My oldest son reminds me of Forest Gump. He is soooo in his own lil world, I really don’t know what to do with him most of the time. He twitches his fingers. He walks on his toes. He makes odd noises & mumbles 24/7. He grinds his teeth when he sleeps. He’s a mess. So am I. I threaten to duck tape him constantly. You know the saying, “Silence is golden, Duct Tape is silver”??? I want that painted on the walls of my house. Maybe one day he’ll get the point.
He loves to play board games & card games. He sets his power ranger action figures up as other players, deals them in, and plays by himself for hours on end. He’s gone through nearly a whole pack of Yahtzee scorecards & Clue notepads from playing like this in just the last month. He sings along to nearly every word of any Blue October cd I pop in. His handwriting is amazing for any boy his age. He can spell nearly any word without thinking too much about it. He knows all 50 states & capitals & is fascinated by odd facts – like who was the shortest President. He’s eight.
My four-year-old son loves his cartoons (at his dad’s house, of course). He tells me about fixing the combine when the wheel falls off (I enjoy picturing this one, let me tell you!). His chipper, “Hello momma, love you, bye!” as he runs off to the next adventure brings a smile to my face even though nothing can erase the miles between us. He can stick his tongue inside his nose & even lick his own elbow. Yes, it is possible. I have pictures. It’s his duty as the bully of the family to disagree with every word anyone else mutters & to have first claim to any toy that someone else might find interesting. He doesn’t cry when I leave, but he always asks if I’ll stay.
My darling two-year-old picks flowers (dandelions mostly) and brings them to me, his arm out stretched & his head bowed like he’s prince charming. His chubby cheeks bounce when he runs & he rarely keeps his clothes on. He begs to be pushed in the swing & he follows his bubby & sissy at every chance. He sneaks candy from the kitchen drawer & hides his arm behind his back with the most innocent face.
My daughter draws pictures of cartoon characters. She’s really good. She likes to sing & dance with me in the evenings. She hugs me and says, “I love you momma” & then slaps me on the rump & runs off giggling. She is starving 24/7 & will put on Oscar worthy acts to try to sway me into believing her. She would eat my cupboards bare within a week if I didn’t keep a sharp eye out.
She never unrolls her sock, when she actually manages to get them into the laundry tub. Her jeans are always inside out as well. She picks up every penny or coin she sees on the ground. She passes out my cell phone number to her 4th grade friends so that I have lil girls calling me every few days. She makes up random cheers, choreographs dances to whatever I’m listening to for the evening, and smiles just as often as she bursts into tears.
I happened to have Sarah McLaughlin’s Mirrorball cd in tonight as I was cleaning up the kitchen from our dinner mess. I love to sing away the stress and worries from my heart & soul in the evenings. I know I cannot carry a tune. My singing is horrendous; but I’ll belt it out like I’m Bette Midler or Mariah Carey. As I sat down to write tonight, she wraps her arms around me and whispers in my ear, “I love your singing momma. Your voice is beautiful.”
My kids may not have good hearing … but they have my heart.
The Tao of unsaying
3 months ago