Today is the first day in 80 that I have waited this late in the day to post something. I’m still not sure what to write… My hope is that someday I will publish a book of my blog entries to provide an entertaining diary of raising two boys, however, I am fairly positive that today’s will go in the “circular” file.
The past two days, Michael has had P.E. and yet he still managed to get out of the car at morning drop off like a normal child with no apprehension. I am THRILLED to say the least! Maybe we are over the hump. I even wonder if seeing me in his classroom during the parent/ teacher conference put him more at ease with going to school. Who knows? I’m just grateful.
My days go smoothly until it’s time to do homework in the evening. Michael likes doing his homework, but I probably expect him to stay focused too long. It’s Pierce… He is a horrible monster when his brother and I are working at the dining table—climbing into my lap, trying to reach the markers, whining, grabbing, kicking and screaming when I put him back on the floor; then starting all over again. I sometimes surrender and allow him to play with one marker and some paper, but now he tires of the color he’s writing with in short order and is demanding another “mark”. I don’t know how moms or teachers manage more than one child at a time!
Today Pierce and I went to the grocery store. When I told my girlfriend on the phone that I didn’t have any fodder for today’s story, she told me to let him walk when we get to the store. Yeah…right… I’ll suffer the writer’s block rather than set myself up for that nightmare! Instead we chatted and hugged and smooched while he rode in the cart and pointed at everything he saw. It’s really fun to take him to the store; he’s always pretty cool—except when he talks at the top of his lungs.
Speaking of being loud in a store, I took the boys to Big Lots after school yesterday. I hadn’t planned on it when I left the house to pick up Mikey. Pierce and I just ran out. I didn’t bother putting shoes on Pierce and he only had a onesie on—no shorts. I’m in a do-rag and no make-up. It’s appropriate that we should choose Big Lots as our destination, as we were looking pretty redneck—if I’d checked I probably would have found my toddler’s feet were dirty.
When we were on our way, Mikey asked if he could get a toy—I said possibly. When we got to the store I told him it would not be a car or truck because he has a zillion of them, and he needed a toy that would help him learn. He gave me grief, but not too much. In the meantime, they were both sweet as can be when we were wandering around the store. Then we got to the toy department… There was some giant silly putty that I thought he was old enough to play with and then put away in the plastic egg so that I don’t find it adhered to my new carpet. Then there was a cool “Cars” game where you use fishing rod hooks to pick up rubber tires and stack them on each other. The first one to knock over the stack loses. Both these things develop coördination and fine motor skills. Of course, Michael spots a car that he decides he needs or he’s going to die. I told him that we were not getting a car. This goes back and forth for a few minutes while we are perusing the aisles. Then he decides that he is getting the car—he’s just going to take it and leave the store and not pay for it. When he gets a blasé reaction from me, he loses his mind. He starts to cry loudly and when I tell him no again, he lets out an angry scream that I am sure the cashier’s heard in the front of the store. I march around the corner, grab him by the arms and get right down eye to eye with him and in a very low controlled voice I tell him “You will NOT behave this way or we will march right out of here!” He begins his sobbing, crying tantrum, and I immediately tell him that he better take a deep breath and figure out how to calm down and be quiet. He forces himself to recover and we move along to look at other things. While we look at Halloween decorations, all three of us are back to normal and enjoying ourselves. We stumble upon this scary picture of a pretty blond girl in an old-fashioned portrait that is a hologram. So when you move to one side while you’re staring at it, it turns into a horrible looking monster—like a mummified skeleton. It really creeped Mikey out. He wanted to get away from it. Then he wanted to go see it again. Then he didn’t. Then we left. Then he asked me if we could go to a different Big Lots next time so he didn’t have to see it. Then he asked me if we could go back and buy it! What a nut!
For the record—he did not get the car!