Week 6 Happy Columbus Day!

Two minutes before 8pm and my kids who “go to bed at 7:00” are still awake. Mac just came out of bed with the all-important tattle, “Sailor just bit me on the hand and choked me!”
Sailor was right on his heels with a gesturing finger at the end of an outstretched arm, “But I said I’m sorry!”

“Why did you do it in the first place?” How do I make them understand that they can’t hurt each other at will and then just say they are sorry to make it right?

“Beez it’s my day to go first and I want to sleep in the middle.” He is speaking, of course, of my bed. Each boy wants a chance to sleep in the middle, which places them next to me. Why don’t I make it easy on them both and sleep in the middle myself? Because then I am a Mommy-wich and I get no sleep at all. Plus the lamp and alarm clock are not positioned in the middle.

“How about if I send you both back to your own beds?”

“NO!” they chorus. We have a problem here, I know. And I also know that I am (at least) 1/3 of the problem.

“Settle it yourselves.” They run back to my bed. But after a few moments of quiet chatter Mac emerges. “When Sailor choked me he almost killed me. And it hurts.” He returns to his own bed. There is so little use in yelling at anyone anymore. It’s just too sad to yell at Mac and too frustrating to yell at Sailor.

Which is why I grounded them from their playroom over the weekend. A friend asked me what I plan to do to keep them busy if they don’t have their toys. She feared I might have to entertain them myself. While we have been quite busy the past few days, the kids have had some idle time. Together Mac and I worked some math problems and a word find from among his many unfinished summer workbooks and today we all colored together. I'll have to tell my friend that having to “entertain them” isn’t such a bad thing after all.

And about this weekend. It was hot. So hot that our city’s marathon was called off mid-run. So hot that there was a ridiculousness about attending a fall fest at the farm in 90 degree heat that made us long for the beach while we choose our fall pumpkins and wash off itchy face paints.

And then a day off. Not anticipating the summer-like weather we planned a day at the science museum where there is a very overpriced exhibit about StarWars. The kids are enthralled. We learn all about robotic arms and the living climate of Wookies and how we might use our own robots in the future. But what strikes me as particularly bizarre is the way the narrators of all the short films playing throughout the exhibit talk about the StarWars characters as if they are actual, real, live beings. Reality check, people! This is MAKE BELIEVE!

What is not make believe are the prices in the gift shop. Litesabers, $6.99 at Target, are going for $12. Costumes that cost about $19.99 in the real world are inflated to double or more. Galactic Heroes mini-packs of tiny StarWars guys, normally $5.85 at Target are $11. We spend $7 on 2 postcards, a pencil, stickers and tattoos. And that is with the member discount!

Some funny things my children have said recently:

Sailor: "Something smells funny. Let I smell Mac. Mac is fine. Let I smell me."

Sailor [who has unfortunately caught me peeing when I have my period]: What is that?!
Mommy: Blood.
Sailor: WHY?
Mommy: Because I am not having a baby.
Sailor: Does blood smell yucky? [Sailor gags.]
Mommy: Yes. It’s ok.
Sailor [trying, I think, to make me feel better]: It looks like strawberries.

Sailor: Can I marry you, Mommy?
Mac: You can’t marry Mommy.
Mommy: You can want to marry me, Sailor.
Sailor: But I forgot, is I am the one who has the baby or do you have the baby?

Listening to the Mix&Match radio show last night while putting away clothes in Mac’s room, Mac seriously suggests, “You should go on that, Mom.”
"I think I may be too old," I tell him.
“You could go on and find us a new dad,” he continues. I think about this, in terms of his dad. “What would we do with your old dad?” I ask, lightheartedly, to gauge his response.
“Well, I just assume our old dad and our new dad will just have to get along with each other.” How old is this child?!

Friday morning I am reminded of something I have felt for years: I hate field trips. I hate going on them. I hate the children who go on them. I hate the parents and teachers who run them. And I think they are the single most ineffective use of a school day. Especially in the city, where I live, where we are cultured, have money, take our children to more than just Chuck E. Cheese’s for adventure and experience. Today Mac’s class is going on a field trip. And I get to come along. Why? Because several weeks ago I let his teacher know in no uncertain terms that if I don’t go, Mac doesn’t go. In fact, I used those exact words. And so for punishment she assigns me five boys. I spend my morning walking. Freezing. And calling out to five 6-year-old boys who think they were on a free-for all. Led, no less, by Mac. It goes something like this: "Brian, come back here. Kevin and Brian come here! Mac, get down from there. Nich and Mac, I have told you three times to stay on the path. Kevin and Brian come here! Hey! Stop at the street! We are a group. Stick together! Mac do you want me to call GrandDad to come get you? Where is Nich?" And once in awhile, "Jack, you're right beside me. Thank you!" Toward the end of the neverending trek around the park I look around nad see only Mac, Brian, Kevin and Jack. That's good enough, I think. Four out of five. Only a moment later I realize that I am insane!
By the way, no one still names their children Brian and Kevin, not even the moms of the boys in Mac's class. But if I write their real names here their moms might read this and think that I think their little boys are brats.