagers' conversation. To my surprise, they were discussing the candidates in the upcoming election and debating whether or not our current president was a success or a failure. Iraq was mentioned, 911 was mentioned (although, I doubt they truly remember too much of that since they were probably still at an age when their parents would have, hopefully, shielded them from the horror of those events). I was impressed to hear these young men discussing such mature topics. I've never been all that politically minded, so I don't know if I would have stood around in a circle at the pool having such a conversation when I was sixteen. Heck, I wouldn't even do that now. Where was the talk of parties or members of the opposite sex that were 'so hot?' I'm no sixteen year old male, but I expected to hear those type of topics being discussed down in the 5 feet part of the pool yesterday--not whether or not the American public is "ignorant" when it comes to the political issues of our time.
"Ignorant? You mean stupid? Americans are stupid?"
"Naw man, ignorant doesn't mean stupid. Well, it means that but it means something else, too."
"No, it's the same thing."
"No, you can be ignorant but that doesn't mean you're stupid."
"Well, then what does ignorant mean then?"
"I know what it means. It's like if you go up to the pool snack bar and you know what they sell, but you still ask them what they have."
"Oh."
Main Entry: ig·no·rant
Pronunciation: \ˈig-n(ə-)rənt\
Function: adjective
1 a: destitute of knowledge or education... also : lacking knowledge or comprehension of the thing specified... b: resulting from or showing lack of knowledge...
www.meriam-webster.com
They may have been a little fuzzy on the definition of ignorant, but these young men were far from stupid. It's comforting to know that the 'youth of today' thinks about more than the location of the next party. They are listening and reading, discussing and debating, and they're ready to tackle this crazy, f'd up world when their time comes. Let's just hope that they bring a dictionary along.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Wake me when it's over, Spongebob
Is it over? Is summer done? Are the children back in school? Is the temperature back to a comfortable 78 degrees instead a scorching 96? No? Oh great. Well, patience is a virtue, right? I guess Life is trying, yet again, to drum into my hard head that patience is something I need to acquire -- one of my many Life Lessons this time around. I never seem to get it. I'm always itching to move on to the next thing, the next phase--itching for school. to. start!
Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate having time with my boys in the summer. And I don't, necessarily, look forward to getting up at 6:00 (or earlier) every morning to get everyone, including myself, dressed and fed and ready to leave the house for school at exactly 7:30. I don't look forward to making lunches every night after I've already made dinner and cleaned up dinner and picked up toys left behind in the family room and squeezed out half-drunk juice pouches into the sink and put in a last minute load of laundry so the boys will have something clean to wear the next day. I don't look forward to trying to cajole (i.e., beg, plead, threaten) Boogah (the almost 1st grader) to do his homework before dinner--and believe me, the way the 'summer homework' has gone, I know I will be doing a lot of cajoling! I don't look forward to keeping Blue (the three and a half year old) from bugging his brother once I've finally accomplished the dreaded cajoling. And I don't really look forward to the craziness that fall brings with back to school nights to sit through, soccer games to attend (first time for Blue this fall) EVERY Saturday morning, and the holidays looming ominously over my shoulder. No, I'm not jumping for joy in anticipation of all those things, but the summer is getting to that certain stage when I'm just about ready for it to be over, when the fall/back to school chaos seems more appealing, or at least, more interesting than more long summer days at home with the kids. Come August every year, we seem to enter a mind-numbing stage of summer when I think to myself, 'do I really have to go to the pool AGAIN?' (I'm grateful for the pool, but it, like anything else, gets old after a while.)
We have approximately three big things remaining on the calendar of summer fun: a visit to some old friends, who we haven't seen in a while and who I miss so much; a visit to my parents house, which the boys will love (my parents live on a beautiful lake in a beautiful house and are beautiful to their grandchildren); and Boogah's 7th birthday--with a party at one of those huge inflatable jumpy places (oh joy). These are great plans, but in between these plans are long gaps of weekday tedium. We'll have large chunks of time that will be ripe with the possibility for bored children to begin fighting and not stop until they've ripped the flesh from each other's bones--or until their mother's head explodes.
Thank goodness Nickelodeon recently announced "All new episodes of Spongebob" because that small, yellow animated fellow has been my saving grace this summer. (Despite the fact that I swore when Boogah was a toddler that my kids would never watch that 'grown-up kid cartoon' before they were at least ten. Never say never.) He mesmerizes my children into a calm, peaceful, happy state that keeps my head from exploding. This is very nice because I really don't want my head to explode. So, to him I say: "Thank you Spongebob. Thank you, for saving my life 'lo these last couple of months. Without you, I would be headless! I am forever in your debt. I know I'd win the Suckiest Mom award if I let you 'keep' the children for too long on the days when we have (or can think of) nothing better to do, so you won't have to be on duty too much more, but if you could stop by every once in a while over the next four weeks, I and my still intact brain would be most grateful!"
Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate having time with my boys in the summer. And I don't, necessarily, look forward to getting up at 6:00 (or earlier) every morning to get everyone, including myself, dressed and fed and ready to leave the house for school at exactly 7:30. I don't look forward to making lunches every night after I've already made dinner and cleaned up dinner and picked up toys left behind in the family room and squeezed out half-drunk juice pouches into the sink and put in a last minute load of laundry so the boys will have something clean to wear the next day. I don't look forward to trying to cajole (i.e., beg, plead, threaten) Boogah (the almost 1st grader) to do his homework before dinner--and believe me, the way the 'summer homework' has gone, I know I will be doing a lot of cajoling! I don't look forward to keeping Blue (the three and a half year old) from bugging his brother once I've finally accomplished the dreaded cajoling. And I don't really look forward to the craziness that fall brings with back to school nights to sit through, soccer games to attend (first time for Blue this fall) EVERY Saturday morning, and the holidays looming ominously over my shoulder. No, I'm not jumping for joy in anticipation of all those things, but the summer is getting to that certain stage when I'm just about ready for it to be over, when the fall/back to school chaos seems more appealing, or at least, more interesting than more long summer days at home with the kids. Come August every year, we seem to enter a mind-numbing stage of summer when I think to myself, 'do I really have to go to the pool AGAIN?' (I'm grateful for the pool, but it, like anything else, gets old after a while.)
We have approximately three big things remaining on the calendar of summer fun: a visit to some old friends, who we haven't seen in a while and who I miss so much; a visit to my parents house, which the boys will love (my parents live on a beautiful lake in a beautiful house and are beautiful to their grandchildren); and Boogah's 7th birthday--with a party at one of those huge inflatable jumpy places (oh joy). These are great plans, but in between these plans are long gaps of weekday tedium. We'll have large chunks of time that will be ripe with the possibility for bored children to begin fighting and not stop until they've ripped the flesh from each other's bones--or until their mother's head explodes.
Thank goodness Nickelodeon recently announced "All new episodes of Spongebob" because that small, yellow animated fellow has been my saving grace this summer. (Despite the fact that I swore when Boogah was a toddler that my kids would never watch that 'grown-up kid cartoon' before they were at least ten. Never say never.) He mesmerizes my children into a calm, peaceful, happy state that keeps my head from exploding. This is very nice because I really don't want my head to explode. So, to him I say: "Thank you Spongebob. Thank you, for saving my life 'lo these last couple of months. Without you, I would be headless! I am forever in your debt. I know I'd win the Suckiest Mom award if I let you 'keep' the children for too long on the days when we have (or can think of) nothing better to do, so you won't have to be on duty too much more, but if you could stop by every once in a while over the next four weeks, I and my still intact brain would be most grateful!"
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