Guess What?

Guess what is my topic for today and it applies to two of my kids.  First off, Zachary.  For those of you who have spoken with me lately, you probably know that Zachary is driving me clear up a wall.  The kid can be so good and so sweet and so stinking cute, but by God does he have a stubborn naughty streak that I have no idea what to do with.  I have tried EVERYTHING!  Sometimes, I find something that works great and we have a good week and the next week it is like we are back at square one.  Today the kid has been sent to his room, swatted (politically correct way to say spanked), sat in a corner, had his bike taken away, had his Jeep taken away and had outside taken away (I'm not sure how well I am going to be able to enforce these, which may be a large part of my problem.)  I had to take him out of his room and sit him in a corner, because while he was up in his room he opened his piggy bank and his brother's piggy bank and started taking the coins out of Ben's, because he wanted his bank to be full.  Yep, a little petty larceny going on while being punished - this kid is going to either go to law school or prison.  But, I digress.  So, the other morning, Zach came down early and Matt was already gone, so I asked Zach if he wanted to get in the bed and snuggle with me.  It was one of those tender moments.  Quiet, the sun was just starting to come up, you could hear birds chirping, a nice breeze coming in from the windows.   Zach was all nestled into the crook of my arm like he used to do as a baby.  I told him "Guess what Zach?" and he looks at me, his beautiful hazel eyes smiling, "What, mama?".  "I love you," I told him.  He smiled knowingly.  "Guess what, mom?" he asked me.  I smiled, waiting for him to return the phrase, "What?" I asked.  "Chicken Butt.".  And then he laughs hysterically.  Yep, that Zach is a real charmer.

My other "Guess what" relates to Wesley.  I don't understand babies.  They eat, poop, run around all day, having no cares in the world.  He lays down in his nice cozy crib, a glass of water, an extra binky and his Super Buddy all by his side.  And then it begins.  Usually, with his sixth spidersense, he knows that I have just finished putting away dishes or laundry or whatever it is I am finishing up at about 11:00 pm and have finally put my head on the pillow.  Thus begins the crying.  Like the good wife and mother that I am, I roll over and ask Matt "Are you going to get him, or should I" (except implying that I really don't want to get him, will you?) Matt goes up (he is an awesome husband, but Wesley is also smart enough to know that dad doesn't give into his crap and he might as well lay back down) and lays by him for awhile, until he is calm.  But then it is like the kid has crazy thoughts going through his mind and can't get comfortable.  He sits up like "Guess what! I just had a dream about poop!" and lays back down.  Cries a little more.  Then "Guess what! I think this tooth might finally be coming through, let's look at it right now." Cries a little more, lays back down.  "Guess what! I think tomorrow might be the day I graduate to 24 month clothes - what do you guys think?" Cries a little more, lays back down.  So in reality, I have no idea what he is really thinking about, but it must be pretty important stuff to a little guy if he can't sleep through the night, what, with all the worry.  Do they prescribe Baby Xanax? 

What's Wrong With Me?

I'm sure most of you haven't given this a lot of consideration, but we have four car seats in our minivan.  So, when we take on an extra adult passenger, like we did yesterday, I am typically relegated to the back seat between Maddie and Ben.  First of all, when you look at the spot between two car seats, you think - well, that looks pretty roomy.  Then you sit down and realize that the distance from hip to hip in reality, is much larger than what you imagine in your head.  So I am literally wedged between a four-year old and a six-year old, much too far back to take part in the adult conversation going on in the front seat and much to annoyed to take part in the conversation going on around me.  Is that bad?  Do most parents enjoy the pratter and chit chat of their small children, because I really don't.  Once in a while, I enjoy listening to their conversations when they don't know I'm listening - those can be pretty funny.  I especially enjoy their theological discussions.  However, what I really can't stand is my kids telling me what I am supposed to say.  For instance, Maddie will say "Mom, now ask where is my right hand?" So, I will oblige.  And she will hold it up from where she was hiding it behind her back and I will do the obligatory laugh and tell her how surprised I was.  I can handle that - if we did it once.  Instead, she wants to do it 15 times until I am about ready to respond with "Maddie, I could give two $hit$ where your right hand is."  Of course, I don't actually say that.  This road trip I came up with the perfect solution - an iPhone and headphones.  I'm not really sure why I haven't thought of it sooner.  I just turned on my Pandora, put in my headphones and completely tuned out the noise around me.  Once in a while I would get them giggling by poking them with my feet or telling them really loudly that I couldn't hear them (which, blissfully, I really couldn't) and felt that I was still being a good enough parent.  Problem solved.

A few quick comments on Zach, since the little fellar did turn three this week.  He is, by far, the funniest kid we have.  He is also, by far, the most bi-polar kid we have.  But, 90% of the time he is pretty stinking enjoyable.  I have often said that for a three year old he has an amazing vocabulary, but beyond that he understands sarcasm and actually has some comedic timing.  He made everyone smile that wished him a "Happy Birthday" by wishing them a "Happy Birthday" right back.  We were walking through the mall yesterday (a trip to Iowa City made well worth it by being capped off by a trip to Chipotle) and he was telling me how he hated the "excavator" (escalator) and would much rather ride the "elebator" (you can probably figure that one out) when a lady walked by and just started laughing at the conversation and said, "oh, excavator - how cute! That is one for the baby book!" To which, I nodded politely and said "Yep, this one really is a funny one." When in my head I'm thinking, oh lady, if you only knew half of what this kid said - I had asked him a few minutes prior if he needed to go to the bathroom as he was grabbing as if he needed to and he just looked at me and said "No mom, I just like to grab my junk."  Now there is one for the baby book.