Thirty-Nine

And so, now it is my turn.

I wrote a whole post last night about whether or not I could make this year as important as it has become in my head.  Except I was a couple of glasses of wine in, and I felt - in retrospect this morning - that it was a little bit too dramatic and whiny.  (And I wonder where Wonderboy gets it!)

The reason I feel this way about this year is that this is the age my Mom was when she died.  Forty never happened for her.  I know mentally, that I am perhaps putting too much pressure on myself to make it all happen This Year. But I can't keep hanging around waiting for some epiphany to motivate me.  If this is what is going to spurn me into some kind of action, then so be it.  There are things that I want to do, things that I want to get accomplished.  A year from now I want to be able to look back and say, "Here I am, Mom.  Further then you ever got to be.  But look, look at what I have done.  Know that it was inspired by you."

And so, with that good stuff in mind, I'm off to have cake for breakfast. Because really, what better way is there to start your birthday?

Pixie, 4.0

On the momentous occasion of the Pixie's fourth birthday, (yup, three years and eight days apart, didn't even plan it!) I decided to ask her a few questions about what made Four so important.  Her answers to my pretty silly questions - hey, it was early in the morning! - are in italics.

What is the best thing about being 4 years old?
The shoes I'm wearing. (In her defense, they were a very pretty pink and she did pick them out herself.)

What's your favortie thing to do with Mommy?
Go to Nana's house.  (I know someone who is going to like that answer!)

Favorite thing to do with Daddy?
Go somewhere to eat!

Favorite thing to do with Wonderboy?
(Tough to decipher this one) Look and see for a Christmas tree.

Favorite people to visit?
My family.  (awwwww)

What's your favorite thing to eat?
Hot dogs. (all about the nutrition in our house!)

What else do you like to do?
Play in the sprinkler (although only if it's about a foot high.)

What's your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?
Hot dogs, silly! (oh right, of course. (I do not let her eat hot dogs for breakfast.))

 What else do you want to tell us about being four years old?
Our house is not painted yet.  (well, that's true. Jeez, pretty observant.)
Anything else?
I want you to be little so you can sit in my seat and I want to be big and sit in your seat in the car.

Well! Mommy looks forward to that time too, sweetheart.

In all seriousness, you my darling Pixie, are beyond a joy to me.  From the way you start many sentences by saying, "Well, actually..." to the way - tonight - while we were at a red light you mimicked my, "Come ON, lady" perfectly.  You add laughter and light to our lives every day.  Happy Birthday my beautiful girl.

On this day...

Well, actually - on this day tomorrow.  Wait, does that make sense?  Let me start again.

Seven years ago right now I was in the hospital.  It having been decided earlier in the day that it was time for Wonderboy to come out.  Thing was, he didn't want to come out.  But, the doctor said it was time.  However, not only was WB not ready, I wasn't - ahem - physically ready either.  So - seven years ago right now I was in a hospital room experiencing, "the balloon".  (I know you feel me Aging Mommy!)  Anyhoots, one uncomfortable overnight, and a lot of pitocin the following morning, and a lot of waiting around for the people in the lobby....and the WB came into being.

Truth be told, I wanted a boy.  We had found out the sex, and I was thrilled.  I had an older brother and I just wanted a boy first.  And I got him.  And then didn't have a clue what to do with him.  You know how it is in the beginning of your first child - when everything is terrifying?  It was.   And yet, wonderful. So very, very wonderful.

And now my baby, my little perfect first child, is turning seven.  F*cking SEVEN.  How did this happen?!?!  His first word was, "quack."  Literally.  We thought he was going to be very well-versed in duck speak.  He learned, "no"  soon enough.  And we, foolish first parents, thought it so funny to hear him say it in his adorable voice, we would ask him questions we knew he would say, "no" to.  Learned that the hard way.  (Also learned not to say, "Dammit!" or "Jesus Christ" within ear-shot.)  He learned to climb stairs when we moved into our house when he was two.  When he was three he not only gained a baby sister, he called me a "crazy bitch" in the Atlanta airport.  (Which he had overheard from some punk at daycare - not at home!)

Four was an even bigger declaration of independence.  But not as hard as three. (Thank the good lord.)  Five brought kindergarten and learning and karate and oh my, how he has blossomed.  Who is this boy?  Where is my baby?  Six has flown by in mostly good terms.  There was talking back and drama and fights with his sister, but there was also kindness and curiosity and laughter.

And there was a kid who, a couple of days before he turned seven, happily went for a walk with his Mom and talked about his day, and held her hand.  A kid who will always be my boy...my baby.

One More Thing I Should Have Thought Of Because Now I'd Be Rich

Have you seen these things? 

They are called "Silly Bandz" or "Krazy Bandz" or some other foolish name that replaces an "s" with a "z" (annoying)  and they are sweeping the nation!  Or at least, our town.  Everyone from four year olds to college kids are clamoring for these things.  Little colored rubber bracelets in the shapes of dinosaurs or tiaras or sea creatures, etc, etc. 

First of all, are we in 1983?  Because if so, I've got some serious neon to dig out of storage.  I'm telling you people, if only Madonna had branched out a little from this look,

she could have been even more of a bajillionaire!  As I'm sure the people who created these things are sure to become.  Well, maybe not bajillionaires - but you know what I mean.

And yes, our house is no exception, we have lapped up the Kool-Aid:

I'm kind of shocked at how quickly I caved to this trend.  Not that I am anti-trend per se, but I'd like my kids to not jump intoevery new thing that his or her friends have.  That being said, forking over $3 for a little peace and quiet doesn't seem too bad.  At least it's not $100 sneakers. 

We have a saying in my family

"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." 

We started saying that in joking reference to the way TNC can sometimes...embellish a bit when relating a story.  Apparently, my son is taking this saying to heart.  In fact, he is telling so many stories right now I think he's made it his mantra.

It's not just normal kid fibbing, you know this kind:
"WB - did you brush your teeth?"
"Yes."
"Really? Then why isn't your toothbrush wet?"


It's things like coming home from the airport with him and Pixie in the car.  Pixie is playing with her Zhu Zhu Pet.  WB pipes up with, "I have a Zhu Zhu Pet."
"Really?" I ask.
"Yeah...but I...lost it.  At Nana and Papa's.  So I couldn't bring it home."
To which I reply, "Hmmm."
"You don't believe me!" (Dead giveaway.)
"Of course I believe you.  Because it would be silly to make up a story like that. Right?  Why would you make up something like that?"

Silence from the backseat for a minute.  And then, "Sorry, Mama."

And this is just one of many, many examples we are coming across.  Some of it is harmless.  I happened to see a wild turkey yesterday while out in our yard.  I called to him to go look out the front door so he could see it.  Cool, right?  This morning he goes to the window and says, "A turkey!  (Mind you, I can see out this window too, which I don't think he realized.)  "I see a turkey...but it just ran away."  (News Flash - there was no turkey.)
But some of it requires investigation.  He told my MIL that some kids were picking on him at school and he was still upset about it.  She asked him if he told the Mr and me and he said, "Yes. But I forgot what they said."  So her initial reaction of something being really wrong was kind of tempered by his admission that whatever life lessons we had told him, he couldn't remember. (For the record, we are checking with the school, but I just don't think anything really happened.)

Which is the MOST frustrating part.  Boy who cried wolf, anyone?  And he KNOWS that story.  I have brought it up to him when he gets caught - yet again - talking smack.  I am seriously starting to worry...that I'm going to lock him in his room!  I can't take it.  The worst part is, he starts to believe himself!  Sunday - we take a bit of a drive to go to a BlockBuster because the one in our town shut down.  Apparently that's the way of things - because the one we drove to was also out of business.  On our way home he says to me,
"Mom, I actually went on-line to the BlockBuster site and saw that that store wasn't open anymore. I just didn't want to say anything."
"Really."
"Yeah!  I'm telling the truth! (dead giveaway)  I did! I saw it on-line that they had closed it."
"Uh-huh.  So you found blockbuster on-line, managed to figure out how to locate a store on the website and found that the one we were going to was closed."
"Yes!" (And this is the WORST part - he starts to get upset! He's buying into his own bullshit!!!)
"Okay then, when we get home you can get on the computer and show me exactly how you did that."

Silence from the backseat for a minute.  And then, "Sorry, Mama."

It's driving me mental!  Is it just for attention?  Believe me, the kid gets attention.  Is he delusional?  I don't really think so.  But I am telling you - it is a 24/7 work of fiction at our house.  And I can't take it much longer. I don't know where to start with it.  The "why" of it all is certainly part of my struggles - but I do think the answer to that is the attention and maybe that other people will think he's cool or something?  Or be impressed?  I don't know.  I need to do some research on it, clearly.  In the meantime - if anyone has any advice I'd gladly take it.  Or just send him to your house until he's through this phase.  That works too, right? Right?
Hey! Come back here!